Storms a Coming by Jane Miller – Guest Blogger

 

Storms a coming.

by Jane Miller 

My husband and I live with his mother in an old farmhouse with parts dating back to 1842. Except for the window lined porch that faces west, the house is structurally the way it was 100 years ago when the third generation of the Hunter family lived here. Their ancestors were a Scottish Presbyterian family who cleared this portion of Depreciation Lands.

Often my thoughts go to life as it may have been stretched out over a nearly 200 year history when the family sustained themselves with their labors in the fields and there were horses in the barn. Now the horses are gone. The farm is in transition. Our work of the day includes for me, the care giving for my mother-in-law, Lois—almost 90—and the patients my husband “sees” on a computer in his office that was at one time our dining room and in generations past, a kitchen. The beauty of the evolving nature is one constant. We especially enjoy our summer evenings.

On one of the first warm nights this year we sat together on the back deck after mom was in bed, I grieved the loss of the horses and a pasture plowed under by Farmer Beahm, who will soon plant field corn. The sun was heading for its sweet spot between the tree-lined hills as clouds gathered bits of gray.

I remembered an evening nearly 35 years ago on May 31, 1985, the evening a 25-mile long twister took out the trees of that hill and my mother and father-in-law, along with our three-year-old son, hit the basement. I think they wanted a room with windows to better see a storm a coming in addition to daily witnessing the beauty of nature.

On this May evening—one of the first ones a coat and blanket not needed—another storm was brewing. It was May 12, just before the world began opening up to our “new normal” and all of the unknowns this will bring. Then in the skies, a real storm collected clouds and we were fascinated as we watched where the sun would soon disappear in the West. Rick had a Scotch in his hand. I had my camera.

The beauty of the moment mesmerized us and we didn’t heed the warnings of the winds. Our eyes were on the skies, when rain pelted us. For the moment we laughed through the winds, making sure my camera was safe and Rick anchored down the furniture we had to evacuate.

I thought of the storms of the past and the ones that are brewing and a word came to my mind about life on the farm. Resilience. Crops fail. You replant. Animals that sustain you will die. It’s not a moment to moment feeling. It’s a joy that doesn’t depend upon what is happening to you. It’s about being grateful for every moment in every time.

Life goes on and it’s always day by day. Farmers look for their rewards at the end of the day.

Storm a Coming

This Little Piggy- Wait, It’s THIRTEEN Piggies- Guest Blog by Marlene and Donald

Down on the farm in Virginia.  Mar said it was dark in the barn. Thanks for a fun guest blog. We don’t see this in the city!

Lots of new life appearing at your neighbor’s farm.

Springtime action in corrals and pens and barn.

See proud future Dad.      His “wife” is sitting on 17 eggs.        (Not sure if Turkeys mate for life like other species you hear about. hmmmm)

Future Thanksgiving Dinner?

Future Dad Turkey

 

Future Dad Turkey

 

Future Mom sitting on 17 eggs!

 

 

 

 

Turkey sitting on 17 eggs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Watcha Looking At?

 

Waiting for baby horses- another blog, another day

 

 

 

 

a litter of piglets eating lunch

 Click on Video below -A little dark in the barn.  That is if you want to see 13 new piglets scramble at feeding time.

What’s in a Name?

We were at the neighbors’ farm in Hardy, VA this past weekend.  They graciously allowed the grandchildren to pet the baby pig and the baby turkeys.

Anna asked what the pig’s name was-  “Doesn’t have one.”

The baby mini-mules and their miniature horses don’t have to worry but then again, they have NAMES!

Bob the Mule.  Heart the Horse.

The egg-layers are spared.

Oh yes, they have a couple of ducks.  And their names?      Christmas and New Years.

The second image? Those are a couple of (seven pounds apiece) pork butts that Pap smoked for the Paleo crowd.  The veg branch of the family didn’t come this past weekend.             I don’t think the meat had names.