A Quick Independence Day DIY

What is it about the US Mail that fascinates me?  I've had a pen pal for over 20 years, so I delight in checking the mail for a new letter or card. For mere pocket change, I can send my dear friend a hand-written letter and tuck in a four-leaf clover, a pressed flower, or an herbal tea bag. She and I have found myriad ways to make creative stationery from wallpaper sample books, old maps, cereal boxes, and our children's artwork.  And the postage stamps we stick to our creations are miniature artworks in themselves.  Whenever I pop down to our country post office, our postman knows to ask "Do you need any stamps?"

"Have you got any pretty ones?" I inquire, leaning in to see what he's got to offer, glancing over the plain ones to find the unusual, colorful and artful stamps.

Here's a postage stamp upcycling idea from my daughter, who found a collection of postage stamps when cleaning her room.  She carefully peeled them off of their envelopes and tape-encrusted packages.  Using a glue stick and the stamps' original stickiness, she applied them to the back of her Otterbox, making a very American collage.  Total project cost=$0.00.

Happy Independence Day!

Betsy

The new pond

About a month ago, our bean plants withered for lack of rain, newly tilled soil was dust dry and we lost a fifth of our onion starts in spite of our best watering efforts.  We began to worry about our well water running low, though we use drip tape to conserve water.  Our good friend Rich Rogers of Rogers Haul -n-Hoe came to the rescue with his backhoe, and dug us a 10,000 gallon pond -- a project we had planned for years.  Rich trucked in sand, with which we lined the rocky depression he carefully crafted, so that the jagged points wouldn't puncture our pond liner.  David and I raked out the sand in the afternoon heat, and we rolled out the recycled vinyl billboard pond liner we had bought online (https://billboardtarps.com/).  We prayed for a direct hit as thunderstorms moved through the area.

As you can see, the pond has filled up -- with water and with life.  In the evenings, Gray Treefrogs call from the trees overlooking the water, and their tadpoles wriggle along the shallow water at the edges.  Blackberry bushes hanging over the water hold ripening fruit, and predacious diving beetles patrol the waters.  We added rosy red minnows and goldfish to eat the mosquito larvae, and sometimes, when David and I stand, mesmerized by the abundant water, we are surprised by the silent flight of a Tree Swallow that dips over our shoulders, down to the still water's surface to scoop a mouthful of refreshment, disappearing with the quickness of thought, and leaving nothing but ripples to mark its visit.

Another friend, Myron Elliot, brought his trencher over to lay a water line from our spring development down the hill up to the pond.  Now, a single solar panel powers a pump to trickle water from the spring development into the pond -- that is when we aren't receiving monsoon rains as we have of late.

David has developed a watering system for the next time the rains stop and we need to irrigate the beans.  Below is a short movie about his gravity watering system.

Thanks to the work of friends, we move forward with new capabilities.  I know we don't need the watering capacity now, but I sense it may save future bean crops, and that feels like money in the bank.

Wishing you abundance in your life,

Betsy

The Most Beautiful Day of 2015 on Hawk's Hill

April 14, 2015 (posted late)

This morning, my body feels slow and stiff after a day of potato planting -- David tilled and furrowed the earth, and I cut seed potatoes, dipped them in wood ashes and planted them down the long rows.  We had fine planting weather.  Sunny and nearly 80 degrees, it was the warmest and most beautiful day of 2015 on Hawk's Hill. The song of the mockingbird in the hedgerow cherry trees cheered me as I dropped potato pieces from my basket into the soft, black earth.  Bare toes wriggling in the delectably soft spring earth, hair blowing in the breezy winds, skin relishing the kiss of the sun's warmth and the breath of the whisking winds, soul rejoicing in the mockingbird's varying tunes.  After winter's cold kept me locked away from the earth, immersing my entire being in nature felt like renewal, rejuvenation, a celebration of living.  

The day had begun with preparation of a new bed for potatoes.  David removed an old phone wire, and added compost to the bare earth while I ran errands to the post office and feed and seed, washed a load of laundry, and hung it out on the line.  Clean clothes flapping in the breeze, flats of broccoli and onion starts set out in the sunshine, tomato seedlings watered, chickens fed, eggs gathered, we finished our morning work and then snuck out to the state park for a picnic lunch and some sun-gathering.  Spring hits in a rush with long lists of projects to complete -- like replacing 700 feet of rabbit fence on the garden this year while completing the spring planting.  But, we have learned that stealing a few hours for fun makes the day more fun and the workers more productive.  

The day unfurled like a dream, lush grass, perfect earth for tilling, animals out and enjoying the sun.

After I finished planting, I sat in the verdant grass with Max flopped at my side, and admired the workings of nature.  A few notes in my garden journal, a few notations added to my garden map, a prayer of gratitude for the day and a prayer of hope for a good harvest.

David came along to ask help in catching a hen who had fluttered out of confinement.  Startled by the tiller ignition, she had flown over the electric fence and was now plucking fresh spring grass nearby.  I laced up my boots and after a few failed attempts, we caught her up between us, her wings battering our bodies.  Happily returned with her sisters, she melded back into the flock.  I admired the work David had done to soften the bottoms of the furrows with the Mantis tiller, and found a couple more Japanese beetle grubs to toss to the hens.  We talked about potato planting plans, about our lunch at the state park beach, about the cranky tiller motor, and called it a day.

As I put away my hoe in the garden shed, my ears picked up the sound of buzzing from a patch of blooming Heal-All in an un-tilled bed.  The lavender haze of blossoms amidst the mint green mounds of foliage had drawn a half dozen queen bumblebees.  Racing the setting sun to gather nectar from the diminutive flowers, the bumblers captured my attention with their hurried, rolling, blundering dance.  Pressing on as quickly as possible, they answered the need to gather, gather, faster, faster,  to feed their larval children back in an earth-sheltered home.  Smiling in gratitude for the connection with wild denizens of Hawk's Hill, I pushed on to get back to my earth-sheltered home to feed my hungry child and man.

Tugging my garden cart back up the hill to the barn, tired as the sun gilded the white clouds, I could feel my legs had strengthened over the past few weeks of outdoor work.  What a boon!  We ate a simple dinner of freeze-dried pinto beans and home-grown salad at 9:30 pm, the glow of sunshine still on our faces.

Today, I will plant more potatoes in furrows David pulled yesterday in a new potato patch.  The hens worked on the patch for several weeks at the dawn of spring, tearing up the grass and fertilizing the soil, but still, what a shock to see the thinness of the untended earth.  It had grown lush grass for years, but had not built up the thick layer of organic material that comes from manuring a garden for years.  Working in the old garden bed in my bare feet was pure delight.  The new bed still has rocks, Japanese beetle grubs, and quite a lot of clay.  I feel like I am looking back in time at our inauspicious beginnings, but back then, not only did I have poorer soil, but I knew less.  Still, the struggles built something worthy in me, taught me about pride and humility, and the power of daily labor organized and compounded over 6 years.

May you be graced with beautiful days and the kiss of sunshine this spring!
Betsy