Light and Darkness

At 6:30 a.m this morning, Mr. Fuzzy let the herd of cats out to shake off their sleep and find a fit toilet. Waiting there at the door as it swung open was MISS LILY! She came right in and seemed no worse for her week away, although she does act a bit touchy with her fellow felines (Jack excepted, of course). How our hearts soared to hold her once more.

Mrs. Fuzzy let Nutmeg outside about fifteen minutes later and in a few seconds, Nutmeg fell, immobile, to the ground. Her breathing was extremely labored and clearly she was in great distress. She died at the veterinarian's at 8:30 from complications due to a massive spleen tumor. We buried her in a shady spot near the workshop where she would often go to sit in peaceful contemplation.

The Creator was so very hard on Nutmeg. She was born with cerebellar hypoplasia, essentially, Downe's Syndrome. Although probably unrelated, she suffered from seizures and thyroid problems, too. In her later years, her spine became arthritic and painful. She took prescription medicines to treat the latter three issues. Nutmeg was never able to enjoy the carefree life of a normal canine.

The tumor had displaced many of her organs; she must have been in much pain for months. She did, nonetheless, retain her sweet disposition and at dinner last night was her usual self, noodling for treats at the dinner table. Now she is with her mentor, Kuma, and her best buddy, Catfish. We trust that you are now relieved of all pain and distress, darling.

Catfish and Nutmeg, 2001, together again

NUTMEG
born Nov. 7th, 1996, Sunshine, NM

died May 21st, 2009, Floyd, VA

Touch of frost, touch of sorrow

This morning the temperature at eight feet above ground level was 31F. A cursory survey of the pasture manifested a wide spread frost. The Fuzzies circumambulated the back half of the farm in the afternoon and discerned significant frost damage, even among the native plants, especially the new growth on spice bushes and the bog iris blooms.

My grandfather advised me long ago to 'share your joys but keep your disappointments and sorrows close to heart.' His advice, with more than four decades of retrospection has proven sage. For this once, I will violate his rule, and hopefully, gentle reader, you will consider it a proper disclosure nonetheless; it weighs upon me mightily.

One week ago tonight, Mr. Fuzzy's favorite cat of all times, Miss Lily, refused to come in at dark. It was not entirely out of the ordinary for her - she wanted to hunt. Always before, she would be waiting at the kitchen door come first light - but she was not there. And we have not seen her since. Almost certainly she has been killed by a predator, most likely an owl, as she was very savvy about four legged hunters. She came to us from the animal shelter as a very sick young cat; Mr. Fuzzy held her for the week she battled with fever and chills. Lily was always extremely affectionate, graduated first in her class at charm school, a boon companion. She usually slept at Mr. Fuzzy's feet. We both miss her terribly. She was Jack's best pal and the pair of them could have passed as brother and sister. Farewell my little friend. UPDATE: she has returned after a week's walkabout!!!! Oh thank you...




Yesterday an email informed Mr. Fuzzy that his old and dear friend Kristen had died unexpectedly on May 14th at only age 38, leaving behind three children under six years of age (Owen is but five months) and her husband. We first were introduced by a mutual friend seventeen years ago and although we have rarely seen each other in recent years, we stayed in contact via emails. She oozed artistic gifts, was refined and elegant in way almost totally lacking among young women, was kind, thoughtful, sweet, great company at the art museum, restaurant table, hiking trail or the rodeo. Oh and did I mention, stunningly beautiful and brilliant? The world has become significantly poorer without her. You left us far too soon, my dearest Lady. Kristen, you will reside forever in my heart.

Sense of Community

Most valued reader, our humble apologies for the delay in posting new essays. Mr. Fuzzy was away for three days last weekend and it was such a marvelous experience that his paltry writing skills have been severely challenged.

Thus this post regards yesterday, Saturday. The Fuzzies began their day early in order to be at the semi-annual community flea market before all of the good buys were sold. Overwhelmingly, the items for sale were clothes, shoes, etc., not farm tools, tractor accessories, and those other objects of our lust. Nonetheless, Mrs. Fuzzy bought some vegetable seedling for next to nothing. We worked up such an appetite walking and shopping that, after most careful deliberation, it was decided we should eat breakfast at the Cafe rather than perish of malnutrition on the way home. Alack and alas, the same thought was on many minds, er, stomachs, and the line was to the door. Sigh.

We came home and Mrs. Fuzzy worked hard in her garden; Mr. Fuzzy took a nap... until the appointed hour when we raced for the Honda and sped down Highway 221 to the next wee village of Willis. There in the fire station was a five hour Gospel and Bluegrass concert by three bands, barbecue, cake auctions, and a generally good time with our neighbors - all to raise money for the food bank. The music and singing was very good and then some, but for a while, we were severely distracted by the barbecue plate ($5.00) which centered on the tastiest barbecued pork yet to temp our palettes in Virginia - and the cooker was mounted on the back of a tractor - and done by two gents who live across the road. Mmmmmm. Mighty fine. The cake auctions were hot with some delectable delights going for nearly $30.00. We hung out until about 6:30 p.m. by which time we were feeling the pull of unaccomplished tasks on the farm.

What a nice day it was, mostly spent with our fellow Floydians (?), much fun, good grub, and sharing the news with our friends. What is there not to love here?

Hey! Look!

We got ourselves a link in a post on Mrs. Fuzzy's favorite blog! Go read Homesteading Neophyte.... Phaelan is smart, funny, and really honest about her subject. She's also a great source for recipes not published by Betty Crocker.... like these gems for lilac blossoms and red clover.

A Homesteading Neophyte: Farmers Cheese, Lilac, and (giggle) Kumquat

Nature's Harvest

The greenhouse isn't our only source of home grown food at Stratheden Farm. This wee stretch of Eden has quite a number of wild edibles. Walnuts, spice bush, cherries, apples... There's lots if we're willing to make a small effort. Life was too crazy to go picking dandelion greens (OK, the desert dweller couldn't remember what they looked like when young) and I missed my window for making candied wild violets but we are enjoying onion season.

Mr. Fuzzy went on another hike down to the wilder parts of our property and came back with culinary gold: a bag of wild ramps (leeks.) Mmmm Mmmmm! I'm off to find more interesting recipes than "fry up and add an egg." If I'm going to stink too bad to go out in public I'm going to make it special. We shared them out with a friend who is suffering a broken toe and unable to get at his own patch so I might have to go get another batch myself.

We're also pulling up another wild onion right here in the yard. A couple weeks ago I was snacking on them like one does chives in the garden. (You do chew on chive flower shoots, too, don't you?) Mr Fuzzy wouldn't eat them until The Forester confirmed their edibility. (Wimp!) Those little wild onions pack a big punch and now they're big enough to pull up for the tiny bulbs. I'll have some on a baked potato tonight.

Right now I'm drinking tea made from the prunings of a small black birch that's growing quite inappropriately under the eve of the garage. When I asked The Forester about how to keep these things under control so they don't mess with the foundations he suggested eating it until it becomes a bonsai.

Like most wild teas, birch has a savoury, slightly bitter, undercurrent but the leading flavor is sweet and cleansing. Brings back memories of the last walk I took with my grandfather. He picked something out there in the woods and it tasted really good. Then I moved to the desert so I never knew what it was... until now!

Yes, even without the drama of the greenhouse we're starting to feed ourselves from the farm. It's awfully tasty!

Attack of the Baby Plants

So, let's see.... about a fortnight ago I was telling you all that I'd had a total failure in the greenhouse despite using super-duper, extra-good-karma, local, organic potting soil and reusing the plastic starting pots Mrs. Stratton had left for us. I even remembered to wash and bleach and rinse and thoroughly dry the darned things! A whole afternoon wasted just on that operation!

On April 24th I went in and dumped every last potlet into the biggest plastic trug I've ever seen. (Think half whiskey barrel only made out of blue plastic.) I rinsed out the little pans and started over with that old standby, the 3 ounce Dixie cup and some Jiffy Mix for seeds. After listening to watering advice on The Beechgrove Potting Shed I decided to do what the nice Head Gardener (of Edinburgh Botanic Gardens) said and water from the bottom.

yeah.... you know what I'm about to tell you....

Now I'm over run with seedlings and I'm thinking of investing in styrofoam cup manufacturing. That was a tip from one of our farmer neighbors. Pot up into styro cups. Expecting a 50% germination rate, at best, I sowed seeds kinda thickly to make up for my poor seed starting skills. As I'm unable to pinch off those cute little seedlings I now have in the wee greenhouse:

1 hubbard squash
9 eggplants (Ping Tung)
11 summer squash (Yellow Scallop & Tender Gray Zukes)
15 pumpkins (Mayo Blusher, Acoma & Seminole)
23 basil babies
28 muskmelons (Kansas & Golden Jenny)
29 sweet onions
54 iceburg lettuces
55 cucumbers (Edmondson & Arkansas Little Leaf)
76 tomatoes (Long keeper, Amish Paste & al-Kuffa)

untold numbers of leeks

There are also a whole bunch of native tobacco plants popping up and the chiles started breaking through with abandon the other day. Our sweet peppers aren't so excited, nor the other eggplants, but maybe they're waiting for more warmth as it's been rather cool these last few days.

Our Ping Tung eggplants and the Hubbard squash (UK translations: aubergine and edible gourd) were part of February's Winter Sowing experiment. They've done OK but I'm not seeing that they are any further along than had I planted them two weeks ago. Might be the potting soil... The ping tungs are still just two seedling leaves despite being up at least three weeks. Madame Hubbard sat the same way for weeks and weeks until I plucked her from her starter pot and put her into new soil in the greenhouse. Now she has four leaves and looks pretty happy.

One wonderful surprise was the al-Kuffa tomato bought from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds. They popped up three days before the other varieties! According to the catalog these were sent to them from a customer in Iraq who hoped that the variety could be saved. Apparently we're distributing "improved" seeds over there at such a furious pace that the local varieties have been essentially abandoned in just a few years. This is supposed to be an early bush tomato that likes cooler weather. I'll let you know how they do!

in the fog

Mr. Fuzzy reveled in the glories of the Fife fogs and haars. He had never been so fortunate to live in a place so blessed. "Little Fife," more commonly known as Floyd County, has done its best to produce fine fogs that are most reminiscent of the Fife coast.

A couple of days ago there was a marvelous fog that formed in the night (a common pattern here) and laid until the sun finally burned through about noon. After completeing some morning duties, Mr. Fuzzy took a leisurely amble down the county road and took these photographs. There's no story, just enjoy the images, if you will. Remember that you can click on the image to enlarge it, should you so desire.