We woke up this morning and bounced. Memorial Day weekend in Vermont means one thing to us: planting. For weeks we have lugged vegetable flats back and forth from outside sun to the garage for protection from the nightime cold. A sudden frost alert means that when I am done tucking animals for the night,…
Category: Outdoors
“Life Is No Brief Candle To Me”
The leaves are unfurled. The view from our kitchen window is green. Living in the woods means that we essentially live in a tree house: everywhere we look there are either leaves or tree trunks. In the summer months it means that the house is darker, but I would not trade this feeling of solidarity…
New Community
As the last vestiges of snow snake between rocks, trying to hide from the warming sun in cool crevices, it feels as if we have the luxury of time before spring is truly upon us. However, there is that one week, usually in April when the temperature rises and the snow finds there is no…
Falling In March
The snow began to fall Wednesday evening. I headed out to tuck animals and stood, watching the wind blow the snow underneath the barn light, diffusing it as if there were a scrim over it. I hurried around, carrying a wayward hen back from the wrong coop, checking and double checking the various latches on…
The Light Returns
Last weekend I had a rehearsal for a string quartet performance that I’m part of and, as we were finishing and I was folding up music stands, I realized that although it was 5:00, it was still pretty light outside. In Vermont, most of our winter is spent in relative hibernation. Some of this is…
Beautiful Beasts
Winters can be difficult on our animals. Mrs. Chubbers, our head ewe, is getting older. She walks with a slight but persistent limp and has become long in the tooth, making it harder for her to chew. In the darker months I run my hand over her white back, and when I add weight into…
Boys On The Field
By the time I am done teaching at six each evening it is heavy dusk. Not quite full-on dark, but getting there. I walked down the road to gather sheep and stood by the garden looking up at a melon sky surrounding a fringe of clouds still lit by a far away sun. As I…
The Other Liquid Gold
Putting sheep into their paddock on September mornings I scan the hillside that rises up behind them. Each day now color creeps across the mountain. Yellow arrives first, looking more like the green leaves are feeling a little “off.” There are teasing splotches of reds and oranges visible through morning fog. I call to Bronte…
Out Of The Nest
Spending a lot of time going up and down the hill to the garden. The tomato wagon has plants bursting with tomatoes leaning precariously off its wooden edges. We have cherries, heirlooms, Old Germans, Early Boys and a couple of new varieties. Tender new kale leaves push forward as soon as I snip larger leaves…
Being There
I finished feeding sheep and chickens this morning, walked up the hill to begin baby-chick chores and stopped. In the busyness of the day there was an odd silence. I stood facing the woods, listening intently, I realized that the Hermit Thrush was gone. Theirs is a sound that I’ve never become accustomed to: I…
Deep, Dark, Secret…Spot
Sitting at the computer in the kitchen having a lesson with a student in Alaska, we talk about how the period of total light has just ended for them and days are back to relatively normal length. Paul quietly opens the front door and stands, arms full of towels, waiting for me to finish so…
Magnificent, Mischievous, Magical, Maniacal Muir
I headed down to the garden this afternoon, vegetable basket in hand. It has been a month since thegarlic scapes were cut and the leaves are now beginning to brown. Time to harvest. I stuff my feet intomy brilliant yellow Crocs and begin walking down Magic Road. Following close behind are all threeBorder Collies; Sam,…
The Bottom of the Well
We are now in the heart of summer: after the solstice but before the dog days. While on vacation at thelake we had cooler than normal temperatures but now that we are home, away from the water, herecomes the heat. I make feeble attempts at meal planning but we end up throwing sandwiches and cansof…
Born Under the Sign Of Water
We are in the heart of summer. We choose our week at the lake to coincide with the Fourth of July, not so much because of the fireworks but because of the other heat. As much as you can count on weather in Vermont (20% max)- that particular week can usually be counted on to…
Peeling
In looking toward holidays or vacations my tendency is to become Rockwellian. I prepare with zeal for the ideal. Months ahead of the vacation walking down long isles in stores I toss small boxes of sparklers, hard packs of playing cards, twelve packs of lime seltzer, chunky bars of chocolate and fancy gin into my…