Dreary days

It's a given that our Mid-Atlantic January will be full of dreary days. We had a day of sunshine yesterday, but we knew this storm system was coming. I'm grateful it's rain and not snow, although I am seeing the occasional odd snowflake. 

We're warm and dry. The woodstove is cranking out the BTUs, but since the Lord of the Manor isn't feeling too well these days, we've cycled the heat pump to bump it up a notch. 

We doggy-sat Sadie this morning, and I think the weather brought out an entirely different side of the dog. She was not her usual nice little girl. Ohhhh, no. She paced the floor, refusing to sit or lie down, and trying to use telepathy on us. She stuck her head through the cat port to try to get to Loki's feeder and getting her loose wasn't fun. I took her outside for her outside activities, and she almost pulled me off my feet. It was so bad I did give her a yank, which she ignored. 

But not even Sadie was a diversion from the weather. I spent some time writing, and then an hour or so doing some promo while I had that "forbidden" third cup of coffee. The wind is constant, and my sunroom office gives me a good view of the treetops swaying back and forth. So far, only one dead stick has hit the ground. The rain is good for the trees, though. 

With the rain beating on the windows, I got this notion I should take a picture of the raindrops. It was harder than it seemed, but it's a good record of this dreary January day. 

It does make one appreciate the sunny days even more.

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor/The Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, rainy days, winter storms, January weather, rural living, country lifestyle, a writer's life, sunshine, high winds, maple trees, coffee 

Tree carnage (the tree service was here)

Our number finally rolled up to the top. The tree service rolled in yesterday at about 2:00 PM. By 4:30 PM, their job was done, I'd paid the man, and they rolled out of here. I'm a couple thousand dollars poorer, but it was worth every penny not having to clean up the brush. 

We sat on the sunroom porch and watched the action. The owner of the company and a certified arborist did the chainsaw work, and three Spanish-speaking men chipped the brush and other chores. 

I'd hired them to take down the leaning maple. That tree has been leaning since Hurricane Isabel in September 2003, but the situation deteriorated recently. The tree it was leaning on began to show signs of stress, so it was time. Then to complicate it more, a week or so ago, the top broke out of a neighboring tree and landed on the leaner. 

We expected them to work from the top of the leaner down, cutting off branches until they'd untangled the intertwined branches and limbs of both trees. They did not. 

The arborist went up in the bucket and did some cutting, dropping several large branches before securing two ropes, the precise location we couldn't pinpoint. He then came down and he and the owner had a conference before the owner set to work with his chainsaw. 

He notched the supporting tree, and then the leaner. When he moved behind the leaner to make his cut, we realized their plan was to drop both trees at once. It worked and once the trees were on the ground, the chipping began. 

They cut firewood poles and moved them to an out-of-the-way spot. The resulting mulch from the chipping was dumped on a pile to cure. I'll use that next year to mulch weedy areas along the stone fence. They even raked up the leaves. The only job left for the cousins and me to do now is work the pile of firewood poles at our leisure. 

It was worth every penny. I think I'll have them come back in a few months and take down another maple that could become a hazard. 

We generally like to do things ourselves, but 1)we're not getting any younger, and 2) we're smart enough to know when to call in the professionals. 

The view from my desk is different this morning, but it's a change I feel good about. I can't say that about much. 

The Lady of the Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, tree trimming, rural living, country lifestyle, arborist, woods, maple trees, Hurricane Isabel 2003, a writer's life, tree service, new views, firewood

Yes, I can

It's always good to push yourself beyond what is easy. Don't be foolish and do something that will get you injured, but take that one step past the "easy" zone. I've been taking my own advice since I retired in May 2022.

When I moved onto my property in 1981, I had a lot of help. My father and grandfather were living and they were willing. I worked side-by-side with them to clear an area to build my house. I learned to use and maintain a chainsaw and how to use a log splitter. Fast forward a decade and more, and the Lord of the Manor moved in with me. My little homestead is somewhat high maintenance, but he wasn't daunted. He'd always wanted to live in the country and do all the things we do. 

Time marches on and is not kind to everyone. He's now in a wheelchair and can't do all the things. That means if I want to burn firewood, I have to take the responsibility of getting it done. 

I have a couple of wonderful cousins who come and help me now. I love them and appreciate them, but I also like to be self-reliant. Earlier this year, the Lord of the Manor, a retired mechanic, swapped out the motor on the log splitter to a newer one that starts with a key. 

Last year, about this time, we took down two very large maples that had the potential to fall and land on the house. A lot of the wood was handled last year, but the large trunks were left to dry for a year in the hopes they'd weigh a bit less. I worked on cutting the trunks into rounds when I had the chainsaw out, and some of the rounds are upwards of thirty inches across. That's BIG.

I wasn't sure I could manage a round that large on my own, but I wrestled two rounds over to the log splitter and got them split. Now I know that if I have to split them without help, I can do it. 

But come October, I'm calling the cousins for a wood-splitting party. They'll get free firewood and I won't have to work so hard! 

The Lady of the Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, splitting wood, firewood, log splitter, rural living, country lifestyle, autumn jobs, empowerment, self-reliance, a writer's life, maple trees, chainsaw

Maple watching

1/24/2021

I don't know anyone who doesn't to some extent utilize a weather app or channel. Here on the Manor, we watch The Weather Channel for about fifteen minutes every morning. I have Weather Bug on my phone and he has the app from a DC tv station on his phone.  This is all well and good. It's useful information. But when it comes to garden planning, I trust something else. I trust the maple trees. 

Two years ago on January 21, 2021, the maple tips showed new red growth. This year - not so much. Can four days make a difference? Yes, but I'm not expecting it in 2023. We're headed into a few cold days with a very good chance of snow. I'll look for the red tips on the other side. 

This is a difficult time of year for me. Our temps hover around forty Fahrenheit, the wind has a bite, and the ground is mushy underfoot. There are warmer days I could be outside doing something, but I can't use the tractor without tearing up the yard. I sit in my sunroom office under the pretext of writing, but I find myself staring out the windows, longing to be outside in the fresh air. 

The begonia cuttings are doing okay, so much so I may start the other half of the tray. Two of them didn't make it, but that's to be expected. I probably cut those stems at the wrong place. 

This morning, I pulled several bags of homegrown green Bell pepper slices out of the freezer and put them in the freeze dryer. I found clear acrylic bins that are perfect for in the freezer, so I tidied up a bit. I found a rump roast and it's in the Instant Pot. We'll be having beef stew tomorrow, a perfect dinner for a rainy/snowy evening. Keeping the freezer organized aids meal planning, so I'm very happy to have order restored in there. 

When the maples do finally show red tips, I'll sow a few lettuce seeds in trays. I'm going to trust the trees above the Farmer's Almanac this year. The writers of the almanac may know my zone, but they don't know my micro-climate. I'm going to trust my instincts, and the trees, and see what happens. The opportunities to re-seed aren't over until the first frost hits in November. 

The Lady of the Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, maple trees, spring thaw, gardening, Farmer's Almanac, seeds, freeze drying, Instant Pot

The sap is rising

January is historically our coldest month here on the manor. Being in the Mid-Atlantic region, you could say our "cold" is relative. We rarely dip below 0F, but the low 20sF is not uncommon in January. With that said I do remember January of 1994 with no fondness. It got to -22F (yes, minus) and I had to walk in and out my lane due to the ice. To drive it risked an unfortunate encounter with the creek, as in it's difficult to stop on ice especially if your Blazer is pointed downhill! But anyway...

It's the third Sunday in January and the temperatures are hovering exactly where they should, dipping into the upper teens overnight and rising to the thirties or forties during the day. Today it's right around the freezing mark, but we have a front moving in that could bring us snow later tomorrow. Cold or not, Deuce and I went out to do a perimeter check of the property and we found good news! The tips of the maple trees are starting to show red. And not just one or two maples - all of them.

While that's definitely good - and appreciated - news, we still have the rest of January, February, and March to slog through. February is a wet month, and March is wet and windy. I could spend the afternoon going around picking up downed sticks and building a brush pile to burn, but it's still too early and too cold for that. 

And so I sit in my warm sunroom office and write. From my vantage point, the far hillside has taken on a pink blush. I even used the binoculars for a closer look. Spring is coming. Now we wait to see how fast she will arrive. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

A touch of red this year

2004

2020

 From my office, I have a great view of one particular maple tree that always puts on an autumn display. The first picture was taken in 2004 when orange was the color of the year. The tree has grown a lot since then, but it never fails to draw the eye. This year, the color will be redder to red-brown, I think, but October is young yet. 

Sitting atop a little knoll on the edge of the treeline helps with visibility. I've often said it's the only tree I never want to cut down. 

Will it outlast me, here on the manor? I hope so, and I hope whoever comes here after me has an equal appreciation of the manor. Living in the woods isn't for just anyone. If you have any fear of the dark, the woods are not the place for you. 

Perhaps my love of the poet Robert Frost has influenced my choice to live apart. His poem, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," written almost one hundred years ago, speak to me of a magical moment in time. Does it matter where he's been or where he's going? I think not. But in that moment of complete albeit cold solitude, the language of the woods speak to the poet. The woods are lovely dark and deep, this I know at my very core. 

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost (1923)

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy winds and downy flake.

The woods are lovely dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Autumnal equinox

The word equinox comes from two Latin words  - "aequus" which is "equal," and "nox" which is "night." Obviously, equal hours of night and day, light and dark, occur at the autumnal equinox. But it's more than that. 

The autumnal equinox is not an all day event. It occurs at the specific time the sun crosses the celestial equator. In the year 2020, that occurred at 9:31 AM, Eastern Daylight Time. The fall equinox brings the promise of the new season at the end of summer, the loss of humidity (thank heavens!), and cool evenings spent on the porch watching the leaves fall. 

Being it is the year 2020, I've heard plenty of quips that this fall is actually the fall of civilization, but no. It's autumn - the best time of the year. 

Did you know the actual date of the fall equinox can vary? It's usually on September 22, but due to the earth's orbit and the Gregorian calendar, it can change. It actually takes the earth 365.25 days to orbit, so the equinox is generally six hours later than the prior year. Then leap year happens and sets it back a day. A September 21 equinox hasn't occurred for several millennia, but it will happen in the year 2092. I think a lot of us will miss that one. A September 24 equinox hasn't happened since 1931, and won't happen again until 2303. So we're stuck with bouncing back and forth from September 22 and 23. 

This year on the manor, the maple leaves are turning right on time. Yesterday, I was walking out the lane and looked up to find the top leaves in one of the big maples had turned yellow and orange. Small beginnings herald what will become a storm of leaves. 

Already the evenings are too short. I got busy and did a last minute task, that being painting the ramp to the front porch. The sun had dipped when I started and it was actually chilly working without it. Thankfully, it was a quick job and I'm glad it's finished. I never run out of things to paint.

Even chilly, it was good to be outside in the fresh autumn air. It allowed me to bend over and dip the brush in the paint without sweating into the open paint can. Some things are simple pleasures even as they're annoying chores. 

It's a downward slide to winter from here, but it's a journey we'll savor. Autumn truly is a blessed season. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Rule of trees

Here on the Manor, one thing we never need to buy is firewood. The Manor is three acres in size, two of which are wooded. Before I built my house, my father, grandfather, and I worked long days and evenings to clear a large enough space for a house, well, and septic system. In the years since the cleared area has grown some making the house and yard an oasis in the woods. 

The woods are precious to me. Who doesn't like the shelter of trees, the brilliant fall colors, and free firewood? There are enough large limbs dropped every year to keep the woodstove burning. Sitting beside the woodstove, watching the fire, is a simple country pleasure.

We lose one or two mature trees a year be it from age or storm damage to keep the woodpile at a healthy level.  Sometimes what falls to the ground isn't large in diameter, but even the smaller limbs are put to use as kindling to start a fire or to renew it in the morning. 

Of course, it is inconvenient when a branch falls across the driveway. When that happens, I need to cut it up and stack it, and toss what really can't be of use on the brush pile, whether or not I'm in the mood to work firewood. When you live in the woods, the trees rule. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Unusual spring winds

This winter will always be remembered for the unusually strong winds. Winter on the mountain always brings a light but steady breeze. If one was to wake in the night and not hear the wind, it would be a strong indication that snow is falling. 

Wind and water are destructive on the mountain. The wind is a rapid and visible destroyer. You hear the sudden snap of wood and a thud as a branch hits the ground. Water is more insidious, washing away the precious topsoil grain by grain. Water can be stopped and channeled to do little harm, but not the wind. 

We have a few large limbs to cut up now, firewood for next year, brought by the wind. Strange how life plays out here. This particular tree was one I asked a cousin to help me cut down. He promised help, but it's a little late for that. 

We'll manage on our own, as we usually do.  

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

The leaning tree

There's a long list of hurricanes that have impacted the Mid-Atlantic region, but the one I remember most clearly is Isabel in September of 2003. Isabel reached us, powering over two mountains to make life memorable for a few days. 

We knew she was coming - how could we not? It was all over television channels when she reached a Category 4. By the time she got to us, here in western Maryland, they called her a tropical storm. We were concerned, but not overly so. We'd live through a lot of storms. We could do one more. 

Isabel hit. The governor of Maryland declared a state of emergency and we started to watch the weather broadcasts a bit closer. The rain came and the wind blew. Sometime around midnight on September 18, a Thursday I think, we caught a micro blast and an eighty-foot oak tree fell a mere ten yards from the house. It brought me out of a sound sleep, let me tell ya. A few smaller trees came down, a few across the driveway which necessitated cutting our way out with a chainsaw. One of the big maples to the west started to go but got hung up in the trees surrounding it. It's been leaning ever since. 

We joke about how much firewood is in that maple. Suffice it to say it's a lot. Taking it down will be tricky, which is why it's still standing, but it's got to come down soon. I'd rather it comes down in the manner we choose and not in the middle of some dark and stormy night. They make a lot of noise when they come down on their own, and I need my sleep.

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor