AND NOW  BACK TO THE SHOW

Yeah, yeah, I know. I haven't posted since the snow was still on the ground, and I've probably lost at least one of my two readers. I deserve it.

But dig this.

We had the coldest, snowiest winter on record. And that was after the year before's coldest winter on record. So sue me if, when the snow finally melted in April, I tried to make up for lost time on the farm.

It's also true that we up here are so shocked by the continual severity of the winters that we are CRAMMING every warm, snowless moment with fun and frivolity.

Actually, that's a lie; we are so industrious up here that we HAVE no time for fun and frivolity.

Well, some do. I see them coming back from the beach every day (I work on the Rhode Island coast), sunburned, covered with salt and sand, exhausted from a busy day of lying in the sun. Poor bastards.

But though I haven't been posting, I have a good excuse. I've been busy. REAL busy.

I haven't been working on the buildings, or even on the Living Room Project. I'm actually switching gears this weekend to continue the greenhouse roof structure and finally finish the living room.

I have to; the living room is the coolest room in the house, and we're hitting the ninetiesnow in Late July.

But oh, is the land coming along.

And it's whupping my ass.

As I said, the snow didn't melt until April (it was March last year), and when it did, and the forest began to return, I thought it was right time to nip it in the buds.

We start there. Or then.

First I did what I should have done the first week I moved in; build a firepit in the backyard. Part of one, anyway; those rocks are heavy. Oh, I had some fires there before moving rocks to surround it, but it was essentially an ash pit in which the dogs would get filthy. Here you see the grass beginning to peek above the ground (with trepidation, I suppose, expecting yet another dumping of white stuff), and one quarter of the firepit built. It isn't a PIT, mind you; I want some heat from the thig, so it's on level ground. But I have a useless rock wall of modern age that someone built on my ledge in back of the garage, and I'm harvesting its biggest, flattest rocks to surround the firepit. In local parlance, a ledge is an exposure of local bedrock; why anyone would want to build a wall upon one, I have no idea, but it's being cannibalized for different re-uses.

An interesting side note; My brother Jay, at this very time, chose to send me a book titled "Stone Work," an autobiographical tome concerning a man's quest to rebuild a wall on his western Mass farm. It contains some very fine philosophical treatises (treati?) about old farms, the Earth, and stone walls (which were originally called fences, and for good reason). I felt torn about removing any rock from a wall and using it elsewhere, but I have since taken this thought to task.

I have no intention of removing any of the OLD walls on the place, but the one on the ledge simply does not belong. Stone Work gave me the impetus to reexamine my wall values, and that wall will come down. All the stones will be reused around the property to enhance it.

So I had my very first recreational bonfire in the still-to-be-completed stone circle, and I could only think of one thing.

"Why the HELL didn't I do this before???!"

One of the dangers of sitting in the backyard as the fire begins to grow is that I'd look around and see TASKS to do. The ground, usually frozen for a few weeks after the last snow melts, was anxious to get back to work. We also usually have a 'mud season,' a time of rains that melt the last snow and eventually work their way into the soil, loosening it for the newly emerging plants.

This year, the plants wouldn't wait and the rains didn't come. We had no mud season; instead we had a two-month drought.

But the dangers of sitting outside remained nevertheless, and while sitting next to my first bonfire, I noticed the raged, wild patch below the pear and larch. Small sprouts of the strange unknown Indian medicinal plant were beginning to emerge, and I knew this was the prefect time to clean it up.

Perhaps it was this that led to everything else to come.

First thing was to completely remove the emerging poison ivy, bittersweet, and berry canes.

Second thing was to extend the electric fence to keep the dogs out. Specklepup nearly ruined the Indian plants last year; this would have to stop.

 I am a consummate restorationist, and I am also a frugal Yankee. I found some variegated hostas and a few other clump-style plants that someone was throwing away, and I planted them here. It would soon be shady, and hostas like shade. I'd separate them after they re-established themselves.

I also found a number of stomped-upon green hostas at my Rhode Island restoration, and dug their crushed bodies up to replant them here. They were grateful, and all have taken off nicely.

The grill and smoker, ex-smoker and chopping block await reawakening. The flat stones are being gathered for a patio, but some are obviously too thin. They'll be used elsewhere.

The second bonfire shows my vast improvements;  namely, I pulled a chair over and used a hemlock log as a side table. This is actually a pic of the first bonfire (note the rags drying on the line), but the second looked just like this. The dogs gathered around it, but only Cheerio was brave enough to perch on a rock. The nights were still in the twenties and the blackflies hadn't emerged yet. The Gibson sounded wonderful.

The yard at first growth. The dogs were happy to be out in it with no snow.

No, the Gibson is not on fire, but it likes it very much.

If you go back two pics, you'll see the mess that was my scrap plywood gate. I decided to use the new workbench I'd built in the shop last winter to cut a bunch of my salvaged western red cedar into pickets and complete what I had started in 2013. Better late than never. Note the huge flat stone; it was always there, just buried. I unburied it. The red pavers were a gift, and though they don't go with the rustic décor, they served to keep me feet outta the mud.

But we had no mud, as we had no rain.

The dogs love the new fence; it allows them to see into the yard as well as the street beyond.

Arf Arf.

 

At least I now had a decent-looking gate and fence facing the street.

 

Next: The Property Cleanup Begins!

The front yard's south corner had never been cleaned up or raked. I got to work on that first, as the daffodils were already pushing up through the snow. The hemlock in the background was stripped of its dead lower branches. I found some interesting plants I hadn't seen before, including a group of  snow-white peonies and...

 

irises. And...

 

Strawberries! Not the wild kind, either. I exposed them but knew they were unlikely to do much. They were likely in full sun when they were planted, and are in total shade now.

Ferns in the front garden  unrolling their hairy little fiddleheads.

Over the winter I'd somehow convinced a fine woman named Sher to be my friend. Go figure; she knew I was already married to my farm, but she decided to tease it by convincing me to plant a garden. She helped with the planting and has managed to avoid it ever since. She still sees ME, just doesn't weed or harvest.

Come to think of it, now that it is mid-July and the garden is actually producing, I might see her out there again. To harvest, not to weed. That's been my job when I can keep up with it. Here it is, brand new and shiny. The pile in front was taken off it the year before, and as the garden area had been covered with black plastic to kill the weeds, it looked this bare when the snow melted. Here, lettuce, carrots, garlic, radishes and rhubarb are in and up. The asparagus planted last year on the right and Horseradish Empire out of the frame to the left have yet to appear.

 

Two weeks later, my first asparagus spear. The weeds are way ahead of it.

 

Early May. The asparagus has many feathery offerings, which will be left to grow and flower. I expect to harvest some next year. It should produce for twenty-five more. Bush beans and sunflowers were added.

Though my eyes were drawn to the mess of bittersweet and briar canes that separated my house from the pond, I knew that I still needed to get back into the living room. Keeping me from this goal was fabricating what I still need to put on the ceiling once the drywall is finished. I had decided last year to install some wood that would pretend to be hand-hewn joists protruding from the plaster. I also had a bevvy of hemlock hand-hewn in 1803, cutoffs from a work project. I needed to cut them down from 10 inches to four. Next would be dressing and hand-hewing the newly sawn edges, then applying vinegar soaked in steel wool and blackened tea (just very strong) to lose the raw yellow color. Putting it up would have to wait until it gets hot; I needed to take advantage of the cooler spring temps to go to war with the briars.

Nice broadaxe marks would have to be reproduced on the new edges once cut down.

 

As grass began to grow, last year's efforts to reclaim the northwest corner of the back yard begin to show. All this was tall weeds, old maple logs and branches, and berry canes.

The Larch Garden, complete with Mysterious Indian Medicinal Plants, hostas, and now, my bonsai starts. I figured they'd be well instructed by the big trees and protected from the dogs by the electric fence. Berries and poison ivy continue to pop up. Insidious little buggers.

I absolutely LOVE the flowers on the Indian Plants. So do the bunglebees.

Mixed hostas, a strange perennial that I stole, and a shitload of volunteers.

Hungry birds empty the feeders every few days. Sunflowers pop up and I now have a bath for the birds, thanks to Sher. The grass begins to be a pain, as April and May were so drought-ridden that June's regular every-two-day-downpours shake me out of my dry complacency. The blackflies were just as bad as ever, despite the drought. The Greening began in earnest the first week of June. Temps rose into the upper eighties and low nineties early, reminding us that this part of New England is wery, wery unpwedictable. Heh-heh-heh-heh.

 

One huge disappointment was that my very expensive perennial front garden did not come up this year. I suspect the Moles are to blame. No water for two months, they had to eat something, and the roots of my Sky Blue and English Daisies must have hit the spot. Spots were all I had in my front garden, and now I had no money to buy more expensive flowers. But the late-sown wildflower seeds that took over in the drier, hotter months last year began to emerge with promises of orange and purple. The pansies were put there by Sher; she hates bare flower beds, but one lone pansy is just as sad. The white spindly thing at the right of the stoop is what I rescued from a cinder block the year before. A wild weed with flowers that won't stop, I found several more on the land as well as at the Avondale job site and brought them to keep this one company.

 

The rhododendron in full flower in early June. The road-side of this shrub was devastated by the huge amount of salt put on the roads this year; many roadside shrubs bigger than this didn't survive the sodium onslaught.

Garden coming in nicely. Lettuce is very tasty, but young. Weeds are anxious to take over. Posts in position for fencing, but though I have rolls of it, no deer or critters come to partake. Fence will take all summer to put up.

Tomatoes! Three varieties with marigold between. Keep the nemo-toads at bay. It'll be two months until the nightshades produce.

The King Horseradish Empire rears it's magnificent head(s). I declined to harvest the roots last year in hopes of a bigger bunch of plants this year. I am rewarded.

More than one. Three, in fact.

What looked so neat and clean is all of a sudden needing major weed-eating. I sharpen my appetite. Apparently there are still a lot of maple branches to remove from the northwest corner. Damn. I don my long pants, long sleeves, gloves and DEET. Time to go to war for real.

It amazes me how white, stark, and lifeless the forest becomes in winter. Then it becomes a deeper jungle than I saw in Belize. All in a matter of weeks.

The cherry tree that split and hit the ground last year has no intention of giving up. Half goes skyward, the other half drapes to the ground, a huge wood gash between the saplings. I harvest all fallen cherry and apple for use in the smoker.

I pulled out the weedeater with the brushcutting attachment and went to town under the apple tree. What amazed me was that there was old grass everywhere. This was once a part of the yard! It seems elementary now, but viewing it for a year with raspberry canes, pokeweed, and the constant bittersweet/poison ivy/briar curse, I had no idea what this area might be like without them.

If this little area was like that, what might I find elsewhere?

I trimmed a lot of the apple, read about restoring it through pruning (it'll take years), and went so far as to rake the ancient humus. That leaf litter and all the tree-trimmings can be seen piled at the edge of the deepest weeds on the property. THAT is the ancient Dump. I won't touch it until the first freeze. If then.

I suddenly considered whether I really wanted the berry patch. This one produced a ton last year.

Coupled with the trimming I did late last summer, this area beckoned me to continue. It could be almost park-like with the proper sculpting. Hell, it probably WAS park-like once.

Good bye to the Chinese wineberries. NOW I was inspired.

Oh, yeah. Just gotta lose that rotting doghouse.

And do something about the overgrowth by the garage.

 

Yeah, THAT overgrowth.

But planting continues. Four o'clocks, peppers, and tropical bonsai await their spots in the gardens. No wonder I can't get anything done. I've become a freaking FARMER.

I throw grass seed out and water it in. The berries and bittersweet vie for sustenance. But I have a weedeater.

Oh, YEAH. Grow grass grow.

Wait a minute!! Won't I have to MOW that??!

The berries say, "Wait a minute! We're still here!"

 

I trim the trees in the northwest corner while cutting and raking the ground as under the apple. This parcel won't be so easy, what with the rocks. This is where many of the farm's outbuildings were when the Izbickis bought the place in '38. There is grass there, too.

I begin on the slope by the garage, trimming and raking. Note the pile at the base of the rise. Sheesh.

The southeast corner of the pond, closest to the house and to the newly cleared area. Looks like it needs clearing as well. Damned briars.

After cutting the big stuff with the brushcutting attachment for the Huqvarna trimmer. My best friend, along with Stihl the chainsaw and Ryobi the pole saw.

 

Oh joy. The former owners decided to dump an old heating oil tank at the edge of the pond. Lucky me. It must be extricated from the briars first. The briars at the edge of the pond will be cut later. Right now I want to cut to the northeast corner of the pond, where I trimmed last year. It will be like driving the golden spike at Promontory Point.

 

Still a lot to cut.

 

Briar canes near the pond are the largest I've seen; this one was as big as my bicep, with canes trailing over thirty feet. Stihl to the rescue!

 

Last year's trimmed area.

The enemy.

 

More trimming from last year.

A sculptable shrubbery!

The wall between the old animal pens and the pond. Some of the underbrush was saved; I don't want to strip the land to the ground until I look at it holistically. I save anything that might be sculpted into a pleasing shape or is naturally well-shaped.

The wall convinced me that I needed to clean up the whole area right to the ground and burn the canes. What would the area look like if I cleaned it with a rake?

Looks pretty good to me. Last year's cut is beyond the cherry log, cut up as firewood.

 Mulch piles dot the area. My wall can breathe again.

Looking park-like.

 

Someday the area will ALL look like this. I trimmed the bush and found clumps of grass beneath the leaf litter. With all the new sunlight, it should grow quickly.

 

Looks better than this, which was taken before trimming.

The center of the animal pens will unfortunately remain like this for a while; some of the thickest vines and canes grow from knee-deep broken glass and rust below. The last tenants were such gems and apparently had a tad less pride of place than I do.

This depression might be the old outhouse; only digging will tell, and that will be next year, when I rent a backhoe to clean the trash from the pens.

 

Only two of these ash trees will remain by winter, and they will be heavily trimmed.

 

Planting continues. Four o'clocks, new sunflowers, and late basil ready to go into the ground.

The only one of three ancient boxwoods survived. New growth emerges vigorously at the base of the old trunk, which will be made into an art table. Crabgrass vies for superiority, but the boxwood will win.

 

The big lace tree had a good spring.

The little lace tree hardly even put out leaves, then gave up entirely. But wait! New shoots crowd its base! Hurrah!

First planting of basil flowers by late June; I'll harvest most and see if it grows back after cutting way back. Other basil awaits planting, as the season is only half over. The cilantro flowered almost as soon as I planted it. Sheesh. Only the sage survived from last year, as I dug it up and brought it in.

 

Hostas and little trees destined for bonsai.

 

Japanese maples, mini jade, and my Barbados Cherry from last year. Only the maples will left in the ground to overwinter. All will be allowed to establish strong root systems before I start to train them as bonsai next year.

Crabgrass went crazy as the heat increased. Even all the bare ground in the backyard filled in. There was a lot of bare ground; Speckle hunted moles all spring, digging up their burrows. I saw her follow a burrow for almost an hour, digging constantly, and when she found the destructive little bugger, she tossed it in the air, caught it, and chomped it a few times before swallowing. She was more destructive than the moles, but whattayagonnado?

The Ledge, my only outcropping of bedrock. It will be cleaned soon enough. The rock wall to the left is being dismantled and turned into firepit and patio. Why would someone build a wall on top of a Ledge?

 

The new grass beneath the  apple tree is finally ready for mowing. Berry babies and bittersweet try to return, but constant mowing will allow the grass to choke it out.

I can now see the pond from the backyard. First time in many years for this, I'm sure. It really does look like a park, and inspires me to keep going.

But it's getting hot, so I put the remaining brush cutting off for a few weeks or months. Time to get back to work on the buildings. First order of business; sister the greenhouse rafters I'd jacked and left with temporary supports since last summer. The result above.

The next big task out here;  replace this side of the roof and rebuild the walls. The rafters will go as well. This is still going to be put off for another project left hanging since winter.

 

NEXT: To Finish The Living Room!