Sabbath Thought

"Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Mary Crockett Bowen Bricker

Mrs. Bricker was known to her contemporaries and family as Mary Crock or, more simply, Crock. To her grandchildren and great grandchildren she was known as Brick Brick, her son and daughter called her Mother and she was my mother in law.

In her day, she did a bit of crocheting but was better known for her ability to teach hard science and math at the high school, college and university levels. During the war years, Mrs. B., along with her sister in law and her daughter's future mother in law comprised the entire math department at Beaver High School in Bluefield, WV.

She earned her undergraduate degre at Queens College, Charlotte, NC in 1934 and in 2004, Dave and I took her and a classmate to their 70th Queens College, now University, reunion! She earned her Masters at West Virginia University and was all but a dissertation away from her PhD when her parents became ill and needed her care.

She won several fellowships including a General Electric science fellowship and taught at Bluefield College, Bluefield State College, West Virginia University, University of Illinois, Emory University in Atlanta, GA and VA Tech.

She was extremely proud to have been chosen one of the very first cheerleaders at Tazewell High School, Tazewell, VA and would tell tales of those early days to all who would listen.

Mrs. B. supported the efforts of Fiber Femmes and, in past years, paid postage to have fifty or sixty boxes of yarn sent to The Children's Home in Siberia, Russia.

She was the last of her immediate family and on 19 November 2008 joined her parents, brothers and sister in death. In June 2008 we celebrated her 95th birthday and all but seven of the fifty or so guests were family members including children, grand and great grands, niece, nephew, cousins and me.
It was one of those rare, beautiful days...absolutely perfect weather and enough of the "old guard" in attendance to warrant a magical knowledge this was the passing of the torch. We all knew we'd never have this opportunity again and took full advantage of the day to build love and memories. We who were there have that day to hold against the dark nights and frosty world that push against love.

Blessings ~ a life well lived ~ birthdays ~ teachers ~ family ~ friends ~ memories ~

The Five Stages of Collapse

Dmitry Orlov has written a fascinating article entitled, "The Five Stages of Collapse" and has intimate knowledge of his subject as he was born and raised in the Soviet Union. Now, he's an engineer and specializes in "thinking about and, unfortunately, predicting collapse". He watched the Soviet Union collapse and draws comparisons between that country and the USA. As an engineer, he looks for physical explanations rather than cultural, political or economic reasons.

It's a thought provoking article and requires a bit of a time commitment, and not a few brain cells, to read; however, it's time well spent if it prepares one for the future.

There are three Chinese curses:

1. May you live in interesting times.
2. May you come to the attention of those in authority.
3. May you find what you are looking for.

Each generation believes they are living in "interesting times" and, as times, go, these are Quite Interesting.

Please, let me know your thoughts.

Two Contests

I ran across a contest for women entrepreneurs you might find interesting and profitable. Information taken directly from their webpages; please visit for more details.

Digital Growth Contest

"Attention, women entrepreneurs...

Enter our Digital Growth Contest and you could win a free year of high-speed Internet and other prizes from a cable company, and a free one-year membership with Ladies Who Launch.

All you need to do is tell us an inspiring story about your business — and you could be a Digital Growth Contest winner!

It's easy to enter. We invite you, a spouse, friend or colleague to write an essay in 250 words or less, telling us the story of your business — emphasizing the opportunity, the challenges and the rewards of entrepreneurship. Each essay must also include an anecdote that illustrates how your business could benefit from a communications technology upgrade.

The deadline is Thursday, November 13, 2008, 11:59 ET, so don’t procrastinate!"

The Knitting Scholar site has a contest to share some largesse; check it out then, go and do likewise.

Thistle Cove Farm Life

TEMPUS FUGIT...and does it ever! How can it possibly be October already??? I remember thinking...sometime just as summer was creeping onward...soon, all too soon, it will be autumn, then winter, then Christmas. Now...it's autumn for crying out loud! It's just about TEN WEEKS until Christmas! And, speaking of Christmas...these handsome critters reside in Bland County, next door to Tazewell County. You can't tell it from the photo but they are molting and looking a bit, maybe more than a bit, ragged.
HOW ON EARTH DID THIS HAPPEN??? The time thing I mean...

Yeah, yeah...I know how it happened...truly I do but sheesh...I didn't even leave the room for a cup of coffee...I simply blinked and WHOOSH!

I am stunned. I've got, at a bare minimum, three quilts to finish for Christmas gifts and one of those has to be finished by the first weekend in December.

Here's a quilt I made for the latest member of the Butcher clan. I've gotten away from those first few baby quilts that were done in "baby colors"...yuck on "baby colors". I've found I much prefer Colors, the bolder the better, and in flannel. Now, there's something to cozy under while being wrapped not only in quilt but in prayers and love.Here's another quilt, made for the tractor crazy little fellow living down the road. The little fellow's mother told me he's not been without his quilt since I took it to him...if you see him, you see his quilt. That's thanks enough for me to keep making quilts for little ones!

There have been two quilt shows in the County, one in Burke's Garden and the other in Richlands. Both were fabulous with great examples of Very Traditional quilts displayed. No art quilts here, ta very much. I could live, and quilt, another twenty years and never approach the skill of the women whose work was featured. Quilting is underappreciated, especailly when one can purchase a twenty dollar Chinese made quilt. Folks really have no clue what goes into a quilt, especially a hand made quilt. That means...all the top stitching is done By Hand...not a machine. It's easy enough to have a few hundred, if not a few thousand, hours in a hand made quilt. But...I'll write about the quilt shows on another entry.

I took a quick trip to visit WV family and we picked the last of the Wolf River apples. The apples I love are now "heritage" apples. Seems like everything I love is becoming heritage or antique or loved before. I go into an antique store and see my kitchen and pantry on sale and at Very Dear Prices! Anyway, Wolf River apples are beautiful, large, crisp and make lovely pies; I've made four pies in the last week and given all but one away to folks who assure me the pies are delicious. I believe them too, mainly because they are standing in line waiting on more pies.



This threesome were in my brother's front yard and two of them are bucks, sporting their first growth of horns. My brother has stopped hunting and now finds greater pleasuare in watching wildlife. A couple of months ago he witnessed Mother Nature at her grimmest. He watched a bear sow, a female, chase and pull down a baby deer just a few months old while the baby's mother ran crying, in circles but she was no match for the sow. The sow had a cub to feed and with cold weather coming on, they both need the calories in order to make it through winter. If they don't get enough calories to sleep through, they will waken and seek out food in the early spring months and at any time, a sow with a cub is a dangerous animal.

That's one of the hard things about living in a rural area...watching Mother Nature at work, knowing that for something to live, something else has to die. I watch buzzards whirling in the skie on a daily basis, sometimes waiting on something to die and other times just riding the wind currents. It's a constant struggle...that of life and death. Dave's Mother is 95 and lives with us; her body has begun the process of dieing but only God knows if it will be days, weeks, months or even years. She's feeble, frail, physically exhausted and the dementia worsens on a daily basis. It's difficult for her to endure and equally difficult, perhaps more so because we don't have dementia, for everyone else to watch. A lot of days it seems we get started just about the time we're headed to bed and at this season of life we strive just to get meals cooked, laundry done and stay clean. I haven't been in my studio for days and my daily devotions, I'm sad to say, are too frequently prayers thrown heavenward as I'm struggling with my MIL's needs. There are many days the first opportunity I have to sit down is at the supper table and, by then, I'm usually falling asleep with fork in hand. Now there's a pleasant visual...not! All that to say, keep us in your prayers, please. Our struggles don't compare with the struggles of some but I'm happy to put your name on my prayer list and where "two or three are gathered together"...God does hear and heed.

I'll leave you with two more photos...these rocking horses are just the ticket for your little ones and, at $50 each, are an absolutely great deal! They currently rock at the health food store in Richlands and, no, I don't get anything except the pleasure of helping another on life's path.


The Canada geese fly over almost every night and I've seen several flocks of sixty or more. They are beautiful and I adore hearing them call out to one another as they fly over. Did you know they call out to encourage each other to keep going, keep flying, keep on the path? I can hear them while they are miles away, my ears are tuned to them and I always stand and wave as they pass over. Every now and again, they will fly just clearing over the house or barn, and fly low enough so I can hear the beating of their wings...THROMP, THROMP, THROMP...mixed in with their voices.

I call out to them...words of encouragement to keep flying, keep going, keep on the path. Those are my words to you, no matter what your struggles...keep going, keep on the path, keep throwing your prayers heavenward. God hears you and no matter what else you have to hold onto in life...hold onto this...God hears you and loves you with a fierce love; an eternal love called Christ, His son.

Blessings ~ God's love ~ quilts ~ apples ~ geese ~ babies ~ old folks ~ and all of us in between! ~

VA Bowen's, Gillespie's and WV Hamrick's

We had a lovely Saturday, full of family, deep roots, good food and great fellowship. Dave's Mother is a Bowen by birth and of the Rees Tate Bowen line. Her Grandmother was a Gillespie and married her first cousin, a Bowen, so bears the blood of both old families. The Bowen's came out of Wales where, curiously enough, my paternal Grandfather Bennetts' people originated. As I'm typing this, the thought occurs to me...wonder if Dave's family and my family were on the same boat that left Wales and landed in Fredericksburg, VA in 1654? I'll have to put that on my to-do list for checking.

The ceremony specifically honored the Bowen and Gillespie Patriots who fought for freedom from the tyranny of King George. There were around 100 people, perhaps more, attending the ceremony and came from all over the USA. Heather, from the United Kingdom, was visiting my mother-in-law's cousins' widow, a Bowen, and found it all as interesting, I dare say, as did I if from a vastly difference perspective. We're but a blip in England's long history and upstarts to boot. It takes persons of enormous courage, fortitude and who have little to lose but much to gain to do what those first settler's accomplished.

I'm sure there were murders and killings on all sides...settler's and those who were living here when the settler's arrived, just as I'm sure there were friends and inter-marrying among the white's, blacks and American Natives. It's been said history was, and is, written by the winner's but, even so, there's enough truth left so one can ferret out a story.


The Boy Scouts lead the ceremony with the raising of the US flag while we all said the Pledge of Allegiance.

This post is about honoring our past by living our future in the here and now. It's about watching the Boy Scouts raise and salute the American flag while the rest of us say the Pledge of Allegiance. It's about honoring those men, and women, who left the old country to forge a new one while claiming their place in history.


Mrs. Peggy Marrs leads the group...but for the life of me, I simply cannot remember the correct title of what we were saying. I won't try and muddle through; I'll try and find the program I gave my mother-in-law knowing full well it would, in all probability, vanish into thin air. Peggy is a member of the Maiden Springs DAR, a group I've been invited to join once I complete my gathering of Hamrick information for the application.



Rees Tate Bowen, VII, speaking as the first Rees Tate Bowen, tells the story of coming to this new country, living first in, what is now, Rockbridge and Augusta counties, then traveling to where the homeplace now stands in the Cove, Tazewell County, VA.


This young man is holding the rifle that fired the first shot at the October 7, 1780 Battle of King's Mountain. He hurried away before giving his name but is certainly one of the Bowen, or perhaps, Gillespie line.

I love my country and am unashamed to shed a tear when the flag goes up or by, hand clasped over my heart, whispering the Pledge, singing the anthem or giving thanks for those who have gone before. I fear for America as much as I love America. While it's true we're a great melting pot, it's also true we're becoming diluted. We're becoming less America and more a fraction of a whole; the whole is becoming less and I believe that's not a good thing. We're losing our identity as "Americans" and taking on the nomenclature of Anglo Americans, Irish Americans, African Americans, etc.

Doug Wilder, former and first black Governor of VA and now Mayor of Richmond once said, "I'm not an African-American. I AM AN AMERICAN!" I agree. I am an American and while honoring my Welsh, Irish, English, German and American Native heritage, I remain, first and foremost...AN AMERICAN.

There's a statue at the Charleston, WV state capitol building of Rimfire Hamrick. He stands there as an example of the men, and I believe women, who founded not only West VA but this country. Men who walked the walk more than talking the talk; men of action, pioneers and strangers in a strange land. Men who left their mark on history by going to war to defend this new land, to protect home and family and, by leaving their mark on history, marked the hearts of kith and kin to follow. Rimfire is a distant relative on my Daddy's Mothers' side; she was a Hamrick who married a Bennett and representative of the type of woman that help define the frontier by keeping the hearth flames burning.

It's a proud heritage and culture, that of Appalachia and America. Where we, the Hamrick's, Bennett's, Bowen's and Gillespie's ended up is very similar to where we started. The mountains are soft yet rugged, the people are rugged yet soft and we tend to take care of our own.

So, if I have to be labeled, let it not be as an Anglo American, Irish American, Welsh American, etc. Let it be as an Appalachian American. In other words...an American American.

Blessings ~ family ~ Patriot's ~ Appalachia ~ DAR ~ AMERICA! ~

Hayhenge

One of three wagons of beautiful alfalfa hay.


HAYHENGE


The wonderful lads and gents who put up my hay...THANKS!

Once again, we've been blessed beyond our deserving. As you may recall, last year we had a severe drought, ran out of hay and had to buy hay out of North Dakota. It was expensive and, while good hay, not as good as what we are, usually, able to harvest. Just a few days ago, our hay was cut, kicked and then tethered prior to being baled into "square" hay bales. It's always called square hay even though it's rectangular in shape.

At day's end, dead dark really, we had 350 PLUS bales of hay! Thank You, God! It's all in our barn where it will cure and be ready to feed out this winter. The horses are given free choice round bale hay because it's not as rich as our square bale alfalfa. As horse people know, the feed has to be carefully regulated in order to prevent what is, essentially, colic in horses. It's much worse than in humans and can, if not caught in time and treated, cause death. A very painful death for the animal and horrible to helplessly watch. Far better to step in and end the suffering.

These photos were taken on baling day and reminded me of Stonehenge, only to my mind, much better. They represent fodder for my sheep and horses, nutrition for the living when the snowballs come...as my Aunt Rena used to say.

While we think of Autumn as a time of harvest, it's really summer's end that brings in the produce and bounty. Our apple trees, Granny Smith and Wolf River, are both laden with apples to be eaten in hand or dried for dried apple pies this winter. There are blackberries and cherries in the freezer that will make delicious cobblers, two kinds of pickles - bread and butter and lime and a few quarts of peaches and many pints of peach topping. I'll need to can some tomatoes, that is if we can stop from eating them as fried green tomatoes. We enjoy fried green tomatoes and I do them up right, even if I do have to say so myself.

Harvest is good and continues to be good, perhaps a portent of a hard and snowy winter. Bumblebees are making their nests in the ground, the nut trees are heavy with nuts, fruit trees are groaning with their offerings...all things point to a harsh winter.

I hope we get lots of snow because we need the slow, deep moisture only a deep snow can provide. The water table is still down and many springs are still dry. People can gripe all they want to about food and food prices but it's lack of water that will take us more quickly than lack of food. Remember the old saying...three minutes without air, three days without water and three weeks without food? That says it all.

Blessings ~ hay! and lots of it ~ rain, which we need ~ pure air ~ clean water ~ good health ~ and knitting in hand ~

Travel and heart-break

In Gori, Georgia the flag is viewed from the Stalin Museum


Georgia wants to become an EU and NATO member; Russia doesn't approve.


A rooftop view of Tiblisi, the capital of Georgia.

The first time I ever needed a passport, in 2004, I traveled to the great country of Russia. It was, and remains, an incredible life-changing experience. My horizons were broadened, my view enlarged, my heart expanded and my world, quite simply, turned upside down.

My family traveled a lot when we were growing up. Daddy had a truck, I believe a Chevy, loaded with a truck camper and every summer the five of us, parents and three children, would crowd together and see the USA. Daddy got two weeks vacation from, then VEPCO, now Dominion Resources, the electric company, and we saw an amazing amount of our great land. One of my favorite trips was Out West. We went to the Badlands, Wall Drug Store, Corn Palace, Mt. Rushmore, Yellowstone, Old Faithful and I can't remember what else. I remember a helicopter ride over Mt. Rushmore and huge bears in Yellowstone. We needed a JFK fifty cent piece to take a shower in Yellowstone and, just about the best, standing Directly Over the Top of Old Faithful just waiting for it to spurt. Of course, we'd always move away in order not to be burned by the steam but it was amazing, just standing and looking down into the hole that was Old Faithful. Now days, Old Faithful is roped off and people have to view it from a distance; not quite the same experience but I suppose it helps keep accidents down and the gene pool safe.

Mom prepared delicious meals on the camper stove and she and Daddy taught us how to read a map, how to read the sky, how to travel by both sun and stars. Those family trips prepared me by making me flexible, independent and willing to take risks so when the opportunity came to lecture and teach in Russia, I was more than ready.

Sudhakar Jamkhandi, a professor at Bluefield State College and Director of the Center for International Understanding, CIU, invited me to lecture and teach on Agri-tourism, Rural Tourism Development and Increasing Small Farm Income. Essentially, what I do at Thistle Cove Farm and what I taught at Concord University. Dave traveled with me and that turned into a blessing in disguise as we spent the first week, the two of us, separated from our group. We had a Russian interpreter but, deviating from plan, I lectured and taught alone. It was a great experience and I still maintain contact with some of the dear, wonderful people I met on that trip. I did, and do, love Russia and her people. They opened their hearts to me and I to them; they made me a better person and, hopefully, I helped some of them as well. One day, God willing, I'd love to return and visit with some old friends and make some new friends.

Flash forward to 2007 when Dave and I visited Armenia and Georgia and, again, met many wonderful people who opened their hearts and homes to us. As before, this trip was arranged through the CIU and it was an experience a tour group could never have provided.

All that to say, the business of war between Russia and Georgia is breaking my heart. Dave and I were all over Georgia and in Gori and shared a day and meals with many residents. Now the MSNBC photos of Gori show a city under siege while the countryside is being run over by tanks and soldiers and the country is being cut in half by Russian military. Russian troops are moving toward Tbilisi, the capital of Georgia, where we spent many wonderful and pleasant days and God alone knows what will happen.

We know nothing of the people with whom we shared meals with or spoke of ways to enrich our lives and future. We know nothing of the vineyards we visited or the women who served us a delicious meal to celebrate the vineyard. That evening, while seated in a foyer, waiting for the rest of our group to arrive, I drew a small bottle of hand lotion from my purse. As I poured a small amount into my palm, I looked up and noticed a woman watching me. I motioned to pour some into her hand and she nodded “yes” but her companion was shy and nodded “no”. She smelled the lotion, massaged it into her hands and eagerly smiled her approval. I tightened the bottle cap and put it into her hands, a small gift from one woman to another. Her smile broadened and she kissed me on the cheek as thanks.

What of her, Russia? What of that woman with such a gracious heart who made me feel welcome in her country even though neither of us spoke the other’s language? She is…was?…a mother, Russia. Is she alive or has she been bombed into eternity?

It’s true I know almost nothing of politics but I do know Russia, you’re a big country and Georgia is a small country. Russia, you’re too big to be this small; it’s unbecoming and beneath you to be such a bully. It is incumbent upon the strong to take care of the weak; to feed the hungry, to be a mother to the motherless, to care for those less fortunate…not to cause the hunger or to make orphans. I, and the world, expect more of you, Russia.

Russia, in 2004 you showed me your great heart, your great love of family and friends. Russia…where’s that great heart and love? Show us before my heart finishes breaking.

Blessings ~ God…in a world gone absolutely mad ~

~Anyone then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins." James 4:17

Life At Thistle Cove Farm

"All the best part of experience consists in discovering that perfectly trite pieces of observation are shiningly and exhilaratingly true." C. E. Montague

Only a short few weeks ago, a month yesterday, summer officially announced herself. We had a coolish, rainy spring that brought a great crop of hay to tide us over the winter. Off and on, for weeks on end, it rained…sometimes gentle, sometimes torrents but always welcome. After the drought we had last year, rain, and hay, are most welcome.

Yesterday, summer reminded me she was dieing; the end has already begun almost before it arrived. Certainly before I'm ready. Isn't that always the case? Why does it seem summer is always so much shorter than winter? I like all the seasons, appreciate them all, use them all, enjoy them all but summer seems to be God in all His glory at His very best.

At 5:00 p.m. the thermometer read 102 in the shade; God only knows if that was the hottest part of the day. It was a hot, humid day and moving through it reminiscent of moving through the shimmering haze of a July day at the beach. It was difficult to get much done although I kept moving all day. I worked in the studio making some cards, de-cluttering, putting up shelves and getting some quilting projects ready for Thursday night. I did several loads of laundry and hung everything on the line where it dries quickly and smells fresh no matter if sheets or blouses or towels.

Dave's Mom gets a shower on Mondays so that was on the mid-day agenda and went well. She's afraid of falling…who isn't as they age?...so I spend a lot of time prepping the shower with extra towels on the bench and handhold so she can feel as secure as possible. People have asked us why don't we put her into a nursing home and that's a good question. The answer is I don't believe in them. I believe in taking care of family, friends too if it comes to that, and as trying as it is having the responsibility of someone 24/7/365, it's what family does. Other people make other decisions based upon their circumstances but this is what we've decided. For the most part, it works. Every major religion says something like, "what goes around, comes around" or "karma" or, as the Bible says, "cast your bread upon the waters and it will return." The Bible doesn't say good bread or moldy bread, it just says bread, so Dave and I are casting our bread upon the water and honoring our parents. For us, life is as it should be.

At 3:00 this morning, the fog was dense and the air cool reminding me in order for autumn to live, summer must die. There's always "that moment" when summer wavers, just a tiny bit, and the mask slips, reminding us of the fragility of time, the brevity of not only nature but of life. The sumac is always the first to turn autumn colors and lose leaves while the next is either the walnut or locust trees.

Dave and I were leaving the Cove and saw this beautiful deer cross the road.

It always amazes me how well a deer blends into the foliage. All too soon, it will be hunting season and while I recognize the need for thinning deer population, it saddens me at the same time. We know many hunters who hunt for food on the table but others, imho, shouldn't be allowed to hold a gun in their hands much less shoot it. I've seen ejits drinking alcohol, shoot from the road, spotlight and other infractions that should, at the very least, garner them a public whipping. And no, they aren't all "good ole boys", some are "professionals" or so they call themselves. Oh well. Enuf said or I'll go on a worse tangent.

I've been quilting then shipping them far and wide. The little "Olivia Pig Quilt" was made for a friend's granddaughter and everyone loved the bold simplicity of the black, white and red quilt. Friend Marti asked if I knew those simple, yet striking, colors were conducive to a child's early development. I wish I could take credit but true be told, I just like the "pig in lipstick" and it amused me; I'm no even sure I knew of Olivia beforehand.

I've several more quilts cut out and ready to sew this Thursday evening. One is a 50^th Anniversary wall hanging for my Mom and Dad and has 12x12 squares of muslin with the written well wishes of friends and family. I'll print their "courting picture" on a piece of fabric and will use as the centerpiece with the muslin squares as borders. I've got a quilt cut out for Dave's cousin and his wife; that's an anniversary gift whenever I get it to them. I need to finish the John Deere quilt for Little John, as opposed to his Dad, Big John, who live down the road. There are other quilts cut out and ready to be sewn, some are for the bed while others are art quilts. I've never made an art quilt but there's got to be a beginning so there can be an end. Just like the seasons. Just like us. There's a time for everything including a time to be born and a time to die. As with all, tempus fugit but most importantly...carpe diem. It's a beautiful day, don't let it get away from you.

Happy 13th Anniversary to Dave and I...may our future years be from the best of our past years.

Blessings ~ quilting ~ summer ~ autumn ~ family ~ day ~ night ~

Summer Afternoon, Summer Afternoon

Since mid-June when I started preparations for my MIL's 95th birthday party, it's been a roller coaster ride. Her birthday was the 23rd but we celebrated on the 28th and had about fifty people with all save seven near or distant kin. The birthday girl is seated on the right and her friend, playmate and cousin since birth, Tece, is seated on her left. Tece is one family name and "Sitter" is the other; seems like "sitter" was the only way another family member could pronounce "sister". Don't you love old family stories and connections?

This is the newest member of the clan, Nicholas, son of Beth and Michael. Nicholas, hopefully never to be known as Nick, is almost a year old and a delight. But then, he would be. He has the Very Nicest parents and two of my favorite people in Dave's family.

Dave and I took a couple of days off and headed to Winston Salem for some Much Needed R&R. Along the way, we saw these two-humped camels next door in Bland County. The landowner moved here from Florida, or so I've been told, and bought or brought camels. They appear to be molting so perhaps he doesn't know the fiber is desired amongst hand spinners.

There are two hummingbird feeders on the front porch and it's one of our daily joys to sit on the front porch, catch up on our day, watch the humming birds and drink a glass of wine. I've found two humming bird nests and brought them to the house where they rest in our sunroom and are a delight. Both nests are made from fiber, some call it horsehair, from our American Curly horses and are tiny, perfect examples of God's creation doing what it does best...glorying God by doing what He intended.
Like the poet Henry James said, "Summer afternoon, summer afternoon. The two most beautiful words in the English language." And I agree even though summer afternoons, and mornings, are filled with work. I awake at, or near, dawn, listen to the birds for a while, think over my day, pray a bit, then roll out of bed. House animals need to be let out, fed and quieted with a treat then I head to the barn to tend to the barn cats and kittens, feed the stallion, check the mineral buckets, eyeball all the sheep and horses, walk the barn lot and, in general, eyeball the immediate area for anything that looks out of place.

Today I headed back to the house and started making lime pickles and will post photos and a recipe later. I've only been home a few days and am playing catch up with my own work, family and farm. Mother had knee surgery and I went to cook, clean and help with the garden. While I was there I did a bit of spring cleaning as well as visited with Mom and Daddy. Both are still very active, Daddy is the Board of Supervisor member for his Amelia district and Mom is on the library board. They instilled in all three of their children a Very Strong Work Ethic and it pains us to "sit and do nothing". Idle hands are the devils' tools so we tend to keep busy. In the summer we have gardens and can, freeze or dry food for the winter; in the winter we quilt, do needlework, knit or keep busy with church work. Daddy takes seriously the Biblical admonition to "help widows and orphans" and gives generously from his garden and orchard produce.

I feel sorry for people who don't have meaningful work in their lives. Meaningful work is a blessing and a gift, both to oneself and to others, keeps one healthy, makes one wealthy and staves off trouble.

Blessings ~ meaningful work ~ family ~ God's creation ~ garden produce ~ rest ~ Summer afternoon, summer afternoon ~

A Likely Yarn

Prior to this month, the nearest yarn shop was located more than one hundred miles from Thistle Cove Farm. All that has changed with the opening of A Likely Yarn in Abingdon, VA. At only fifty miles, it's a real uptick for me and means I can, God willing and the creek don't rise, visit more than once or twice a year.

It's always a delight to catch up with Jane Plaugher who was the featured spinner on opening day. I met Jane several years ago at the first Shenandoah Fiber Festival when Leslie Shelor, Linda Wright and I went away for a fibery weekend.

Janet Woolwine, the owner, is a delightful woman and has built a lovely shop in Zazzy's, a locally owned coffee shop with computers for customer use. The location is great and the atmosphere is conducive to lingering with friends and new friends. I believe there's going to be a knit-in every Tuesday evening and this weekend there's a discount for all eco or green yarns.

She also carries the Omega Shawl pattern by Chris Bylsma; it's a moebius type shawl and goes over the head to wrap around the shoulders. It should be quite the thing to ward off chills yet keep my hands free for tasks. A LYS trip is in the making!
I'm so pleased there's a new yarn shop at a, relatively speaking, close distance to me. A Likely Yarn's website isn't up yet but promises to be wonderful with design work by Blonde Chicken. Speaking of Blonde Chicken, she's spinning up some pretty yarn based on her adventures to the Johnson City, TN Farmers' Market. It's a really cute idea, you should check it out.

Speaking of yarn, I've got some white yarn that needs dyeing but Lord only knows when I'll find time to dye. My mother-in-law will be 95 next week and we're planning a birthday picnic for her on the 28th of June; all my "spare" time is going toward getting the house clean and the farm looking spiffy. Heck, my knitting needles have lain dormant for a while now; tempus fugit and it's all I can do to keep up. Run, rabbit, run!

Blessings ~ a new yarn shop ~ knitting ~ cooler days ~ yarn to dye ~ a clean house ~

Spring in The Cove

In order to get anywhere we have to leave our valley, affectionately and simply called "The Cove" but, officially called "Ward's Cove". The Ward family settled here generations ago, back in the 1700's closely followed by the Bowen's, Dave's mothers' family. They got here in the mid-1700's and staked their claim via a land grant...or so the story goes.

Anyway, the photo above is what we rest our eyes upon when we return from a shopping expedition. That's Thistle Cove Farm in the far distance, the smallest farm in the valley at a little fewer than thirty acres. The next largest farm is a few thousand acres and we're all bordered, on the backside, by a national forest. It's a lovely place to live and I never, never tire of gazing upon God's beauty.

This is one of the ways we can drive home; I love the canopy of trees and the filtered sunlight speckling the roads reminding me of a speckled hen. We often see deer on this road and, sometimes, a sow or her cub. We have bald eagles nesting in our valley, contrary to what the Game and Inland Fisheries Department says. They say no bald eagles nest here but they are wrong and wrong is, quite often, what one is when one relies upon books instead of first hand observation.

Daddy and Robert were gathering honey a few days ago. It was So Hot the bees were gathered on the outside of the hive, using their wings to cool down the inside of the hive. This time of year poplar honey is what the bees are making and it's a rich, dark, sensuous honey that lingers on the tongue. Next month bees will be making linden, aka basswood, honey, an almost clear honey that's as delicate in flavor as a bride's wedding veil.

A lot of bee keepers will use gloves, hat and suit to collect the honey but if a person is calm, quiet and gentle around the bees they will, generally, not sting. A honey bee only has one sting and once that sting has been used, the bee dies. How unlike a wasp or bumblebee...those can sting over and over and over and...UGH!

Anyway, I've grown up around honey bees and their hives and have never been stung while collecting honey. I've never known Daddy nor Robert to wear "protective gear" and they only times they have been stung is when they've done something stupid. Robert put his arm down on the hive and crushed a bee between his arm and the hive; ergo, the bee stung him. It was a clear case of self defense. Steve, my brother, has been keeping bees for decades and is allergic but has never been stung by a willful bee. Bees are gentle creatures, even when someone is robbing their hive of their hard gained honey. A bee will travel more than five miles to collect nectar to bring back to the hive for the worker bees to turn into honey.

This is honey in the comb and once the bees are "smoked" off the honey can be cut out and slathered on home made biscuits...YUMALICIOUS! Oh and if there's home churned butter as well...then you have a little preview of heaven!

Bee keepers use a smoker, into which they place a little paper and a bit of burlap bag. This makes the bee lethargic and calmer, in turn, they fly back to the hive and give up their claims on the honey in hand. It's a humane way to manage bees and bee keepers have done so for generations.

We had a storm yesterday and today and the rain is most welcome even though it's hay cutting season. We need to have our hay cut and had contracted with a neighbor to cut today. Fortunately, the rain came before he could cut so, hopefully, the next few days will be sunny and warm. We're keeping all our hay this year; in year's past we've contracted on halves with other horse owners. Last year's drought meant we had to buy hay out of North Dakota...expensive!...so we're keeping our hay this year. We should, please God, have enough to feed our horses and, perhaps sell a bit as well.

Back to the storm...the winds were horrific and blew over the hammock stand. That stand is heavy, made of steel and the wind blew it over like it weighed nothing.

In the photo below you can see the bird feeder swaying to the left as the wind blows. Even now, hours later, water is pouring from the skies and the thirsty earth is drinking her fill.

Blessings ~ rain ~ honey ~ beauty ~ home made food ~ health ~ a hot shower ~

Happy Sabbath

"May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths and superficial relationships so that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may wish for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done."

A Franciscan blessing

Blessings ~ Sundays, a day of relaxation & recreation ~ wise words ~ rain for a thirsty Earth ~ our Pastor, a good, decent & honorable man ~ stout hearts

Phoebe

~ Phoebe ~

We have a new family member; her name is Phoebe and she's about eight months old. A number of years ago, Dave made me promise I wouldn't pick up any strays on the road. Which is pretty difficult to promise and almost imposible not to do. I wish people could be horsewhipped in public for dropping animals on the road and I absolutely *hate* cleaning someone else's mess. I've heard it all...I'm giving the animal a second chance. Maybe someone else will give it a home. The animal shelter is too depressing.

Yeah. Right. What it amounts to, people, is you're too sorry to do the right thing by the animal. Take it to the shelter where, yes, it might be killed, put down, destroyed or even, GASP! adopted. But At The Very Least it will die a decent death. It won't be torn to pieces by a pack of wild dogs or coyotes. It won't die, slowly, twisting in agony because it ingested poison. It won't die, slowly, painfully because it was hit by a car and unable to find a morsel of food. It won't die, slowly, in anguish because it got caught in a snare and died, in a few days or weeks, of thirst or starvation.

PEOPLE...DO THE RIGHT THING!

The people who need to read the above are out dropping off dogs; not reading my blog so the rest of you, please forgive the rant.

Phoebe. What a beautiful little girl. She looks a lot like Shaddie, our Ridgeback, but, I don't think, is going to be quite as big. That's a good thing as Shaddie weighs around 110 pounds. Some evil person, perhaps the same one who flung her out on the road, also mistreated her. It took a week of twice daily feedings to gentle her even though her personality said, "I want to be loved, I'm a good dog and want to trust you."

Even when we brought her home, Sunday night, she was cowed and shying away. It took a lot of gentle, slow moving around her; lots of treats, hugs and kisses to bring her around. There's been a small altercation between Poebe and Abigail but that was over a dog bone. Abbie has always been, and will always be, top dog around here and, while she shares, she, sometimes, does so grudingly. Anyway, Abbie snuck around and stole Phoebe's bone and the next thing I knew, the fight was on. Teeth were bared, snarles exchanged but no one used their teeth to bite. Thank God. It was a show of strength and wills and I'm keeping a close eye on both until Phoebe has settled in. That should take a month or so for me to think things are working out.

Yes, I did get out of my sick bed to go with Dave across the mountain. He decided we were going to bring this girl home and wanted me to help. How could I possibly say "no"?

See how much Phoebe resembles Shaddie?

~ Shaddie ~

~ Gracie, foreground; Hattie Cat, background; 91 on lower portion of grill and Boscoe Man on grill lid. This is the grill I use for dyeing my wool and is used as a cat perch the rest of the time. By the way, 91 received her name when I found her, twelve years ago, sitting by the side of Rt. 91. She was a tiny, tiny kitten and was snatched out of a, potentially, deadly situation to come to Thistle Cove Farm.
~ Abigail ~

Blessings - a happy household ~ sunshiney day ~ last night's rain ~ a great life ~ delicious, sweet well water ~ good health, once again ~

Sheep Is Life

There's some sort of epizootics going around and, lucky me, I picked it up. I've been flat on my back and the days have, totally, run together. Today is the first day I've been at the computer in a week, maybe longer, and I'm still weaker than the new kittens playing in the barn loft.

The 12th annual Sheep is Life Celebration is in a few weeks but, alas, I can visit only via i-net. It's one of my dreams to visit this celebration, held at the Greyhills Academy Campus on the Navajo Nation in Tuba City, AZ. It's presented by Diné be’ iiná, Inc., a nonprofit organization and workshops, hands-on demos, vendors, rug auction and sheep and wool show round out the festivities.

Sometimes I think we should have our own sheep is life celebration in the southern Appalachians. Sheep have provided meat and fleece in these old mountains since they were brought over from Scotland, Ireland, Wales and England. In days past, sheep gut was used to make condoms and violin strings but was, erroneously, called cat gut. Clinton, neighbor and shearer, has one of the largest sheep flocks in the Commonwealth of VA; probably east of the Mississippi for that matter. He runs about six hundred ewes and lambs in the spring and less than that as he sells to market. He also runs a few goats as there's a large ethnic market for goat meat. Somehow I doubt any of his sheep or goats have names and he looks askance when I say, "oh, that's Sophie you've just finished shearing."

But, differences are what makes us alike and it takes all of us to make the world go 'round. It's only in western, "civilized" countries that we name, tame and keep our animals as pets; in other parts of the world those same animals are knows as "supper". I tell Dave we can't save them all so we save the ones we can.

Did I mention he's gone over the mountan to feed a stray dog? He's been trying to gentle this dog for a week, ever since I've been sick, and feeding it twice a day. Dave thinks she, the dog, would respond to a female voice and as soon as I'm able, I'll ride across the mountain with him. We don't need another dog, our dog girls are in double digit numbers now but Dave says this stray is beautiful and has tugged at his heart. What the hey. We'll do like we do at supper and put another potatoe in the pot. There's always room at the table for a hungry belly.

St. Francis of Assissi would be proud.

Blessings ~ spring ~ well health, coming again soon, hopefully ~ the i-net, keeping us connected ~ good books ~ zinneas ~ animals on the bed, keeping me company as I heal ~

Blackberry Winter

We're home and had a great time on our cruise although fifteen days on a ship, any ship, is worthy of a medal. My hat is off to those Navy boys and girls, men and women...my heartfelt thanks to each and every one. To all of our military and to family members who are serving near and far...thank you!

A cruise is the absolute best way, probably the least expensive way as well, to see so many countries, cities and countrysides in such a short period of time. We went trans-Atlantic then visited the Azores Islands and Lisbon, Portugal; Cadiz, Andalucia, Malaga, Barcelona, Spain; Corsica, France; Civitavecchia, Tarquinia, Livorno, Pisa and Florence, Italy; Villefranche, Nice, Ese, France and Monte Carlo, Monoco. A great trip, wonderful memories and time well spent...just Dave and I. Well, okay. So there were a few thousand other people on the ship but Dave and I took advantage of every opportunity.

I managed to, almost, finish needlepointing a pair of pillow cases. As soon as I've washed, dried and ironed them photos will be posted. I've got a good early start on Christmas gifts.

We came home to Blackberry Winter and low temps, cold rains, high winds. We've all been wearing sweaters and hats and, some days, jackets to ward off the chill. Blackberry Winter is the reverse of Indian Summer. It's that season in spring, after a warm spell, when blackberry vines are blooming, that the temps revert to winter. Frost is a possibility, although we've not had frost this spring, but cold weather, along with high winds and rain can always be counted upon. We awoke to warmer temps today and the sun is shining; animals are lazing around and birds clustered at the feeder. After almost two weeks of cold, wind, rain...life is, suddenly, brighter, more cheerful and full of expectation.

Unfortunately, Blackberry Winter, usually, kills my tulips and other early blooming beauties but that only means summer is closer than it was and soon we'll be thinking about cutting hay.

Life is darn near perfect!

Blessings ~ time with Dave ~ peace on the farm while we were gone ~ Spring ~ Blackberry Winter ~ Summer ~ gardens ~

Sheep Shearing Day April 12, 2008

As much as I hate DST, the days aren't nearly long enough to allow all the work needed to get ready for Sheep Shearing Day. The barn and farm office need to be cleaned out and the barn lot spruced up. Cove Road needs to be trimmed so folks can park alongside the road on either side of the driveway. Older folks and the press may park in the driveway but there's simply not enough room to allow everyone driveway parking. Of course, Clinton, our shearer, drives right up to the barn so he can unload/load his equipment easily.

Clinton is coming around 9 a.m. or after he makes sure his new lambs are on the ground, on their feet. I've got to check with my catcher tomorrow to make sure he's available to catch and hand the sheep off to Clinton.

Clinton has, approximately, 600 lambs on the ground and a few are orphans or too many lambs for the ewe to feed. Some have to be bottle fed, like this little one.

Today was spent cleaning out the farm office where the Cove Community Center will sell refreshments and lunch. All goodies are home cooked and include brownies, "the real deal" pound cake and other things that escape my memory. There may very well be farm fresh eggs for sale as well.

Tomorrow I clean out the barn where the sheep will be placed on Friday and be left until they are sheared Saturday morning. Placing the sheep in the barn overnight ensures the lanolin will rise, making their fleeces easier and more quickly shorn.

This lovely sheep is a Romney and

Shetland cross and the fleece combines the best of both breeds. The fleece is long stapled, perhaps six to seven inches, with a nice, tight crimp and a lovely lustre. All fleeces are, virtually, free of veggie matter and are well skirted.

Lost Arts Guild members will demonstrate and sell traditional Appalachian crafts. Members include:

~Charlie Butcher with his beautiful, hand crafted four-string mountain dulcimers. If you ask politely...he'll even play a tune and, perhaps, his children will play their fiddles.

~Larry Counts makes brooms - sweeping brooms, whisk brooms for both car and clothes and a delightful little "broom" that's used to test cakes. A piece is broken off and inserted into a cake or brownie or whatever...to determine if it's finished baking. Neat idea!

~Bud Thompson will pound out courtn' candles and other goodies on his forge. He tells some great stories as well.

~Mary Martin will help with skirting fleeces and will also demonstrate and sell her lovely hand made baskets.

~Richard Vogel is always a show stopper with his antique wood working tools and he sells the very bench you'll watch him craft.

~Sandra Bennett, that's me, will demonstrate spinning, maybe some dyeing and have some yarn and roving for sell.

Yes, fleeces are sold right off the sheep so all you hand spinners come early to make your selection.

Bring your camera, a good appetite and wear comfortable clothing. It's usually windy and that means a bit of a chill in the air so a sweater or jacket is nice also. Comfortable shoes and service dogs only, please. This is a working farm and my critters tend to freak over "strange to them" dogs.

And, my "double nickel" birthday is Friday but I'll have to celebrate another time. There's simply too much to do in a too short a time frame to add a birthday celebration in the mix. I'm just thankful to God to see another birthday!

Sheep Shearing Day is an opporturnity to share my love of "all things Appalachian" and to celebrate Appalachian heritage and culture. Seems NPR's Fred Eckles is interested in Sheep Shearing Day as well and is scheduled to interview me on Friday, April 11th, for All Things Considered. It's a good time to be an Appalachian American!

Blessings ~ sheep to shear ~ clean barns and farm office ~ Lost Arts Guild members who share the vision ~ a shearer who knows his stuff ~ another beautiful and perfect day at Thistle Cove Farm ~ strength to do the work God has set before me ~

Spring Flowers, Snow & Apple Pies

March came in like a lamb but has behaved like a lion. We've had sunny days of 50 degree weather, snowy days of 25 degree weather and wind chills to bring those temps down to low teens. Last Saturday it snowed, then melted, snowed, then melted all day long. If it had snowed continuously, we would have had five inches of snow. As it was, drifts were more than a foot deep and made for slippery driving on our way home from Bristol.

Dave and I had cabin fever so drove the seventy-five minutes to Bristol where brand new stores are located. Our favorites too! Books a Million, TJ Maxx, Best Buy and several restaurants. We're used to driving to Johnson City, TN, a drive of more than two hours, when we needed to break our cabin fever. Bristol is much, much closer and, almost, just as much fun.

I made two apple and blueberry pies; we ate one and gave the other to Jim Conrad from WCYB TV. It's the Fox affiliate in Bristol and he was here Friday past to do a story on the farm. Jim is a great guy and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves even though the weather had decided to turn back to winter. It was 40'ish, rain/sleet and maybe a bit of snow but animals still have to be fed and chores completed. Jim said he works in all kinds of weather so, for the morning, we made a good team.

Flowers are peeking up from Mother Earth even though Father Time says spring is still a week away. I want to run out and protect the little darlings but they seem to be managing quite well without me. A honey bee has braved March to get an early start on honey making.

Seed catalogues are arriving and I've already bought some sunflower seeds. I want to start them in early April and will use egg cartons that will be transplanted directly into the ground and will decompose as the seeds grow.

Sheep Shearing Day is 12 April. I visited Clinton yesterday to order some sheep minerals and ask him to shear for me. He's knee deep in lambs, I believe the count is upwards of 300 thus far. I'm going today to help him bottle feed the orphans; I've got severe lamb fever.

If you're in the area, make plans to visit us on Sheep Shearing Day. This working day on the farm is open and free to the public. Lost Arts Guilds members will demonstrate and sell traditional Appalachian crafts. We always have a great day; be sure and wear comfortable, warm clothing and footwear. Bring a camera and bag lunch, this is a great family day at Thistle Cove Farm.

Blessings ~ rain ~ snow ~ sunny weather ~ pies ~ spring flowers ~ the hope of spring ~