Sitting by the fire on a rainy day

Living in the country as I do, I constantly find joy in the simple chores around our little homestead. And a lot of those chores are cyclic. By that, I mean they need to be done at about the same time every year. Burning brush isn't cyclic. No matter if it NEEDS to be, it can't be done until certain criteria are met. 

Having acres of woodland we end up with a lot of brush. Branches and limbs fall to the ground on a regular basis. There is pruning to be done along the lane and along the edges of the yard. Getting whacked in the face while mowing isn't much fun! It can hurt! 

Rose bushes get trimmed, the garden gets weeded, shrubs and bushes die and need cut back in the hope of new growth, and yes, sometimes we help out our city-bound family members and bring branches from their yards to burn. 

I won't light a fire unless it is raining or rained in the night enough to make the ground wet, or unless there is a cover of snow on the ground. This is the way I stay out of trouble. This is how my grandfather taught me to burn, and it makes good sense. 

This past Sunday, we got a wonderful soaking rain. We don't typically do a lot of chores on a Sunday, but I didn't think sitting in my pickup watching the fire would be much work, and it was not. It was actually rather pleasant. 

I took my Kindle and a travel cup full of coffee with me. I stuck a stick in the USB port and cued up my playlist. I left poor Deuce inside with the Lord of the Manor and I had some quality alone-time. 

After a bit, Himself sent a text asking if the fire was burning. I took a picture and sent it to him. It wasn't until I took the picture off my phone that I noticed the Universe had had a little fun with me. Take a look at the photo. The song that played when I took the picture was Fool in the Rain by Led Zeppelin. 

Funny, Universe. Funny.

The Lady of the Hideaway

The Hideaway, Holly Tree Manor, homesteads, simple country pleasures, rural living, burning brush, soaking rain, Chevy trucks, common sense, country traditions, coffee

Trail cam provides proof of activity

 Last fall, on an impulse, I purchased an inexpensive trail cam to see what actually goes on in the backyard after dark. It's been both interesting and disappointing. 

We expected to get a lot of deer footage and we have. Unfortunately, there are times the trail cam doesn't activate until it's almost too late and we get a two-second blip. Other times it works the way we want it to. A few months ago it gave us a five-second video of a doe with a very bad limp. We agreed it was unlikely she'd survive the summer. Now, thanks to continuing footage, we can report she has healed and has just a slight limp. She was living alone in our woods but is once again traveling with her group. She can keep up with them when they run so we're hopeful all is well with her. 

We'd also hoped to discover where the foxes pass through the yard so we can set the Havahart trap for them. They've got to go. Not only would they eat Loki if they could catch him, but they carry a virus dangerous to dogs. 

And then there is the raccoon. The raccoons around here can carry rabies. He needs to be dispatched if we can catch him. Common sense says this one is probably fine since we don't see him during the day but it's a chance I don't want to take. I go outside with the dog after dark and I've had an unholy fear of rabies all my life. 

One thing I've learned is that I should download the footage from the trail cam more frequently. Clicking through thousands of images takes a lot of time. If I made it a weekly habit, it would only be a couple of hundred images to view. 

But sometimes the cam picks up some very strange wild life, something almost unexplainable. Something that amuses at least one of us. 

The Lord of the Manor does occasionally do a little work, and now he has proof.

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor