Good start - Genovese Basil

I love pesto, and have made small batches over the years. My late husband didn't care for it at all, so it had limited exposure to the dinner table. Now that I'm on my own, I'm growing more basil. 

The first seeds have sprouted and are doing quite well. It's going to hurt my heart when it's time to thin them as I move them to larger cups to continue growing. 

I have a second tray of the Dark Opal basil and it too is doing well, but is a good week behind the Genovese. I staggered sowing the seeds intentionally, and have one more seed packet to sow. I hope to have a lot of basil growing in my garden this summer. 

The weather has been a mixed bag so far in March. Of course it has! It's March! But I was able to get the new Greenstalk filled with potting soil and cultivate the two end raised beds.

I left leaves on the raised beds over the winter so I could cultivate them in. They'll slowly decompose and feed the soil. Then I sprinkled bone meal, blood meal, garden lime, and a general pellet fertilizer on top and used the cultivator to mix that in. That should give me a good starting medium for tomatoes, basil, and other herbs. 

And that's about all the weather allowed me to accomplish. I didn't get the leaves raked off strawberry bed, but that's next. March is a fickle month. We had a stretch of sunny days with temperatures in the low to mid sixties (Fahrenheit) and then the weather quickly reverted back to chilly and damp. 

No matter. Every thing done is one thing done, eh? 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor/The Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, gardening, Greenstalk, soil, Genovese Basil, rural living, country lifestyle, weather watching, raised beds, garden planning, herbs, KC Kendricks

Is there time to catch my breath?

It's been a very busy stretch and I don't know where to start to record all of it. 

I've been busy in the garden although the pantry shelves don't reflect it. I've canned two batches of pizza sauce, four quarts of chili, a batch of cucumber relish, and seven quarts of chicken soup base. I've had cabbage in the freeze dryer and still have two large heads to process. The tomatoes are winding down, and I'm freezing them so I can make a batch of tomato sauce when they finish.

The butternut squash is doing very well. I hope to can at least seven quarts for whatever recipe I choose down the road. 

I've pulled the green beans, one tomato plant, and two cabbages that just didn't form heads. The garden looks nice and tidy again. I wonder if I want to do a fall planting? We shall see.

There's been mowing and weed-whacking to do, plus household chores. The front gutter needed to be cleaned out. A few days ago, the Lord of the Manor and I had a "staff" meeting - we had breakfast out at a restaurant. I won't name it because we don't plan to go back. We agree on what we'd like to accomplish before winter, and we prioritized our list in case we don't get it all done. We actually had a better discussion since we weren't home and distracted by this or that little thing. 

We weathered a severe and massive storm system that blew through here a few days ago. The worst went around us, but this morning, one tree limb came down. Storm damage or just because? It's hard to tell. 

Tomorrow it's back to mowing. Usually, we get to skip mowing at all in August, but the storm brought enough rain that it's needed. The weather really does control a lot of activity when you live in the country. We adjust and keep going. 

The Lady of the Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, rural living, country lifestyle, gardening, weather watching, staff meetings, breakfasts, canning, home food preservation, freeze dryer

Weather watching - let it rain!

Living in the country, i.e. rural America, I'm a bit of a weather watcher. With so many outdoor opportunities, it helps to know how wet one may get if one avails oneself of the aforementioned opportunities. Seriously.

We have a local man who maintains a climatological records website which is loaded with a lot of information. As we've entered into a rainy spell, I thought I'd go take a look at the records for July. Boredom is good for surfing the Internet. 

We tend to think of the Dog Days of Summer as a hot, dry stretch, and as we get into August that is proven true. Of course, the "Dog Days of Summer" actually refers to the position of the dog star, Sirius, in the night sky. 

This July marks a lot of "firsts" for me. Now that I'm retired, the fact that one of my Saturdays brought enough rain that going outside to do anything is impossible, doesn't make me snarl. I'm not sure how long it's been since I could simply sit with a cuppa and watch it rain. Maybe I've never enjoyed rain-watching this much before. It's a soft rain, so soft I can't hear it on the roof, but there is the rippling sound of water trickling through the downspouts that threatens to lull me into sleep. 

The rain is nurturing my garden with a good soaking and filling the rainwater catchment system I have for the garden. The grass (and clover) are green and healthy-looking, as are the trees. I don't think Loki the Cat is very happy, but he'll just have to find a quiet spot and sleep the day away. 

And with this wonderful blessing of rain, my thoughts drift toward those in the western United States who are dealing with a severe drought. Even with the drought and the potential lack of water, there are countless new houses being constructed. That's a major disconnect for me. I don't see how permits are granted to build when there are real and present water availability issues. Is this drought media hype? I don't think so but I have to ponder these things for the kernel of truth contained. 

Many times when I have questions, I look toward my faith for guidance. There is often judgment in that, and I accept it. I can't change it. But maybe I can add my voice and change something else. Maybe my voice can help bring soft, nurturing rain to the farmers around the world. No flooding - never that. Just gentle rain, in its season. 

Then he prayed again, and heaven gave rain, and the earth bore its fruit. - James 5:18.

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor (The Hideaway)

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, Book of James, rain, simple country pleasure, dog days of summer, droughts, rural living, country lifestyle, gardening, relaxing, weather watching

Right on time in 2022

Living rural as we do, my family is comprised of weather watchers. We watch for trends and cycles, and we know that the first week of January is typically when we get our first measurable snow. Right on time, Mother Nature brought us a bit over six inches. 

The official forecast was for one to three inches, but this weather front was tracking in from the southwest, turning north along the Blue Ridge of the Appalachian Mountains. The spousal unit and I figured it would be more than three, but we didn't think it would be almost seven inches.

Everywhere I look the world is white and beautiful. Before long, when the sun rises above the mountain, it's going to be dazzling. That may not be such a pleasing thing when I go out and hop on the John Deere 1023 to clear the lane. The wind is picking up, too, and this snow is very powdery. It's blowing off the trees in whirls of mini-blizzards.

I hear people bitch about snow, how they hate it. They fail to see it as a simple country pleasure. A woman I've known since I was eight years old moved to Florida ostensibly to get away from winter weather and snow. It's a lame excuse. You can run from geography but not yourself. I have a different take on the "barrenness" of winter.

Looking out the windows of my sunroom office, I see the green of many holly trees and the neighbor's pines. The trees stand straight and tall, not slumbering, but preparing. The blanket of snow hides what is happening with the daffodil bulbs and its chill tells the bulbs to get ready. It has brought needed nitrogen which will melt into the soil to feed green growing things. The air has been cleansed of dust and allergens and smells clean. High up in the trees, the squirrel nests are full of little furry bodies that will emerge with the sunshine and race about on those branches cleared by the wind. The snow on the roof will melt and fill my cistern which will in turn water my summer garden. I could mention all the birds, but we have a red-tailed hawk in residence and the little birds, wisely, have mostly abandoned us - for now.

No, I don't mind winter or the snow.  Snow is the first harbinger of the coming spring, an early emissary we fail to acknowledge as such. I see its promise all around me, a promise it keeps every year. I can't imagine not being here on the manor to accept that promise and reap its rewards. And so I am grateful for the snow. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor (The Hideaway)

A peep in the night

 What do you hear when you step outside after dark? Just yesterday I was thinking about the tiny peeper frogs that herald the arrival of spring and, lo and behold, last night I heard them singing for the first time in 2021. I think they are perhaps two or so weeks early, but I'm sure they know they're really right on time.

In the country, the sounds change with the seasons. Summer brings the sounds of noisy insects like cicadas and katydids, and the eerie bark of foxes. Autumn is the time when the little screech owls make their presence known as their calls join the rustling leaves. Winter’s sound is that of the cold wind whipping through the trees.  

And spring brings the chirping song of the tiny peeper frog.

It’s amazing such a tiny creature can create such a riotous cacophony of sound. They begin to sing as soon as whatever signal brings them out of their winter hibernation. One night, if you’re lucky, you’ll hear one or two crystal voices. Pause to enjoy it because the next time you hear the peepers, the sound will fill the night with such a din that identifying an individual voice is impossible.

In all my years I’ve not seen one of the nocturnal peepers. I don’t guess I ever will since I don’t plan to go out into the woods at night to locate their colony. (I'll leave that to the folks who took the picture.) But every year I step outside and listen because when the peepers sing, I know it is truly spring.

I dread the day I fear is coming when the peepers are no more. Our amphibians are threatened by the damage to and the shrinking of their habitat. We may be fortunate and become one of the few remaining enclaves for the peepers, salamanders, frogs, toads, and even the local reptile, the turtle. 

The night sounds are truly one of my favorite simple country pleasures. Nighttime in the country reveals, even as it conceals, a hidden kingdom. Long may it reign. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Watching the sun-line sweep across the manor

Sometimes the sunrise is more about looking west and watching the line of brighter light hit the trees and creep closer and closer until the sun suddenly peeks over the top of the mountain to the east and the manor turns bright and sunny. 

It's just one of the many ways to enjoy a country morning. We don't notice this much in winter, being at we prefer to stay cozy inside the house. Watch the sun-line creep closer is more of a summertime activity if we're up and on the patio early. 

Whatever the time of year, watching the manor come alive in the morning is a great joy, one I never tire of. I fervently hope that when I'm "retired" I remember to sit quietly and watch it instead of bolting out the door to tend to the garden or some other chore. 

Life is too short to let the little things go unnoticed. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

February snow, a winter's peace

 If the truth be told, I don't mind snow at all. Nature has a way of taking care of the earth and snow is just a part of it. Snow is really a marvel. It's been suggested that in the beginning, there was no rain upon the earth, just the firmament that kept everything in balance. I didn't live back then so I can't swear to any of it. 

Snow is one of the perks of living in the country. We've had snow on the ground for about two weeks and it's just as beautiful as the day it blanketed the earth. It hasn't turned gray and dingy from too many cars and buses, and too many people stomping it down to mush. 

On February 7th, we woke to falling snow. I had to wait for daylight to go outside and get pictures, but it was worth it. On what would have been my grandfather's one-hundred-eleventh birthday, the snowfall created a white cathedral here on the land he loved in his honor. I believe his spirit was here to see it. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

How to measure a snowfall using a milk can

Two of my most prized possessions are the old metal milk cans that sit on the porch outside my sunroom office. They belonged to my grandparents and when Pop said he needed to get them "out of the way," I jumped. I brought them home, cleaned and scraped the rust off with a wire brush, and shot them with a couple of coats of Rustoleum spray paint. That was forty years ago now. 

They're different in that one is short and squatty and the other taller - more like antique lovers would expect to see in a milk can. They aren't placed with any great care. I move them around all the time but I always make sure one of them is out from under the eaves. For decades, when it snows, I open the door and stick a ruler down to see how much snow has fallen. 

The man of the manor used to scoff at this. He didn't believe the milk can could be accurate, but winter after winter my measurement has matched his, and I didn't need to put on boots to trudge outside to take mine. Yesterday, when the snow finally ceased falling, I measured a firm nine inches of snow. The man of the manor got the same number on the walk that leads to the patio on the other corner of the house.

The milk cans are more than a country porch decoration and occasional snow gauge. They are a daily visual reminder of my grandparents and because of that I will never part with them. They remind me of a sunlit fall day when my Pop settled his Orioles ballcap tighter on his head and said he'd better start the tractor and get them up the lane to my new house before I changed my mind. 

As if I would, Pop. 

The Lady of the Manor

And it snowed!

It's February and it's snowing. That's nothing new. The February full moon isn't known as the Snow Moon just on a whim. I stepped out onto my patio this morning at six o'clock and this was my view - a study in darkness and light.

The world was completely still, save for the falling snow. There was no wind, no sound. It was truly a visual delight. 

The snow is beautiful as it falls and as it covers the manor in a pristine white. This is the first time in several years we've had a snowfall last three days. Luckily, the flakes are powdery and accumulation a fraction of what it could be for a three-day event. The last time I measured we were at about eight inches. It does appear to be slowing and the radar shows it is about past us. Now the fun begins.

It's drawing close to high noon as I write this, and that is the time I've set for myself to put on my winter gear and fire up the John Deere 1023 and snowblow the lane clear. It won't take too long. One pass out and back in does the job. I only need to clear off enough snow to help it melt and to walk to the mailbox and back. The Silverado doesn't really need the snow cleared to drive it, but a faster melt is important for my Charger, which I won't even bother to clean off at this point. I will not drive it until the roads are completely bare. 

Having the John Deere has made life a lot easier. In years past, even with a four-wheel drive, I parked at the end of the lane and walked in and out. I wish we'd gotten a tractor two-decades ago, but everything happens in its own best time. Living in the country teaches that lesson, and it's one we on the manor willingly embrace. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

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

Morning sky, December 3, 2020

In Matthew 16:2b–3, Jesus says, talking to the Pharisees and Sadducees, "when it is evening, you say, 'It will be fair weather; for the sky is red. And in the morning, it will be stormy today, for the sky is red and threatening'.”

In more modern times, we hear, "Red sky at night, sailor’s delight; red sky in the morning, sailors take warning."

In time past, my mother and I were sky watchers. This came about during the years we got up early every day and together walked three miles. I remember those walks with gratitude for the time spent with her. We talked about everything. Now she has Alzheimer's Disease and we don't talk at all. 

I still watch the morning and evening sky to see how the "prophecy" is working. Sometimes it does, and sometimes it doesn't. Not that it was Bible prophecy. Jesus was talking to a specific group of people who demanded information on signs. 

Even in these modern times, life at Holly Tree Manor is governed by the weather. There is always some project to be done. Mowing, chopping leaves, brush clean up, brush burning, woodcutting, lane maintenance, weeding, watering, gardening, equipment maintenance - all this is contingent upon the weather. Too dry and you can't burn. Too wet and you can't do anything. Too cold and I'm too wimpy to go outside and do anything. Same for too hot. Yes, life here revolves around the weather. 

But is the old adage correct? Surprisingly, yes. More often than not, a red sky in the morning is a portent of rain. Today's morning sky, all pink and blue, indicates a mostly clear day today, but heavier clouds tomorrow. 

The Lord of Holly Tree Manor puts his faith in a weather app on his phone. I prefer to look at the sky and feed my soul. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor