Do trees have a sense of humor?

This eastern cottonwood is devoid of leaves now except for the very top. It reminds me of a new style haircut where they head is shaven along the sides, with only a mop above. I have to smile each time I notice this tree out there with its top fringe flagging in the breeze.

I love trees; perhaps mostly for their perseverance. I've seen them growing out of seemingly solid blocks of rock along the eastern Appalachians; clinging to mountain pinnacles high in the Sierras of California, stunted by wind and weather, yet living. In the deep, dark forests of Northern Maine small pines grew like blades of grass under the shadow of their forebears. Most can not survive the competition for sun and space, yet they make the effort because they're trees.

I have made my bed at night, under the thick intertwining branches of pines. I know that if a storm comes, the pines will provide the best protection as they shed rain off their densely packed needles and layers of branches.

It was probably 10 years ago I came here and found that cottonwood struggling. It was small then (cottonwoods grow fast), and overshadowed by a dense growth of autumn olive bushes. The little tree reached out at an angle, around the bushes, wanting more of the sunlight. I cut the brush and dug out the extensive network of roots to give the tree its freedom. It rewards us today with its beauty. You might notice in the photo, near the bottom where the trunk curves somewhat. That's the reach around the autumn olive 10 years back.

I've planted trees on this 3 acres of home, and will continue to do so long as I am able, for their represent to me a continuity of the land, and we are the land.

If I could only be a tree.

by Jim

Happiness is!

Happiness is the sun shining through the trees on a misty morning that promises us anything's possible, as long as we believe.Happiness is all the firewood we'll need for this winter, stacked against the newly resided garage and covered, ready for warm toes, and long relaxing conversations-all winter long.Happiness is-this corner of the farm, where there used to be scrub and thorns, now carefully planned, planted, pruned and tended until this patch of sunlight lays on it like a note of grace in our own beautiful world.Happiness is green and growing things in the greenhouse. This year we're extending the season with all kinds of herbs and veggies in a grand experiment all our own. Such good things there to bring a taste of summer goodness to our wintertime meals.Happiness is this crazy upside-down grape tomato plant that had already given up the ghost outside and is now bearing like crazy inside the greenhouse where we can watch it from the living room window. It's even reblooming! Happiness is the blush of red leaves on the blueberries as they pull into themselves to rest for the winter season.Happiness is one perfect red sassafras leaf among the yellow maple leaves. And Happiness is this exuberant yellow tree on the path through the woods, celebrating fall in silent glory, all by itself until I was lucky enough to wander by and share in the joy. Life is very good these days.

Lessons Learned from the Garden

Lesson 1-The tiny pumpkins that never grew to their full size are just fine when you see them together with our tiny grandson—they fit just right!

Lesson 2-It’s not necessarily a bad thing when a groundhog comes to snack on your garden.

We grew Scarlet Runner Beans this year and they took over the fence. Grew so plentiful that they were bending over the fence. The groundhog that lives under the woodpile took a liking to the bean leaves and carefully pruned them back for us. Caused the beans to rebloom and the fence is fine! We didn’t mind sharing at all.

Lesson 3-Sometimes you need to think about the outcome BEFORE you plant the seeds. Amaranth sounded like a marvelous experiment, who knew it’d grow 8 feet tall, and so heavy it waved around like a club in the wind, beating up other plants.

Now that I’ve harvested the seed heads and hung them upside down, hoping the seeds will fallout into the bin—I realize that I have no idea how to cook and serve the seeds. Hmmm, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea?And last, Lesson number 4-Cucumbers sometimes grow in the strangest places. I swear, this grew all by itself, right there! I love gardening. I never know what’s going to happen next.

Whooo Cooks for Youoooooooo?

It's an owl's night tonight. I'm not sure just what's going on out there in the growing dusk, but the evening has been alive with barred owls, from several directions, all around us, the owls are calling and calling. Their distinctive call is unmistakable and urgent, and it arouses a feeling in us that makes us want to get out and look for prey--or to do something wild!

We live in a wonderful place with a lot of deep dark pines all around, and more woods, and the owls have always found it to be a good place to be. We've seen and heard them so often that we named our home after them, Owl's Haven, a safe haven for the delightfully wise and ever so mysterious, barred owl.
According to Wikipedia: The adult is 44 cm long with a 112 cm wingspan. It has a pale face with dark rings around the eyes, a yellow beak and brown eyes. It is the only typical owl of the eastern United States which has brown eyes; all others have yellow eyes. The head is round and lacks ear tufts, a distinction from the short eared owl. The upper parts are mottled gray-brown. The underparts are light with markings; the chest is barred horizontally while the belly is streaked lengthwise. The legs and feet are covered in feathers up to the talons.

<sup>Since we so seldom see them, their chief draw for us is their calls. It's a repeated melodious call that sounds like: "Who cooks for you, (pause) Who cooks for you allllllllll?" The female, when looking for a mate, warbles the alll at the end, otherwise, it's the same call. We've been listening for that call for so many years, that we've heard lots of variations.

In early spring, there are the calls of two owls in love, who echo the calls back and forth for a while, then finally discintegrate into a wild mixed hooting, that sounds like a lust-driven melee of some sort. There are the tentative youngster hoots of confused pitch and tone, usually corrected snippily by some oldster who paces it out in precise syllables, sounding irked at "these kids today", who just can't get it right. We live in a year round concert of these magical musical singers and seldom see them, since they're so good at hiding in the dense trees around us.
A few times, we've been fortunate to share in a special moment, treasured for years and remembered as we listen to the calls. There was one time, early on, when Jim joined me here on the farm, when I happened to see an owl settle on a branch in the tree nearby. We slowly moved nearer and I pointed it out to Jim, and we stood in awe as the mighty bird looked down on us from about 20 feet away, calmly judging whether we had a right to be there or not.
Another time, in early spring, the owls were calling, looking for mates. In the rapid confusion of calls coming from two owls near our home, our grandaughter raised her head and called back to them. It called one in, who landed in a tree near our garden, and we all watched while it continued to call and the mate joined the first one, then they got acquainted, right there near us in the open. What a rare and precious opportunity.

So tonight they've been calling all around us, for hours, and we've seen one flying low over our back yard to land nearby. We're reluctant to go outside to try to spy on their activities, since it seems as though the timing may be such that there's a youngster fledging and on the ground and the adults are looking to protect her. We don't want to do anything to risk their rescue operation.
I can't get any pictures of ours here, it's too dark already, but will post some pictures found on the net of these gorgeous birds we share our home grounds with. Aren't we the luckiest people ever? Life is very good.</sup>

He's got teeth-Two of 'em! Honest!

I confess, we've collapsed into that silly, sloppy state of grandparenthood where we know, with absolute certainty, that our grandkids are the best, smartest, cutest, most lovable and adorable kids in the world. We're already over the hill with our granddaughter, so when our youngest sprouted his two new baby teeth in the bottom front of his mouth, I was there with camera in hand to document the historic event.
He's got the greatest smile ever.
When he flashes that smile, those two pearly whites just shine and reflect the light.
He's so very adorable, that the lights shine a little brighter and music plays sweeter-truly!
His sister can tease him and he smiles great big and shows off those two new teeth.But not for the camera. Not today.
Not even when Grandpa coaxes him while I stand ready with the camera.
Un-uh, not happening today!
But you have to admit, he's still the cutest little guy ever was!

Our Garden's Running Amok!

It's that time of year, when all the hard work we've done to set up and plant that garden is paying off and we're just running full speed to try to keep up with it. Jim and I spent days out there this week catching up with the weeding, then yesterday mowed the whole yard, raked up the grass and spent hours tucking the clippings in around the plants to mulch them against the dry days ahead.

This is our best garden ever. We've had one meal of green beans and new potatoes, and it was a delicious forerunner to what's coming. We've spent so much time composting stuff and adding it and tons of all kinds of vegetation to the old sand dunes we live on, that it's finally becoming a fertile place to plant in. With the addition of the greenhouse this spring, we could get our specific plants out there and really enjoy watching the results.
Here's Jim pulling weeds and I'm snapping the pictures.
The melon plants are escaping the bed and flowing down the walkways-who knows how far they'll go!
There's one small zucchini, soon to be ready, followed by many more than we'll possibly consume by ourselves. This may be the year we set up a produce stand out front.
The Scarlet Runner Beans are taking over the fence, and what beautiful bloom!
Our second cucumber-the first one was eaten already.
Start of the herbs-lots of basil! Yummmm.
Almost tomatoes! With 17 tomato plants this year, we should have all we could possibly use, and then some.Pea Pods, in a wonderful green jumble. It's always hard to find the pods in this confusing tangle.
Each year, we try to plant something new and different. This year it's artichokes. Don't know if they'll ripen before frost, but aren't the plants spectacular? They're about 2 feet tall now, and share the bed with zinnias and multiplier onions in bloom. It's really a show.
Corn, when it gets close to ready, we'll have to put up the electric fence to keep the raccoons out.
The horseradish looks ready to take over the world.
First year for the new asparagus bed and it's coming along very well, with some volunteers I just let stay, like the nasturtiums and tomato.

Little hot peppers coming on strong. We're going to wait for them to turn red before harvesting.
Overview of the northern beds, with lots of tomatoes, potatoes and onions. Great stuff doing well.

My Second Favorite Place in the Whole World!

Has got to be Turkey Run State Park. My most favorite is our own home. I've been going to visit and explore the park since I first got a driver's license, and took my kids there frequently from the time they were tiny. They first saw the trails from the carrier on my back, and graduated to walking them hand-in-hand with me and finally on their own, scrambling along ahead of me as we strode the hills and ravines of this beautiful place.

In recent years, I haven't been here much, busy with life and grandkids, and getting old and stiff with knee problems makes it tough to get anywhere in the park. Everywhere you go it's up down or across something that requires balance and agility and it was just too tough to do. I've had both knees replaced now, and the past few months of exercise has improved my strength and flexibility. This week we needed to get away, so packed up the motorhome and headed south for the park.And the rains came, and they settled in to stay. We ended up staying at the Inn, comfy and dry, and enjoyed a dinner in the dining room and a book by the fire. I walked down past sunset point and into Turkey Run Hollow for a slow stroll among those ancient rock walls. It's always so peaceful in that canyon, and I love to just stand, and soak it in. This trip the water was running so high that I couldn't get all the way into the end of the hollow, but skirted the mud and got as far as I could into it, for a marvelous evening walkabout. The Canada Geese provided a neat show of property guarding as they warned me away from their nesting sites on top of the cliff opposite Sunset Point, and geese up and down the creek echoed his cries, making the whole canyon echo with their calls.

The next morning it was a bit drier, so Jim headed out for a long hike to Camel's Back, while I took the back trail down into Turkey Run Hollow to see if I could find Kim's missing letterbox hidden there months ago. The trail starts past the guest cabins, on a boardwalk with handrails and steps.Past the boards, mud rules, and with the clay, it's slippery in that canyon, but as always, just beautiful, and I had the whole place to myself. I spent a lot of time walking the bank of the little stream, trying to find the best place to cross over without getting wet, because the letterbox site is on the other side. The water's not deep, but deeper than usual, and cold this time of year if you slip off the mossy stepping stones.I love this sign, that shows trail 6 just ending at the blank cliff wall.I finally got across, with only the front half of one hiking boot wet, and came to the entrance of the side canyon where the letterbox was supposed to be.Here's the rock where it was, and it was gone. Shame, it was such a good hiding place, right beside this little waterfall, but I suspect spring rains just swept it away.As always, I love the wonderful bright green ferns that grow out of the tiniest crack in the rock. Someday I'm going to get busy and make a painting of this fresh beauty, in the meantime, I have a LOT of pictures.
Can you believe how this tree grew? Right out of the rock and very little soil?
Back across the stream, and this time I got the other toe wet, and it's back up that big muddy hill and back to the comfort of the room to get warm and dry. I'll need to work harder on those exercises before we come back again, just wore my tired old knees to a frazzle. It was another great visit to Turkey Run to see the beauties of rock, wood and water.

If letterboxing is a new idea to any of you readers, you owe it to yourself to check it out. It's a fascinating semi-sport, hobby that stretches world wide and adds fun to exploring what's out there. Check out www.letterboxing.org for the history of the activity and what's near you. You never know where the next box might be hidden!