Noisy Neighbours

2016-07-27 14.13.35Most city dwellers don’t think of the country as a noisy place, but it can be. Yesterday I was working away at my desk when I heard a deep rumble. My first thought was earthquake, then I thought it must be a milk truck. But the rumble peaked then faded, peaked and faded. I looked out to see the neighbour’s sheep running laps back and forth along our fence line. Several hundred sheep thundering back and forth, for no apparent reason other than it was fun.

It’s a noisy time for sheep, even without running races. It’s lambing season in our neck of the woods, and lambs are noisy. The ewes get noisy, too, as they call back to their bleating lambs.

And there’s no point in telling these neighbours to quiet down—they never listen. 😉

Seeds! Seeds! Seeds!

2016-07-23 11.47.41It’s that time of year! The seed catalogue is here, and I’m dreaming of melons, tomatoes and corn.

The garden is all about possibilities at this time of year.

How about an orange sweet pepper?

My favourite squash isn’t available anymore? Well, maybe we’ll get Jade F1 instead?

And maybe an Australian Butter pumpkin, just for something different.

Endive. Definitely endive this year.

Orange cauliflower? Why not?

And I’m sure I can squeeze in this Greek mini basil along with the other three varieties. It’s mini, right?

So many plants, so little garden space…I’m sure that long about October, I’ll wonder what I was thinking back in July when I bought all these seeds. But I also know I’ll fit them in somehow.

July is the month for dreaming big.

Playgrounds of the past


2016-07-14 20.33.37cropsmThough we are back from our visit to the US, there are a few blog posts inspired by the visit still to come over the next few days…

The playgrounds I enjoyed as a child are long gone.

The monkey bars over asphalt have given way to simpler structures over more forgiving surfaces. The high speed pop-your-partner-into-the-air seesaws have been replaced by almost immobile rockers on springs.

Much of this is probably good—I knew more than one kid who broke an arm falling off the monkey bars, and I remember the pain of a finger pinched in the seesaw’s fulcrum.

How this merry-go-round has escaped the fate of other aging playground equipment, I don’t know (I shall keep its location secret, lest the safety police go looking to remove it). I remember playing on it as a kid, and my mother does too. By that measure, it must be at least 70 years old.

It still spins, though the ride is rough and squeaky (it was rough and squeaky 40 years ago, too, as I recall). The wooden benches have been replaced…more than once, I’m sure.

But even after 70 years, it’s still fun, as proven by my own kids.

Winter Blooms

2016-07-07 11.00.58 smI miss a good northern winter, with snow, but there is something to be said about the mild winters we have here.

One of the things I appreciate about our winters is the flowers that bloom then.

There aren’t many—allysum, calendula, and pansies flower year-round and grow largely as weeds in my garden (though I usually weed around them, and try to avoid pulling them out).

Camellias and snowdrops bloom in late winter. They provide lovely winter flower arrangements.

And then there’s the mystery iris. This plant wasn’t apparent in the yard until well after we thought we had discovered all the bulbs planted by generations of owners before us. It sprang up in an area we had cleared of plants, and I nearly pulled it out.

I’m glad I didn’t. This beautiful little plant is mostly foliage, but produces short blue flowers all through winter. Another lovely bloom for winter flower arrangements!

Fighting Over Firewood

2016-07-07 10.59.35 smI don’t know whether to count myself lucky, or to be disappointed.

My kids love to split firewood and kindling.

They’ve enjoyed this for several years, but now they’re actually old enough to do a decent job of it. And they jostle with one another to be the one to do it.

The problem is, I enjoy doing it, too. There’s something satisfying about swinging an axe and watching a log split in two under your blow. It warms you up on a cold day, and is appreciated by everyone as we sit by the fire in the evenings.

Now that the kids do the job most days, I have more time to do other things. That’s great, but it leaves me with no excuse to avoid the chores I don’t enjoy doing. It would be much better if the kids would start doing the really lousy chores like cleaning the bathroom, scrubbing the floors, and mucking out the animal sheds. Hmm…wonder how I can get them to do those…

Where Grass is King

IMG_1589 smOne of the things I’m struck with every time I return to the US is the prevalence of the expansive lawn. I don’t know if that’s all of the US, or just Pennsylvania, but there’s a lot more acreage in lawn here than there is back in New Zealand.

I appreciate a good lawn—for picnics and games, nothing beats it. But I also believe in making good use of land, and I believe there is such a thing as too much lawn—especially in Pennsylvania where much of the lawn covers land that was once highly productive farmland.

How much energy and effort are put into the maintenance of vast expanses of grass that no one so much as steps foot on except to mow? What if those expanses were used instead to grow vegetables or were restored to native habitats? How much space in our suburban environments could we use more productively by eliminating the lawn? How much expenditure of fossil fuels and fertilisers could we avoid? How many native plants and animals could we benefit?

I don’t have answers to these questions, but my gut feeling is that in a world with an ever-increasing population, wasting space growing unappreciated Kentucky bluegrass is not sustainable.

At Crazy Corner Farm, we try to make the best use of the entire property, and much of it is devoted to food production or native plantings. We also have a sizeable lawn, but that grassy area is heavily used by the kids for all manner of play. Once the kids are gone, the grass will almost certainly give way to something more productive. We are forever looking to make more efficient use of the space we have. I think in future, we are all going to have to do the same.

Pennsylvania Green

IMG_1540 smCrayola needs a new colour—Pennsylvania Green.

There is something about the shade of Pennsylvania forests that’s different from every other place.

I know, I know. It’s not actually possible. The forests don’t follow state boundaries. New York, West Virginia, Ohio, and Maryland have similar greens. But for me there’s nothing like Pennsylvania Green.

We spent a delightful weekend enjoying that green with friends in the middle of the state. A soothing and cool colour for a hot summer weekend.

Hooray for North American Wildlife!

IMG_1551New Zealand may have some of the more unique and awesome animals on the planet, but for sheer variety, North America is the winner.

For my kids, squirrels, chipmunks, and turtles are amazing sights. Bright cardinals, drumming woodpeckers, and colourful butterflies are exotic treasures.

To come across a deer in the woods is the event of a lifetime.

Even the forest floor is teeming with exotic creatures.

Here is one of my favourites—Apheloria virginiensis. Sometimes called the almond bug, this large bright millipede uses cyanide compounds to protect itself from predators, giving it an almond smell. Most millipedes use chemical defenses, so it’s nothing out of the ordinary in the millipede world, but who could resist the charm of this lovely creature?

Of course, spraying cyanide at your enemies isn’t particularly charming. Though they are harmless to handle, do wash your hands afterwards, because the poison can be quite irritating if you get it in your eyes.

 

Wolves

IMG_1524 smToday’s vacation outings included a trip to the Wolf Sanctuary of Pennsylvania. Though wolves and humans alike were wilting in the 94-degree heat, it was an interesting tour.

The animals’ individual stories were sometimes heartbreaking—most of them had been removed from owners who kept them illegally, often in poor conditions.

The wolves, kept in small to medium-sized ‘packs’ throughout the 80 acres of the sanctuary, ranged from the friendly young one who begged the keeper for a scratch through the fence, to the wary animal (kept for nine years on a chain in someone’s back yard) who wouldn’t come near the fence, even for a venison snack.

The wolf pictured here was happy to approach the fence and display his remarkable sense of smell. As you can see in the photo, he is blind—cataracts. In the wild, a blind wolf would be driven from his pack—there’s no room for disability in the wild (at the sanctuary, he is kept in a pack of two to avoid this). In captivity, he clearly thrives, making his way by smell and hearing. While we watched, he sniffed out a chunk of meat thrown into the undergrowth, and our guide related how he had once caught a rabbit that wandered into his enclosure.

Seeing these wolves in captivity was nothing like hearing wild wolves howl at night in northern Minnesota. And the stories of how they cam to be at the sanctuary are a terrible symptom of humans’ desire for mastery over wild animals. But I was glad for the opportunity to see these marvelous animals up close, an to know that in spite of their sad pasts, they are now being cared for with compassion and respect for their physical and social needs.

Some Things Never Change

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Photo: Peter Weiss

Summer. The beach. Sisters.

These photos were taken forty years apart. My sister and I at Barnegat in 1976, and my nieces at the same beach in 2016.

They could practically be the same girls.

Photo: Peter Weiss

Photo: Peter Weiss

Playing in the waves with your sister. Perhaps you didn’t spend much time together at other times. Perhaps your sister was the younger, irritating type. Or perhaps she was the older, bossy type. But you went to the beach, and there, with the waves rolling in, and the sand stretching on forever, you were kindred spirits. You laughed and played stupid games with the waves and sand. You collected shells together. You built sand castles.

And maybe you went back home and ignored one another, or maybe you yelled at each other, or maybe you enjoyed each other’s company at home, too. But the beach was a special bond. A place where your irritations with one another were set aside, and you were sisters—real sisters—braving the ocean together.