A couple of months ago, my daughter and her husband decided they would like to start a self sustaining farm. Not a novel idea in this time or place. After discussing the opportunities and the obstacles, this daughter of mine told me she wanted to buy part of my Dad's property to build this farm. I didn't believe her. My response was okay, sure.
My daughter and her sweet husband left 15 years ago for the mountains vowing to live on her mountain top home until she died. I was more than sceptical. After that discussion things started to move pretty fast and here two months later two loads of precious cargo have been moved and stored, the mountain top house is on the market and the clearing of the farm land has begun. My son-in-law and granddaughter are staying with me while this daughter of mine travels home once a week to keep things in order and check on the homestead.
I am finally coming to realize that this daughter of mine is coming home. It has been a long long 15 years. Hubby and I are adjusting our quiet laid back lifestyle to the hustle and bustle of having a pre-teen granddaughter and a teen age grandson around the house. It has awakened our minds and bodies and got us going again. Dog tired and weary at the end of the day, I am ready to go again with the coming day. I have a lot of catching up to do with my two oldest grandchildren and I don't want to waste a minute.
My blogging is one thing that hasn't been foremost in my mind. While I have a few minutes alone, I thought I would do a little catch up. The garden is doing as well as can be expected with no rain for a couple of weeks and blistering hot days. The green beans have done extremely well and the tomatoes were loaded with tomatoes one day and bare the next thanks to my roaming chickens. The corn is tasseling so I can enjoy a few ears this summer anyway. The bell peppers have been proficient in their production as have the cucumbers. After planting 8 or 9 rows of peas, hubby decided to put a fence up to keep my little chicks out. We should have a healthy crop for the rest of the season.
My little bunnies have reached the cut off stage - no more breeding until some are sold. They are out growing their cages and running rampant. The children still love to hold and play with them, but don't enjoy the sharp claws as the bunnies change into rabbits.
I started caning an old chair I picked up and have almost completed the seat. I hope to finish it in the next few days. I haven't done any sewing so those projects are still in the sewing basket. I can save those for a rainy day.
No new stories posted and that is something I will get worked back into my schedule soon. Until then and until next time . . .
Happy reading!
Belle
Showing posts with label peas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peas. Show all posts
Monday, July 16, 2012
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Grandpa, a tall, slender man, couldn't stay in the house for any length of time. He enjoyed cooking and didn't mind cleaning the kitchen, but that was the extent of his household chores. He was an outdoor man. Piddling in his barn, cutting the grass or working his garden was where you could always find Grandpa. A quiet, gentle man, he was always a pleasure to be around. Some may have called Grandpa a simple man, but he was far from simple minded. Sharp as a tack with patience to spare, he could design and build anything from a piece of furniture to a house - he designed and built his own home, but he knew how to make do with what he had.
In the winter, I would follow him to the barn and watch as he worked on tools, repaired chairs or tables, or built some piece of furniture for the house. He was a fine carpenter and seem to be able to build a beautiful piece of furniture out of scaps. He used hand tools - no, not the power tools of today - to slowly plane the wood to the perfect size. He used a brace and bit when holes needed to be bored and made his own sand blocks for achieving the smooth beautiful finish on his furniture. He carved his own dowels and biscuits to ensure a good tight fit to each piece of furniture he made. I could sit idly by and watch him for hours, but when I "got on his nerves" he would tell me to go check on Grandma and make sure she was alright.
In the spring, Grandpa would get his mule out and plow the garden. Poor old mule, that was the only time Grandpa put him to use. Grandpa felt that if you wanted to eat you had to plant and Grandma's freezer was always full. He had a huge field that he planted each and every year. From the road to the barn, about 300 feet, he turned the ground and layed out the rows. I would go with Grandpa to the seed store and we would come out with bags of limas, string beans, corn, okra, squash, cucumbers, crowder peas, watermelons, cantelopes and of course tomato plants. Grandpa didn't waste garden space on vegetables he didn't like, but he was known to plant a few gourds for his bird houses and scoops.
I wasn't allowed in the garden until it was time to put the seed in the rows, but I sat at the edge of the yard and watched as he turned the ground. I had the job of dropping the seed, but Grandpa was awfully finicky about dopping the seed. I would scoot down the row on my bottom putting the seed in the row. Grandpa would place the first few seeds and tell me to space the rest of the row just like he had done. He would follow me covering the seeds and if I didn't have them spaced right he would tell me "too close together" or "too far apart." I loved scooting down the row in the freshly turned dirt curling my toes in as I scooted along, but man those rows were long. When the planting was done, we waited on the rain and watched for the little shoots to poke through.
My work was done until picking time, Granpa didn't trust anybody with a hoe in his garden but him. I would sit at the edge of the yard and watch him hoe up and down those long rows. Sometimes he would take a break and send me for a glass of water while he rolled him a Prince Albert. Grandpa didn't smoke much, but he enjoyed his cigarette after eating, midmorning, right before bed and those breaks after hoeing the garden.
I think of Grandpa often, but this time of year when I turn my garden, lay out the rows, and place my seeds, he is very close to me. Grandpa always had enough garden for the whole family. Maybe I will make my garden bigger this year.
I have been looking for those same Alabama Black pole beans that were so good tasting and had little or no strings, but I have not found the first one. One of these days I will find someone that has a stash and maybe they will share. For now, I am off to my garden for more planting. The ground has warmed and tomorrow is Good Friday! Thank you all for visiting and come back soon!
Happy reading!
Belle
In the winter, I would follow him to the barn and watch as he worked on tools, repaired chairs or tables, or built some piece of furniture for the house. He was a fine carpenter and seem to be able to build a beautiful piece of furniture out of scaps. He used hand tools - no, not the power tools of today - to slowly plane the wood to the perfect size. He used a brace and bit when holes needed to be bored and made his own sand blocks for achieving the smooth beautiful finish on his furniture. He carved his own dowels and biscuits to ensure a good tight fit to each piece of furniture he made. I could sit idly by and watch him for hours, but when I "got on his nerves" he would tell me to go check on Grandma and make sure she was alright.
In the spring, Grandpa would get his mule out and plow the garden. Poor old mule, that was the only time Grandpa put him to use. Grandpa felt that if you wanted to eat you had to plant and Grandma's freezer was always full. He had a huge field that he planted each and every year. From the road to the barn, about 300 feet, he turned the ground and layed out the rows. I would go with Grandpa to the seed store and we would come out with bags of limas, string beans, corn, okra, squash, cucumbers, crowder peas, watermelons, cantelopes and of course tomato plants. Grandpa didn't waste garden space on vegetables he didn't like, but he was known to plant a few gourds for his bird houses and scoops.
I wasn't allowed in the garden until it was time to put the seed in the rows, but I sat at the edge of the yard and watched as he turned the ground. I had the job of dropping the seed, but Grandpa was awfully finicky about dopping the seed. I would scoot down the row on my bottom putting the seed in the row. Grandpa would place the first few seeds and tell me to space the rest of the row just like he had done. He would follow me covering the seeds and if I didn't have them spaced right he would tell me "too close together" or "too far apart." I loved scooting down the row in the freshly turned dirt curling my toes in as I scooted along, but man those rows were long. When the planting was done, we waited on the rain and watched for the little shoots to poke through.
My work was done until picking time, Granpa didn't trust anybody with a hoe in his garden but him. I would sit at the edge of the yard and watch him hoe up and down those long rows. Sometimes he would take a break and send me for a glass of water while he rolled him a Prince Albert. Grandpa didn't smoke much, but he enjoyed his cigarette after eating, midmorning, right before bed and those breaks after hoeing the garden.
I think of Grandpa often, but this time of year when I turn my garden, lay out the rows, and place my seeds, he is very close to me. Grandpa always had enough garden for the whole family. Maybe I will make my garden bigger this year.
I have been looking for those same Alabama Black pole beans that were so good tasting and had little or no strings, but I have not found the first one. One of these days I will find someone that has a stash and maybe they will share. For now, I am off to my garden for more planting. The ground has warmed and tomorrow is Good Friday! Thank you all for visiting and come back soon!
Happy reading!
Belle
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