Christmas Letter 2007

**NOTE: Some of you may have received cards with a portion of the first two sentences missing. (We think Beaker hit the "delete" key when we weren't looking!) Being an English major, I will probably need an entire year to recover from the guilt of sending out a card with a major typo! Here is the correct version:

Season's Greetings!

I was just reading our Christmas letters from the last two years, and each holds the promise of a warm, historically restored house. Well, we’re not quite there yet. In fact, the house is as cold as ever and certainly messier. We’re actually boarding again at Hotel Brenda since the construction has seeped into every room of the house. Progress is occurring slowly but surely, though: Mike has finished stacking the logs for both cabins, and he has nearly completed the connector addition. I won’t make any promises this year, but if you don’t find me at Walnut Grove next holiday season, then look for me at the local sanitarium!

The animals are getting as restless as we are, I think. Despite our efforts to contain them in their roomy lot, the goats continue to break through the fence and take charge of the whole farm. It’s not unusual for Billy to climb the ladder into the cabin to give Mike a hand (aka pester him). We’re running low on eggs—a raccoon killed several of my best laying hens back in early fall, and the little diddles that hatched out in the spring were predominately roosters, most of whom have since been eaten. That Lance and I finally butchered a chicken is perhaps the biggest news of the year. We don’t plan on making a habit of it (as we still enjoy being vegetarians), but instead view it as a necessity of animal husbandry—and an activity that encourages a closer connection to our food sources and a deeper respect for Mother Nature. (The picture on the front of the card shows Lance and me holding one of our roosters after I roasted it on the open hearth for the Exchange Place’s “Christmas in the Country”). If the “autumn cull” is the biggest news, then the death of my brother’s horse, Scar, is certainly the most tragic. She was attacked and killed by two pit bulls at my dad’s barn last month. She had boarded all summer at Walnut Grove, and we considered her one of our own. She was always hanging her head over the fence in hopes of getting a carrot or a good scratch behind the ears. Ruby, our filly, also had a run of bad luck: She stepped on a nail back in the summer and is just now recovering. Johnny Cash, the black gelding that my dad gave me, is settling in nicely, but Jezebel, our dapple gray mare, still rules the roost (barn, stall, pasture etc). Besides the hens and Scar, I also lost my two sweet dogs, Spec and Rose, this year. They lived with my step-father’s other English Pointers in his kennel and were partners in crime when it came to hunting wild birds. The cats, though, seem to be doing well. Poe and Pippin are probably snuggling up in the hayloft as I write this letter; and Beaker is curled up on the Christmas quilt on my bed. Royalty, indeed!

In other news: Lance is still x-raying, and I am still grading papers. Lance is also becoming quite the pro at speaking Spanish. We are going to Honduras for two weeks in February to volunteer with the International Health Service; and Lance insists that he be able to understand the patients. I, on the other hand, am looking forward to remaining behind the scenes and quietly anonymous as the “general helper” aka “box carrier”!

We wish all of you a joyous Christmas and a happy and healthy New Year!

Lance and Heather

Thanksgiving

As many of you know, the mission of Walnut Grove is to provide a venue for self-sufficiency. When Lance and I bought the farm five years ago, the original plan was to raise our own food--both vegetables and meat. The meat part never happened, as I couldn't bring myself to butcher my sweet (and productive) laying hens, especially "Henny Penny"--and I really wasn't prepared to rear a hog. At that point, Lance and I became vegetarians, opting out of the industrialized system of meat production that this country has become so fond of and which was increasingly weighing on our consciences ("out of sight" was very much "in our minds"). This spring, however, three of my most determined hens hatched out broods (see June 19 post) of what turned out to be mostly roosters. As these little cocks grew into big cocks, I knew that the time would come when "something would have to be done." Too many roosters means too many fights and too many harassed hens. Unfortunately, most people--even fellow farmers--aren't interested in foster parenting roosters. (We did find a home for two roosters--Robin and Louie (an older rooster), though). I decided to keep the old patriarch Petie and three of the young roosters: Randy (a friendly one), Loretta (our drag queen), and Goldo Jr. (truly a reincarnation of his father). The rest, I decided, were going to have to be butchered. That was that. After much research on the proper techniques of killing and cleaning a chicken, Lance and I finally did the deed over Thanksgiving weekend--the traditional time for hog killin' here in Appalachia. Knowing that it would be too ambitious to "take care of" all 10+ roosters on the first go around, though, we instead settled on two large breasted ones who were just on the cusp of adulthood. I'll spare the details of the slaughter, but I will say that the other chickens seemed oblivious to what was going on, as they pecked at their fellow coop-mates' plucked feathers. Though astonished that Lance and I actually killed one (much less two!) of my beloved chickens, Mom nevertheless roasted the two birds for supper. Lance enjoyed a drumstick--his favorite--for the first time in 2+ years, and I nibbled on a piece of the breast. And though we both felt ethically satisfied--that we truly deserved to eat the meat--we ultimately decided that we prefer being good old herbivores!

Attached are pictures from the event: Me plucking feathers, Lance dressing the bird (notice other chickens in the background), and the two birds after roasting.

Girls' Night Out

Looks like the horses had a rough night last night. This morning, Jezebel came to the barn with a "witch's stirrup" tied in her mane. My grandfather claimed that witches would steal horses on Halloween night, tie knots in their manes for stirrups, and go riding about the skies in wild revelry. Since it's not quite Halloween, my guess is that the witches took Ruby and Jezzie (and Johnny Cash if they could catch him) on a test run.

Here are two pictures of Jezzie's mane and one of Ruby, resting after a long night.

Fall 2007

Despite the animal tragedies, we have made quite a bit of progress on the cabin--as you can see from the pictures. We're starting to have our first chilly fall days (finally!). Keep your fingers crossed that the heating and air unit will be up and running when Old Man Winter comes to town!

Revenge of the Chicken

We've had a rough couple of months here at Walnut Grove. A few weeks ago, Ruby stepped on a nail, the treatment for which required 10 days of the following: a daily hoof soak and wrap; a shot of penicillin in the neck, twice a day; a dose of antibiotic powder in her food; and a dose of Bute (pain med paste) twice a day. I was expecting her to give me a hard time (and rightly so--who wants to have a needle stuck in her neck or a tube of paste jammed down her throat!), but surprisingly, she cooperated nicely. She definitely has her mother's disposition. We're still giving her the Bute, and Dr. Clark (aka "Saint Vet") is going to X-ray her foot soon. Hopefully, she will have a full recovery. In addition to Ruby's injury, we've had some chicken tragedies of late. Not long after Ruby stepped on the nail, my sweet little pet hen, Lola, died. She was born with a cross-beak and could barely eat. I hand-fed her for several weeks, but I knew she wasn't going to live very long. The night after she died, though, a raccoon got into the chicken coop and slaughtered about 6 hens--something I wasn't quite so prepared for. I woke up to find several mutilated and decapitated bodies strewn about the farm. Marge, my best mother hen (several pictures of her are on this blog), was lying headless in a nest box. And poor Sunny, one of my Aracaunas, wasn't even dead yet. She was wondering around with her skin hanging off, while the survivor chickens pecked at her. Not a pretty sight. The next night, the coon hit the banty coop (it pulled off the boards I had NAILED over the entryway). The mess was unbelievable (apparently, this coon was a picky eater). At that point, I was finished respecting the ways of the food chain; we set a trap and caught and killed the culprit. No more chicken dinners for that ring-tale!

Here are pictures of some of the chickens from Marge's clutch this year and the bantys that my uncle gave me to replace the ones I lost to the coon--they are settling nicely into the role of garbage disposals, devouring kitchen scraps and scouring manure piles for bug larvae. Ecologists might call such a re-generation of the species "The Circle of Life"; I call it "Revenge of the Chicken"!

Bounty

Here are some pictures of this year's bounty. Despite the heat and drought, we still managed to grow some mighty fine veggies and flowers. A jar of homemade salsa or vegetable soup in December is about the best Christmas gift you can give to yourself!

Pictures are (from top to bottom): raw ingredients for salsa, canned tomato juice, heirloom Italian Rose beans, and a "Sunbright" sunflower

The Only Block You'll Never See

Though I was bound and determined not to use a single cinder block in the restoration, I ended up compromising for the chimney base, which needs to be a solid 10 foot cube. Other options were to use brick (nearly 10,000, the mason estimated) or pour several slabs of concrete, letting each slab dry before pouring the subsequent one--both very expensive and time consuming. I'm normally not convinced by the "you'll never see it" argument, but in this case, it seemed logical. From the top of the base up, the chimney shell will be brick--as most historic chimney shells are--and then the entire chimney will be covered in the stone salvaged from the original structure.

Here's a picture of the chimney base and the openings for the two fireplaces. Look closely because you'll never see the block again!

Movin' on Up!

We might as well change our names to George and Louise Jefferson! As you can see, the Birdwell-Bradley cabin is nearly assembled and under roof. Mike and crew have been working double time to prepare for the installation of the heating and air unit in mid-August. By that time, we should have both cabins and addition under roof--and plenty more pictures to share.

Greta

Over the weekend, Lance and I visited the Frontier Culture Museum in Staunton, Virginia, where historians and interpreters have restored authentic German, Scots-Irish, English, and Appalachian farmsteads with the hopes of illustrating the fusion of European cultures into a uniquely American one. At the German farmstead, I made a new friend--Greta the Polish-crested hen! She was just like Henny! She let me pick her up and pet her, she cooed affectionately, and she instinctively knew that following us around probably meant that she was going to get a snack. Unfortunately, the German farmer was quite attached to her, so it was impossible for me to "accidentally" sneak her into my purse!

Future Farmer of America

Our nephew Jackson came to visit "Mamaw" and "Poppy" for a few days this week. At the farm, he was more interested in Mike's "big tractor" than in the animals, but nevertheless, he helped with some of the chores, including feeding the chickens! He also requested a photoshoot with Beaker and Poe.

Hey Diddle Diddle!

Though I had planned not to allow any of my hens to hatch out chicks this year, I quickly learned that I cannot thwart mother nature. After spending the spring breaking up one nest after another, I finally gave up. Marge, the hen who raised a clutch last year, slyly began to lay eggs again in a secluded corner of the goat pen behind a large piece of plywood. Yet another Buff Orpington ("Buffy") refused to leave the nest boxes; she just kept moving from one pile of eggs to another during the day. Two banty hens employed the same strategy. All in all, my efforts to unwind the biological clocks of these stalwart wanna-be mothers were in vain. Yesterday, I began to see the fruits of these randy brooders as I watched one little fuzz ball after another emerge from its shell. Now, though I have no idea what I am going to do with all these "little diddles," I can't help but joyfully muse at the miracle of life.

First Story Up

After stalling the restoration to resolve several glitches with the documentation of the cabin, we are finally making progress. The Exchange Place was generous enough to donate several old, displaced logs as substitutes for damaged logs from the original cabin--and Mike located a giant oak "widow maker" (fallen tree that is precariously leaning on another tree) that he hand-hewed to replace a log for which we could not find an old replacement. Included are pictures of the first story and an original window jam that Mike has re-pegged.

Meet Pippin!

I just realized that we haven't "introduced" our new cat, Pippin, on the blog. Pippin showed up on our wood pile around Thanksgiving (he knew where to come!)--and he has settled in nicely, bringing us "gifts" of birds and mice. Included are a picture of Pippin with chickens in the background and one of Poe and Beaker "nesting" on the window sill.

Out with the "New" and in with the "Old"!

Last fall, Lance and I hired a carpenter in Abingdon to make replicas of the original 2 over 2 wood windows in the farmhouse. To be environmentally responsible, though, we had him double-pane them with one pane of the old glass and one pane of new. Finally, after working for over 6 months on them, he finished the job. Larry, carpenter extraordinaire, is installing them--and they are BEAUTIFUL! Now, when I drive down the driveway, I can see the waves and bubbles in the glass...maybe the ghost of old Blocker John will peek out one of these days too!

Martin Cabin

In a streak of good luck, Lance and I were GIVEN another cabin to use for the addition. One of Lance's co-workers (who lives in a lovely early-20th-century four-square house), told his neighbor (who owned the cabin) about our restoration here at the farm. The man, who had previously turned down offers of thousands of dollars for the cabin, told us, "If you take it down, it's yours." How could we refuse? So, we sent Mike and Mark to dismantle it. The cabin, which was probably built between 1830 and 1860 by the Martin family, was turned into a general store in the late 1800's. The original store counter was still in it--along with piles of styrofoam tobacco plugs. Getting rid of the styrofoam (and keeping the curious cows from stomping all over it) proved the most challenging task. Of course, many of the old timers advised us to break the law and, "Ah, just burn it!"--but we finally found a dump that would take it, and that's where it will stay...for centuries.

The cabin wasn't in perfect condition as several of the logs were rotted, but the original attic rafters were pristine--and labeled with Roman Numerals! We're planning on joining this cabin to the Birdwell-Bradley cabin so that the entire back portion of the house will be logs.

Included are a picture of the cabin and of me peeking out of the attic.

Logs-a-stackin!

This week is destined to be productive with the first logs from the Birdwell-Bradley cabin getting stacked, installation of the our reproduction windows, continued garden work, and the much needed dust bath.

Pictures are:
1) First OLD log floor joist.
2) Mike with his adze.
3) Louie, Phoenix, and Delaware taking a dust bath.

Lance

Klosterman Girls Visit Walnut Grove

Before last week Olivia had never been to Walnut Grove Farm. Because little brother Brad was coming up for his chair making course, Aunt Kim decided to come down for a visit and bring along Olivia.

The three days Kim and Olivia were here were great. Because she had only seen Uncle Lance and Aunt Heather a few hours of her life, she was a bit shy at first. She stayed close to Aunt Kim for the first day. Fortunately, while she was here we celebrated her 5th birthday with a "Chocolate Mountain Cake" that Heather had made and decorated with snow on the peak (coconut) and some animals. What kid can resist chocolate cake and birthday gifts? She definitely warmed up to us after the cake.

Then came the visit to the farm. Olivia was cautious at first since she had never seen a chicken up close. She really liked the baby goats and was all into collecting the eggs.

Lance

Pictures included are 1. Olivia with the baby goats, 2. Kim and Walter making out, 3. Olivia and Lance collecting the eggs, and 4. Olivia with an egg basket full of delicious eggs.

80 hours, 2 chairs, and Too Many Stories to Count

About two years ago Heather bought me a week long chair making course with Curtis Buchanan who is a renowned Windsor chair maker in downtown historic Jonesborough. Because of the house project, it took a while to finally get around to the much anticipated week long experience.

Little did I know that my younger brother was taking an interest in furniture making himself. After coming to this realization near Christmas I had an epiphany - the two of us could do the course together. Curtis was amenable and Brad was able to get time off from work so we were set to go.

The course involves beginning with a freshly split oak log and turning it into a windsor chair. The spindles and back were split and shaved from white oak. The chair was carved from a hunk of yellow pine. And the rockers are cut from rock maple. The whole process took us about 80 hours from Monday until Saturday night. Brad and I finished at 10:30 Saturday night - only 6 and a half hours before his flight left the next morning.

One of the most interesting parts of the week was the seemingly endless supply of stories that Curtis has to draw from. Most of the stories come from his youth when he hitchhiked all over the US and Central America for 7 years of his life. Oh, to live on the road.

Lance

Pictures included are 1. Brad on the shaving horse, 2. Curtis on the horse (notice Heather in the background who stopped by to entertain), and the final chairs.

One fine March Week

This past week (March 3-11) was eventful. It all started with Brad (little Bro) arriving on Saturday for the beginning of a long week of chair making with Lance and master chairmaker Curtis Buchanan. Details will be filled in the following blog titled "80 hours, 2 Chairs, and Too Many Stories to Count." Shortly after Brad's arrival on Saturday, Aunt Kim and Olivia (Scott's daughter) came to visit the farm. The details of that story are documented in the blog titled "Klosterman Girls Visit Walnut Grove."

Paul Bunyan

As the original sill logs of the cabin were heavily damaged by termites, we decided to replace them with new, hand-hewn logs. Luckily, Mike had felled some large white oak trees on a mountain near Bristol about five years ago. The situation was perfect: White oak is very rot resistant, and the fact that these trees had been cut for a few years decreases the chance of shrinkage. So, Mike and crew spent several days on the mountain hewing away. (We did agree to let him run the logs through a portable saw mill to square them off--a luxury our hearty ancestors did not have.) The logs were so long and heavy, we had to hire a U-Haul truck (the modern version of a team of work horses) to transport them to the farm.