THE FRUIT OF THE LAND

The house at dusk

Dad has a man here and they are sawing down a tree by the pond for wood. We have plenty of limbs but snow too deep to get to them.

Ina Dobson, February 1936

Bess awaits the next adventure

I’ve noticed something about retirement: even though we have things to do and we seem to be busy doing them, the schedule has flexibility. So, I wasn’t surprised when the trip to the farm scheduled for Friday actually happened Thursday afternoon (Sept. . After a morning hunt that proved shorter than expected, Mike suggested we just pack up and head to the farm. The worst of the change in plans was that we came away without enough milk or bread. However, we’re making-do with the shelf-stable soy milk I keep on hand and biscuits.

 

I suppose it was just as well we came a little early. It rained Thursday night. It was pleasant to hear it plunking on the roof, but it’s still terribly dry here. The vegetation looks stressed. Despite the storm, Friday was again a decent day, so we headed out to the far edge of the north field where Mike felled a dead fir tree. None too soon, he said. The wood is usable but beginning to rot. 

 A neighbor notes that in the old days when wood was needed to warm the house, they simply went out and cut a tree, and the quote from Ina’s letter seems to confirm that. But I wonder -- wasn’t the wood green?

While Mike was felling the tree, the dogs and I explored, and I discovered another stand of wild plum trees. That makes three or four I know of on this property and another on the road. I had hoped that I had discovered a stand of chokecherry trees, but unfortunately I think it’s cascara, or bear berry. I’ve done a lot of online research – frustrating since it all looks alike to me. But, I decided not to take a chance because the cascara berries cause digestive issues. 

Meanwhile, the plums beckon. They freeze well and mix with peaches or raspberries for pie. If we were starving (which we are not) we would make good use of the plums.

Longtime readers will know that every year I wonder about the apples. This was not a great apple year. The trees at the pond didn’t bear much fruit, but there were some on the trees in the lane, so Mike (and the dogs) helped me pick some yesterday. Two varieties grow there. One may be a green apple but at this point the skin is so translucent as to be white, which has a mildly sweet taste when raw. I thought it cooked up rather tasteless but Mike liked it. The other is the red/green apple in the arms of the pine tree (“pine-apple”), which has a strong flavor. Both of these apples are small.

 

A farm stay at this time of the year includes some tramping of the fields with a shotgun. We had a nice meal of Hungarian partridge one evening.

"battery exhausted"

From north of the draw

What!? The words “battery exhausted” appeared on the camera screen before we were back from our hike. How could that be? Well, I’ll bet I took 150 pictures on that battery, three of them experimentation with moon shots, which weren’t impressive. I was going to show the photos as day-by-day posts but decided not to bore the reader (and myself). Instead, I’ll post a few favorites as a tribute to the end of summer – if, in fact, summer has really ended.

Clearly, there’s no point in going out and taking the same pictures day after day after day however inspired I am by the views. Something needs to happen now to provide new effects – like fall colors or snow. And the new camera is vulnerable if I just carry it, though if I don’t carry it I miss photo ops.

The old-time impression of country life includes clean, fresh air, but in reality, that’s hardly ever the case. In addition to the smoke from regional wildfires, the burning of grass fields continues all around. I’ve been amazed at how many grass fields there are. Some days our view of Little Canyon was obliterated by the smoke.

Little Canyon filled with smoke

The dogs like to go to bed directly they have finished the supper dishes. They go out, patrol the yard together, then perhaps sit on their pillows on the porch for a while before ambling off to the doghouse in the woodshed. It was 8:30 Friday night and dark - before moonrise -- when Bess began barking ferociously. I could hear her in the south field and was concerned for her. I figured she was giving the deer a piece of her mind and likely there would not be a stand-off. Still, I preferred that she return immediately to the house. She was so intent on her mission, though, that I couldn't get her attention. She finally came in all agitated and upset.

The barn at dusk

When I let her out again, I found Nellie lounging but watchful on the porch. Both dogs faced the grove, and Bess commenced to bark again. As near as I could tell, a deer – or several deer – had encroached upon the yard, causing the dogs to advise them of their trespasses. Thankfully, things settled down quickly and we had a good night’s rest.

From the south

After that, Bess barked when she saw the deer – and even Nellie muttered under her breath -- but they didn’t leave the yard. I figure the doe have a pronounced scent – to a dog anyway -- because both dogs will respond from the living room floor if the deer are nearby. KW

SORRY -- CAN'T MAKE YOUR PARTY

It's "Pet Appreciation Week" (P.A.W.), and Del's Feed and Farm Supply is sponsoring a pet event today. Our dogs can't make it, though. They have to work.

[Bess waits patiently in the back of the Dakota. I think she'd live there if Mike would let her.]

OVER THAT HURDLE -- ON TO THE NEXT

Nellie lying in dirt on hot day

Bess hunting behind the pond

Mike rumbled into our driveway at 3:30 yesterday afternoon (Wednesday, Sept. 17). Nellie, Bess, and I were glad to see him. Correction: Nellie and I were glad to see him and Bess was downright elated, as though she sensed the beginning of more really good times. After greeting Mike affectionately, Nellie ran to nuzzle me as if to say, “Hey – Mike’s home! Isn’t it great? But you did a really good job of taking care of me.” Then she moved off to continue her quiet lounging while Bess spent the rest of the afternoon trailing Mike, bouncing in and out of the house behind him while he unpacked his stuff and cleaned his motorcycle.

Nellie -- note clothes on line

Now our autumn schedule begins in earnest. I’m cleaning and exchanging “Americana” for pumpkins and Halloween. My schedule is filling up with meetings while Mike and Ken look forward to hunting. Washington chukar season opens on Saturday (Sept. 20) and next week is the Washington “old man’s” pheasant season. We laugh about that “old man” season – giving a handicap to the guys who have plenty of time and are also the largest age group of hunters. Whatever.

 

TO BOLDLY GO . . .

The Old Home Place

When I’m the dogs’ caretaker, I prefer to be at the farm. Exercise options are more difficult in town, whereas, at the farm, I don’t have to control their every move – or worry (much) about what they’re doing.

Plank's Pitch from west of house

As we staycated at the farm, every day after lunch, the dogs and I went for a hike. It could be any place on our property or the neighbors’, but it could not be the usual route to the mailbox. We hiked across the fields avoiding gullies and draws, rocky places, thick grass, etc. My goal was to see the house from different perspectives and take pictures with our new Nikon Coolpix P600. A hike can be tedious, but a picture-taking expedition is downright fun! Of course, mid-day is not a great time to take pictures, but never mind -- that couldn’t be helped.

“Did you see the huns?” asked Mike when I told him about our hikes. For the past 15 years, Mike has worked to conserve the coveys of Hungarian partridge there. This year it looked as if they would be sparse, but a couple of weeks ago he discovered one covey, possibly two, and was encouraged.

No, I replied, we hadn’t seen the huns.

“The huns don’t leave,” said Mike. “They’re there someplace.”

Nell on point -- east of barn

Well, I did think when Nellie suddenly pointed at nothing east of the barn (the huns are virtually invisible in the stubble) that the huns had probably been there. Nothing got up, but Nellie is hardly ever mistaken.

No, I didn’t see the huns until Monday as we left the farm for town. I had just descended that first steep pitch on the lane when five or six got up to the right (June’s field). Then a covey of about twenty or so got up to the left (the north field). It was a joy to see them fly.

Doe in north field at evening

If the huns are elusive, the deer abound. Clearly, the deer are beautiful but a nuisance. They take liberties in the yard when we aren’t there, but when we are, they’re wary of the dogs. I watched one evening as a big doe cautiously crossed the lane into the north field, keeping a watchful eye toward the house, guarded by a diligent, opinionated, and vocal Bess.

This doe posed for me

One day, as we hiked north of the house on the other side of the draw, I was surprised when a young doe loped into the field where I was. She stopped some distance from me, and we momentarily stared at one another. I figured she would lope off before I had a chance to take her picture – so often the way – but the camera was on and I decided to give it a try. She posed nicely – then went on. KW