Christmas Letter 2006

Happy Holidays!

The weather is perfect for writing a Christmas letter! As I am typing, the temperature is holding steady at freezing, but this morning, when I was traipsing about feeding the animals and busting their water, it was in the twenties. My thought is that it isn’t Christmas unless frost has blanketed the fields and the chickens are huddling inside the coop to stay warm. Of course, Lance and I have been doing our fair share of huddling too. Those of you who have been keeping up with our blog know that much of our house is exposed because of construction. To limit the amount of fossil fuel burning, we are keeping the thermostats set at a “balmy 58 degrees,” as Lance says, and spending most of our time by the fire. Oddly enough, the first inhabitants of our farmhouse would probably be roasting at 58 degrees. Their spirits are likely thinking, “Those softies from the future! Central heat and air have ruined them!”
We certainly have been knee-deep in restoration this year. Mike, our trusty contractor, has removed the vinyl siding from our house, restored and painted the original clapboard and trim, completely rebuilt the front porch, installed a wood shingle roof over both porches, dug a basement under the house, and dismantled and moved a two-story, 1835 log cabin, which we “saved from Wal-Mart.” Currently, he is building the foundation for the addition and cabin with salvaged stones from an 1893 church originally located near Gate City, VA and a historic home in Elizabethton, TN. We continuously look at the concept drawings of our talented architect, Anita, and think, “Just another year!” For me, there is no other option than living in an old house, so I will continue to trample through red clay and listen to the banging of hammers and buzzing of saws until the project is complete. And I will continue to be thankful for a husband who doesn’t regret marrying someone born in the wrong century.
We have suffered quite a few losses this year among the animals. Henny Penny was killed by a beagle back in February, Lance Jr. died of an impacted craw in April, and sweet Copper passed away of asthma in June. Needless to say, I have shed many tears. The new generation is thriving, though. We boarded Ruby, Copper’s colt, at a training barn in Bristol for three month over the summer. She is now showing off her newly acquired horse etiquette and looking forward to saddle training next year. Iris, our pygmy goat, mothered triplets in April. The new kids, Walter, Ivy, and Lily, are getting used to the spoiled life here at Walnut Grove. Two of our banty hens and one of our Aracaunas hatched out chicks this summer, so we are sure to have eggs in the future. And of course, the cats remain our faithful friends. Beaker hasn’t changed much: He still spends most of his day sleeping or begging for tuna. Poe, the legendary “fearless warrior cat,” is doing a little less hunting and a little more snoozing this year. (He is lounging beside the computer as I write this letter.) We have a new feline addition: Pippin, a gray tabby kitten, arrived on our woodpile a few weeks ago and has settled in nicely. We’re trying to make a mouser out of him, especially since Poe has gone part-time. Oh…and I can’t forget the guineas, who are squawking outside the window. They will do a number on the bugs come spring!

We'll post more pictures from the Christmas photo shoot in the next week or two.

Have a wonderful Christmas and joyous New Year!

A Plan for the Future

The past two nights have gotten below 10 degrees and we have felt it. As you might expect, the heat pump doesn't work too well when the wind chill is below 0. Therefore, we unfortunately have to burn fossil fuels to keep the house a balmy 58 degrees.

During the past year of construction, we have been slowly modifying our plans for the cabin and addition. As a part of these modifications, we asked the architect to produce some concept drawings to help us visualize what the project will finally look like. Attached is a picture posted before on the blog of Heather in the garden and the concept drawing from the north side of the house.

A Firm Foundation

Following Henry David Thoreau's advice, we are laying the foundation of our castle (historic log cabin, rather) in the air. Mike and crew have been cutting, chiseling, and mortaring away for the last month. The beautiful hand-cut limestone from Ewing's Chapel (see February 11th post "Rocks and Snow") is almost gone, but we have secured a few more tons of rock from the chimney of a historic home in Elizabethton. Even with the aid of a modern rock saw, the process is slow and arduous...by 2006 standards, that is.

New Front Door!

Here's a picture of our new front door. Mike made it from walnut he had harvested from the Exchange Place, the living history farm where I volunteer. Wood looks so much better than vinyl!

Ruby's Homecoming

After three months of focused training at Journey's End Farm, Ruby came home a changed filly. A few of her impressive capabilities: leading, standing on crossties while being groomed, lifting her feet to be picked, and driving with reins. She also politely turns her butt away from me when I go into her stall (rather than aiming it right at me in preparation to kick!) Since Scar and Johnny Cash are at Dad's, Ruby and Jezebel are getting nicely reaquainted; I think they'll be best friends again in no time! I plan to continue her training in the round pen that Lance built over the summer; and by next spring, she'll be ready to travel once again to Bristol for saddle training.

Pictures include: (1) Jezebel and Ruby loaded in the trailer at Journey's End (it is usually wise for a horse to have a "buddy" while traveling); (2) Ruby on the lead rope after being unloaded at Walnut Grove; (3) Ruby working in the round pen.

It's About Time...

we made a new post! We apologize for being out of touch for awhile, but with school starting and Lance taking on new responsibilities at work, we've had to put the blog on the back burner. Not to worry, though, we're back with lots of exciting news and pictures. Mike has been busy laying the footers for the addition (see picture), and now we're sowing grass in the front yard. I am particularly happy about this project; the interim yard of mud was starting to wear me thin. Soon, I will be able to return my shrubs and flowers to their original, loamy homes. (They've been waiting patiently in red clay.)

We're also glad to have had the chance to visit with our nieces and nephews of late (see pictures below). Last weekend, Lance and I traveled to Nashville to attend his cousin's wedding, and we got to spend quality time with his siblings and meet (aka snuggle with, kiss, hug on) his new niece, Rae. She is a special one, not only because she is such a placid baby, but because she shares my middle name (also my grandmother's maiden name). On our way home, we stopped in at Shane and Bobbie's where Jackson enjoyed showing off the wagon we got him last Christmas, and two-week-old Reese McKenna snoozed on our shoulders. I think I have definitely caught the baby bug, but as we are knee-deep in restoration, we'll have to wait a couple more years to be fruitful.

P.S. Ruby is coming home this weekend, so I'm sure we'll post again soon!

Wood Roof

After much deliberation, Lance and I decided to return our roof to its original state of wood shingles. In a letter written by Ruby Brown, daughter of "Blocker" John and Hannah, to Kathy McInturf, owner of the farm from 1975-2000, Ruby states, "The wood roof was replaced with metal in the 1930's, and then not because of leaks, but because of fire hazard." Let's hope if we decide to go with metal in later years, it is not for the same reason!

In the same letter, Ruby writes of the farm, "I am so full of that place, I could write a book about it!" We feel the same.

Be fruitful and multiply

Although we have not followed the devine order from Genesis 1:28, the non-human residents of Walnut Grove have been faithfully obeying. One of our bantam hens diligently brooded for what seemed like months before she hatched out two chicks this week. She actually sat for about 21 days (the same as a full size chicken) before these beaked cotton balls emerged.

New Chicks!

This morning Heather found some new additions to the farm tucked in a corner of the goat pen. Neither one of us thought this hen had been sitting very long. I guess time flies when you're restoring an old house -- NOT.

Ruby's Big Adventure

Yesterday evening, Ruby left the comfort and familiarity of Walnut Grove and traveled to Journey's End Farm near Bristol where she will board for a month and receieve obedience training. Her adventure had a rocky start, as Ruby did not appreciate being loaded into the horse trailer. After an initial fight, though, she rode smoothly up the road--with her pal Jezebel by her side (for security and peace of mind, both human and equine). Showing her stubborn streak, she at first refused to back out of the trailer when we arrived at the barn, but after watching Jezebel do it (and receieve a handful of hay as reward), Ruby aquiesced. She made herself right at home in her new stall and introduced herself to her neighbor, Stony, with a loud "neigh!" Today, Mom and I visited her and watched Lisa, the trainer, work with her in a round pen. Utilizing natural horsemanship methods (as seen in "The Horse Whisperer" for instance), Lisa had Ruby obeying commands in about 30 minutes. Though sometimes more interested in fellow animals--horses grazing nearby, Chompers the dog, and Hamlet the three-legged cat--than Lisa, Ruby nevertheless aced her lesson. After a pat on the neck and an apple/oat treat, Mom and I left Ruby to bask in the temporary glory of a job well done. Copper would be proud.

Introducing . . . The Painting Princesses!

95 degree heat was no obstacle for our Brushing Brides today. Lets just say that I was glad I had to work in air conditioning. -Lance

Hail and Farewell

Once again, my plan to write a cheerful post has been thwarted by tragedy. Last Monday evening we lost our sweet red mare, Copper. She had been suffering some time from asthma, and though we had been treating her with steroids and lots of love, her poor lungs just couldn't take the summer heat and humidity any longer. Monday evening, as Lance and I were looking at the day's progress on the front porch, I noticed that she was lying low in the grass in the front field. Since she rarely ventured out of the barn, except to pick grass for an hour or two, I guessed that something might be wrong. I called to her, she got up, walked a few yards, and lay down again. At that point, I knew she was suffering, so we started walking out in the field. When we got within 20 yards or so, she knickered and started breathing even harder. Lance went to the barn to get some medicine and call the vet while I stayed and comforted her. She tried to get up. I encouraged her, thinking that she was simply overheated and a respite in the cool barn would ease her pain. She took two steps, her back legs collapsed, and she fell over. At that point, I knew she wasn't long for this world. In less than a minute, she was gone. Lance will tell you that she waited for me to find her before she died. I don't know, but I am grateful that I was with her when she passed. After calling about ten local farmers, we finally found one who would bury her that night. It is still difficult to fathom how something so large and alive is gone. Thousands of tiny insects probably perished during her burial, but their deaths, and indeed their entire existence, seem so inconsequential compared to those of my 1,000 pound, new-penny-colored friend, whose warm neck I often leaned against for comfort. When the weather cools, we plan to plant a Sugar Maple on Copper's grave. In the fall, its leaves will undoubtedly remind us of her.

Attached are two pictures of Copper--a few days after she gave birth to Ruby. Ruby, by the way, seems to be adjusting well to her mother's death. I keep telling her that she is a young lady now with big hooves to fill.

Progress despite rain

May has turned out to be extremely wet with daily, heavy thunderstorms typical for an East Tennessee Spring. Despite the rain, Mike (our contractor) refuses to let the weather slow him down. For instance, Thursday he arrived at the farm at ~6:30 AM to paint the porch so it would dry before the rains hit at 10 am.

Pictures attached include a couple of the rebuilt stone porch with the original 1899 woodwork and a photo of the happy goat family.

Lebowski Fest in East Tennessee

This weekend, we took Walter on a field trip to see Dude and Maude, the two silkie banties that we had given Lance's colleague, Joy, a couple of months ago. The proud parents of two fluffy chicks--little achievers!--they strutted around in style (and Dude occasionally wandered into the corner of the pen to take a sip of what we thought was a White Russian). Walter behaved himself and didn't wave a gun at the other goats, even though they were rather hostile, as Nihilist goats are wont to be.
We know this story is ludicrous, but we share The Stranger's optimism and will sleep better knowing that there are "little Lebowski's" out there keeping the tick population in check.

Show Cancelled

Today, I was going to write a blog entitled “Survivor: Chicken Island” about Lance Jr.’s surgery and recovery. I was going to explain how I had performed emergency surgery on her a couple of weeks ago to relieve her impacted crop*; how I had slit it open and emptied the contents: grass, cracked corn, and a twisty tie (much like Inman’s neck wound for those of you who have read Cold Mountain); how she was such a good patient, staying calm and still as I jabbed into her throat with a paring knife; how Lance had given me the silver star for surgery and had sewed her wound up that night with stitches he had brought home from the hospital; how we had religiously kept the cut slathered with iodine and Neosporin and given her oral antibiotics; and finally, how she had fully recovered and was following me around the farm again in her typical cheery way.

But yesterday morning, I found her dead on the floor of the coop. Perhaps her crop had gotten impacted again; perhaps she had contracted some internal infection that the antibiotics we had been giving her had failed to defeat; or perhaps Mother Nature was sending me a message that I shouldn’t mess too much with the natural order of things, that Lance Jr. had a genetic defect and she was destined to die an early death, that I was selfish in trying to keep her around, and that she would have served a better purpose stewing in a pot with dumplings. “Go ahead and cry, Heather,” Mother Nature was probably saying, “but I warned you not to get too attached to your animals. Survival of the fittest…you understand that don’t you? Animals have value because you assign them value…In reality, they are only part of the food chain, following the planetary creed of eat or be eaten.” (Lord knows, Lance Jr. herself could even be punishing me for naming her after a boy. “I’ll just die…see how you like that!”)

Either way, “Survivor: Chicken Island” had a short run. But I will continue to tread on here at Walnut Grove, making use of humankind’s inventions, improvements, and illusions, such as clapboard farmhouses, heirloom seeds, Martha Stewart bakeware, and pets. What else can such a highly evolved organism do? For me, I guess, survival is not so much about being fit as it is about fitting in.

*a crop is a space below the neck where chickens store undigested food

Triplets!

Despite our continual monitoring in the last hours of her labor, Iris decided to have three new kids without our help. She delivered two does and a buck kid about 10 pm last night (April 17). The black doe with a white spot on her head will be named Ivy; the white doe, Lily; and the white buck, Walter.

Pictures include: Iris being a good mother; Lance attempting (not very successfully) to feed Walter a bottle while Iris and Lily look on in bewilderment; Heather holding Lily; and Heather holding Ivy.

Muddy Mess!

With the heavy rains of the last week and the construction, Walnut Grove has become quite a quagmire. Instead of cursing Mother Nature (whom I dearly respect), I instead think of Gillian Welch's song "Red Clay Halo." We may not be heavenly beings here, but we sure have muddy feet!

Digging is progressing slowly but surely. A vein of shale runs directly under the house, so Mike is having to use a jackhammer to break it loose. It will be well worth the effort, though, when we have a full basement under the house.

George Bradley, who was born in the cabin in 1924, his wife and their three daughters visited us a couple of days ago. They shared family stories and pictures, and most importantly, excitement about the project. It was a joy to collect oral history from the family who lived in the cabin--that's what historic preservation is all about!

Happy Birthday, Ruby and Heather!

Today, Ruby turns 1 and Heather turns 28 (oh, Lord!). Also--we've moved Iris into her OBGYN suite. She and Billy can still touch noses through the fence, but her new little kid will be protected from his/her rambunctious step-father for awhile.

Movin' More Dirt

A couple of pictures after today's work...(1) Lance under the house and (2) a view of the cold, cold floors from beneath.

Movin' Dirt

Mike began "movin' dirt" this week with his favorite tool - the back-hoe. Movin' dirt from under the front of the house will allow him to seal the crawl space and stop the nasty winter drafts. I am looking forward to warm feet next winter.

Lance

Green Eggs, but No Ham

About two weeks ago, we "freed" our chicks, who have grown into young ladies now. With the excitement of being able to free range, the recent warm spell, and the "encouragement" of two eager roosters, the hens have started laying earlier than expected. Only one Aracauna (probably Lance Jr.) is laying--appropriately pale green (jade-ite!) eggs--but the others are soon to follow. As vegetarians, we will be celebrating Dr. Seuss's advice in part--green eggs, but no ham!
Included are pictures of the first green egg, shown with a standard brown egg from one of our older hens and jade-ite in the background; Heather and Lance Jr. (with Henny Jr. in the back); and the chicks foraging around the horses' feeders. The final picture is of Frank (banty rooster) and company. The two fuzzy chickens (called Silkies), whom we named Dude and Maude (Lebowski), were a gift from Heather's dad, the mottled rooster (Ace) was a gift from one of Bobby's hunting buddies, and the two white banty hens were a gift from Heather's Uncle Baker. Unfortunately, Ace nudged Frank out of alpha rooster-hood, and after a long and bloody fight, Frank refused to come out of the coop. Because one of Lance's colleagues had been looking for some Silkies for her son, and knowing that she has a safe coop on her farm, we agreed to give her Dude and Maude if she would also take Ace. She agreed, and the banty coop is back to normal now with Frank crowing incessantly to impress the two remaining hens. His pride wasn't wounded for long!

It's here!

The cabin is now completely disassembled and neatly stacked behind the house. There are only a few remaining loads of chimney stones to transport but the logs have arrived. Unfortunately, a header log broke in half during the journey, but Mike is confident it can be repaired. Posted are a picture of the original cabin site (without cabin) and Heather with three of her favorite things -- a cabin, a chicken, and a cat. Sounds like a song.

Lance

Gender confused fowl

Just a quick post to show everyone a picture of the hen named Lance, Jr. Before you jump to any conclusions, I will explain. This bird was thought to be a rooster when he was a chick given his aggressive behavior. At that time we posted a picture of the little trouble maker on a 10/8/2005 blog entry. He was subsequently introduced to cyber space as Lance junior in a 10/30/2005 blog entry. His more feminine side prevailed as the little rooster grew and now that he has begun laying eggs, we are less convinced of his cock-hood. Fortunately, he/she has become the most sociable of the group and has taken to Heather following her around the farm -- no comments from the peanut gallery. I guess I can't blame him/her.

Lance

Cabin Coming Down!

The first log came down last Friday. Though I would ideally prefer a team of work horses and hoists to use for the disassembly process, I will settle for a modern cherry picker. Pictures are as follows: 1) Heather on the cherry picker. 2) Larry preparing to chain the first log. 3) The cabin from the back of the property (surrounded by "progress"). 4) The Holston River, which forms the back boundary of the property--175 years ago, there was an iron works/nail factory (Pactolus Ironworks) about 1/4 mile away on the river. The first nails used in the cabin were likely made there.