Fresh Scent?!

I made a discovery this week.  A rather unwanted one, but a discovery none the less.  My discovery was of the olfactory sort.   I discovered the source of a smell that had been offending my olfactory sensors for some time.

Being an at-home dad, I have many tasks which would be foreign to many if not most away-from-home-for-most-of-the-day dads.  One of these is administrator of kitchen custodial care.  I use the term, "administrator," loosely.  I'm really a one man show, administrating no one but me.

So when the dirty dish piles reach upward to touch the bottom of the overhead cabinets, it is my responsibility to clean.  I do this with great vigor and with the assistance of numerous friends, not the least of which is my favorite: the dishwasher.

DW (as I refer to him) and I have tried many types of dishwasher soaps.  We've tried granules and we've tried liquid gels.  We've tried a variety of brands as well.  We keep coming back to one product after each careful cost/performance analysis:  Walmart's "Great Value Fresh Scent Dishwasher Powder with Grease Fighting Action".

Now let me state two things before I go any further.  I would rather spend an hour with a Kirby vacuum salesman than 10 minutes inside a Walmart.  I don't like what they are doing to America, and I don't like spending a cent in their stores.  So I have Lisa do it.

Secondly, I wholeheartedly agree that they need to come up with a better and shorter name for their dish washing detergent.

Anywho, I have used this product for a number of years.  Recently, they changed the smell that the detergent produces while cleaning the dishes.  One night as I was sitting in the kitchen sorting my music lists on my laptop and while DW was purring away cleaning a heavier than normal load of dishes, I began to notice a strange odor.  It wasn't pleasant.  It didn't strike me as "fresh."  Not believing it possible, it took me a number of minutes to sniff the entire kitchen before I confirmed with certainty that the odor was coming from DW.

I found the smell completely offensive.  It reminded me of something but I couldn't put my finger on what it was.  This continued for a number of weeks.  I even switched to a different brand to use when I knew the kitchen would be inhabited.  It got to the point that the only time that I would use Walmart's "Great Value Fresh Scent Dishwasher Powder with Grease Fighting Action," was when I started a load right before going to bed.

This week I was in Spring Green and had to stop at the truck stop there to, uh, er, well... make a pit stop.  At the bottom of the urinal was one of those pink, hockey puck-looking things that they call a "urinal cake".  I'm not making this up.  They actually call them urinal cakes.  Why, in God's name, I have no idea.

Standing there I began to notice a familiar but unpleasant odor.  "EUREKA!" I cried out loud (okay, it wasn't eureka.  It started with "Holy" and ended with something I won't post here.)  "That's it!"  Walmart's "Great Value Fresh Scent Dishwasher Powder with Grease Fighting Action," makes my kitchen smell like a truck stop urinal!

As I pondered how bizarre this was, it occurred to me that this was absolutely ironically fitting.  What a perfect depiction of what that company is doing to many a town in this country as more and more mom and pop shops disappear from main streets and vacant buildings become more and more common.

While the joy that follows the solving of a great mystery settled upon me, the frustration of its implications also settled in.  Now I'm back square one.  Now I must begin anew my search for the perfect dishwasher detergent.  The only upside to this is that Lisa will now be spending less money at Walmart and that our kitchen will no longer smell like a urinal.

Pic of the Day: Coyote

We hear coyotes on or near our property nearly every night.  Sometimes they are so loud and so close to the house that they actually wake us up.  However, spotting them in daylight or catching them with our trailcam are much more rare.

Usually the photos we see are blurry, as the coyote is most often on the move.  This one stopped near the camera to sniff around a little bit (perhaps in search for one of the many rabbits we often catch with the camera).  Consequently the picture is far sharper than most that we see.

Pic of the Day

My trail camera has been producing hundreds of photos each month and I thought that it'd be fun to post some of the best and/or more interesting ones every now and then.

This photo was taken on a very windy March day.  It's a young buck who has recently lost his antlers and almost seems to be putting that area of his head into the wind on purpose.  Does it feel good to him?  Don't have a clue as I've never seen anything quite like this before.  Thought others might have an answer or at least get a kick out of it.  And no, there wasn't another buck waiting to do battle just out of the camera's view.  But he does look a lot like our goats when they decide to smack heads.

Turkey Photos

Our little trail camera has been very busy this spring.  I pulled the memory card this past weekend to discover that over 1600 photos had been taken since the last time I checked.  Most of those were either turkey or raccoon photos.  There are others (coyote, pheasants, deer, rabbits and other furry creatures) that were fairly interesting as well.  I'll post some of the better ones at a later date.

These were some of the best and/or most interesting of the turkey photos.  They were "kissing close" at times.  Seeing these has our son, Nathan, seriously considering turkey hunting in the future.  I have to admit, these pics and the sheer number of them have me thinking about it as well.

Morels, Fiddle Heads, and Ribeye Steak... Just another day on the farm

Saturday I came upon the biggest patch of morels I've ever found and did so earlier than I've ever found them, all on the same day.  Not a bad day, I'd have to say.

This unusually warm spring has produced many a strange thing.  Some of them are bad, such as earlier than normal lawn mowing.  Some of them are great like the early spring-time arrival of the feverishly sought-after morel mushroom.  While I have a nagging feeling that we're going to pay for this unseasonable weather in the long run, it's lovely to enjoy it all at this moment.

This meal was not only tasty, it all came from our farm.  What an amazing and wonderful thing it is to be able to produce a meal with these types of delicacies from your own little piece of ground.  I think I'll stay here.

   

Two and a half pounds of morels.  Yeah, it was a pretty good day.

Cooking time:  Fiddle heads (top), morels and steak (bottom).

Avoca St. Patrick's Day Parade

Is there anything more Americana than a small town parade?  Even if the parade is in celebration of the life of a European minister, small towns go all out and the atmosphere is always charged with joy and expectation.  Children line up in the front row with empty bags in hand, waiting for the initial launching of candy from the first float.  Parents mingle with other adults and enter into pleasant conversation.  In the distance the sound of drums beating and brass instruments tuning up announce that the big event is about to begin.

As I stood along a street in the tiny town of Avoca last Saturday it occurred to me that everyone seems happy when attending a parade.  I never saw a long face in the crowd.  People are generally more pleasant and patient at parades.  I find them more gracious and giving.

It further occurs to me that I have never seen a brawl break out at a parade.  I'm sure that it has happened somewhere at some time, but I have never seen one.  Over the years I've been to countless parades, making the observation all the more significant in my mind.  I've seen fist fights and shoving matches break out at all kinds of other gatherings of large numbers of people:  sporting events, concerts, county fairs, parties, tractor pulls, you name it.  I even saw a fight break out at a flea market one time, but never at a parade.

What is it about a parade that makes us better people?  I know that I'm a better person at a parade.  This is true unless some moron suddenly stands in front of me while I sit in my favorite lawn chair (which happens to have a cup holder and a head rest.  It's a thing of beauty.)  Then I get cranky.  Inconsiderate people tend to make me so.  But other than that, I am a decent person and downright neighborly when I go to a parade.  My lovely wife, Lisa, even admits to others that she knows me when we're at parades.

Maybe the world needs more parades.

At any rate, the following pics were taken at last Saturday's St. Pat's Day parade in Avoca, Wisconsin.  I was not the photographer.  Lisa captured these scenes I must say that she did a spectacular job of it.

After the passing of the color guard came a group of people in green shirts.  Some rode a wagon, others walked, and others still rode motorcycles.  There were no signs indicating what they were about, but they seemed to be having fun.

While small in number and some in stature, these Irish dancers were a delight.  Particularly the little one that is just beginning to step out and perform her solo routine.

Ah yes, you've got to love small town parades.  Even garbage trucks are considered float material.  The amount of decorating done to this garbage truck must have taken hours to complete and, no doubt, must have cost the owner a great deal.

Addy and Grace always enjoy a good parade.  It provides them with candy, something that we do not buy, for a few weeks or even months.  I happened to notice that they were hesitant about going after the candy that came shooting out of the garbage truck.

Nathan was in charge of our dog, Dugal.  Yes, even on St. Patrick's day we McDougals wear Packer garb. Nathan is clearly thrilled to be at this exciting event, as is Dugal.  So much for my parade theory.

Somehow the parade planners were able to come up with a genuine Leprechaun.  I personally viewed this as crude and repulsive.  It was clearly an exploitation of this particular Leprechaun and belittling to Leprechauns in general.  They do not wear green suits.  They do not wear green top hats.  They most definitely do not wear sunglasses.  And where in the heck is his little pot of gold?  I hate to say it, but I am beginning to doubt that he is actually a Leprechaun at all.

A few members of the U.W. Madison Marching Band joined in the festivities.  They were quite a highlight for the crowd.  Go Badgers!

By far the biggest highlight, and most disturbing site, was this individual.  We don't know what his story was, and  we do not want to know.  We shielded the eyes of Grace and Addy as he came down the street and we prayed that he would not stop by to offer them candy.

Stinging Nettle Quiche

The unseasonably warm weather has brought about changes on the farm that we normally do not see until April.  The grass in the lawn has not only greened, it's ready for a mow.  Leaves have developed on Honeysuckle and other bush-type plants in the woods.  The elm trees have grown their leaves.  Our Nanking Cherry bushes are blooming.  Mosquitos have been attacking the kids whenever they go down to the creek.  Red Wing Blackbirds and Robins appeared a couple of weeks ago and are now looking completely at home as they go about building their nests.

Yesterday was the first day of Spring.  It began for me when Grace came in from the barn with a large smile on her face and something hidden behind her back.  "Surprise!" she shouted and held out the egg basket.  Two fresh eggs were inside.  Grace would find a third  to add to them later in the afternoon.  It's amazing that our chickens would come out of their winter egg-laying dormancy and begin doing their business again on the first day of Spring.  The girls have impeccable timing.  Yeah, pun intended.

Yesterday afternoon I was assessing the state of the garden and came upon a patch of Stinging Nettles.  The tallest of them was about six inches long.  I've never seen nettles so far along this time of year.  The discovery of the eggs combined with the appearance of the nettles put me in the mood to forage for dinner.  I started on our hill near the Hickory Grove.  I only found a half a dozen small patches of nettles, and they were smaller than the ones I had found in the garden.  I then went to my favorite spot for nettle picking: the barn's foundation.  In the best spot I found nettles with stems that were nearly a foot long.

I decided to try them in a quiche.  After washing them and cutting the leaves from the stems, I blanched the the leaves for a few minutes.  I do this to kill off any creepy crawlies that may have come along for the ride.  Heating Stinging  Nettles in any way also removes the oils that cause them to sting when touched.  I saved the broth and will either use it to make tea or Stinging Nettle and Fiddlehead soup.

After they cooled down I poured them into the egg/sour cream/softened cream cheese mixture that I had prepared.  I added my favorite seasonings (which almost always includes garlic powder, onion powder, sea salt, fresh ground pepper, and chicken soup base) and stuck it in a 310 degree oven.  I pick 310 degrees because I find the traditional 300 or 325 degree cooking temperature to be too boring.  When the edges were just beginning to brown I added shredded cheddar cheese and voila!  Stinging Nettle Quiche.

I have to admit, I done good on this one.  I was surprised at how well the flavor of the nettles and the eggs complimented one another.  It also received rave reviews from the family, which is always a good thing.

The Bobcat Returns

These photos of a bobcat were captured on March 13, 2012, a little over a month since the last time that my trailcam caught him/her.  It seems a little less freaked out by the camera flash than it was the first time.  I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not.

Straight Lines and Right Angles

For many years now I have waged a war against conformity. I do not seek nor do I wish for anarchy. I am not anti-establishment for the sake of being anti-establishment. If anything I desire to avoid conformity only upon reaching the conclusion that the only good reason to conform in some matter is to join others who have already conformed.  If the sole benefit is being numbered among the masses, I'm not interested.

I would prefer and actively seek to be a person who thinks outside the box. It sounds easy enough. It is not.

I am not referring to some simple adolescent battle with peer pressure here. What I battle is far more hideous. It is often subconscious.  It is second nature. It is somehow deeply imbedded in my soul and seeks to destroy my uniqueness. It wants to obliterate any abstract thought. Rather it rewards an ordered life and lifestyle with a pseudo-peace and a pseudo-comfort that come from making straight lines and right angles. Curves are out of the question.

I hate the drive from Dodgeville to Madison on Highway 151. There are no curves. It's flat and it's straight and it's boring. Two or three miles to the north are some of the most beautiful hills and prettiest country roads that you'd ever want to see. Knowing this makes the 151 journey all the more miserable. Yet the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. So I bow to the wisdom of the highway planners and take a road well traveled.

The woods are one of my favorite places to be on all the earth. Put me in a couple of acres of trees that reach well above my head and I am at home. It is nearly impossible to walk a straight line in the woods. I like this.

I noticed some time ago that forests planted by humans are different than the natural variety. Regardless of the age of the forest, you can usually find rows. Nice, straight, orderly rows. It's as if we human beings are incapable of duplicating natural beauty.  We can't even get close.  We reject abstract design and surrender to an overwhelming need to add straight lines and right angles.

The other day I took a break from tree cutting and bush trimming. Physically exhausted I looked for something good to read while my aging muscles recovered. I settled on E. B. White's, “One Man's Meat.” It is a collection of his essays that I picked up last week at the Spring Green library.

In the section entitled, “Removal,” I came upon these lines: “This life I lead, setting pictures straight, squaring rugs up with the room- it suggests an ultimate symmetry toward which I strive and strain.” In his ongoing struggle to bring straight lines and right angles to his world he concludes that it, “satisfies something fundamental in me, and if, fifteen minutes later on my way back, I find that the rug is again out of line, I repeat the performance with no surprise and no temper.”

I immediately thought of the bushes that I had just pruned. They had been placed near the edge of our yard by the previous owners. They had been planted in a straight line. They had looked more like small trees rather than bushes. They had grown so tall that they were now blocking precious sunlight needed by the cherry trees that I had planted near them. So I attacked them with my Stihl chainsaw and my hand trimmers.

As I read E. B. White's words I was struck by the fact that I had once again failed to battle that fundamental weakness within me that seeks, “an ultimate symmetry.” I chopped the tops of the bushes to an even height. I pruned their branches to make straight lines. I made right angles at the ends. Never did I entertain an abstract thought regarding their appearance. Not once did I consider allowing each bush to retain its own identity. I forgot all about curves and I felt ashamed. And then I laughed.

The battle had been lost and once again I had failed to realize that I was at war. I took a photo of my handiwork. It's there, and now here, to remind me of my shortcomings. As Frost put it, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by.” Hopefully I will do better with the lilacs.

Mystery Animal Caught on Camera... a Bobcat sighting?

In the midst of some 200 hundred photos of deer, turkey, squirrels, rabbits, raccoons and a male pheasant taken over a four day period by my new trail camera, were the three posted below.

While zipping through the night time deer photos I came across this one.  I was very excited thinking that we had caught a coyote with the camera.  Then I looked more closely and noticed its tail.  Way too short for a coyote and the head looks too round.

In this photo I began to think it was our neighbors' dog named, "Munch."  She is short-legged and true to her name, she's a plump, Red Healer.  She also likes to explore our land every now and then.  But then I noticed the pointed ears which definitely make the face look cat-like.

This photo was the clincher.  REALLY looks cat-like here.  Round face, pointed ears, and note the shortness of the leg above the ankle.   Plus there appears to be spots on the fur that are visible on that leg.  I say it's a bobcat.  Any thoughts on this would be welcome.



BONUS PIC:

Speaking of mystery animals, there was also this rather curious and (as of this date) yet unidentified creature.  In fact, there were numerous photos of this wild animal, doing everything from strolling up the trail to what appears to be some type of weird dance in front of the camera.

Could it be that this mystery animal was in fact aware of the camera?  And if so, could it possibly be trying to communicate something to/with the civilized world?  More investigation may be required to answer these important questions.  Stay tuned.

Fly Like an Eagle

The other day I was moving some heavy cement blocks, landscaping tools and a variety of other items that had suddenly revealed themselves thanks to the disappearing snow. Deciding that I deserved a break, which I often do, I headed over to my pick-up and leaned over the hood. The sun was shining brightly and the heat radiating off the hood felt so wonderful that I extended my arms across it, laying one side of my face on the warm metal.

It was an awesome pre-spring moment. I could hear the sound of birds chirping noisily. The sunlight was warming everything it touched and a gentle southern breeze began blowing through my hair. Even the smell of compost brewing, a smell that normally repulses me, was pleasant. My thoughts turned to the garden and I wondered happily when the soil might be warm enough to begin turning it and working it again.

Suddenly a “Woooosh!,” sound came from directly overhead and the sunlight disappeared for millisecond. It sounded so close and was so loud that I was more than a little startled. I instantly and instinctively crouched as if I were on top of the hill during deer season when a rifle shot explodes nearby from some unseen hunter.

I looked up, beginning to mouth, “What the heck?!,” but stopped mid-sentence. There above me was a bald eagle. It's white face was brilliant in the sunshine and its wings were fully extended. It was beautiful. And it was huge!

It continued on its journey gliding over the garage roof and down over the valley. It could not have been more than 30 feet above me when it had passed over and I was stunned by how close it had come. We have seen many bald eagles since moving out here in 2002 but I had never seen one in the wild this close.

I continued to watch in awe as it flew effortlessly over the tree tops. Steve Miller's song, “Fly Like an Eagle,” came to mind as I thought about how cool it would be to view the land from that eagle's vantage point. I kept my eyes on it until it disappeared behind a hillside where the valley bends to the south. I couldn't help but smile.

Passing Wildlife and One Curious Doe

A lone doe pauses at the crossroad of our trails.  It's one of the few daytime photos that we get as most of the  interesting activity takes place at night.

Turkey strolling along the trail shortly after the doe head to their evening roosts, having spent the afternoon feasting in the adjoining cornfield.

                                   This doe was fascinated by the camera flash...

 and gives gives the camera a good sniff.

Off the Grid/Sustainable Projects for 2012

Winter is planning time out on the farm.  It's time for me to strap on my Superman cape once again and list all of the things I believe that I can accomplish before the end of the year.  I enter this knowing fully well that I will have reverted from Superman to Clark Kent before the end of June.

So we'll just call this my, "Best-of-intentions-I-know-I-can-do-it-but-now-I'm-not-so-sure-chalk-it-up-to-wishful-thinking-but-really,-what-on-earth-was-I-thinking-list."  While there are also a number of maintenance, building, and smaller scale projects that also need to be done this year, these are the fun, green, self-sustaining projects.

Raised Bed Hoop Houses

The Raised beds were built in our garden last year and worked very well.  This year we will try to extend the season for our tomatoes and greens by adding removable hoop housing.  My plan, derived from so many others out there that I can't call it mine, will use 1/2 inch PVC pipes for the frames and attach to the raised bed by brackets.  We'll then lay plastic sheeting over them and "bunch" it and weigh it down at the ends.  We'll begin this in April to get an early start on our tomato seedlings, and remove it until September, when hopefully we can add a few more weeks to our tomato harvesting.

Raised Bed Cold Frames

The cold frame design is similar to the hoop houses, but mainly for the raised beds that were constructed out of eight foot 6"x8" boards (as opposed to the 12 foot 2"x12" raised beds).  Rather than bending the PVC, they will be angled at about 45 degrees.  There will also be fewer of them:  one on each end and one in the middle only.  The base for these, while also running through 1/2 inch brackets on the sides, will be driven into the ground.  Their sole purpose will be to hold translucent poly roof sheeting in place.  We'll see which of the two designs works best.


Solar Shower

This is my favorite project and one that I've been wanting to build for three or four years, even though everyone around here thinks I'm nuts.  Having up to six people showering in our house on almost a daily basis not only takes a tremendous amount of water but the propane to heat it and the electricity to run the well pump.  Since we do not use air conditioning, the humidity these showers create on a hot summer day is miserable as well.

So the answer?  Shower outside.

I'll be building a frame out of black locust timbers (take forever to rot) to support a 70 gallon plastic container about six feet off the ground.  You can stop laughing now, please.

I'll paint the container black and screen the top of it so that rainwater can be collected.  If the water temperature doesn't reach an acceptable level, an old storm window will be placed over the top to help retain heat but still allow for solar heating.  The window would then be removed on rainy days so that rain water can be collected.

The "shower room" will be attached to one side of the frame and also constructed out of black locust timbers.  A simple connection from the bottom of the tank to a shower head will be added.  In case the water is too hot, I am also planning on running a cold water line via the nearby milkhouse.

My biggest dilemma has been the drain.  Because of the location, which was chosen for the greatest amount of privacy, I can not find a suitable way to connect it with the milkhouse drain.  I've currently settled on a french drain with a filtering system that would purify the gray water, but would prefer some other system in order to utilize the gray water for the garden or some other project.  More research will be done on this over the next couple of months.

All planning and research aside, I can not wait to take a nice hot shower and look up to see blue sky.  As to no more burning through propane or steaming up the house?   Priceless.


Drip Irrigation System

This is another long, thought out project that really needs to get done this year.  The container is the exact type as the one I'll be using for the solar shower.  As my drawing below shows, it will also be collecting rain water.

The container location will be on a slope overlooking our garden.  The bottom of the container should be a minimum of eight or nine feet above most of the garden, so the irrigating will be by gravity alone.

Getting the water to the places in the garden that we wish to irrigate will be through the combination of hoses, PVC pipe, and a whole bunch of various attachments.  Oh, I can feel the frustration already.

Since having made these drawings I have already decided to relocate the PVC in the raised beds.  Rather than running them along the sides (which I originally chose to do in order to secure the pipes to the sides via brackets) I've chosen to run them more toward the middle and support them through larger PVC that will be cut on one edge to match their diameter and driven into the ground.  I realize that probably doesn't make any sense, but trust me.  I'll post photos later.

What I love most about this project is that it is completely self-sustaining.  Provided it works (and provided we have a normal amount of rain this summer).  If all that comes together it will require no water from our well and no electricity to move the water.  Man, I love it!

My Private War With Cellphones

I hate cellphones. I hate talking on a phone when I'm driving. I hate how my cellphone routinely changes its ring tone from a manly one to some sort of Tinkerbell-sounding thing. Funny too how it never goes off when I'm alone but waits until I'm standing in line with a bunch of guys at the hardware store when it decides to let me know it changed tones on me.  Really nice timing.  I hate cellphones.

I hate how cellphones interrupt without apology and at the most inconvenient times. I hate the little buttons on the side of it that I inadvertently push while opening it when I get a call. I hate having to dig for my glasses so I can read the teensy little letters and numbers on the phone so that I can decide whether or not to answer the call. I hate being interrupted when I'm deep in thought about heady topics such as the industrialization of the American farm or the national healthcare crisis or homeland security and our diminishing civil liberties or what to do if the rotisserie chicken is sold out when I get to the market. I hate cellphones.

There was a time when I liked cell phones. That was back when they weighed about twenty pounds, had gigantic numbers, and a foot-long bendable antenna. Very few people had one, but I did and that made me cool. It made me important in the eyes of others. Why else would I need to have a cellphone while having coffee at Perkins?   I'm certain other customers thought I was a very important person and that important people must need to be able to reach me in case I was needed to make some important decisions or be advised about some important developments in some important issue. Truthfully, the calls I would get in those days were usually from my wife reminding me to stop at the store to pick up some toilet paper on the way home. But no one in Perkins knew that. They all thought that I was on the phone with someone important like the Governor. Maybe even the President.

That all changed when cellphones became more affordable. Pretty soon everyone had one. When everyone has something, that something is no longer cool and its owner is no longer important. Once everyone from Grandma Moses to the teen at the local high school who was voted, “Most Likely to Remain a Hermit,” had one, the only justifiable reason for me to have a cellphone was to actually use it. That's when my enthusiasm checked out.

Pretty soon everyone that knew me in even the most remote of ways had a new cellphone. And bless their hearts, they all punched my number into their speed-dial system. Suddenly I was getting calls in the weirdest places: In meetings, on the road during rush hour, in bathrooms, in my garage, in checkout lines as I waited to purchase toilet paper. It was a nightmare.

In desperation I learned to use two important cellphone tools: The “Off” button and voice-mail. At first the benefits were marvelous but in the end, all too short-lived. The use of these tools had created two brand new problems. First of all I was missing phone calls from people that I actually wanted or needed to talk to. Secondly, I quickly realized that I had to not only listen to but actually respond to all of those voice-mails. Oh holy communication overload!

Over time my cellphone operating style evolved into something that resolved the continual state of conflict that I had been in. I stopped answering it AND rarely listened to the voice-mails that people left. This complicated and revolutionary approach to non-land line communication devices brought about an instant state of peace to my world.

Along the way I also discovered a miracle of sorts. If you don't listen to your voice-mails, they magically disappear after a couple of weeks or so. It's as if my cellphone company takes pity on me as the number of messages stack up and just wipes them out. I don't care what anyone says about them, US Cellular is my hero!

So now, as the years have passed and having left my city job and for a simpler life in the country, no one calls me anymore. No one that is except for my wife and kids and a couple of other people who understand my idiosyncrasies. These days my cellphone has evolved into nothing more than an expensive intercom system. If I'm up on the hill, which I often am, Grace can call me to ask if she can make some hot chocolate, which she often does. It has taken me nearly twenty years, but I am finally warming up to having a cellphone again. Now if I could just remember to leave it in the truck when I go into the hardware store.

Winter on Hillsong Farm

With a snowstorm blanketing the landscape outside, I thought it would be a good time to organize and post some photos of scenes around the farm.  Every season out here has its own beauty and winter is no different.

The photos from the hilltop are brought to us courtesy of the new Firestone M/T tires that I just put on the truck.  Yes, that was M/T and not A/T.  These things are big and nasty and awesome!  While they were designed to take you through deep mud, they have already proven themselves to be the best thing that I have ever had on any truck for getting through snow.  Photos of these bad boys will follow in a future post.

But for now I sit with a glass of red wine, occasionally glancing out the window at the snow coming down while listening to Van Morrison's, "Magic Time" recording, and pull up photos that make me so very glad to be living in God's Country.

 On top of the hill and near the site where our future off-the-grid dream house will be located.

The sun setting behind the Hickory Grove.  I've caught some of the most beautiful sunsets that I have ever seen from this area after the leaves have fallen for the year from the hickory trees.

 Deer love our cornfields and dig through the snow to find unharvested cobs every night.  The tip of our largest silo can be seen just above the horizon on the right.

 The intersection of the field road and ridge road.  I refer to this spot as, "Haight/Ashbury."  While I think the name is really groovy, it has not caught on with the rest of the commune.

 Blanketed in white are about 60 or 70 apple trees, as seen from our yard.  The mound in the foreground is part of the drain field for our new septic system.  More on that whole disaster later.

 Cheers!  Ran across this Cabernet Sauvignon a few weeks ago.  It pairs well with photo viewing, day-dreaming, or anything else I've tried it with.  I highly recommend it.

One more pic, looking down to our little creek which has vanished behind the trees and under the snow.

My New Toy

Lisa and the kids gave me a wonderful toy this Christmas, a trail cam.  I put it up in a few locations around the farm alongside deer paths and crossings with mixed results.  Seemed like the only thing that I could catch were leaves blowing in the wind.

I went back a few days ago to one of my original sites and adjusted the settings and placed the camera in a slightly different direction.  The results were much better and I've posted a few here.

There was a group of deer passing by the camera when the night shots were taken.  One was an eight point buck.  The small buck in the last photo was quite curious about the camera.  There are several shots of him inching closer to it.  He is missing one side of his rack, which isn't much of a rack.  However if you look at the remaining side it appears that the ends of the tines are broken off and jagged.  Perhaps after going a few rounds with the eight-pointer.