August 8, 2018
I wondered if with time we would have any regrets about
moving from the Shenandoah Valley or if our place in the mountains would cease
to be a refuge and place of peace for us.
I wondered if when we moved the Jerseys and began once again to fall
into the routines that make it hard for us to “get away” if our new place would
lose its magic. Instead, what we have
found is validation after validation that this move was right for us. So many things could have stood in our way
and kept us from making the changes that we have made. Looking back, it almost seems surreal that
things would come together and that Mike and I would end up on the same page
about such a big decision. Our
relationship is stronger, our love deeper, our time together almost always a
daily routine instead of a few words over the phone or exhausted conversation
over a 9 pm summer supper trying to communicate quickly with tired minds so
that we could get a few hours sleep before heading our separate ways. We mostly worked independently in those days
in order to keep different aspects of the farms operational. With both of us having a different focus, we
were mostly pulled in different directions. We did what was necessary then, but we are
now fortunate to have a chance to live our life differently, while still
holding on to a way of life that is so important to us. Perhaps, in some ways,
we are living that lifestyle even more fully.
Working together has taught us to communicate better. Sure, we still get
angry, frustrated and raise our voices or argue over stupid things. but more
often than not, we are focused on a common goal or seeking to find a joint
solution to a problem. Sometimes, I
catch my breath and have to pause and just count my blessings. Mike and I love each other deeply but we have
not always acted like it. We have both
hurt each other by being selfish at times.
We have let our differences cloud our views and distract us from the
areas in which we have common ground sometimes.
We have both gone through significant loss, reacted differently to those
losses, and allowed the grief to distract us from our relationship with each other
for a time. I know for myself, when my
son passed away, that I went several years so absorbed in my own grief that I
could not give be present in my relationship with Mike or with others who were
dear to me. Somehow, someway, all that
is good and right about our love and our relationship has persevered through
even the most difficult times, and for some undeserved reason, God has smiled
upon us and given us the opportunity have this place where we are free to be
ourselves, love each other, and be free of the many stresses and distractions
that use to be a part of our life. It is
evident that there are those on the outside looking in who do not and will not
understand, who will judge, who think they know when they don’t. Only
the two of us know the full story, the
pieces of the puzzle that seemed so scattered only to come together one step at
a time to bring us to this place and this time.
Mike left on Monday morning around 4 am to go back to the
Valley so that he could make a second cutting of hay. It has been a hard year to make hay there
with all of the rain. He didn’t want to leave
and I didn’t want him to leave, having grown so accustomed to his presence and
feeling especially close to him lately.
I have never been afraid to be alone and I can fill my days without ever
seeing or talking to another human. But,
I have been super emotional the last month and really didn’t want to see him
go. I never let on to him that I don’t
want him to go. We knew when we made the
decision to move to Laurel Fork that there would be times when we would have to
be apart, at least for a while. I always
tell him to go on and do whatever he needs to do and that I understand. I do understand, but this time I missed him
before he was even gone. Now it is
Wednesday and he hopes to be here around midnight. I am waiting up for him because I need to hug
him and he needs to be hugged.
I miss the grandbabies badly now. I don’t see them but a couple times a month
because I am tied to the cows here. That
is really the only hard part for me.
There’s nothing that I want or need to go back to in the Valley except
for our children and grandchildren who are there. I have a few friends there but because of the
way Mike and I worked, my interactions in person with those friends was usually
brief and infrequent. Emails, text
messages, and personal messages on social media kept me in touch with them even
when I lived in the Valley and sustains those friendships now. I just never had the time to break away from
farming to “hang out” or visit and I’m such an introvert anyway that I just
don’t do that sort of thing. And, if I am honest, I allowed the loss of my son
to isolate me even further. I feel that
I have spent more time getting to know people here than I ever did in the
valley. That is mostly a reflection on
me, not on others. My point is that I
just didn’t make connections or form relationships there that made it difficult
for me to leave. The pull of my babies
being in the Valley draws me back and makes me long to go for visits, but
otherwise, I have not been this content since I lived in Alaska and I dare say
that I have never been happier. I don’t
take it for granted. It has been a very
long road getting to this place in life.
I am thankful from the depths of my heart.
August 11, 2018
While Mike was away, I kept busy. It is amazing how much there is to do and how
much I can accomplish when I don’t stop to cook meals and when I stay focused
on “my own” projects and work rather than stopping to help Mike or converse
with him. However, focused I was this
time, I still would have rather had him here than away. That is truly a “first” for me. I love him dearly and enjoy being with him,
but I am a person so focused on goals and accomplishing the work I set out to
do, that when I get a chance to be alone and focused on tasks, I always embrace
it, never feeling lonely are afraid to be by myself. This time with Mike gone, I accomplished all
the things I set out to do, was focused and ok with being by myself but I
missed him so terribly.
One of the things I had put off for a while was cleaning the
chicken coop. It felt good to get it cleaned
up and new straw down for the hens. I
also made mozzarella cheese. I had not
done that in a long time and it felt good to be playing with large quantities
of milk again. With our dryer out and
Mike not having been able to fix it, getting clothes washed and dried has
become a major focus. I feel like I
devote a lot of time to making sure we have clean clothes. I really don’t, but I do have to plan. For days we had so much rain that I couldn’t
get my clothes dry. Now, we are having
late afternoon and evening storms and showers almost daily. I make sure that I have clothes in the wash
before daylight and then I hang them on the line as soon as the sun comes up,
giving them enough time to dry before the afternoon showers. While I love to hang clothes on the line and
do it more often than not, I have always relied on having that back up dryer
for clothes I wash in the evenings or when it rains. The positive side of having a broken dryer is
that it has forced me to “go green” and stop relying on the electricity sucking
machine. Mike said he needs to get me a
new dryer and I told him that I am not in any hurry because I have learned how
to manage the clothes without one with a little extra dedication to the task. It has been funny though because when we have
a sunny day, I have strung “extra” lines between trees and anywhere I can find
so that I can wash sheets and larger items in addition to a load of
clothes. Those who pass by our house see
plenty of clothes blowing in the breeze and our entire yard crisscrossed with
clothes lines.
Of course, adding to the daily routine is milking
Princess. I had let the other mommas get
by with simply raising their calves.
Shar can do that without being milked at all (although I did milk her
some in the beginning) and Promise can do so after a few weeks if I don’t take
steps to increase her milk production, which I did not do this year. As a result, they both only have enough milk
to feed their calves unless I separate the calves for twelve hours. Even then, they don’t give a large quantity
of milk because they have not been milked regularly to get them to that
point. (A cow, like a human, makes milk
based upon demand. If the demand is not
there in the beginning, then their bodies will cut back to what needs to be
produced just for the calf, generally speaking.
There are exceptions to this, but mostly it is true.) When Princess calved, she had a lot of milk
as she is a high producer and while I didn’t want to push her to produce the
maximum that she can produce, I want to keep her in enough milk that we have
plenty for the table. I chose to take my
chances at milking her once a day. As a ten-year-old
cow, I know her well, and I knew that milking her twice a day would increase
her production quickly which would also put her in a higher risk for developing
milk fever which she is prone to as well.
I took my chances that milking her once a day would be enough to keep
her from developing mastitis and it has been.
On once a day milking, she is currently giving me 2.5 gallons of milk a
day which is perfect as far as I am concerned.
As the calf grows, she will take more of that milk but I anticipate
still having enough to keep us in milk for a while. For all of the first week and part of the
second, getting Princess to adjust to a new routine in a new place was
difficult, but she has settled in now and will leave her calf outside or in the
barn and come in for her “treats” willingly.
We were also dealing with a minor but hurtful injury to her left, rear
teat where the skin was torn back, making it extremely sore, especially when
the inflation is placed on the teat and begins squeezing the milk out. She kicked a lot and when Princess kicks, she
goes for gold. Being tender makes it
difficult to get all the milk out of the quarter which can lead to
mastitis. I was diligent to stick with
it, kicking and all, in order to make sure that quarter remained healthy. Every night after milking, I put an
antiseptic on the wound that also helped to seal it off. It is looking much better now, although still
tender. I am hoping she doesn’t’ open up
the scab and that we don’t have to start all over with the healing
process. A teat injury is so difficult
to get healed.
I also began letting Princess and her calf, Little P, stay
out at night. Princess gets so depressed
when she is not with the rest of the herd.
Cattle are herd animals and to separate one really has an impact on
their morale. Some of them, like humans,
deal with alone time better than others.
Princess is not one of those. She
gets very agitated, anxious and then depressed when left alone, so I try to
keep her with the herd as much as possible.
Even when we let her out into the smaller pasture where she could be
“next door” to her herd mates in the next lot over, she would stand at the
fence, looking over and longing to be with them. Knowing Little P was faster and stronger now,
I decided it was safe enough to let them back out with the herd at night. I had feared attacks by predators when the
calf was just born and weak and a story a lifelong resident told me did nothing
to ease my fears. She told me that a
friend of hers had on video a large bear, picking up one of her jersey calves
and dragging it away. Evidently the bear
had been coming in and being a nuisance and this farmer had been told that the
bears have radio collars, are tracked, and that shooting them is punishable
with high fines and even jail time. Thus,
when the bear came in and scooped up the calf, all she could do was watch and
video tape it to prove it had happened.
My friend saw the video tape and said that she would not have believed
it had she not seen it. I am not sure,
jail time or not, that I could have stood their recording. One never knows for sure what they will do in
a crisis situation, but I don’t think I could refrain from doing something to
try to save the calf. My friend went on
to tell me of someone who had a bear stand up in the window and look in at her
sleeping baby in the crib at their home.
She said the paw prints were on the window and yet, she was told that
shooting the bear would be punishable. I
hope I am never put in that position. I
lived for years in grizzly bear territory in Alaska and have had a number of
personal encounters with bears. I
respect them and those who know me know that I don’t even like to hunt because
I am such an animal lover, but when faced with crisis situations in Alaska, I
always had a weapon and knew that I could use it to shoot an aggressive animal
should the need arise.
On Wednesday, with Mike gone, I went into Galax by
myself. It is an easy 45-minute trip.
While most of the trip for me is made by traveling Highway 58, there is no
heavy traffic like in the Valley. I had
multiple, routine appointments and those went well. Arriving early to the Twin County Hospital in
Galax for a Mammogram, I walked in the lobby and it was completely
deserted. There were no people coming in
or out, there was no one at the desk. I
spent a few minutes looking around the area trying to decide where I was
supposed to go for my mammogram and the whole time, I saw not a soul. The hospital reminds me of hospitals from my
youth and I figure it was probably built in the 70’s or earlier. Even as I made my way down the halls and to
the radiology department, I met very few people. The medical professionals I passed were all
friendly, smiling, and sometimes saying good morning as they passed. The waiting room was busy but not filled to
capacity. I noticed that with a room of
perhaps a dozen people, I was the only one with a cell phone out. The whole scene reminded me of another place
and time. The lady who registered me was
cheerful and kind. The radiologist who
performed the test was not as friendly but was not unpleasant and was extremely
efficient, getting me in and out quickly.
I was satisfied with the experience, my second within a one-week period
at Twin Counties Hospital, having gone last week for a battery of blood work. On both of my visits, I felt valued and felt
I was given good care.
My second appointment for the day was with the optometrist,
and a follow up visit from seeing them for the first-time last year around this
time. I feel like I get excellent care
at this facility and I am pleased with how thorough they are. The cost of a visit reflects the fact they
are state of the art, and we do not have vision insurance, but I know when I
walk away from t here that they have given me a thorough exam. The vision in my right eye remains the same
but in my left eye had become slightly worse.
However, after I told the doctor that my insurance would not pay for
vision, she agreed that I would be all right to wait until next year’s visit
before replacing the lenses in my glasses.
We also talked about the dry eye syndrome that I have, and with one of
the tests, she was able to confirm my need for treatment or prescription
drops. However, again the cost was so
high to remedy the situation, I chose to continue with using over the counter
drops and dealing with it. Without
prescription insurance, the drops are evidently well over a hundred dollars,
the treatments range from several hundred to 750 per eye depending on what
treatment is best for each individual scenario and the testing to find out
which treatment is best for the individual runs about $250. I told the doctor I would just live with it
for now. She was kind and understanding
and told me if we meet our $7500 deductible on our medical insurance for the
year (which we have only done once in the last 13 years) then come in because
it was considered a medical condition and would be covered by the medical
insurance. I am thankful that my
difficulties are so minor, really nothing.
I am thankful also that after not feeling well and thinking
perhaps there might be something more seriously wrong, that blood work and lab
tests have all come back negative and my two to three-week bout of feeling
poorly and running a low-grade fever off and on seems to be nothing more than
some sort of viral infection. I am
feeling much better now, back to normal in fact.
I accomplished a lot while Mike was gone, checked off a lot
of errands and caught up on some paperwork that had been hanging over my
head. I got some things ordered from
Amazon that I have been putting off for a year.
All in all, it was a productive three days, and I stayed very busy, but
I sure was glad to see Mike walk through the door at almost midnight on
Wednesday.
Thursday, Mike got caught up on mowing, something I didn’t
push myself to do this time while he was gone and I canned another round of
tomatoes that he brought with him from the garden in Verona at his mom’s
place. I was able to put up 10 more
quarts of tomatoes, putting my total of canned goods for this season up to
around 150 jars of various produce. I
would love to put up about that much more and have my shelves filled for the
winter, but I know we are set for this winter, even if I am unable to can
anything else. We might not have all the
variety we want, but we will have plenty of homegrown goodness to eat over the
winter. The garden in the Valley is
winding down. Mike said maybe we would
get a few more tomatoes and there are some beets, beans, and a few other things
in the garden. He will be tilling it up
soon and planting grass seed there, this being our final year to grow veggies
in the valley. It is the end of an era
for him and I know he is sad about that but we are also looking forward
positively to the future, growing things in raised beds and learning to make
things work for us here in the mountains.
Some things will be different here with gardening but we will grow,
learn, and move forward. It is
bittersweet but also an exciting time as we watch things come together for us
more and more here at our mountain home.
We will also be having an auction at some point in the near future to
sell off some of our equipment. Again, a
bittersweet point in our lives, harder for Mike than for me. Soon, we will be completely removed from the
farm where Mike’s mother lives, his nephew already renting the place for going
on two years. We still have our 50 acres
and home in Staunton where Alissa and Gabino are living with their two
girls. We have beef cattle there, hay
fields, and soybeans this year. As time goes
by, we have made decisions and other decisions have been forced upon us that
necessitate our drawing to a close our ties to the family farm and while that
is hard and in many ways very sad, we are blessed to have so much positive in
our life, and a place where we feel at home in Southwest Virginia.
After we got some things done around the house Thursday, we
went into Galax late afternoon and went by Briar Patch to check on our booth
and put a few more small items in there.
We ran a few more errands and then we went by Felts Park to check out
the 83rd Annual Fiddler’s Convention. I really didn’t know what to expect and my
introversion and social anxieties made me chicken out at the last minute,
telling Mike that I just wanted to go home rather than get out of the car and
walk inside the park to face a new experience.
The thought of the reported 40,000 people in attendance in a little town
that typically boasts 7,000 permanent residents was just too much for me. Mike, knowing me well, pushed me to go
anyway. He knew I wanted to experience
it but that I was letting my anxiety get the better of me. He promised me if I felt uncomfortable that
we could leave at any time. It was one
of those instances where I knew he didn’t care one way or the other if we went,
and that he was doing this for me because he knew it was something I would
enjoy. We found a relatively quiet spot
towards the back of the bleachers, but far enough down that the evening sun
would not burn our necks. Competitors
come from all over the world for the competition. While we listened, we heard a banjo player from
Norway as well as one from Australia. Of
course, there were many local players as well as people travelling from all
over the United States. Because I enjoy
watching people and absorbing the different personalities and characteristics
of individuals within a crowd, I watched closely as people walked up and down
the path between those of sitting in the bleachers and those sitting in the
lower section in chairs, closer to the performers. There were people of all ages enjoying the
family friendly atmosphere. No alcohol
allowed, plenty of security from local law enforcement, and old-time mountain
music seemed to draw a crowd of friendly, relaxed, pleasant people. There were folks there dressed like “mountain
men” with overalls, long beards and wide brimmed hats. There were “original, old hippies” as well as
a younger generation of hippies, including one long haired young man who played
most excellently in the banjo competition with bare feet and a huge smile,
gazing out into the audience as it played with ease and brought down the
house. There were “old women” dressed
far too young and “young women” dressed far to old. I smiled when I saw a group of teenage girls
and reached over and nudged Mike. “Look
at those girls”, I said. They look like
me when I was in high school and shortly thereafter.” The clothes they wore had a vintage feel to
them and made me think of the late 80’s and early 90’s. It wasn’t what I was used to seeing kids
today wear. One girl in particular kept
my attention. She was full of life and
all over the place, joking with her friends one minute, talking to a young
sheriff’s deputy the next minute, and then flat foot dancing with an elderly
man on the sidelines. She made me smile
and remember a time when I believed that the world was all good or at least, if
it wasn’t that it could be. It reminded
me of a time when I believed that I could and would make a big impact on the
world just because of my love for people and my willingness to make sacrifices
to make a difference in the life of others.
I smiled at the young girl’s eagerness for life and I hoped that she
would never lose her joy or her faith in all that is good. As I watched the people around me, I kept
seeing a very old man walking around with a board used by flat foot
dancers. He looked to be close to 90,
was dressed well, and had a large hat on his head. He was thin with a quick smile and it didn’t
take me too long to figure out that he loved attention and he loved the ladies. I watched him from a distance the entire
night as he continually pushed himself to the forefront of all the
happenings. If someone was taking a
video, he would position himself to be in it.
He had no shame in asking if he had made it into the recording. He could dance and dance well. I am not sure how anyone his age could pull
of the moves that he had, but he was actually quite good and quite
energetic. After listening to the
competition for a while, I asked Mike if he wanted to walk. There were various venders set up and we
walked rather quickly through them and found our way on the edges of the
campground where people in tents of various sizes and all makes and models of
campers and RV’s were packed in side by side.
Again, the diversity represented by the inhabitants of the campground
was profound. Who knew that so many
people from so many different backgrounds would enjoy the old-time music of the
fiddler’s convention? As we began to
walk through the camp, we found group after group of musicians singing, some
with just a few people standing by to listen, others with large crowds. The music represented was everything from
gospel, to blue grass, to old time music, and old country. Before leaving, we stopped where a large
crowd had gathered. There were perhaps a
half a dozen flat foot dancers keeping the beat as the group of musicians
played. It was a lively crowd, and
lively music. I can watch the flat foot
dancers for hours, never getting tired of watching their feet move with the
beat of the music. One dancer not old enough to go to school, another looked to
be near 90, and every age in between, they represented an Appalachian tradition
that is still alive and well. Flat foot
dancing is typically passed from generation to generation, the younger
generations learning by imitating the freestyle dance moves of their parents
and grandparents. This moment standing
on the sidelines and absorbing the spirit of the group gathered around was
hopeful to me. There were so many different
people represented in that place, brought together by their love of old time
music and regional dance. It seemed at
that moment that the world was a good place filled with good people.
August 13, 2018
Friday, Mike and I got up and made the trip to the Roanoke
Valley to attend the produce auction. We
didn’t buy anything and would not have gone except that we had a truck load of
boxes to sell. We accumulated a number
of produce boxes over the years and have them stored at the farm in
Verona. Mike has begun trying to clean
up and clear out his things there and the boxes need to go. The gently used boxes go into the auction
where the growers place their bids, paying pennies on the dollar compared to
new box prices. It is a win/win for
everyone. We need to find new homes for
the boxes and we make a few dollars in the process. It would be easier to pile them up and burn
them, but our nature is to try to reuse, salvage, recycle and find purpose for
anything that is still functional.
Friday, like most of our days, was a typical, normal,
routine day and yet I ended the day thinking, “I have waited all my life to be
where I am right now.” On the way to the
Roanoke Valley, Mike and I started talking and our conversation, although not
profound, ended up being a time of deep connection and intimacy. It was a simple day. It was a beautiful day.
Saturday, I spent a good part of the day getting caught up
on washing up the clothes and hanging them on the line while I made butter and
mozzarella cheese from our fresh cow’s milk.
I was happy with almost three pounds of mozzarella, two pounds of butter
and about a gallon of cultured buttermilk from my efforts.
Sunday, I got up early to get more clothes washed, hung up
to dry, and milk the cow before we went to church. After church, we had leftovers for
lunch. We had a number of tomatoes that
needed to be preserved but not enough to get out the canner. So, I made some pizza sauce using the peppers
and tomatoes form our garden as well as the oregano and basil that I have
growing in containers right outside the back door. The house smelled so good while the sauce was
cooking. I couldn’t wait until later and
had to go ahead and make us a pizza for our supper. I used my sourdough to make the crust, our
Italian pork sausage, the mozzarella I had made on Saturday and the fresh,
homemade pizza sauce. I cooked it up in
my Wagner, cast iron square skillet and it was absolutely delicious. I was able to freeze enough sauce for four
more meals.
It’s Monday morning and we have been up since 3 am with a
busy week ahead of us. We have some really
exciting things to look forward to this week as well as some events that are
going to be extremely difficult both physically and emotionally. My human nature wants this week to be
finished so that the difficult part can be behind us but I know I need to take
each moment as it comes and try to experience it as best I can and make the
most out of each situation.