All of the boxes and bags have climbed the ladder to the space above our garage. Everything stackedneatly, ready for the next Christmas. Garland, frozen into position is unwillingly unraveled from thewood fence around our sleeping garden and lamppost. Paul teeters on the ladder pulling down theswinging lights from the front of the house. As…
Author: Melissa Perley
Christmas
We finish rolling up sheep fencing and head right into unrolling tar paper around hives to winterize. All is quiet as we staple the paper in place, tuck insulation into the cap and stuff some bee food around frames of the top box. Less than a week later snow begins falling. Early December our temperatures…
Markers
In the middle of the pandemic, once we realized we were not going to be returning to, what we thought of as reality, I found myself marking time. Looking toward the people, places and things that helped define where we were and where we were going. Many of these markers synonymous with tradition. I consider…
The Wind-Down
My eyes open and the list begins: I find myself pre-running the day. Harvest time is like having a crying baby…on an airplane. Our greenhouse has tomatoes pressing against it’s sides, like prisoners trying to escape. They climb their ropes to the ceiling and run roughshod along the floor. I carefully set one foot at…
There All Along
After putting sheep into their new pasture and connecting the fence, I meander up to the greenhouse and the movable garden wagon. I twist the faucet and heft the hose over my right arm while I drag it to the wagon. I stand, listen to the cicadas buzz and watch the sheep graze new clover….
Seamus Has Arrived
On the wooden ladder in the garage, I carefully lean forward to pull down the small pile of metal dog bowls we’ve stored. I rinse them clean and bring them into the house. Paul uses the ATV to drive Muir’s crate up from the lower barn. I stand as quietly as it does. And remember….
The Meaning Of Vacation
Beginning in late May my world starts tilting downward and everything begins moving faster. April is the awakening and, as with all good awakenings, we roll out of things slower. May on a farm might as well have a green flag waving. We are brooding new chickens in a large cardboard box in our garage….
Unfolding Hope
Walking in Scotland I felt the lightness of being without; without a working phone, without work, farm chores making meals, cleaning, in short, responsibility. Paul and I strolled along the River Ness at a pace that did not include the fast-walk. We stopped to pet dogs, chat with their owners. We watched the trees slowly…
Humanity
The snow is reluctantly receding: small dirty white piles, like silent reptiles, creeping back into the woods before finally disappearing. Outside it is a rainy Saturday. The temperature, in the high thirties, the rain cold and raw. I’m happy to be perched on a stool in our kitchen next to the wood stove. Bronte lays…
This Is Why
Dragging four bags of shavings to the barn, my hand slips and a heavy plastic-wrapped bale slams against my right leg. I swear without delicacy, grab hold of the corner and heft it the rest of the way. When they are all safely stacked in the hay storage I move to check the galvanized steel…
The Softening
What I have always found fascinating about weather in Vermont is how, after only a lifetime here, I am able to detect the arrival of a new season without the benefit of a calendar. March arrived in full lion-glory, a snow storm with wind creating mini tornadoes chasing each other across our road. On the…
Remembering
My mother loves to get out during the week, so I try to make use of time if I am not teaching in the morning to go and pick her up and take her on an adventure. I pull up underneath the roof outside her building’s front doorway and wait for her to come out….
No Warmth Without Cold
We sit elbow to elbow in the plane on the way to our son in California. We spend our six-hour flight reading, watching movies we will only watch on planes, leaning into the aisle watching for the snack service and talking about details of things to be done on the farm. I drag my backpack…
Homage To Things Frozen
Stepping out the front door and off the steps I balance two heavy metal buckets of water. I feel a deep pull from inside my shoulders, familiar, warm. I take a moment as I walk, to push my breath out from inside the warmth of my body into the frigid air. I watch as it…