The never-ending brush pile

Having a lot of trees means we always have a lot of sticks and limbs to burn. If we want the place to look decent, that is. We could let everything stay where it lands, but then we'd be knee-deep in deadwood. The solution is we burn, which is what we did this Monday past.

A strong wind is Mother Nature's pruner. Dead limbs and sticks come down. I pick them up. Sometimes what comes down is the entire top out of a tree. Wood with a large diameter gets cut to length for the woodstove. Everything else gets tossed on a pile that gets burned on a regular basis. 

It's a family affair. If we're working outside, the dog is generally right there with us. Our current cat, Loki, will meander around to keep an eye on us, but he's not a helper. He's a watcher. With this cat, that's almost as scary as it sounds. 

Burning is hard work. The brush is usually awkward and heavy. Having a battery-powered chainsaw helps. Once the fire is going, there is time to take a break and enjoy the flames and being outside. Once the center burns out, the edges need to be raked in so that material burns. Having the John Deere 1023 with a bucket really helps. The tractor does the work. I spent years using a rake and believe me, the tractor is better! 

Once the fire dies down, it's time to wet down the area and let it finish. My office has a window where I can keep an eye on things. Wetting down the ash forms a crust, and what's underneath smolders away to ash. Then it's time to start the process over again.

There will always be the next big wind that prunes the trees. It's just the way things are. 


The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Peonies - almost there

May 11, 2020

My mother and grandmother both loved peonies. My grandmother had a row of them planted along her driveway, and my mother did the same thing in 1965 when she and Dad bought their house. My grandmother, in fact a lot of the older women I knew as a child, called them "pineys." 

When I moved to the manor, my mom insisted I have a start of her favorite variety, one that is pink with a yellow center. The problem with that was I'm not the same caliber of fan my mother and grandmother were. But I was dutiful in those days. 

Somewhere along the line, probably in 1993 when my mother sold the house she and Dad had lived in, I went to the row beside the driveway and dug starts for a white, red, and mauve-ish pink, and planted them in a row front of the porch. Pink, white, red, step, red, white, pink. The women before me were more haphazard in their plantings. 

I must admit that, now, in the spring, I wait for the "pineys" to bloom, checking them daily for progress. The deer taught me a hard lesson - if I live here I can't have many flowers. I spent years doing backbreaking gardening only to have the deer eat the flowers down to the ground. They don't eat my peonies. 

It won't be long now until they open and the connection to my grandmother and mother comes full circle for another year. I have a lot of those connections and they mean more to me with each passing year. 

I miss having lots of flowers. I do. But it's too much work and the deer too plentiful to spend all that time so they can have a salad bowl every year. Life on the manor is a mixed bag. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

An old fashioned spring

a late dusting of snow

In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020, we are enjoying an old-fashioned spring. February brought lots of snow flurries, March was truly windy, April was wet with gentle rains, and it looks like our last nighttime freeze may well be mid-month. The ground has been slow to warm, but the little peeper frogs are in full voice after dark. 

As a girl, I wasn't allowed to wear shorts until after the first of May. I thought it was silly but looking back I see a certain wisdom in it. While the May breeze holds hints of warming, there is still a little bite of dampness there. 

I'm not bemoaning this slow spring. Everything is happening as it should. The trees are leafing out and the maple seeds hang heavy on the branches. Bare spots in the lawn are filling in and it's time for it to receive a last over-seeding. The lilacs are blooming, such as they do, and those blooms are lasting a long time. The ajuga and wood hyacinths cover the bank in shades of pink and purple. The tulips and daffodils have bloomed, and the hostas are mid-way to their full size. 

Everywhere I look I see something that needs to be done or will need to be done in a few days. It would be daunting if I allowed it to be. Instead, I prefer to look at it as part of my stewardship of this small part of the land. 

The peonies stand tall at this moment. They're full of buds and must be tied before the blooms open and weigh down the stalks. The lilacs will need to be pruned. Every year I make a circuit around the yard and cut back maple tree limbs that hang low enough to be a nuisance while mowing. And yes, the grass needs to be mowed. If I were able to purchase mulch I'd spread it but we remain under house arrest due to COVID-19. I am truly tired of my constitutional rights being trampled upon even as I understand the need to keep myself safe. 

It's not that being home on the manor is a hardship, but so much of what needs to be accomplished requires items I don't have. Like mulch. If this old-fashioned spring has taught me something, it's that my level of preparedness needs to be upped. Even life at the manor isn't immune to the actions of outsiders. I just need to out-think them. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Restoring a pathway

The property we live on was gifted to me by my maternal grandparents. They were good people and I say that not because they were my people, but because I've lived long enough to meet bad people. 

My property joins the lot my cousin got when our grandparents were giving. There is one stone fence that encloses both properties. We tore through a section to create a shared lane instead of using the more dangerous farm track our grandfather used for his Allis Chalmers WC tractor. 

The old farm track ran north from the road, above the old home place. It then turned and went west to the end of my property, south to the property line, and then east to reconnect after making the loop. 

Parts of the farm lane have become difficult to traverse. One of my plans for my retirement is to clean up the old track and use it for a private walking trail. The last uncomfortably strong wind storm we had made that job bigger. Now instead of taking the old mower along the track to cut down the briars, I need to take the Stihl out for some serious woodcutting. 

It looks like a lot of work but it doesn't need to be (and won't be) done in a single day. Such it is in the country. There's always work to be done, but there's always time to stop and enjoy being outside and in the woods. 

The old farm track will be cleared. I may even choose a secluded spot to take some stones along the stone fence and fashion myself a little bench so I can sit and enjoy the birds. And breathe. My grandparents would like that. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

A young holly tree

Spring is the best time of the year to go walking around the property to take stock of what's new, what's old, what needs to be done, and what's a surprise. I found the surprise - a new young holly tree. I've marked it so it doesn't get mowed off when we make a pass through the woods with the brush mower. 

It has a lot of growing to do and I plan to give it every opportunity to reach its full statue. I've seen the holly trees on James Island, Virginia, and they are one-hundred feet tall. My grandfather's holly trees were perhaps thirty to forty feet tall. All the younger trees on my property are surely the offspring of that pair. 

I hope to live a good many years yet. Maybe I'll get to see this little guy reach fifteen feet. I'd like that. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Patience rewarded - white lilac bloom

Growing up, my mother had a beautiful white lilac bush that grew beside a telephone pole. It just so happened that it was also at our extra parking space. You know the one - the space the teenager got to park their car in because the folks had the driveway proper. I didn't mind at all. They allowed me to have my own car so it was okee-dokee. 

I loved that white lilac. For one thing, it was the only white I'd ever seen. My grandparents had several shades of purple, but not white. Every year my mother and aunt would cut blooms for inside. Even my grandmother would sometimes cut a bloom to take home with her. 

When I moved to the manor in 1981, or shortly thereafter, Mom and I dug a start of the white lilac for me. It's been growing since then and finally - finally! - it has started to bloom. For only the second time ever, that old bush has a bloom on it. My partner never believed it bloomed white because it didn't bloom. I can't really fault him since "seeing is believing." 

I hope this is a harbinger of years to come. Enjoying spring blooms is a simple country pleasure I never tire of. Patience has been rewarded. 

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

A late entry on spring flowers

I don't know anyone who doesn't like daffodils. My grandparents loved them and had as many varieties as they could get their hands on. Most of my bulbs originated in their garden. 

Every year I watch for the first green tips to break ground. It usually happens in the sheltered spot in front of the eastern-most terrace or on the bank with full southern exposure.

The bank runs along the old driveway or the original driveway to my house. Back in 1981, my mother and I planted starts from her garden on the bank. It was intended as sort of a holding spot until I was fully moved and had flower beds prepared. But miss digging one daffodil bulb and you get more and more daffs. Not a problem. The bank is covered with daffs, daylilies, hosta, ajuga, snow glories, wood hyacinths, tiger lilies, and bluebells. 

Why they still grow there is a mystery to me. The soil is mostly clay and I've never worked in any enhancements. But every spring I eagerly watch and remember the time spent with my mom, playing in the dirt. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor 

Strange days indeed

I'm not sure where to begin. Perhaps with a question: How do you know you have enough to survive?

As I write this, we are on a sort of house arrest due to the COVID-19 virus outbreak. The government has "asked" us to self-quarantine except for emergencies. 

What constitutes an emergency? 

People have gone mad. The shelves in grocery stores are bare. Toilet paper, of all things, is being hoarded. Bottled hand sanitizer cannot be found. Most groceries now have programs where you can order online and pick up your order. As of last night, if I order today I can pick up in two weeks. 

I'm concerned about having to walk the aisles in the grocery store, especially if I can't purchase the items on my list. 

Will I have enough water in the cistern to get by? 

Will I have enough money to get by? 

Watching the homesteaders on YouTube is not just for entertainment any longer. It's become more of a how-to for our modern times. 

These are strange days and I wonder who I will be if I live through them. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor

Soft ground

We've had a lot of rain this past month. They say one inch of rain equals ten inches of snow. We'd be buried right now if that were true. Weather notwithstanding, I decided to roll the dice and unhitch the snowblower and remount the bucket on the tractor. We have a John Deere 1023 subcompact tractor and I don't know how we managed before we got it. 

There are things to do that do not involve snow. A few spots on the lane need a touch-up of gravel, and I took advantage of a warm day and cut down a tree that threatened to fall across the lane. That wood needs to be cleared and I work smart, not hard. The plan is to cut up the logs and put the pieces directly in the bucket to be transported to the woodpile. The fewer times I need to handle heavy logs, the better. 

Deuce is my constant companion as I work. He sometimes takes himself on a little stroll out the lane, but he's very, very good. He stops when he gets to where the section I share with my cousin connects. How does he know? I spent time teaching him that when he was younger. The extra time you spend in their first year makes for an excellent companion. 

Last fall, the wet weather arrived before we could do a last leaf chopping. This past weekend, I took the John Deere 370 around the yard to do that. At least I tried. The ground is very soft and the mower left tread marks in places. It turns out the strip of grass I want to overseed this spring was the worst. I said tire tracks be damned and did a good chop there. I'm going to roll the dice again and spread grass seed regardless. One of the things on my agenda for this summer is creating a deeper swale for better drainage below that area. 

Planning is a good winter occupation, but now I'm eager to get going. The sale of my mother's house is pending, and I will be happy to be out from under taking care of two houses. Most of the projects planned for this summer are labor-intensive, unlike last year when we screened in the patio. Perhaps I need a spreadsheet or grid to keep me focused. I'll ponder that. It's not a bad idea. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor