LET'S BACKTRACK A BIT

Now that the living room is finished (other than artsy details), I'm battening down for winter as well as prepping the kitchen for Winter Work. Last year, we had a number of small snows (and a couple of six inchers) before the Blizzard of January 27th. Then it was dig, dig, hunker hunker. I got sick, blah blah.

This year is different. December was exceptionally warm, allowing me to do Land Clearing up until The New Year, and I am presently taking advantage of the lack of snow to do work on the barn that didn't hold up through last year's snows. GRRRRR. More on that next time.

But now, I must backtrack a bit. To that pretty time of year in New England, when the leaves turn gold and orange and

...Holy Hell! It's ninety-five in late September! I got heat exhaustion after the Equinox!

As I write this on January third, we're expecting a low of six the day after tomorrow with a high around twenty-five. It's freaking COLD right now. 

AAAHHHhhhhh.... That's more like it.

I LOVE this time of year. There's no bugs. It doesn't snow (much). There are days in the fifties (Christmas was sixty-eight degrees - uggh), but most are in the forties, which is ideal weather for outdoor work. You don't sweat, you see.

I moved up here because I can't STAND the heat. Temps above seventy make me sweat, and I keep my house around fifty five in the winter. I am extremely hot-natured; my ex calls me The Human Radiator.

So I didn't enjoy September. October was overly warm as well, and all my work on the living room, which was in full swing at that time, precluded me from my outdoor activities. The heat didn't help.

But there was still a little bit of Autumn, and a small harvest to boot. The best part of Fall this year; the re-emergence of the Apple Tree.

But I digress, and that usually smells bad.

So here we go.

FALL means leaves falling, not trees. Except in this case. The ever-dead hemlock near the house, which I'd contemplated carving into something, went by the wayside. The Yew holds it up. I have since made strategic cuts in its trunk and will pull it safely away from the Yew before snowmelt. Or after, depending on the snow.

The Autumn weeds, with purple and yellow flowers, as they appeared in September, when most of these pics were taken. The cleared area by the pond begins to show just how cleared it really is. Let's see how it looks next June. Don't worry; I'll be there.

The Ledge as the leaves turn. I've begun to dissect the Ledge Wall. More on that later.

Future firewood. Standing Dead is the best.

Last year's leftover firewood won' last long.

The grass below the apple tree came in thick and strong, and has held its own through the drought and lower temperatures. The Bad Apples littler the ground. This year was the Bumper Crop to end all Bumper Crops, as far as apples were concerned. New England was BATHING in apples. My tree produced three or four twisted, wormy fruits each year for the last two, but this year! Whoa, Nellie! I'm still slipping and sliding on rotted apple goo. Most apples were not worth eating, as I did not trim the tree or spray. But I got at least four pies from the Old Thing, and expect a lot more this year after I trim it up. I'm sure that removing some of the surrounding trees to increase its light was a contributing factor to its fecundity this last season. I'm expecting much more this year, and I'll work to make that happen. Several more ash trees to the south are slated for cutting in spring.

My herb garden was taken over by volunteer mini-tomatoes that turned into that plant from The Little Shop of Horrors late in the season. I rescued the basil before it could be eaten by Harriet, or Junie, or whatever that LSOH plant's name was. Edna, perhaps. I had to build it a frame, for chrissakes.

October comes, and the freaking bunglebees are still at it. Sheesh. But no yellowjackets, hornets or waves of ticks. A few of each, but not like last year.

Mary J Wanna is decrimmed here, but this ain't it. It's my basil crop, bagged fresh to be frozen for pesto throughout the winter. I fully intend to take advantage of my root cellar starting next year. Or the next. Otherwise, it's the freezer for you, me buckos!

Note my extension cord to the left; I am in the process of rewiring the house.

Empty planting table.

The Maples lost their leaves very quickly this year because of the summer drought.

Told you the new backyard would look like a park. Damn doghouse has gotta go!

Lookit the grass, lookit the grass!!

The white filmy stuff up in the sky is not virga, that rain which doesn't reach the ground.

It is a high-based snowstorm. My party lights will someday light the firepit, which has grown, but has not been used since spring. Sigh.

Hard to see, but as soon as the snow-virga began to fall, a bevvy of vultures came to visit. Hundreds, in fact.

The pond finally at a more-or-less normal level. It was two feet lower all year. Leaves gather in unseen currents.

The yellowish-green bush is what I sculpted last spring when I cleared down by the pond. The maple log will be firewood. Log piles dot the property.

 

A dead ash waiting for cutting into firewood.

One more already on the ground.

The last apples of the season. Made a mighty fine pie, too.

A sign of Winter to Come. Baby mice in a nest I was shocked to find in my file drawer. The Momma had shredded the tops of many handwritten pages of stories I wrote in the past few years. A warning to aspiring writers; transcribe quickly!

The Momma Mouse abandoned the nest as soon as I discovered it. The babies all died.

I'd feel bad, but I imagine there will be more.

A FEW MONTHS LATER

January Third, Twenty Sixteen. NOW it looks like a park.

 

The area around the apple tree. The doghouse is gone, burned with a lot of other brush just after Thanksgiving. The white scatting to the left is window glass from the old wooden windows of the long-since-gone greenhouses. I burned them, too, but the glass don't seem to burn so good.

 

What remains, as I said it would, it the enormous trash pile left by the previous owners. Overgrown with briars, poison ivy and bittersweet, I'll cut it back to the top of the pile before snow, if time allows. I will kill it with very, very bad chemicals next spring, then rent a backhoe and a dumpster to remove this last scourge of those with less Pride of Place than myself.

Then I can truly start to make it into a park.

The Trash Pile

 

The cleared east side of the Pond, with more briars (and the old fuel tank) yet to clear. That's for spring. Hunker-down time quickly approaches.

The Far Country, on the Other Side of The Pond. There are places on this little three acres I haven't even SEEN yet.

A lot I can't even GET to, considering the briars.

All in good time.

All in good time.

The Bumper Crop of Garbage continues unabated, and reminds me of the unclean past every time I cut brush or scrape the soil. The brush pile in the upper center is the next to go up in flames. I've more to add, trust me.

 

Firewood. Standing dead, some already cut up. With two new wood stoves, I'll need it all. Hope I can get it cut into small pieces before the white stuff comes.

 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from Ebenezer and Penelope, Sher's babies. Apparently they like the fire.

So do I.

 

NEXT:

The Last of the Barn Before Snow!!!