We had a nice rain all day yesterday and it is raining again this
morning. I find these types of rain so
comforting. I always think of my Josh
when it rains and when it settles in and the day is filled with the sounds of
water dripping off the eaves and I look outside and see the “Puddles Shaking”
(as my four-year olds described it), it fills me with a sense that Josh is
near. The grandkids kept me busy all day
yesterday. The first of them arrive at
6:30 am and they all usually go home by 4:30. The older three are high energy
when they are together. After they went
home, I took the time to walk a bit. I
should have been doing other things, but I am trying to get back in the habit
of walking on a regular basis. I let
that slip last winter when I started taking care of Mike and all the
responsibilities here fell on my shoulders after his surgery. I had not given up walking entirely but have
seriously fallen back from my five miles a day, seven days a week schedule. We travel so much now between the two farms
that there are days I can’t fit in a good walk.
On Sunday, I walked the first 2.5 miles at our place in Southwest
Virginia and finished up with 2.5 miles in Staunton that evening.
Tuesdays, I try to catch up on my correspondence. Being off Facebook now, I have tried to keep
in touch with some of my friends and family through texts, emails and old-fashioned
letter writing. It has been good to keep
in touch that way. I have found my
conversations to be more focused and intimate.
I also will be canning ketchup today and pricing antiques and getting
them over to the Factory Antique Mall. I
have a whole lot of other things that need to be done, but those are most
pressing today. Tomorrow, I will have
Alissa’s two girls, Analia and Aurora for the day. Alissa has two semesters left at JMU to
finish her Master’s degree. She got a
position as adjunct professor at Blue Ridge Community College this year. I keep her girls every other Wednesday so
that she can prepare her lessons.
I love my Little People and I am thankful that I am able to spend time
with them and help to care for them. I
am also thankful for days like today when I will mostly be alone, working
around the house and farm. It’s nice to
have a good balance in life. Balance is
something we did not have for most of our life.
It’s hard to find balance when farming.
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This was one of those days that just didn’t go quite as planned. I had
intended to go into town, but that never happened. I rose at 4:30 and worked on some
correspondence. By 6:30, I went out to milk Faith, one of our
Jersey cows that I separate from her calf once a week so we can have milk for
our table. We find we are partial to
Faith’s milk. It is sweet and lasts well
over two weeks without going bad. I
worked on cleaning the house for a bit and then decided to take my shower so
that I could go to Staunton, only to find we had no water. By afternoon, Mike had found the problem and
replaced the pressure switch at the well.
We ended up leaving later than we anticipated to go to our Rural Retreat
and when we arrived at our second home, we found that our refrigerator there
had quit running. Guess today was our
day for minor inconveniences.
When I called my grandmother today (something I do every day), she
seemed confused. She is 88 and in
excellent physical health but was worried tonight because she forgot whether
she has health insurance or not, and she forgot what the thing is called that
cools the house in the summer, and she said she has been awake during the night
fretting. It’s so hard watching someone
you love reach a point in their life where even the little things are extremely
stressful for them. I have tried to do
my best to be there for my grandma while also be respectful of her wishes. I
have tried to do everything I can to make her days as easy as possible. That has been an exceptionally hard road to
walk recently. It seems, no matter what
way I turn, it’s “not right” to someone on the outside looking in. I came to the point that I just had to decide
it didn’t matter what anyone else thought about our situation. The only thing that is important is that I
take care of grandma in the best way I possible can and keep her as safe, healthy
and happy as possible. I sometimes
wonder what it would be like if my mother was still living or if my
grandparents had given birth to more than just one child so that I had maternal
aunts and uncles to step in and intervene with my grandmother’s care. I wonder what it would have been life if I
would have had the opportunity to watch my mother and learn from her how to
handle best the challenges of an aging parent.
Instead, I am thrown into the role of daughter instead of granddaughter
and while I am glad I can be there for my grandmother, I feel a little bit
lost. But, maybe everyone does in these
types of situations. We do the best we
can.
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This morning finds me sitting in my favorite spot for journaling. It seems like it was a chore to get back to
our rural retreat this week. We kept
getting delayed and just had too many things we had to tend to back in Staunton
this week. Some weeks are like
that. We are in the thick of produce
season, and while our garden was less than what we had hoped, it is still
producing much more than we can put up for our personal needs. Mike had a good bit to tend to with the
garden and as I mentioned previously, he had a number of people stopping by the
farm to see if they could buy. It always
amazes me that no matter how many produce stands pop up in the area, folks just
keep coming back to Mike. I think it is
a testament to the fact that they know he’s real and that the food is grown
right where they can see it. Of course,
he has built a personal relationship with many of these folks over the
years. Last year when we moved the produce
to Verona and went mobile, I know it was really hard for him. I took over so much of the project and it
grew so big, so fast, that he ended up feeling really left out. Mike and I approach everything differently
and while the different perspectives can bring growth and balance to us both,
at times it can be crippling. I think it
was crippling for Mike for me to take charge of something he had done for 40
years. That was just another factor in
our what appeared to many I am sure as our “going backwards” with produce
sales. We were posed to really go big
and make a good bit of money selling produce in Verona this year but when it
came down to it, my heart just wasn’t in it.
I needed to back off and let Mike go back to doing things his way and
try to find again the joy he had in doing produce for so many years. Sometimes, no matter the amount of success,
it’s not worth the sacrifice. So, while
it seems we have majorly regressed with produce sales, I see the joy in Mike’s
eyes when he sells a few tomatoes he has just picked or when a long-standing
customer calls and wants twelve dozen ears of corn to put in the freezer. I see the excitement on his face when he puts
a few cantaloupes out by the road at our Rural Retreat and folks begin to stop
their cars and leave money in a cigar box as payment. We have been blessed and we are getting older
and life is too short to stress about success at this point. Oh, Mike complains all the time that he is
being pulled in too many directions and that customers are keeping him from
getting anything else done, but I know he would be lost if a summer went by
without at least some produce sales.
The delay in our returning to South West Virginia gave me the
opportunity to do a bit of house cleaning in Staunton. It’s hard to keep things up there because
when we are there, I have my Little People running in and out and we are
tracking in dirt from the farm as we tend to the garden, hay fields, and
livestock. In addition, having no air
conditioning, we keep our windows and doors open and a lot of dust and pollen
accumulates. I mostly don’t let
housekeeping bother me anymore, although I use to be very particular. I’ve just come to a point in life where I
realize there are much more important things in life than a clean house. Eventually though, it becomes more than I can
overlook and I have to find the time to do some cleaning. I really should work on cleaning our Rural
Retreat home this weekend but since we will only be here two days, I am just
going to ignore the cobwebs and try to relax a little bit.
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This has been an intentionally slow day much to my delight and Mike’s
dismay. He wanted to go to an auction
about two hours away in West Virginia, but he knew that I just really needed
some down time. It’s hard for him to
have to stay in one spot but he kept himself busy outdoors until it started
raining this evening. Boy is it
raining! I don’t think anything compares
to the rain in the mountains.
First thing after my coffee this morning, I decided to see if I could
save the old vintage refrigerator. When
we got here last night, it wasn’t working correctly. The door didn’t latch properly and there was
a large amount of ice build up. Mike
mentioned that maybe the ice build up was keeping the refrigerator from working
correctly. I figured it was an easy fix
if it turned out that defrosting the refrigerator actually made it run
again. I had moved everything out of it
last night into our second frig and I had turned it off last night. A lot of the ice had melted but it actually
took half the day until it was all melted.
I cleaned and dried out the refrigerator and held my breath as I plugged
it back in. The seventy year old
refrigerator started purring like a kitten and seems to be working just fine
now.
I was also able to take my morning hike to the top of our property
where I can see Buffalo Mountain. I seem to always startle a flock of turkeys
and this morning was no exception.
Three, huge Toms took off for the woods when they heard me walking. After I climbed the hills and walked the
pasture, I made my way to the springs. I
love to go there in the shade of the big, old trees where I can hear the water
bubbling up out of the ground and running down the hills. The spring at the top at one time supplied
the house with water but for whatever reason (probably because the second
spring was closer) the family who lived here eventually started using the water
from the second spring that sits higher than the house. That second spring, via a gravity feed
system, still supplies our house with water.
(We do not have a well.) The
second spring is fenced off so that the cattle can’t get to it but they have
access to the first spring that is higher up the hill. It is here I like to stop. I also made my way eventually the spot below
the house where there seems to be a third spring underground that supplies the
stream in front of our house. We can see
that spot from our front porch and dream of someday digging out a pond
there.
I fixed a big breakfast this morning of home raised pork sausage, fried
eggs, fried potatoes, toast, homemade nectarine jelly, and sliced, white
peaches. Of course, we drank raw milk
from Faith, our cow. I enjoy making
breakfast when we are at our Rural Retreat.
Mike has always eaten breakfast at his mom’s and for me to get to cook
breakfast food and eat it with him in the mornings is something I really
enjoy. I had never had that until he had
his surgery and then we began eating breakfast together. When he got better, his mom really wanted him
to start eating with her again. I admit,
I was a little jealous at first because I really do enjoy starting off our day
eating together and visiting. But now
that I can have a sit-down breakfast of homemade food together when we are at
our SW Virginia home, I’m not so reluctant to have him go back to spend the
mornings in Staunton with his mom.
I love to cook, especially when it doesn’t have to be rushed. This afternoon I was able to take my time
preparing a meal of what I call Southern Comfort Food. I made meatballs from our home raised
beef. I made cooked beets and a squash
casserole. We had sliced tomatoes and I
made cornbread in my cast iron muffin molds.
The food looked so pretty on the plates and was so good on the
palate!
With the rain settled in, I guess we will settle in too. Even when we are at our Mountain Retreat,
getting inside early doesn’t happen often.
Tonight we can take advantage of being indoors early and get into our
pajamas and hang out in front of the TV.
We don’t have cable, satellite, or even local channels here but we like
to watch The Waltons on DVD. We are on
season two right now and while I remember the later seasons from when I was
growing up, I don’t remember any of these earlier seasons. I have so much fun looking at the details of
the program such as the clothing, cars, dishes, curtains, stoves and so
on. It’s funny how such a hard time in
history as the depression era can appear so ideal and nostalgic from a
distance.
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I am trying to live life more intentionally. It’s difficult sometimes when we are in
Staunton because there are so many things pulling on us. That’s just life and learning to live
intentionally when all heck is breaking loose around us, is indeed an
accomplishment. I fail often in that setting but I like to think that my
experiences with loss have helped me be more in tune to how fleeting this life
is. The natural world has long been a
bane for my soul and in Staunton, the views of the Blue Ridge and Alleghany
Mountains from our home there as well as the amazing sunrises help to keep me
focused. In addition, my animals there
are a constant source of joy. Yet, it
is hard to slow down because of all our responsibilities when we are in the
Valley. At our little retreat in the
Blue Ridge Mountains, we have designed everything to be slower and more
intentional. One of the things I give up
when I come to our second home is an electric coffee pot. Instead I use an old enamel coffee pot. Every morning as I fill the pot with water
and put my coffee grounds in, I think about my daddy making coffee that way on
the stove as I was growing up. I don’t
think he ever used an electric coffee pot and probably still doesn’t
today. I would hear that old pot perking
on the stove way before dawn as he prepared to go to work as an assembly line
worker at Ford Motor Company in St. Louis, Missouri. I remember the smell of that coffee as I lay
half asleep and half-awake in bed. Many
mornings he would come in and stand quietly beside my bed checking on me before
he went off to work. I think that is
part of what intentional living does; it causes us to slow down and relieve the
memories and really think about life and it gives us the opportunity to just
enjoy the moment. As I sit with my hot
coffee in my hands, poured every morning into an old McCoy mug that belonged to
my grandmother, I feel a connection with the past and contentment in the
present.
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Friday was my day. We just
stayed at the house and did odd jobs and enjoyed being stress free. As an introvert, those days when I can just
have “down time” and process all the things that are going through my head are
more than just an enjoyment, they are necessary for me. It’s difficult for someone who is not an
introvert to understand how draining interaction is for someone like myself. It’s not that introverts don’t enjoy being
around others and participating in activities, it’s just physically and
emotionally draining for some of us.
Mike being an extrovert doesn’t understand my need to limit social
interactions. He respects my needs but
doesn’t understand them and sometimes it can be difficult for us to find a
compromise that works for both of us.
Mike is an extrovert who loves interaction. Going to public auctions, community
activities, and selling produce/hay to customers just gets him pumped up. He is a natural and can start up a
conversation with anyone and be talking to them like he has known them all his
life. Social interactions come easy for
him. For me, I am strained and stressed
the entire time I have to interact with most everyone. You wouldn’t know it by the way I carry
myself of by my conversation. I have
learned how to interact in a world that favors the extrovert. But it’s always a relief for me when I can go
back to my comfort zone of close family and a few close friends with whom I
feel comfortable. At any rate, Friday
was my day to be alone with Mike and Saturday, even though he had offered to
stay home with me, I knew it was time to get my extrovert back out and around
people, for just as being in social settings drains me, being away from the
interaction makes Mike feel glum. We
batted around a couple of different ideas for auctions and finally settled on
one a little over an hour away in a neighboring state. When we arrived, it had been raining and
large drops of water were still falling off the leaves of the trees surrounding
the house. I grabbed my chair and my
wide brimmed hat and an umbrella and we found a spot where we could observe. I have to give it to the auctioneer. Along with his heavy, regional accent, he had
a slight speech impediment and seemed unable to make the “r” sound and instead
it came out like a “w”. For instance,
the word “three” would come out sounding like “thwee”. He wasn’t the fastest auctioneer but definitely
didn’t let his speech issues slow him down much and was a little difficult to
understand when he started talking fast but after a bit, I was able to follow
along pretty well. There are some
auctions where I bid on items to resell at our booth at the Antique Mall but
this was not one of them. The prices
were too high for most of the items. We
try to be really careful and buy things right because we want our little
venture to pay for itself. While I paid
attention to the auction, I paid more attention to the people attending. I love to people watch. It’s not in a critical or judgmental way, but
rather just a curious and amusing way. I
love to watch people and wonder what their stories are. That must be the writer in me. I want to know the stories behind the people
I see and my brain immediately begins to form descriptive sentences to explain
what I am seeing and hearing. Some of
the people I saw at the auction were slightly familiar to me. I would pick them out and then try to
remember where I had seen them. The
answer, of course, is always at another auction, but the question is what
auction and what do I remember about them?
Several people spoke to us, recognizing our faces as well from previous
sales. We ended up leaving the auction
early and headed back towards home with no real agenda. Along the way we decided to stop at three
different antique stores. The first one
was in an old building that was pretty piled up with salvage type items in the
front. Inside it was busting at the
seams with memorabilia from the past and while the items were not the fancy
kind of antiques, they were priced unreasonably high, so much so that it was
obvious the owner was more interested in collecting than selling and had a
difficult time letting anything go. An
elderly lady worked the counter said she was the owner’s sister and she was
extremely apologetic about the prices.
She said that she had told her brother he needed to reduce his prices if
he ever expected to sell anything.
Still, it was fun looking at such a large, eclectic collection and the
lady at the counter was so nice. I
noticed that she had some bags with some canned food carefully wrapped in
them. I asked her if she had done the
canning and she said “yes”. We talked a
few minutes about that and as we left, a neighbor was bringing in some white,
half runner beans. They were going to
sit at the store and string the overflowing half bushel of beans and get them
ready to can.
On down the road, we found another spot to stop. We almost passed it. I wasn’t sure it was anything more than just a few pieces of junk by the side of the road that passed as a yard sale. The man must have seen us looking and he motioned for us to stop and come inside. We were traveling to fast on a mountain road to stop that fast and had to go on down and turn around and come back. I complained a little and told Mike I would just stay in the car. The buildings look to be falling down and the place was piled with junk. Those types of places overwhelm my senses and I have a very hard time going in them. Mike said, “Oh, come on” and about that time I spied what I thought might be some FireKing dishes on a shelf in the very back as I looked over the junk in front of the open door. “Ugh”, I replied, “Why did I have to see those dishes?” and I stepped out of the car and headed toward the building. I didn’t make it far. I was just overwhelmed by the number of items piled up and the disorganization. I turned around and we walked over to the next building. It was a little more organized but the floor was sagging and the roof was leaking. There were large puddles of water in the floor and buckets here and there to attempt to catch some of the leaks. It was dirty and smelled musty and moldy. Inside I recoiled but kept going. Things were stacked on tables in the large room. Mostly, it was glassware and trinkets. My eyes searched the place for the things I like: Pyrex, Fire King and Fiesta Ware. Mike helped me find a couple sets of the vintage, primary colored Pyrex nesting bowls and while they were not priced unreasonably for retail, they were not priced where I could buy them and turn them around to make a profit. We looked a few minutes more and then on the way out, we spied an eclectic group of Pyrex dishes that hadn’t been priced yet. The lady selling looked old enough to be my grandmother, but looks can be deceiving, especially among those who have lived a hard life. She was as kind as can be and when we asked her how much she wanted for the unmarked dishes, she offered them at a reasonable price and one at which I can make a margin of profit when I got to resell them. I bought all five of the dishes, several of them with lids. She had an odd lid that didn’t match anything and it was horribly dirty. I could see it had some rust spots underneath and I wasn’t sure it could be cleaned up. She offered to give it to me. I was tempted to refuse but accepted, thinking maybe it would clean up ok.
On down the road, we stopped at a third antique store that was inside
of what used to be a general store. The
door was open and there was a sign welcoming us, but no one was inside. I stepped in gingerly, feeling like I was
walking into somewhere I shouldn’t be.
The boards creaked and I almost jumped.
We started looking around and it wasn’t long until the owner, a large,
older man in a Harley Davidson T Shirt came in and welcomed us. Within minutes, I had found a wire rack for
my hot water bath canner. I was
elated. He actually had two of them
hanging on the shelf. Mine had broken
and I figured I would have to end up finding a whole new canner and many of
those have missing racks when you find them at flea markets and yard
sales. The gentleman was so nice and we
enjoyed talking to him. He showed us
some of his favorite pieces and after a while, we paid for my rack and headed
down the road.
We stopped at the fourth and final antique store as it was getting late
afternoon. This one was easy for me to
browse. It was a newer building and very
clean inside. Everything was neatly
organized, the owner was friendly without being pushy, and the cute, little,
fourteen-year-old lap dog made me smile.
We browsed and then headed to our favorite country restaurant where you
can get a full, home cooked meal for two for less than twenty dollars. Fried catfish, fried potatoes, and a fresh
salad hit the spot for me. Mike had a
hand patted, hamburger steak, fried potatoes and a salad. Our waitress is getting to know us and the
owner spoke to us when we came in. I’ve
never frequented a restaurant in my life, but we enjoy going to this little
restaurant for a quick sandwich or meal when we have been out running around
all day. Life here is so different for
us and we enjoy these little things that perhaps some people take for granted.
We got home and I worked a little around the house before we headed out
again. This time it was out to the local
auction house that has a sale most every night of the week. I described it in a recent journal
entry. Last night’s sale was packed to
capacity and we were forced to find a spot right in the middle of a row in the
middle of the auction house. That’s
totally not my choice of places to sit because it puts me in the thick of
things and I prefer to be on the edges.
I sat down and next to me was a reserved seat. It wasn’t long until a lady came and sat down
beside me who needed her seat and more than half of mine in order to sit
down. With her body pressed up against
mine, I thought I was going to panic and had to switch seats and sit on the
other side of Mike. This put me one
chair away from a very nice gentleman who insisted on talking to me the entire
time. He was very nice and I obliged,
but I would much rather sit by my book reading friend from last week. I was
especially uncomfortable when he wanted to talk about the riots in
Charlottesville and his support of President Trump. He was actually very nice about it and not
nearly as blatant and belligerent as a lot of folks who have tried to start a
conversation with me regarding politics.
Our Rural Retreat is definitely in midst of stereotypical Trump
supporting country. I try very hard to
be respectful and keep my mouth shut, but there will come a time when something
will be said and I will find myself in a place where I must speak my heart and
my heart remains respectful of President Trumps position but I can’t respect
him as a person. I left the auction around eight o’clock and
walked outside to call grandma. I call
her every night around the same time and have done so for many years. We talked a while and then I made my way back
inside the auction house for a while. We
ended up leaving before the auction was over as it ran later than usual and we
had been out running all day.
I love making these memories with Mike and I am thankful. I never dreamed we would be doing this at
this point in our lives. Changes that I
initially rebelled against have brought much good into our lives. I am so very aware that life is short and we
are not promised tomorrow. I hope that
Mike and I have twenty or more to enjoy life together, but if we don’t, I am
thankful that we can make every day count whether we are in Staunton working
our backsides off to keep things going there or whether we are living the
slower paced life at our Mountain Retreat.
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