Monday Journal Entry

March 9, 2018

As much as we would like to remain in one spot for more than a few days at a time, our responsibilities to those we love won’t allow it at this point in time.  When I get a break from watching the grandchildren, we always take the opportunity to travel in the opposite direction, further south, to spend time caring for my grandmother.  We are so fortunate that my paternal cousin is there with here looking after her needs, but there are things that need my attention as well as the fact that grandma just needs me close as often as possible.  We average every 10 weeks making a trip to Georgia and I will always be thankful for these times we have been able to spend with my Nan.  I do admit that I am weary of travel and ready to have more than four days in a single location before getting back in the car again.  This schedule of running up and down the roads has been a routine for a year now. 

Monday morning Mike and I worked around the house in Laurel Fork, having the week off from watching the Little Girls with Alissa being on Spring Break.  Around 1 pm we had the car packed and were on the road.  We stopped for gas and to eat but made good time arriving at Grandma’s house around 7:30.  I called her when we were a few minutes from the house as she had no idea we were coming to see her.  We like to surprise her because we don’t want to add to her anxiety and the anticipation of our coming causes her to fret.  She began telling me that she had put a letter in the mailbox for me but the postal carrier did not pick it up.  I then asked her if she would like for me to get it out of the mailbox.  She said, “Yes, but how are you going to do that?”  I then proceeded to tell her I was about five minutes away and would be there soon to see her.  She was extremely happy and it was very sweet to see her face when we walked through the door. 

Tuesday and Wednesday were incredibly busy days for me as I tried to get all the business done that needed to be addressed.  I manage all of my grandma’s financial affairs now as well as try to keep her on track with doctors’ appointments.  Again, we are so blessed that my cousin can be there to facilitate and that most of what needs to be done, thanks to the internet, I can manage from Virginia but occasionally it is just better for everyone if I am there in person to facilitate.  Our seniors face so much more than we realize sometimes, including people who will take advantage of them if they do not see a strong presence in the life of the senior.  As I went through my grandma’s financial records since my grandmother’s death, I was very aware of a certain self-proclaimed “handyman” that has lived down the road from her in the past who took advantage of her naivety, inexperience, and trusting nature and took large sums of money from her over the years as well as talking her into giving him her nice, riding lawn mower.  In the beginning there was nothing I could do about it as there was no case for memory loss or other issues that would warrant my taking over her finances for her.  It was simply a matter of her childlike trust in humanity and her inexperience in dealing first hand with a cruel world as she had always been protected by my grandfather.  At that time, I would make her angry as I would try to tell her to steer clear of this man and his thieving ways, because she thought she knew what she was doing.  Later, as her mental state became more fragile and we were unaware of just how bad things were getting, she just hid things from us.  This is not an uncommon response from the elderly as they begin to feel like they are losing control but don’t want their family to step in and take over.  Sometimes this is because they want to remain independent and other times it is because they don’t want to be a burden to their family.  Often, it is both.  I have walked to where the “handyman” is staying, confronted him and taken back tools that belong to my grandmother.  I have made my presence known and made the legal and political authorities in the city aware of what is going on as well. However, it is difficult because Grandma invites him back again and again.  I have found that our seniors need an advocate in so many areas of life as they try to manage in a complex and often cruel world. 

We seem to have entered into a slightly different aspect of this roller coaster ride of caring for and loving an elderly family member.  Grandma was in denial to herself and to us for quite a while.  I am so glad that she has always been resilient and stubborn.  We women need those traits to help us navigate life.  I am always happy that my daughter and granddaughters exhibit those same strengths.  That strong desire to be independent, while I respected it and understood, often made it difficult for me to help grandma when she needed it the last couple of years.  Now grandma is recognizing and admitting that her memory doesn’t always respond as she needs it to and that she needs others to fill in the gaps.  As she has begun to relax into this acceptance of this phase of her life, she has become softer, like the grandma I know best.  It is bittersweet because it makes it easier for me to do what I need to do to care for her but it also breaks my heart.  I see her reliance on me and on my cousin, who is there with her, and her acceptance of it now and I just want to weep for all the days gone by when it was my grandmother taking care of me rather than me taking care of my grandmother.  How quickly time goes by and things come full circle. 

During our time in Georgia, I went with Grandma to church on Wednesday night.  I knew when I went down this time that I would go with her.  It means so much to her and it is not something that I typically do.  But, I wanted to make Grandma happy and I did.  She was so proud of our being there and introduced us to all her friends.  She would forget that she had just introduced us to someone and would introduce us again.  Her friends were kind and didn’t correct her when she repeatedly introduced us.  It doesn’t matter if one is 5 or 50, grandmothers have the same pride in their grandkids that they always did.  I was actually pretty comfortable there only because I knew I was there for the right reason and that was to honor my grandmother by being by her side.  As we sat there during the service, grandma also struggled to find the passages of Scripture that were being read.  Growing up in a Baptist church, I am very familiar with the way the pastor will often jump from one place in the Bible to another and expect those in the congregation to “follow along” by turning in their Bibles to those passages.  Baptist children are taught early on the books of the Bible and participate in “Sword Drills” that rewards children for finding a passage in the Bible quicker than the other children after it is called out by the class leader or teacher.  Grandma wanted so badly to follow along but would be looking in the New Testament for Old Testament passages and vice versa.  The pages in her Bible would make soft noises as she kept flipping through them.  Sometimes she would look at me and say, “I can’t remember where it is” and I would gently take her Bible and find the passage for her handing it back to her.  Grandma gave up the choir a while back.  She told me that she couldn’t follow along anymore and she couldn’t learn the parts.  Nan has always sang harmony and has a beautiful voice.  She sang all the time………at church, at home, driving in the car, outside…………she was always singing.  She stopped singing.  She said she forgot how.  However, Wednesday night as I sat beside her every word of the old hymns came effortlessly from her mouth as she sang in harmony and with strength of voice.  As I stood beside her, it was all I could do to keep the tears in my eyes from spilling down my cheeks.  Those few moments of being able to hear her voice in song once again were my gift for putting aside my own feelings and going to church to honor my grandmother.  I will forever be thankful for those moments. 

I was also able to sit down with Nan and get her to tell me some of her memories.  It didn’t flow as freely for her as it has at other times but still, the stories were sweet and helped me to remember times in my life as well as learn more about those days before I was born.  I noticed that the stories of her childhood are stronger in her memory and contain more detail than the stories from my childhood.  More and more she likes to go back to those stories of when she was a little girl.  I asked her to tell me stories about when she and my grandpa went to the first church he ever pastored.  It was in DeSoto, Missouri.  My grandpa must have been in his early 40’s at the time, my grandmother being four years younger in her late 30’s.  My grandpa went to college at Tennessee Temple University in Chattanooga as a middle-aged man who had never finished high school.  It took him seven years to finish a four-year degree but he was determined.  When he finished his degree, a friend of his, Jim Waymire, told him about this little Southern Baptist Church in Missouri that needed a pastor.  He and my grandma left their home in Georgia and moved to Missouri.  It wasn’t too long after that I was born and my parents also moved from Georgia to Missouri.  I was around six months old when they moved.  I asked my grandmother if my parents lived with them or elsewhere when they first arrived and she told me that they lived in a tiny trailer owned by the Northcutt family.

“Your mom and dad lived in a tiny little trailer.  I mean it was really small.  It belonged to the Northcutts.  You would not remember them because you were too little but they came to our church.  Your dad went to work at a place where they made tin cans and later he went to Ford Motor Company.  He worked at the tin can place first.”

I went on to ask her about the trailer where she and my grandpa lived behind the church.  I was really young but I can still remember some about the trailer, about some of the things we did there with my grandparents, and about the trees and flowers outside of their home where I loved to play.  My grandmother had a bed of flowers that was nothing but various colors of Iris in front of the trailer that was about half as wide as the trailer itself and very near as long as the trailer.  Those flowers were absolutely gorgeous in bloom and even as a child I thought they were beautiful.  The smell of those flowers permeated the air. 

“We lived in a trailer behind the church.  I had a lot of Irises.  A lady gave me some special Irises.  She said they would be mine.  They were a dark blue, almost black flower.  They also kept us supplied with strawberries.  I would pick the strawberries.”

Remembering how I wanted a baby brother, Nan relayed the following:

  “You use to say, ‘I want a baby brother’.  Your mom said, ‘If you want a baby brother, you have to pray for one.’   So, you bowed your head, folded your hands and said, ‘God I want a baby brother.’

At this point my grandma laughed at the sweetness of the memory.

When I told my grandma that I remembered things from when she lived at Emmanuel Baptist in the little trailer, she relayed this story:

“I remember the first time you spent all night.  You stood up in bed and said, ‘I want my momma.’  I don’t think your mom was too happy you came home.  She thought she was going to get a break.  You did good for a while but you stood up in bed and said, ‘I want my momma.’

I have memories of that time as well, even though I was probably only four years old.  My brother was an infant and I remember walking through the front door and seeing my mother holding and rocking him.  I was so happy to see them both. 

Grandma remembered the Persimmon trees growing along the edge of the church property and how she taught me to look for a “knife, fork or spoon” when we cut them open. The old timers used to predict the severity of the coming winter by the shape of the seed.  To this day, I rush to pick the persimmons from the ground after a hard frost and taste their sweetness that fills me with memories.

“I remember that there were persimmon trees growing at the edge of our yard.  There were two old ladies that lived at the property edge adjoining ours.  One time a fire got out someplace.  It burned a lot of property there.  I cut open the persimmons and showed you a knife, a spoon, and a fork.  If you picked them and ate them too green, they would pucker your mouth but they were sure good when they got ripe.” 

Grandma jumped back to talking about the church at this point.

“Do you remember Pollite’s store at the end of the road?  There was a tavern across the road.  We could always hear the music at our house, the boom, boom, boom.”

I assured her that I did remember the little convenience store because she often bought me Push-Ups, that orange sherbet like treat in a cardboard cylinder that was pushed up from the bottom by a stick.

She continued:

“The Womacks lived right across the street from us.  They had a little girl.  One time on Easter she came over and drew on our windows.  Her momma made her come over and clean them up.  Of course, that was just a kid thing and she was as innocent as can be.  She didn’t know she would have to work after she did the dirty work.”

She smiled as she remembered and then proceeded to talk about the Day Care she started at the church.  This memory actually was from a later time in her life when she and my grandpa came back from Alaska and he pastored Emmanuel a second time.  They had gone to Alaska to work with a friend at a church in North Pole and lived there for a while before my mother passed away.  When my mother died, they came back to Missouri to help with my brother and I.  It was at this time my grandpa began his second tenure at Emmanuel and my grandmother started the day care.

“I had the day care there the second time we came back to Emmanuel.  I had a lot of kids.  They caught the school bus to go to school.  I would go out with them to catch the bus.  Some of them, the kindergarten kids came back for lunch.  We had pizza once a week.  Pizza wasn’t made like it is now.  I bought it in a box and mixed it up.  They were always thrilled to have pizza.  I guess the Trent kids were the first kids that started to the day care.  We got big enough to have three teachers plus myself.  Bobby Davis, Dianne Bell and then there was another lady.  I used to hear from her every once in a while.  She lived on a back road.  She was a teacher in the bed babies up to two years of age.  One time I was counting for a little girl and the little girl clapped her hands and said, “That’s very good Mrs. Starnes.”  Her grandma was crippled.  Her mom worked on the highway installing guard rails.” 

Here her memory went back to church services during their first tenure as she remembered who kept the babies during that time:

“When we first went to that church Mrs Bell (Shirly Waymire’s mom) was keeping the nursery.  She just had a room back in the office.” 

Nan then remembered a visit from her mother and her mom’s cousin during the time of their first pastorate in Missouri.  I have my own memories of that visit with my “Little Grandma” as I called her and our vivacious cousin Rosie who was then in her eighties.  “Aunt Rosie” as we called her and “Little Grandma” looked as if they had stepped out of the Victorian Era in their dresses and with their hairstyles.  I remember Rosie sitting on the edge of my bed with me, listening to a record and singing along to “Do You Know The Muffin Man”, dancing as she did so until she literally fell off the bed.  Fortunately for me and for her, she wasn’t hurt. 

My grandmother shared this memory of that same time period:

“While we were there we took mom and Rose to see mom’s sister in Colorado.  Her name was Pearl.  She had nine sons and they all went to the service and they all came back.  She was the gold star mother of Pueblo, Colorado.  In the War days, they recognized the person who had so many children serving in the service and called them a gold star mother.  One son had lost an arm.  One of her boys had triplets.  In those days it was kind of like having a litter of kids.  It wasn’t too exciting for them because of the stigma that was with having three at a time.  She and my uncle always traveled a lot even though they had so many kids.  I remember her visiting in Lebanon.  Someone would come and get us and tell us Aunt Pearl was there. 

Gladys and Ines were dad’s sisters.  Ines was a school teacher at Dry Knob School.  Marlin’s grandmother knew who I was because I looked so much like my Aunt Inez.  Aunt Inez had boarded with them.  Pa’s grandmother was still living when Nan and Pa started dating.  She was feeble and had palsy.  She lived with Aunt Nelly.  This was his dad’s mom.” 

I had been directing Nan to tell me stories about her early years at Emmanuel and living in DeSoto, Missouri.  She had struggled a bit keeping those stories going but soon turned back to her early years and was happy telling stories of her childhood.

“I’ve got to tell you about grandpa.  He had really white hair.  He was Norwegian.  He was blind but he would try to farm.  Our place was 40 or more acres and we could hear him at night yelling at the cows.  He always said, “I’ll knock your head off and throw it in your face” and “I wish lightening would strike you.”  He called my grandma Pokey.  He always made cough syrup and his cough syrup was mostly whisky.  He had a box that fit against the wall and they would drop pill boxes in there.  When I went to see them, those were my toys.  Grandpa was a veterinarian.  He even wrote an article for the Vet’s magazine onetime telling about how good onions were and that they would make you sleep.  He and Pokey had an apple tree.  It was just right to play on.  I would spin on the limbs and go round and round holding my leg.  I asked my grandma one time if she could do that.  Grandpa always ate beans almost every meal.  He liked them baked with fat back.  It was just as fat as fat could be.  Grandpa and Grandma lived with us for a long time and then they wanted to move out to that little shed.  We put a door on that shed.  It had a cement floor in it.  They lived out there until they went to live with Paul and Eleanor.  They gave Paul and Eleanor their farm.  The house we lived in was a square yellow house.  It had two rooms upstairs and two rooms downstairs.  The room off the kitchen was where we entertained people when they came to visit.  It was a bedroom and a little bit of everything.   We had a big orchard at that place.  We had all kinds of fruit trees.  We probably had 75 peach trees and 15 apple trees.  People would come and buy fruit from us.  I never have liked fruit because we had it all the time.  There was a cherry tree that grew over the toilet.  Mom always said, “Don’t eat the cherries from that tree’ but I liked the cherries because they were different.”

We both laughed and I winked and replied, “You liked the cherries because they were the forbidden fruit.”  This made grandma really laugh.

At this point, Nan was pretty tired and I knew it was time to let her rest.  I know that no matter how much time we have left, there’s not enough time to get down all the stories but I am thankful for the ones that she is able to relay to me.  Our time together was really sweet.  Grandma seemed less anxious for the most part perhaps giving in to resignation in some ways over this season of her life or perhaps the anxiety medicine the doctor gave her is taking the edge off.  We only had one night that was uncomfortable for all of us when she didn’t sleep and walked the halls from 1 am until 5 pm.  She would randomly open our door and stare into the room until finally at 5 am she beat on the door and wanted to know why we were not out of bed yet.  At that point, I just gave up and got up.  All in all, it was a good trip and I accomplished even more than I had set out to do.

On the trip home, I made calls to take care of personal business, texted folks who had been waiting for days on a reply and worked on a book review for a friend whose book will soon be released.  I was thrilled when she asked me to read her book before it was published and honored that she allowed me to share how much I enjoyed the book.  I had been thinking about the sentiments behind what I wanted to say about the book for several weeks but just hadn’t been able to settle down enough to put my heart into words.  This was more than just a book review for me.  This was me wrapping my arms around my friend and sharing with the world how important the work is that she has done to preserve the stories of her grandmother’s life and the history of the land they homesteaded.  It had to be done to the best of my ability.  I was thankful when I had clarity of thought and could put what was in my heart into words and share that with my friend.  We both cried.  I’m just so happy for her joy and this great accomplishment in her life. 

We stopped for lunch on the way home and then when we went back to the car, Mike asked me to drive.  This was a momentous occasion.  I can only think of one other time, when he wasn’t feeling well, that he has asked me to drive.  I am a very good driver with a good driving record and it is not that he doesn’t trust me to drive, it is just that he would rather be in charge and he is a lot more aggressive of a driver than I am.  I don’t mind at all because I would rather be writing which is what I do typically after all the business is done as we travel.  This momentous occasion in our life came to be this time not because Mike was sick but because his favorite college basketball team is in the championships and they were playing in the middle of the day.  Other than playing volley ball in high school (well playing in practice but mostly sitting on the bench during games) and following the St. Louis Cardinals Baseball team as a teenager and in my 20’s I don’t pay much attention to sports.  However, this year I have made an effort to learn more about Mike’s favorite basketball team and watch the games with him.  We were both excited when UVA pulled off another win.  I drove until we got to Wytheville and it snowed but didn’t stick for most of the trip.  In Wytheville, we stopped at Rural King, a new farm store.  We bought some Kentucky 31 grass seed and a few other things.  Then, we had to stop by Southwest Virginia Farm supply and pick up the orchard grass that Mike had bought there.  We finally arrived home, unloaded the car, started a fire and I got supper, called grandma and we settled in for the night.  This past week has flown by. 

March 10, 2018

Mike worked hard yesterday wanting to make up for the days we were away at Grandma’s.  Our time this past week instead of being divided up between Laurel Fork and Staunton was divided up between Laurel Fork and Georgia.  It is so difficult to get anything done in the short amount of time that we are in one place or another.  I am truly counting the weeks until we can stop running up and down the road.  Of course, then we will be getting into hay season, and Mike will have to be in Staunton off and on this summer.  At any rate, Mike kicked butt and accomplished a lot.  He cleared a lot of brush beside the house.  Adjacent to our back yard is a post and woven wire fence that is topped with barbed wire.  I am sure it was probably put there to discourage deer from coming through the yard and to keep livestock out that might have gotten into the woods.  I’m sure it was also there just to give a division and definition to the back yard.  From the first time I saw the back yard I wanted to take down that fence because just beyond it is a grove of mature pines, tall and beautiful on the edge of a steep bank.  (Our back yard is quite steep as well.)  I imagined how wonderful it would be to be able to walk right up to those old trees and be able to touch them.  Just below them and at the edge of the existing yard, just on the other side of the unsightly fence is a spot that is semi level where we could put a picnic table.  From there we can see beyond our house and across the meadow where the mules and draft horses graze as well as have a view up into our pasture behind our house where the Jerseys will graze.  I was thrilled when Mike began working to take down the fence and clear the brush.  He cleared a good portion of it and it looks fantastic but as he got closer to the house it became so steep that he was barely able to get back out and had to quit in that location.  I am just thrilled with the progress.  Clearing the fence and underbrush also did wonders to make it feel like we are getting more sunshine down in our little “holler”. 

I have been trying to get back to walking at least four or five days a week.  For so many years, I would become obsessed about the distance I walked and I would compete with myself to push myself further.  For a period of time right after my divorce, I walked ten miles a day.  In more recent years, I pushed myself to walk 5 miles a day.  There would be periods of time when I was not able to do the five miles due to my hectic schedule but I would come back to it when I was able.  I determined a while back that I was going to try to throw out the idea of keeping track of how far I walked and just walk for the joy of it.  Being so goal oriented, I really have resist the urge to keep track but walking without pushing myself is so much more pleasurable and helps me to slow down and live intentionally.  Yesterday I walked up by the springs and then circled around and started to walk the perimeter fence when again, I walked up on the flock of turkeys.  The group was a little smaller this time but I am guessing there were probably 9 or 10 turkeys who immediately began walking away and into the woods.  I was able to slowly follow them and get a couple of photos before they decided they had enough of my presence and first flew up into the tall trees and then on away from me where I could no longer see them.  As I continued my walk towards the back of our property, I startled three more turkeys who quickly disappeared into the woods before I could get close enough to take pictures. 

We are having a cold snap and Mike and I worked to get more wood into the house to keep the fireplace going.  We also picked up a lot of unseasoned wood that Mike had cut up and stacked it in a building to have for later.  Little by little the place is beginning to look better. 

March 11, 2018

The vintage, Kelvinator refrigerator groaned loudly last night as it labored to continue its work of keeping food cold.  Manufactured around seventy years ago, the refrigerator serves us well, albeit it is quite small.  It amazes me that it just keeps on running and so far, has only required a short rest from time to time.  After it runs for a couple of months, the ice builds up in the freezer compartment and then the machine begins the groaning sounds like we heard last night.  The first time it happened, I was certain that the refrigerator had seen its last day in good working order.  However, I found out that once it had rested for a few hours and was given a chance to thaw completely, it ran as good as ever.  I didn’t really want to clean out the refrigerator late on Saturday night or have to finish the job early Sunday morning but I was afraid if I left it, it would freeze up completely as it has done in the past.  With our leaving to go back to Staunton today, I couldn’t take that chance.  Without a backup frig, I simply sat all the food on the back porch where the temps had dropped down below forty degrees and were supposed bottom out around freezing.  Anytime I use my back porch as a refrigerator, I am reminded of my days in a little cabin in Alaska and one time in particular when I made various types of candy for Christmas on my wood stove and then put the candy on the back porch to chill.  It was so cold there and the temperatures remained well below freezing for most of the winter, so we would leave our frozen food in freezers on the back porch and unplug them during the winter time.  The candy I made, I lined up on top of the freezers on trays until it hardened, which didn’t take long.  Of course, we had to be careful not to attract bears with the smell of food.  The Athabascan Natives who lived in the villages had their own methods of keeping food in the winter and keeping it safe from the bears.  I remember seeing their food cache structures when I was a small girl and visited Alaska for the first time.  The structures were build high above the ground, like miniature cabins, with secure doors and long ladders to reach them.  Putting food on my unheated, enclosed, back porch in Laurel Fork, Virginia is a far cry from the primitive cache of an arctic village, but it’s funny what triggers memories in one’s brain.  I wonder how many of our memories that are triggered by our senses are lost to us as we immerse ourselves in the high-tech world in which we live.  Our constant attention to computers, cell phones and the noise of electronics keeps us from living intentionally and allow ourselves to really experience our memories and whatever is present in the moment as well.  Mike and I talked about it yesterday and even my limited use of Facebook in the past few weeks, after an eight-month hiatus, has brought with it a change that is mostly distracting and burdensome.  My soul is just quieter and more receptive to intentional living and the immersion of myself into the present moment when not connected.  There is good, of course, in being connected with friends and family but I still wonder if we are sacrificing what is sacred in order to have those instant and constant connections.  Life is good when we learn to be still and while we were not intended to live life alone and cut off from the world, we miss out when we are not content to be alone with ourselves. 

We did attend our regular Saturday auction yesterday but I was pretty bored with it as they mostly sold signs that brought large sums of money.  It is hard to be interested when the items being sold are out of one’s price range.  Of course, some of the things were interesting and I always learn something when I go to an auction or estate sale but mostly I just worked on my computer and fidgeted in my seat.  We often run errands after auction but came straight home and I started making bread from the starter that I had been feeding for three days.  My dear friend sent me starter and poolish from her sourdough that dates back one hundred and twenty-five years and that was brought to Washington State via covered wagon.  The starter and poolish meant to me a combination of friendship and history, alive and handed over to my care to nourish and keep.  It was a little piece of my friend’s life that she entrusted to me, just as she trusts that I will continue to nourish our relationship.  I enjoyed so much thinking of my friend while I kneaded the dough, felt its warmth on my hands, watched it rising, then shaped it into loaves and let the aroma of that fresh bread fill our home.  Even though it was late by the time I finished, we sliced big pieces and slathered them with butter not waiting on the proper cooling time to taste it. 

Mike worked outside when we got home. He took down a huge section of perimeter fence at the front of our property.  We hope to replace that woven wire and barbed wire fence with a nice board fence.  He worked until almost dark. 

We went to church this morning.  I think there ended up being maybe 19 of us there after those who were running late made it.  That’s a decent crowd for our little church.  The minute I walk in the door, Mrs. C’s eyes light up when she recognizes me.  She’s just the sweetest thing and at 96 is absolutely amazing.  Every week she tells me how pretty I look and how much she likes what I am wearing.  I can tell she genuinely means it.  When I told her that all my clothes come from the thrift store, she looked so surprised.  We didn’t tarry long after service today.  We had too much to do and even then, didn’t leave the house to head back to Staunton until after 4 pm.  I fixed our lunch and when I sat it on the table, Mike said, that looks like an amazing plate of food.  At almost the same time we both said, “That’s a $20 plate a restaurant” and then we both laughed.  It wasn’t anything fancy but it was good food.  We had grass finished beef burgers on homemade sourdough bread with bacon and gouda cheese and homemade, sweet relish.  I took the leftover hand mashed red potatoes and made potato patties that I fried and we had broccoli with melted cheese.  Afterwards, we spent a good bit of time trying to get some items priced for the antique booths.  Last summer we had taken a good bit of merchandise we had gathered up that wasn’t top quality and had a few yard sales at a friend’s building right off the highway in Laurel Fork.  We had just left the items in the building as it wasn’t being used but someone has since leased it and will be moving in around the first of April.  We needed to get our things out of there to free it up for the new tenant.  Most of the items we will donate to Goodwill but we pulled a few things out to price and take with us back to Staunton.  Mike packed, repacked, and repacked again until he finally got everything in the car.  In addition to our clothes and personal belongings, he packed 400 pounds of orchard grass seed (in big, fluffy bags) and the merchandise we are taking to Verona.  The car smells like grass seed and burlap bags.  It was really hard to leave.  It is always hard to leave but this time was even harder I think.  We didn’t get nearly as much accomplished as we would have liked.  The trip to Georgia, while necessary and a sweet time with Grandma, really cut into our work week.  I know the next 8-9 weeks are going to be insanely busy as we work on things at the farm(s) in Staunton, keep the grandkids, and then go up and down the road to Laurel Fork and try to work there as well.  We have Easter,  garden to plant, the Jerseys will start calving in probably another month, we have birthday parties for three out of the four grandkids, ballet recital, Alissa’s graduation, and so many other things that will keep us hopping.  I get a little panicked just thinking about it and have to make myself stop and breath. 

March 12, 2018

As I sit with coffee in hand waiting for the Little Girls to wake up so we can begin another busy Monday, I am reflecting on life.  I do a lot of reflecting and always have.  I suppose it goes hand in hand with being an introvert but I think it is more than that for me.  I guess some people just have a predisposition to be more sensitive and have the need to internalize things.  Even as a very young child, I would steal away to my favorite tree to sit in its branches or lie on the ground underneath, as a pre-teen I would hike to the secret places at the farthest corners of the farm with a book or a pen and paper.  As an older teen, I would lock the door to my room and spend hours in there alone studying, reading and writing.  Out with friends with whom I felt comfortable, I was usually wide open, witty, sarcastic in a fun way, in the middle of things but ready to get away when the time came and back to my comfort zone.  I’m the same as I have always been.  If I am comfortable among friends, I can skillfully tell stories that will leave one in tears, laughter or at least keep the attention of the audience.  I love to have fun and make people smile.  I like to give hugs and look deep into the eyes of the people I love, or the people that I want to love.  I am watchful, always watchful, even when others think I am not paying attention and being extremely sensitive to others, I absorb what is going on around me.  I think in stories.  I describe people to myself in my head as if they were characters in a novel.  I see the natural world around me and long to be able to express that beauty with words.  Everything I feel inside begs to find form by way of sentences and paragraphs.  Phrases fly through my brain, descriptions keep coming to the forefront of my thoughts, and if I seem sometimes lost in my own little world, it is just me processing all the things inside my head and trying to put them into words. 

Soul Full Sunday

“There was a basic harmony between Ántonia and her mistress. They had strong, independent natures, both of them. They knew what they liked, and were not always trying to imitate other people. They loved children and animals and music, and rough play and digging in the earth. They liked to prepare rich, hearty food and to see people eat it; to make up soft white beds and to see youngsters asleep in them. They ridiculed conceited people and were quick to help unfortunate ones. Deep down in each of them there was a kind of hearty joviality, a relish of life, not over-delicate, but very invigorating.”  ~ Willa Cather in My Antonia

Friday's Featured Farmer ~ A Guest Post from Tammy Marr at SpiritGrove Farm

Photo Courtesy of SpiritGrove Farm

Back in 2011, we began a well received series on the blog entitled "Friday's Featured Farmer" in which farmers and homesteaders could submit an article of interest to our readers.  Primarily these were autobiographical pieces telling about their lives and their personal, agricultural experiences.  I thought it would be fun to see if anyone wanted to participate in a revival of that series.  We broadened the subject matter to include informational articles of interest as well and offered space here to our readers to share what was on their mind.  I had a good number of folks interested, but this is a busy time of year for so many with spring around the corner and new babies already hitting the ground as well as so many making preparations or already starting to plant their gardens, which means while there has been a lot of interest, it has been understandably difficult for folks to follow through. 

Tammy Marr at SpiritGrove Farm in South Carolina was the first to take the time to write a guest post and I couldn't be more pleased with her subject matter and presentation.  We decided it would be easiest for both of us to simply link to SpiritGrove Farm's blog from here and let you read Tammy's excellent, well researched article directly from her blog.

On a side note, SpiritGrove Farm has bought a number of Jersey and Jersey cross cattle from our farm in the past, and we have had frequent contact and interactions over the years including time spent at each other's farms.  I can without hesitation say that any animal purchased from Tammy Marr has had the best care possible, has been treated humanely, raised responsibly and loved.  In addition, if you are a fan of our Jerseys at T Cupp Miniatures and the Cupp Family Farm, you will be happy to know that a number of the Jerseys at SpiritGrove Farm are from our blood lines.

Please take the time to read Tammy Marr's article THE CASE FOR CROSS BRED DUAL PURPOSE COWS and then follow along on her Facebook Page to learn more about SpiritGrove Farm.


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Photo Courtesy of Pixaby

For those interested in submitting an article or an autobiographical piece for consideration on our blog, please read Friday's Featured Farmer Series Revived for additional information.  We would love to feature your farm or homestead here as well.  

Barn, Outbuildings and Property Restoration Update

Occasionally, on a Tuesday blog post, I share improvements and the restoration process as we work on the property we bought in Laurel Fork.  It has been a while since I have posted on a Tuesday and while we have been incredibly busy, the updates are just not as dramatic as when we put the board and batting on the old barn and gave it new life.  For those who might not have seen that transformation in previous posts, I have included a photo of "before" on this post as well.  The work to the barn recently has been a lot more subtle.  (By the way, the "fallen star" I front of the barn in this picture is the only damage we sustained during the recent wind storms other than an old, already dead tree that fell in a swampy area and put the telephone line on the ground in our front yard.)  The updates to the exterior of the barn include finishing the stain and putting up the rolling barn door that can be seen towards the back of the attached shed in the lower right of this photo. Mike made the door with board and batting to match the rest of the barn.  With the size of the door, it was extremely heavy and awkward to try to get on the track.  Mike used the loader to hold the door up and get it in line.  I assisted a little, but mostly he it was his ingenuity, stubbornness and strength that got the barn door in place.  There has been a lot of clean up going on around the barn as well including limbs sawed and stacked from dead trees, metal hauled off to the salvage yard on two different occasions, years of dirt and debris removed from the concrete at the sliding barn door to the right, front of the barn (under the barn quilt) and in front of the sliding door to the rear of the building.

 If you have been reading my journals, you are aware that we are having a heck of a time getting anyone to put a roof on the barn for us and I really don't want Mike up there doing it himself.  We have been promised an estimate from another company.  We hope they come through. Getting a new, metal roof on the exterior will pretty much complete the outside work on the barn itself and will give set it off.

Inside the barn, Mike work on the wooden feed rack at the back of the barn in the attached shed, replacing broken boards as well as creating a trough at the bottom to keep the cows from wasting so much hay.  (The photo below was taken as he was still working on it.  The feeder went the entire length of the loafing shed, but we took out about a third of it to give the cows room to lie down in the back when the weather is bad outside and to give us an area to get the loader through the building.)

Erosion had caused a lot of the soil in the loafing/feeding shed to be washed away.  Mike hauled in load after load of dirt to raise the floor about three feet in the farthest corner where erosion was so bad.  He first filled that corner in with large rocks and old cinder blocks.  Erosion is a real problem here in the mountains.

Mike has continued to clear and burn brush and cut trees. He has sown red clover on parts of the fields.

He has put a new metal roof on the chicken house, repaired the floor where it had rotted and built a partition so that we can have an area separate from the mature hens for raising peeps or for keeping feed. We have not bought anything new for inside the chicken house.  Instead we have salvaged and repurposed what we could find on the property.  He used old boards and some wire he found to make a divider and then added an old screen door so that we could access the area that had been divided off.  Even the metal that we used on the roof, while new, was discarded material from a commercial chicken house that Mike's nephew just built in Staunton  The old, vintage feeders we salvaged from the property.  .

Mike also moved a lot of dirt to fill in around the back of the house where there were low spots, holes and where the water collected around the basement walls.  He sloped the yard away form the house, sowed grass seed and covered it with straw.

We worked on getting some of the dead leaves, sticks and fallen branches out of the back yard where we can begin mowing soon.  I just love having a skid loader!  Put the leaves and sticks in the bucket and away they go!

Sometimes it seems as if the process has been slow and laborious.  We had intended to contract out some of the work but learned early on that if we could actually get anyone to show up at all, the work was either sub standard or the cost was really high.  We went to plan "B" and have been doing as much as we can do by ourselves which means it is a slow process.  We are hoping the contractors will give us a fair estimate for building fence and that they will actually show up.  If they don't, then it will take us a lot longer, but we will just have to do it ourselves.  And we have our fingers crossed that someone out there will finally come through and put a roof on the barn for us.

Monday Journal Entry

March 1, 2018

Here it is March already and I guess the month is coming in like a lion, at least in the mountains.  We are currently getting rain and then the high winds are supposed to come.  Mike was supposed to deliver a load of hay to Floyd County again today, but it doesn’t appear that the weather is going to cooperate.  I’m fine either way.  I can find plenty to do whether I am inside or outside and I have never minded the rain.  Besides, rainy days give more opportunity for me to write without guilt that I should be doing something else! 

We were busy, of course, at the beginning of the week while we were in Staunton.  We went back a little early on Sunday, leaving right after church.  We went directly to Verona Antiques to our booth there to try to do some work.  I can only manage the booth at the Factory Antique Mall because Verona Antiques is closed on Tuesday and Wednesday and I have the kids for 14 hours on Monday.  Mike doesn’t hesitate to admit that he lacks the skills to really set up the booth and always comes away frustrated that he can’t get everything in or that it doesn’t present itself the way he would like for it to.  Part of the problem there is that we only rented half a booth.  It was all that was available at the time and it is a long and narrow space with dividers between us and the lady with whom we split the booth.  Mike kept asking me to go home early on a Sunday and see what I could do, so we just made it happen.  A new vendor, a man from Strasburg, was very helpful in motivating Mike to do things that he would have complained greatly about doing if I had been the one to suggest it.  I was most grateful for the man’s help.  As Mike stood on a ladder hanging items per the gentleman’s suggestions, I laughed and told him if that had been me asking him to do that he would have told me to go fly a kite or complained bitterly the whole time.  He grinned and said, “You’re probably right.”  We got a good bit accomplished, but ran out of time as they closed at five and we had to be home to watch the girls so that Alissa could go to the funeral of her best friend’s grandma.  Mike went back Monday afternoon for a few hours while I stayed home to watch the girls.  The same gentleman, who has a great eye, took Mike under his wing and helped him finish arranging the booth.  He also bought a good bit of the new items that Mike brought in to sell for his own booth and he asked Mike if he would be a picker for him.  That was pretty exciting because that is the part that Mike really enjoys is the hunt and the thrill of the auction.  It sounds promising but we shall see how it pans out.  The dealers who are in the shop every day are not able to go out and find the items as readily as we are.  We focus on the buying end and finding the deals.  These folks focus on the selling end of the business, the artistic display and the repurposing of items to create new products.  If we can work with them, they can teach us a lot and we can be a benefit to them in finding vintage items for less. 

The little girls were a handful, as usual Monday.  Poor Analia.  I feel so badly for her.  I know that it is a part of life and she is learning to share, learning responsibility, and learning to cope with things that are out of her comfort zone and these things are important and part of growth.  We can’t create a perfect world for our children and grandchildren.  She went from having me often to herself on the days I didn’t have the twins.  I took care of her full time for the first three years of her life and she went everywhere with me.  She was the perfect little partner and rarely gave me any trouble at all.  The only issues we ever had were really just from the terrible stomach aches that she endured (and still endures although they are more manageable now with probiotic and fiber supplements and a diet full of probiotics, fruits and vegetables).  Then Aurora came along and rocked Analia’s world.  Rory is high energy, advanced, demanding, vocal, and with a penchant for finding multiple ways to get hurt in one day.  She requires constant supervision to keep from harming herself in her adventures.  She began walking at seven months of age and now dances in circles, climbs, runs, eats anything she can fit into her mouth whether it is edible or not, and never stops unless she is asleep.  Analia has had to learn to share everything and I can’t even seem to make it balanced for her because of how difficult it is to keep Rory from unintentionally harming herself on one of her many adventures and discoveries.  The other issue is that Rory is so very loud and Analia has always had sensitivities to loud noises.  I wonder if it doesn’t stem from her eyesight being so poor.  When she was small, loud noises would make her scream in fear.  Even as she got older, the sound of a cow mooing unexpectedly or the milking machine being turned on, a vacuum cleaner, a hair dryer, even a loud sneeze would just terrify her.  She has done much better in the last year and I think it is because she sees better now that she has her glasses but the loud and persistent noise really bothers her and Rory is loud, all the time.  Analia reacts with a lot of frustration and we have a lot of opportunities to talk about using our words to discuss how we are feeling, walking away to give ourselves and the other person space, sharing with others even when we don’t feel like it, etc.  Sometimes I get weary but then I stop to think about how young Analia is and how different her world is from a year ago when everything was tailored to her needs and it makes me have more empathy and patience for the situation.  Even taking care of Little People can bring moments of growth for all of us. 

I was pretty pleased with myself.  After not getting a lot accomplished last week, I started off this week with a bang, first getting some things done at Verona Antiques and then getting some shelves down and small items divided up from the kitchen in Staunton.  Alissa and Gab would like to work on the kitchen this summer, putting in new counter tops and painting the cabinets and the walls.  I love Alissa’s taste in decorating.  She has not really been able to decorate previously having lived in rentals and then being in the midst of two pregnancies and raising to little girls while trying to get her bachelors and master’s degrees.  Throughout my life, I have always enjoyed clean lines and easy to care for interior designs but I think a lot of that was out of necessity.  I never had the money to decorate and wasn’t a person who could take money away from the budget to buy frivolous things for the house when my children needed to be fed and the bills needed to be paid.  After Mike and I married, we had such different ideas.  Mike doesn’t like the idea of change and the house was a mix of different patterns and styles from various decades.  Thrown into that mix was a house full of furniture that came from a beach house after Mike and his ex-wife divorced and he needed furniture.  I would talk to Mike about painting or taking down the wall paper borders from the 80’s and he would panic and give me a dozen reasons why it wasn’t possible at all to do it.  Finally, I just started tearing into things when he was gone for 16 hours a day farming.  He would come home and find me standing on a chair ripping down wall paper borders and the look on his face would be sheer horror.  I would have to listen to him complain and tell me all the reasons why it was a bad idea, but I would just bite my tongue (mostly) and keep on working.  When I would paint, he would come in horrified that I had taped everything up and had the floors covered and insist that a good painter didn’t have to do that. Channeling my inner Mark Twain, I would tell him to show me how to do it the right way and he would take over and not want me to touch it again.  I would always pick up the brush the next day and get a lot done while he was gone for another 16-hour day.  Slowly we got a few things done in the house.  I got all the rooms painted and we got the carpet ripped up and hardwood floors put down in the main area and laminate in the other rooms (except for one bedroom that still has ugly pink carpet which Analia loves).  But, after 13 years, the walls need repainted, the kitchen needs upgrading, the bathrooms need upgrading (as they haven’t been touched since the house was built 30 years ago) and the kids have a lot they can do to make it their home and their style.  I never owned a home, always living in rentals and moving frequently when married to my ex-husband.  Our house in Staunton, while home to me and a place I love, was never entirely mine, nor was I ever able to entirely put my own personal touch on it.  The octagonal design, while unique and a structure that many of our neighbors’ envy, just didn’t lend itself to my personal love of traditional style cottage home.  No matter how many changes I made, I could never make the octagonal home feel like “me”.  I was never ungrateful and never dreamed of living anywhere else until we started looking seriously at buying a home in Southwest Virginia. I had been hustled and moved from one place to another all over the United States and lived in so many rentals before I met Mike that any type of stable home was heaven to me and our home in Staunton was large, comfortable, unique and had what I call “million-dollar views”.  Never was I ungrateful for what I had been given and never did I dream of having anything different but when I began to slowly (and with resistance at first) give myself over to accepting that we would not farm the home place (where Mike’s mom lives) for the rest of our lives and that Mike needed a change since his dad had died, things began to fall into place that allowed Mike and I to both be able to experience more than we had ever imagined.   Our home in Laurel Fork is absolutely the perfect place for Mike and I to come together with our preferred styles of decorating and it is the first time in my life that I am able to pull together everything I like for a great vintage, cottage/farmhouse feel. Now that I am able to decorate freely to my taste, I find that the clean lines are a thing of the past, probably something I practiced out of necessity.  I am looking forward to seeing what Alissa and Gab do with the house in Staunton.  Their style adds a lot of vibrant color in accessories and I think will lend itself much better to the Octagonal design of the house.  The house there was much too big for just Mike and I and it is good to see it full with the girls able to have plenty of room to play.  Anyway, I felt great about getting the wooden display shelves down, all the small items packed to either take to Laurel Fork or sell, and removing the small, vintage table that Alissa wanted out of the kitchen area.  The kitchen and dining room look much more open, clean, and ready for them to start working on in the summer.  I have a few knick-knacks left in the living room to box up, a coat closet to clean out, and a linen closet that I used as a pantry closet for canned goods and overflow from the kitchen that I need to box up.  Everything in the main portion of the house will then be emptied of our things.  (I don’t even want to think about the huge storage area downstairs in the unfinished part of the basement, the utility room, and the outbuildings.  Those things will probably take years to sort through as they require more of Mike’s involvement and he has difficulty getting rid of anything.) 

My productiveness continued into Tuesday.  I was up early and was able to connect through messenger with our son in Thailand and talk to him for a while.  It is always so good to be able to chat with him.  He and his fiancé live a life there that is so different from anything with which we are familiar.  The country is made up of hierarchies which means with Marisa being Thai and of royal blood, there are certain activities they are not “allowed” to do for themselves.  The mindset is something we can’t understand and while it feels so wrong (and is) for one group of people to serve another, the “lower class” acquire their self-worth and importance from the jobs they do.  Evidently, if Mikey washes the dishes then it is a huge insult to those hired to do that job.  Mikey is always so positive about his time there but I know it has been a huge adjustment for him.  He still doesn’t speak the language.  He and Marisa do so much good with their time.  They run a large resort for Marisa’s parents in the mountains and I know them well enough to know that the locals who work for them are compensated well for the work they do.  Mikey and Marisa spend a lot of their time, energy and the family money to help those less fortunate, especially the children who live in poverty in the mountains.  Mikey sends me photos of the wild, but beautiful country and the crazy trips to the cities where driving means you take your life into your own hands and pray that your angels are watching over you.  Mikey does almost all the driving for the family.  I am just so proud of him, his heart full of compassion, his approach to life, his kindness to people and his ability to adapt to such a different lifestyle than that with which he is familiar.  I’m also thankful for the closeness I feel to him.  We can go long periods of time without talking and not see each other for a year at a time but it is easy for my heart to connect with his.  He’s a really special guy and I am so blessed to be his step mom.

  Mid-morning, I went to Factory Antique Mall where I was able to completely finish up the inventory in the front and back booths.  When we started with selling antiques, I wasn’t going to help, but that soon changed, a fact that makes me smile.  I wasn’t interested in adding another layer to my already full plate, but we have let some other things go, downsized in some areas, and the antiques have proven to be a shared hobby that has brought Mike and I closer.  I think we partner well in this venture and complement each other.  It is a lot of work but we have a lot of fun with it.  Because I was being stubborn and refused to comply easily in the beginning, the items put into the malls early on were not on an inventory list.  We found as time went on that the management of the mall could be pretty poor at times and a lot of our things just ended up missing.  We began wondering how many things just disappeared.  We also found that the staff often did not write down the description of items sold in a way that we could decipher what it was when the daily sales report came through.  And, with getting bigger over time, we also needed a better way to keep the records from a business perspective.  So, I began assigning everything an inventory number, but I needed to go back and assign numbers to several hundred items in the booths that had not been previously tagged. (Another difference in Mike and my personality is that he is completely unorganized, jumps from one thing to another, and generally doesn’t have much of a plan.  I have to at least attempt some sort of plan and organization and I do best when I start a job and finish it rather than jumping around.) Working on an inventory gave me an opportunity to rework everything, mark down some things that had been sitting for a while, and was an eye opener as to how many things get “misplaced” or stolen.  I’m a pretty visual person and can usually tell immediately if something is not where I left it.  Things get rearranged as people shop and that is actually encouraging because it means people are looking. However, I am quick to see if something is missing.  I now have my inventory as well as weekly photos I take of the booth to help me decipher what is gone.  This week I walked in and noticed a trunk looked very empty and a small table looked bare.  The trunk had previously held a large pillow I had made out of a flour sack and it is now missing, I looked and never found it, so more than likely, it will be another loss for us.  The table had held a large, enamel bowl and with a little searching, I was able to find and retrieve it from another booth where I know it was unintentionally misplaced. 

The end of the month sneaked up on me and I realized I needed to get some checks sent off to my grandma.  I sat in the parking lot at the post office and wrote out a month’s worth of checks for her “tithe” money and for her caregiver and had to send them priority because I had waited so late to do it.  Grandma would give all her money to the church and to other charities and to friends and strangers if she could and for the most part, I think she has, but that is a story for another time and place.  (Before we realized her struggles with managing her money, I think she gave away a huge portion of the savings my grandpa had left her) My grandpa always managed all the money and always made sure she had what she wanted.  She didn’t have to do any of that until my grandpa passed away.  She laughs and tells how she had a job for a short while as a bookkeeper when she was still a teenager and how they fired her because she couldn’t learn to keep the books correctly.  My grandma’s heart is huge and her love for people is amazing.  I doubt anyone could be more giving than my grandmother and there is no entity she would rather give to than the church.  Now that I am managing her money, I make sure to send her checks so she can put a little bit in the collection plate each Sunday.  It would break her heart to not be able to do that, plus, I am pretty sure she would think it was a sin not to have a check in every week.  I tried to encourage her to stop sending money to charitable organizations other than the church and to stop buying and sending gifts to everyone one she knows for multiple occasions.  Her heart is huge and she just isn’t able to understand that money is limited because we need to pay for someone to help care for her on a daily basis. 

After the trip to the post office, I picked up a big bag of dog food for our three dogs.  I miss having my dogs with me all the time.  I miss Spencer especially.  He is my number one farm hand, always by my side.  The kids and grandkids want me to leave the dogs in Staunton, especially Spencer, as he loves the children so much.  When we transition to Laurel Fork permanently, I would love to have him here, but I think he will be happiest staying there, so we will see what happens.  He will still have animals there to watch and he has the kids who love him so much.  Meanwhile, it feels lonely not having a dog always at my heels. 

I also got a lot of cleaning done in the house in Staunton on this trip.  It is just so hard to keep things clean there with all of us in and out so much and with the little girls always making messes but I was happy with the amount of work I got done towards cleaning.  I have pretty much admitted defeat on the windows and glass doors of which there are many in the Octagonal house.  Little girls finger prints and mouths are always on the inside and the dogs nose prints are always on the outside.  They are cute though, always checking each other out, the dogs looking at the girls and the girls looking at the dogs.  The minute the door is opened, girls and dogs mix and everyone is smiling. 

Mike filled the round bale feeders and brought square bales up for the mini horses and two pet goats.  I spent some time outside in addition to feeding just to enjoy looking at and being with my jersey girls.  I have missed them so much when we are away. 

Tuesday evening was five hours of babysitting while Alissa was at class.  It is always an adventure when my grandma calls at the designated time in the evenings and I am watching the girls.  Analia always talks to her and it is funny to hear their conversation.  Rory decided to “talk” this time and just chattered away and laughed and laughed.  It was really cute.  I think my grandma really enjoyed it.  I was exhausted Tuesday night.  Being exhausted after babysitting is become the norm for me.  I slept well and then awoke at my usual time to get a few things done on the computer before anyone else wakes up.  I usually don’t write in my journal anymore until I get to Laurel Fork, but I do take time to answer correspondence, pay bills, make orders, or do other things I need to do when I wake up before the rest of the house.  I was always a night owl until the last ten years or so when I learned to really enjoy the quiet time first thing in the morning.  It is now my favorite time of the day.  It is really the only time I am completely free from distractions and whether I am out milking my cows in solitude or in a quiet spot with my computer writing, those moments when most of the rest of the world are sleeping seem tailor made for someone such as myself. 

Wednesday morning, again I was able to really feel accomplished as I continued to clean, pack, and load the car for our trip back to Laurel Fork.  We had talked about staying an extra day but when it came down to it, couldn’t wait to get back home to Laurel Fork.  Alissa will be on spring break next week both at her job at Blue Ridge Community College and with her classes at James Madison University.  That means Mike and I have opportunity to spend less time traveling back and forth between Staunton and Laurel Fork in the coming week and get some other things done. 

We stopped in Dublin on the way to Laurel Fork and I had a Greek Salad with grilled Salmon.   I made a call home while we were driving.  I like to use my time wisely when we are traveling and I needed to touch base with the parents in Missouri and check on them.  I am thankful that they are in good health for the most part, active, and able to live life the way they see fit.  My immediate family and I are all very independent and while we all love each other dearly, we do our own things and don’t spend a lot of time communicating or visiting one another.  We have always been like that.  My dad rarely asked for help, didn’t have a lot of friends but the ones he had were good people and loyal to him, minded his own business and expected everyone else to mind theirs, spent a lot of quiet time alone, cared deeply, worked hard, was sensitive to the comments and judgments of others, and gave his life to sacrifice to make sure that his family was taken care of even when the chips were down.  I think I ended up being a lot like him in many ways.  Since I lost my mom when I was seven, I really don’t know how much like her I am.  Folks who knew her say I remind them a lot of her with my love of animals, my non-judgmental attitude toward people, my desire to find the positive and to be an encourager, my gestures and even the way slant my letters backwards when I write in cursive.  However, I think I am probably more like my daddy than my momma because she was outgoing and loved being around people and was comfortable with such.  I am sure, as the only child of a Baptist preacher, being around others just came naturally to her and she probably welcomed the interactions. 

Arriving in Laurel Fork just before dark, we unloaded the car.  I had packed it full of mostly Christmas decorations that had been stored in Staunton.  We carried them upstairs and put them in the back of one of the deep closets that goes under the eaves of the 1930’s Cape Cod style house.  I am thankful for the deep closets and adequate storage space in this house.  It doesn’t begin to compare with all the space we have in Staunton, but I am glad that we can downsize and yet have room to store the things that are most important to us. 

March 2, 2018

Definitely, March has come in like a Lion!  Wow!  We had wind gusts of up to 60 miles an hour last night and the high winds are continuing into today.  As we sat in the living room last night the wind coming down the hollow sounded like a freight train.  I slept well in spite of the wind, awoke after daylight to make my coffee and heard the hum of the whole house generator.  We checked Appalachian Power online and found that the electricity in our area had been out since a little after 3 am with no estimated time for power restoration.  I am incredibly thankful this morning for the generator that is keeping us supplied with electricity this morning. 

I worked around the house yesterday morning and then fixed our big meal for the day earlier than usual.  After eating our home raised New York Strip steaks, homegrown veggies and Angel biscuits cooked in my cast iron skillet, we left the house around 3 pm to pick up a load of hay at the neighbor’s behind us.  They got 16 large round bales of cattle hay on the trailer and we made the trip over to Floyd County again.  A man who buys hay from us in August County (3 hours north) has cattle at his sister’s farm in Floyd County as well.  He buys hay from our neighbor in Carroll County and pays us to ship it for him to Floyd County.  By the time we get the hay loaded, make the trip, and return home, it is a 3.5 hour trip for us if we don’t tarry.  The highlight of the trip for me was passing a fairly large farm with a sheep and seeing four Great Pyrenes at work.  When we passed the first time, two of the Pyres were lying down “resting” but you could see they were still alert and watchful.  On out in the field were two more Pyres, in separate locations, sitting erect and watching the sheep.  When we passed them going home, the sheep were coming in and the tiny babies were running alongside their mommas.  The Pyres were actively protecting them with no humans anywhere to be seen.  I use to watch my Great Pyre work the fence lines and I grew to love her so much.  She was an amazing dog, a rescue, and the reason I fell in love with the breed.  Never have I had the opportunity to personally see a group of Pyres working such a large operation together and it was just fascinating to me. 

March 3, 2018

The winds and storms that hit the entire East Coast this weekend didn’t forget our little piece of the Appalachians.  We are still without power and the Appalachian Power Company estimates that it will get restored in our area on Sunday afternoon.  I have been so very thankful for the whole, house generator.  We were able to function as normal yesterday.  I did laundry, used the electric oven, played the radio, showered and couldn’t even tell we were running off a generator other than the loud, consistent hum outside the kitchen window where the generator sits.  The noise of the generator is fairly loud, not overwhelming from inside, but outside quite noisy.  Because the generator does use up the propane and we try to conserve as much as possible, we shut the generator down last night when we went to bed.  We kept a fire in the fireplace in our bedroom and that kept our room warm until we didn’t get up to put more wood on it and the fire burned down to just coals.  The temps dropped down in the twenties with wind chills in the teens and the cold began to permeate the house.  I got up just before daylight and coaxed the fire back to life, climbed back into bed under the covers and grabbed my computer to catch up on journaling.  Mike just started the generator and soon we will have warm water, propane heat radiating through the house, and again be able to proceed with our day normally even though the area is without power. 

We really have not sustained any damage here that we know of.  I have not walked the fence lines behind the house, but honestly, the fences are so bad back there on the “back forty” that it doesn’t matter at this point.  We have to patch, repair and redo most of the fence anyway before we can move the Jerseys.  I heard terrible noises last night even before we turned off the generator.  The sound of the wind gusting and roaring down the “holler” sounded like a freight train.  I was sure that the roof was coming off our house and that huge trees must be crashing all around us.  At moments, the sounds of the wind were unbelievable but they were not sustained at that ferocity, thank goodness.  When Mike turned the generator off and everything went dark, the generator stopped buzzing, the old vintage refrigerator stopped making it’s consistent gurgling and squeaking, and all the sounds of modern conveniences were silent and there was nothing between us and the wind but the walls in this 1930’s Cape Cod type farmhouse it made me feel both vulnerable and thankful.  The moon shone brightly and we could make out shapes and shadows all around us as we lay in the dark.  The moonbeams literally sparkled in the stream in the meadow outside our bedroom window.  Had the wind not sounded so fierce, it would have felt like we had been transported to some magical land of fairies, with sparkling streams, lit by the moon. 

In spite of the wind yesterday, Mike was determined to get something done.  He couldn’t work in the barn without running a portable generator to operate his power tools.  It was too windy to work on the fence or burn brush.  He finally decided it was a good day to hall off another load of scrap metal.  I’m not so sure it was a good day for it, but he did get it together and we took a load to the scrap yard which is about 45 minutes away.  We had metal roofing off the chicken house, an old oil furnace, old scraps and pieces of equipment left from generations who previously owned the farm as well as a bunch of appliances that no longer work that had been abandoned because no one wanted to haul them up out of the basement.  It is a tight turn at the top of the stairs and I honestly don’t know how Mike got the appliances all out by himself, but he did.  I kept thinking he would ask me to help him if he needed help but there’s not much I can do to help on the narrow stairs.  He was using a hand cart.  He did manage to really mess up his back.  I am hoping it is just pulled muscles and not something more serious.  We did all right with the scrap metal and made a couple hundred dollars.  I’m most excited about just getting the place cleaned up.  When we were almost home from the scrap yard we passed a neighbor’s hay field and saw a few of the resident wild turkeys.  They seemed really put out by the weather and were running against the wind across the field. 

I had put a roast in the oven and it was ready when we got home from the scrap yard, and I thought Mike was going to come in early because of the weather but I was wrong.  Instead he started bringing buckets of dirt down with the loader and putting it around the house to build up around the house and slope the ground so the rain water runs off.  I took the wheel barrow and brought in a couple of loads of wood to keep the fire going.  We had cut the heat way back and were trying to heat with the wood and fireplace as much as possible since we were running the generator and using fuel in that capacity. 

March 4, 2018

The electricity was out most of the day yesterday and was scheduled to be out until Sunday (although we were happy to see it come back on earlier than expected).  We had the generator off all night on Friday night, turned it back on long enough to heat water for showers so we could get ready for the day.  We decided to just turn the generator off for the day and head to our regular auction.  We arrived home from that auction around 3 pm and the power was still off.  We had learned of a new auction in Dobson, North Carolina that folks were really building up to be a big deal so we went.  I wasn’t impressed.  There was nothing “wrong” with the auction but I think I had already had my quota of interactions for the day and by the time we walked into the building and I saw the crowd of people there, many whom we know superficially from other auctions, sales, and antique related encounters, my anxiety level started to escalate.  We started walking around looking at the merchandise and I felt like everyone was pressing in on me in the large warehouse they were using.  The building was used as a feed store and then it had antiques and vintage items piled everywhere.  There were a couple hundred chairs in the middle of the floor and almost everyone was full with people standing around the edges.  It didn’t take me long to find a chair in the back and try to hide as well as I could in a crowd.  The auctioneer was fast, which is fine, but it takes a little while to get in rhythm with a new auctioneer.  I listened intently as he “cried” the auction, as my Shenandoah Valley born and raised husband says.  (Mike’s dad learned to auctioneer and was known to “cry” a few auctions in his day.  Mike loves an auction, no matter what is being sold.)  After a bit, I was able to keep up with the bids but the items went for a lot more than what I was interested in paying.  Mike never raised his hand either.  A friend we are just getting to know came in a bit late and sat down beside us and he and Mike talked the whole time.  We ended up leaving early and I was more than ready.  By the time we got home, I  needed peace and quiet.  The good news is that when we got back to the house, our power was back on.  I had received a notification message from Appalachian Power stating it was back on shortly after we left the house to go to North Carolina.  We had the switch turned off on the generator, so it was not running, but we also had the breaker off to the main power line, so we had to figure out how to get that back on but then we were in business.  This round of being without electricity and using the generator was a hands-on crash course for us to learn how to turn the generator off under a load, turn it back on manually, and then switch everything back over to auto and reconnect to the main power source.  Next time maybe we will remember and not have to read the book so much.  It was actually very easy, but Mike kept asking me how to do it and I kept doubting myself and re reading the book to make sure we were doing it correctly.   I did absolutely nothing yesterday other than go to auctions which for an extrovert means a really awesome day out with friends, like the one’s Mike knew already and the ones he just met two minutes ago.  What that meant for an introvert like myself is that making conversation with people I don’t know makes me tired. By the time I got home, I was more exhausted than if I had run a marathon and promptly fell asleep on the couch while Mike was talking to me in a spite of the fact the temperature was only 55 degrees in the house because we had turned the generator off all night and then after we showered turned it off again for the day to conserve fuel. 

March 5, 2018

I was so edgy, nervous, anxious and irritable when I woke up yesterday morning.  I have experiences several days like this in the last week with anxiety so intense that it made me feel like I was having a heart attack.  I kind of laughed it off but did mention it to Mike, that I if anything happened to me assume it was my heart.  I was awake long before Mike, which is our normal routine.  In Laurel Fork that means uninterrupted quiet time for me to write while I drink my coffee because the minute Mike wakes up he starts talking and then I have difficulty concentrating.  I have to laugh at so many differences between.  I would rather wake up two hours before everyone else so I can have two hours without speaking.  Mike starts talking almost the minute he gets up.  When Mike did get up, I told him “I’m warning you now, I am anxious and irritable and if I am short tempered or cry don’t take it personally.”  He said, “It sounds like to me you are making an excuse.”  I laughed and said, “Yes, I am making an excuse.”  He asked me if I needed to talk about something and I told him that I really didn’t know why I was struggling.  In spite of the dubious beginning, the day actually picked up for me from there.  I tried to get past the anxious feelings and church was a distraction.  I’m very comfortable there.  There is only a small group that attends and with a lot of them old enough to be either my parents or grandparents, they just make over Mike and I and are so happy that we are there.  It just feels comfortable to me, which is more than I can say for most churches anymore.  We had a potluck after the service and enjoyed visiting and eating good food.  When we got home, I had dirty dishes to wash but instead went outside.  I know myself well enough to realize that time spent outside is better therapy than anything for my soul.  I grabbed my camera, something I don’t always do when I walk.  I was happy that I did because I wasn’t more than a few steps past the barn when I looked ahead and saw movement.  It was the flock of turkeys on the edge of some brush.  From where I was I knew I could either go completely a different direction and not startle them or try to move to their right to get them to move to the left into open pasture in hopes of getting a good picture of them.  I had the benefit of being downwind and while they are typically spooked easily, my plan to move slowly and quietly downwind from them worked as they headed into the pasture instead of seeking cover in the trees around the springs.  They moved at a steady pace and I was able to get some photo although the sun was bright in my face and keeping me from actually being able to see what I was doing.  After I managed a few shots I followed them.  They had a head start and of course traversed the sloping, mountainous pasture land with ease while I huffed as I walked up the steepest part of our pasture.  I could see them ahead of me until the topped the hill and I assumed that they knew I was there and had kept going and sought shelter in the woods.  Instead, when I reached a certain point where the land table tops right before becoming wooded, I found myself surrounded by turkeys.  They startled me as much as I startled them, so convinced was I that they would be hidden safely in the woods.  There was a rush of movement as these big, wild birds quickly took flight.  I grabbed my camera from around my neck and tried to focus but all I could do was start shooting photos and hoping something turned out.  I could see the birds in front of me flying across the meadow and into the wooded area across the road as I heard the remainder of the flock behind me flapping their big wings and gaining altitude quickly to fly over my head.  It was truly an inspiration moment when one feels privileged to witness untamed beauty first hand.  How could I feel stressed or anxious at that moment?  How could I feel anything but perfect peace and gratitude for being able to absorb such beauty and witness nature so intimately?  After a slow-paced walk, I started working on the yard.  A winter’s worth of fallen sticks and leaves as well as some larger branches blown off by the high winds littered the yard and it won’t be long until we will have to begin mowing.  I raked and cleaned for several hours discovering that my Hostas were beginning to peek up from the dirt, and the already tall daffodils were close to blooming, even though they are in a shaded area of the yard.  Signs of hope…..signs of life….signs that the harshness of winter will soon be past were everywhere, and the honest work of clearing off the yard forced me to give myself over and relax my mind as I pulled the rake over the steep incline, clearing one little section at a time.  My pile of leaves and sticks got higher and higher and Mike asked me what I was going to do with them.  I laughed and said, “You are going to bring me the skid loader and I am going to fill the bucket up with all the debris so you can haul it off somewhere.”  He kind of rolled his eyes in that “Tammy has it all figured out her way” look but I could tell my plan made sense to him.  We filled the large bucket and stomped it down, filled it more and stomped it again, and just when I thought we couldn’t possibly get more in there, Mike tapped it down again and we had bucket packed full and a good start on cleaning the yard.  While I worked on raking leaves and cleaning up sticks and limbs, Mike had been moving dirt and filling in low spots around the house to try to slope the yard away from the back wall of the basement.  He did a great job.  I am not sure how many buckets of dirt he ended up bringing in and then patiently shoveling and raking and getting it sloped just right.  It looked so pretty, all that red, mountain dirt raked to perfection.  Then he seeded it with grass and covered it with straw.  If we can get a good stand of grass there, that section around the house will not only be beneficial to keeping water away from the basement, but it will also look much better now that the holes and low places are filled.  We were tired but content when we came in the house and happy for a Sunday that we didn’t have to be on the road.  Mike asked me to start a fire and I had that blazing and supper warmed up by the time he got in the house and showered.  After eating, I made my nightly call to grandma, took a long soaking bath, and crawled into bed. 

Vintage Enamel Ware (Reviewed and Updated 6/18/2024)

 I find enamelware a great addition to our farmhouse and understand the popularity of it in the farm kitchens of the 19th century when it was first mass-produced.  

  Wikipedia defines enamel as " a smooth, durable coating made of melted and fused glass powder".  In addition to kitchenware, enamel was used on appliances, signs, sinks, wash tubs, and much more.  

While enamelware is relatively safe, one should use caution when cooking with it.  According to Dolores Monet's article, An In Depth Look at Popular Vintage/Retro Enamelware Collectibles,


You may not want to actually cook with vintage enamelware. In the old days, few regulations prevented the uses of toxic materials. Despite manufacturers claims that enamelware was clean and sanitary, additives like lead and cadmium were often used in the production of bright colored frits. For instance, Le Creuset used cadmium in red and orange colored enameled iron cookware. The company still produces red and orange products but now complies with standards set by California regulations, some of the strictest guidelines in the world. While cadmium is still used, production methods prevent the toxin from being released during cooking. Also, the inner cooking surfaces are white.
Years ago, a type of uranium used in the frit for brightly colored enamel was radioactive. US government regulations stopped the use of uranium based compounds used in the production of cookware in 1938.
Today there is some concern that certain countries like China do not provide enough regulation to ensure safe cookware. Inexpensive lead tests are available on the internet and at many hardware stores.

Ms. Monet's article shares how to showcase enamel pieces and provides practical ways to clean and keep enamelware in good condition.  (That information can be found towards the end of the article at the link provided.)  

Another excellent link with advice on cleaning these vintage pieces can be found at How to Clean Vintage Enamelware.

If you are interested in more detailed information on the history of enamelware, including a timeline that starts in 1761, visit the detailed article entitled History of Enamelware - Kitchen and Household.

Mostly I collect enamelware because the simplicity and the colors make me happy. The following are ways I have found to use enamelware rather than for cooking:

*Collecting kitchen scraps for the compost pile

*As a fruit bowl

*A container when snapping beans or shelling peas

*A pretty serving dish for cold foods such as salads, fruit and slaw

*An ice bucket for family get-togethers

*As a hot water bath canner for jams