SUMMER LIFTS HER SLEEPY HEAD
May showed me the plants and I reveled in them. I came back home from a three week job deconstructing an 1803 carriage shed in Harvard Mass (the town between Lowell and Worcester (pronounced 'wusstah' to you not from Mass) at the beginning of May and the weather was so wondrous I decided to sit in the back yard, pick the guitar, and have a drink.
That was a serious mistake.
May in southeastern Connecticut brings about the blackflies, little gnat-type creatures that bobble around in front of you in small clouds while fifteen of their fellows land on your upper arms, bite, and feed on your blood. And don't even THINK of squashing them when they bite; that releases pheromones that are equivalent to ringing the dinner bell. Thousands will descend on you, and the bites last for a week at least. I thought I'd moved up a notch when I left Arkansas chiggers behind, bit these things fly and are just as bad.
But that was back in May, and as I write this, it is late July. The bugs only lasted about three or four weeks while the whirlwind of farm growth continued a round me.
The fisher cat departed, as did the skunks. In their place came rose-breasted grosbeaks, indigo buntings, Baltimore orioles (wearing the number 5 and vacuuming ground balls at third base, of course), and a plethora of moles. Only the latter was not on the wing. The lawn demanded weekly mowing and the spring plants came, bloomed, and faded. I planted the morning glory, moonflowers, and four o'clocks, hoping for a constant parade of flowers, but despite their burst of growth in pots, they have sputtered or have been eaten by creatures unknown once in the ground. The tiny spray of wildflower seedlings that needed a microscope to see in the front gardens in spring have now taken over completely. The Horseradish Empire is under way, though fifteen plants have been reduced to four. I have a couple of tomato plants donated by a neighbor, as I have no time for gardening and the local farms will be overflowing with produce within the week. The only real crops I have are the few horseradish plants and about twenty asparagus sets, hopefully putting out spears next year and for the rest of my life.
I began the never-ending task of reclaiming the farm from the woods, battling Japanese bittersweet, poison ivy, and bull briars with mechanical and chemical means. Sweat and bug bites often followed, both in profusion.
Work on the outbuildings began in earnest, and I now know how much time keeping up the land takes away from those repairs.
Critters of all sorts began to take possession of their own specific sections of the farm, many more interesting and far more beneficial than the spring denizens.
Then there were the raspberries.
First forays into the woods on either side of the maple tree. My weedeater/brush cutter gets a workout.
Little surprises found behind the barn. I'll at least reuse the stones
Beginning reclaiming the woods. Most of what was removed is bittersweet, poison ivy, and bull briars. The bittersweet vines are often four inches in diameter and completely fill the trees nearby. The poison ivy can be as huge, and the briars can get to be thirty feet across with canes two inches thick.
Stone wall acting as a corner for the back yard
Part of the back yard that has been reclaimed from field grass to lawn. Found in the high grass (and still emerging each time I mow) is a pile of perfectly good firewood from a section of the big maple in the background
The Big Garden was once a greenhouse. Note the concrete footer. The black plastic is cooking the weeds beneath and the left side of the garden is where the Horseradish Empire is planted. The right side now has the asparagus sets and the center is a large compost pile.
The Scary Plant (actually a bush rose with billions of needle-like thorns; little ones keep coming up in the lawn).
Looking behind the yews to the site of yet another disappeared greenhouse (the cleared area in front of the only remaining greenhouse).
The Household Regal wood cook stove. The oven contains all the chrome trim, cast iron grates, and lid lifters. I was surprised to see that it had been converted to kerosene. I'm going to convert it back to wood and use it in the greenhouse for heat.
Bush rose (The Scary Plant) weighed down with blooms
Poppies poppies poppies poppies poppies poppies poppies poppies poppies poppies poppies!!!! There weren't all that many, but I've collected the tiny seeds and intend to positively soak the side yard with the starts next spring. And no, they don't produce opium when the seed pods are slit. I checked.
First berries to appear were in the front yard. The backyard berries( thousands of canes)are reputed to be very prolific, if the neighbors are to be believed. This bunch from a single plant turned purple, had huge seeds, and were rather a disappointment. I worried that the back yard berries would be the same.
Sky Blue, my favorite installed perennial. I'll plant a boatload of these next spring; it glows brightly and blooms all summer. It's now four times this size.
Herb garden on the south side of the house. Peppermint, spearmint, basil, thyme, tarragon, rosemary, and sage. The cilantro seedlings were overwhelmed; I'll put some in next year. The cellar will become the starter room once I get some grow lights.
Herb garden all grown up with a tomato in the center
For a few weeks in mid-June, the bull briars, actually wild roses, bloom throughout the woods. Note how high they climb in the trees. Driving down any country road in the area floods the olfactory senses with the scent for two or three weeks.
Big spider in the garage; she actually measured two and a half inches across despite what the tape shows.
Momma with her future babies. Go, Momma, go! I like spiders (as long as they aren't crawling on me); they eat the bugs I don't like.
The last flowers and plants have been put in the ground. Then a second emergence of four o'clocks came up in pots I'd forgotten I'd planted.
Black racer on the top plate of the Machine Shop. Another one (or possibly this same one gets around) was found on the top plate of the garage, two hundred feet away. A shed skin measured over four feet long. I like my snakes; they eat rats, mice, and hopefully, moles.
Serious clearing behind the back yard. Note the huge vine on the tree to the right; that's Japanese bittersweet, the scourge of the forest.
Rock walls begin to emerge after cutting back and defoliating the poison ivy. These walls were originally animal pens between the house and the pond, and almost all the pens are knee-deep in rusting steel and broken glass. The last residents didn't go to the dump. Ever.
The first collection (with some very delicious bacon and egg potato salad in the background). This was a little over a pint. I was very excited and happy about this first crop. The ebullience would fade quickly, though. It took an hour every day to collect the ripening berries, and I'd get over a gallon each day. My back hurt, I was constantly pulling tiny thorns from my hands, and I had to cover myself in insect repellent because the mosquitoes live in the canes. It was worth it, though. I have made cobblers and crisps, eaten a quart a day at break time at work, and have bags and bags in the freezer.
March 22nd
Unknown flowers; I've many of these scattered around the property and would like to collect them or their seeds to plant in groups. The big green monster to the right is Japanese bittersweet.
Pretty as these wild morning glories are, they strangle everything they touch, though the ferns seem unconcerned.
Climber fence should be covered with scarlet climbers, Heavenly Blue Morning Glories, and moonflowers
Remember that bare wisp of green that was the emerging wildflowers? Here they are choking out the now-fading spring perennials. Other than the black petunias. I want to plant more of those next year (they are not perennial).
Volunteer sunflowers planted by the birds. Each day brings mourning doves, titmice, chickadees, cardinals, grackles, house sparrows, song sparrows, goldfinches, house finches, red winged blackbirds, indigo buntings, red bellied woodpeckers, downy woodpeckers, nuthatches, Baltimore orioles, and a host of big ugly brown birds I haven't identified yet. The hummingbird feeders by the house are a constant battleground for the little buzzers, the most territorial of all birds.
Raspberries ready to pick. Though prolific, they will only last for two weeks. Only two-year old canes (and older) will produce berries. I will cut paths through them when they finish, as I can only reach half the berries now.
Though not at the farm, this young red-tail is probably less than two years old. It (and its twin) have taken up residence at the shop of Early New England Restorations in Pawcatuck. The two sit in the trees and on the rails of the dust collector constantly screaming. All day long.
On the lookout for prey
NEXT POST: THE GREENHOUSE ROOF
