Mérida: South of the Border, Down Mexico Way

Sometimes waiting for spring to arrive at Farm Dover just seems too hard. Looking out the kitchen window, all I see are shades of brown against a gray sky.  I long for some color and some sunshine. And that's when Ed says: "Let's go to Mérida."

That's exactly what we did. Last week, we closed the farm gate and headed to the Yucatán Peninsula. A week of sunny days, spicy foods, and amazing sights was just what we needed. 

While most people would head straight for the beaches of Tulum or Cancún, we chose to spend the week in Mérida, the capital city of the Mexican state of Yucatán, known for its rich Mayan culture and colonial heritage. 

Most mornings we got up early, before the day heated up, and set out to explore the neighborhood and find a cup of coffee. Our hotel, Casa Azul, served a full breakfast in the courtyard until noon, so we would return for a late morning desayuno, followed by an hour or two reading under the umbrella at the pool, just outside our bedroom door. (The hotel only had eight rooms; for the entire week, we had the pool to ourselves.)

We spent much of the week strolling the beautiful main boulevard called Paseo de Montejo, visiting museums, winding our way thru the local markets, people watching in the Plaza Grande and seeking out places to experience the Yucatecan cuisine. 

We ventured out of the city only twice: Once on a tour to visit Chichen Itzá, one of the New 7 Wonders of the World, and once on our own to walk the beach and have dinner in Progreso, a port city about 30 minutes from Mérida. 

Our day at Chichen Itzá began with a very early morning pickup so that we could arrive at this Mayan ruin before the crowd swelled and the sun grew hot. Our English-speaking guide made a huge difference in our understanding of this pre-Columbian city and of the remarkable peoples who lived there. 

Come mid-morning, we left the bulging crowds and moved on to one of the Yucatán Peninsula's 10,000 centotes, water-filled sinkholes that are naturally formed by the collapse of limestone. We descended by stone steps some 150 feet to the water. With a couple of big splashes we found ourselves floating around a most-beautiful natural pool with lush vines hanging from the trees at the top and small springs cascading down on our heads. 

A handful of other people were there and we watched in amazement as some of them  jumped from high platforms or dropped from ropes into the cool, clear water. 

Our last stop of the day was at Izamal, an important archaeological site of the Pre-Columbian Maya civilization. It is known as the Yellow City (most of its buildings are painted yellow) and also as The City of Hills (that are actually the remains of ancient temple pyramids). 

A 16th-century Spanish colonial city was founded atop the existing Maya one. Rather than tear down the Mayan city, the Spanish placed a small Christian temple atop the great pyramid and built a large Franciscan Monastery atop the acropolis. 

It was a good week. Plenty of time to see the sights; but also plenty of time to just lounge at the pool or linger at the table. We felt safe the entire time we were there. Everyone we met was friendly and helpful. Ed got to practice his Spanish. 

We often sat a spell in one of the many distinctive S-shaped sillas confidentes (confidant chairs)

And sure enough, when we got back to Farm Dover, the maple trees were budding; the plum trees were in full bloom and the daffodils were waving their cheerful heads. Yes, spring was on its way. 

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Highlights

Hotel: Casa Azul Hotel Monumento Historico

Coffee shops that we liked:

Voltacafé

Flores Cafe

Baretto Espresso Bar

Café Créme

Restaurants:

La Pigua

NOL,  Restaurante

Apoala

Tours:

Walking Tour Across the Historic Center in Merida (TripAdvisor)

Full-day Tour of Chichén Itza, Cenote, and Izamel (Viator)

Random photos

Hot!🌞

Making Room to Grow

Fourteen years ago, when we were beginning to plan our move to the country, I had a very short -- but specific -- list of things I wanted for our new home: a willow tree, a big vegetable garden, an outdoor shower, a table to seat 12, and a guest cottage, which was a the very top on my list. I had hoped that it would be a place of connection and comfort for anyone venturing out to visit us in the country... a place for quiet reflection and peaceful rest. 

It has been that, and more. Over the years, friends, family, and visiting artists, have bunkered down in the cottage, which feels a bit like summer-camp living.  It primarily serves as Jack and Kasia's landing spot when they visit from Berlin. While they were here in November, they suggested that it was time that we finished the loft in the cottage. (The loft floor was put in during the original construction in 2010, but we never got around to adding a way to get up there -- or a railing to keep one from falling over the ledge.)

So a month ago, I called Jeremy Esposito, home-builder extraordinaire and the builder of our house, and asked him to come look at the space and give me an idea of how to best finish it. I was worried that he would not be interested in taking on this project as it was a very small project, for a very small space, with a very small budget. But without hesitating he and his project manager, Jeff Austerman, showed up, full of good ideas. 

The plan was to cut a 30" hole in the ceiling of the closet and place a ladder up to the loft. They reconfigured the closet to feature some cubbies, a deep shelf for extra bedding, and a short rod for hanging clothes. The railing was fashioned from cattle wire (from Tractor Supply) encased in a simple wood frame. 

The finished space is nest-like and cozy. There is only room for a double mattress and a small stool, that serves as a night stand. Hazel and Norbert have already conquered the steep ladder and are trying to talk me into putting their collection of 1990-era Beanie Babies up there. They have been dreaming up all kinds of cousin sleepovers for the space.

This past Thanksgiving, when all our children, their partners, grandchildren and grand-dogs, came to visit, we were maxed out on available beds -- and that was before Roscoe was born! Hopefully this space will allow us all to comfortably rendezvous at Farm Dover, even as our family continues to grow. 

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Here are some views from the new loft space...

And some photos of the main floor...

It is my hope that this new space is used often and enjoyed by many. xxx

Hardly Empty Nesters

No, we don't have any children living at home, but we don't actually consider ourselves "empty nesters." For you see, we spend an inordinate amount of time making Farm Dover attractive to nesters of all sorts, especially the winged sort.  

From feeders to birdbaths, from native plants to standing snags, from protecting our night sky to promoting a plethora of tasty caterpillars, we do all we can to encourage birds to call Farm Dover "home". 

And our efforts seem to be paying off. To date, we have identified 87 species of birds that we have spotted on our 40 acres. Some make their home here year-round; others just stop by for a rest in their migration. 

We try to make their stay as pleasant as possible. Ed is constantly refilling bird feeders and suet cages. Our two birdbaths are cleaned and filled regularly. We have a dozen or so bluebird houses for our feathered friends. And, as of tomorrow, we will have gourd birdhouses hung around our meadows and woodlands in move-in-ready condition for purple martins, swallows, chickadees, wrens, woodpeckers, titmice and nuthatches.  

Back in the fall, Ed set his sights on finding bottle gourds (Lagenaria sacraria) at a Farmers' Market to use for birdhouses. Much to his dismay, he could not find any and so I promised to grow some for him in my 2024 garden. Then, two days before Christmas, Maggie saw a listing on Facebook Marketplace for 8 gourds. She made a roundtrip to Corydon, IN to purchase them. He was delighted with his gift.

We hung the gourds to dry in our basement. Weeks later, we could tell by shaking them that they were fully dried and ready for their transition to birdhouses. Ed drilled a 1.5 inch hole in the center of the belly of the gourds, then four small drainage holes in the bottom of each, and two small holes in the top of the necks for hanging. He carefully extracted the fluff and seeds from the insides. 

 

I soaked and scrubbed the gourds before threading a rope between the two hanging holes. Tomorrow, we will install them. And then we will sit back and wait and see who moves in. 

Say "hello" to Roscoe Jane

Ed and I are just back from Brooklyn where we met our newest granddaughter: Roscoe Jane Broker. And what a grand baby she is!

She was born on January 14 at 7:46 a.m., weighing 7 pounds 8 ounces and perfect in every way. Mother (Mary) and Father (Brian) are doing fine as well. She is named in honor of Ed's maternal grandfather: Roscoe Fitts and Brian's maternal grandmother: Jane Ann Fare.

Our almost three-year-old grandson, Norbert, took to calling his much-anticipated cousin: New York Baby. And what a New York Baby she is! Before she was even two weeks old, she had been out to coffee, lunch, and dinner multiple times, taken the B-61 bus, and celebrated two birthdays (not including her own). As she goes on daily walks with her two greyhound "sisters", Roscoe has already gained quite the reputation for being the newest darling of Red Hook, her Brooklyn neighborhood. 

Ed and I look forward to spending time with her as she shows us all around her metropolis and Hazel and Norbert can't wait to show her all around Farm Dover. Welcome, Baby Roscoe! You are well loved. 

A Slow Start

                                          "We've told ourselves that everything needs to be so big.                                                                             Actually, we can just breathe out and live quiet small lives." 

-- Katherine May

My niece, Laura, asked me at Christmastime if I had ordered my garden seeds yet. One of my sisters has settled on her word for 2024. Another sister is starting piano lessons and a ceramics class. And another is committed to 30 Days of Yoga with Adriene. From every direction, I'm being reminded to set goals, make resolutions, organize my life, leap into action, chase new dreams. 

I have done none of these things. 

January is my quiet time. Like most creatures, I require a time for withdrawing, a time for hibernation. 

That doesn't mean that I spend the entire month sleeping -- although I do usually find myself tucked under the comforter after lunch and in bed well before 10 p.m. It just means that I take it slow. Most mornings, Ed reads for a couple of hours and then heads out to chop wood for our greedy fireplace. Even if the skies are gray, I try to go for a walk along our trails, looking for signs of animal life, a spark of magenta color from seeds on a coralberry bush, a rare winter mushroom sighting, or perhaps a fallen tree that may need our later attention with the chainsaw. In the afternoons, we might tackle a small chore such as cleaning bluebird houses along the drive or moving a bucket or two of mulch -- nothing very demanding.

Back at the house, our lunches are mostly a jar of soup from the basement freezer and maybe a cheese sandwich. Dinners are cobbled together from leftovers or, if I'm feeling particularly creative, a simple stew featuring sweet potatoes, harvested back in October, wrapped in newspaper, and stored in the basement.

On the rare occasion that we do go out, it is usually to Kroger to pick up a few items -- or get a Covid booster. Ed reads with first graders at Simpsonville Elementary on Friday mornings while I putter around the house. Most Sundays, we go to church, either in Simpsonville or in Louisville. 

When we sit down to dinner, I often ask Ed, on a scale of 1-10,  how happy he is to be home. He always says he is an 11, and I always agree.

This weekend, Hazel and Norbert will come for a sleepover on Saturday.  It is supposed to rain/snow, so we will spend the day building sprawling creations with Magnatiles, carefully wrapping Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus in tissue paper and carrying the manger set to the basement for storage,  coloring cards for Great Grandpa Norb's 92nd birthday, decorating sugar cookies that Patrice so generously cut out, reading a chapter or two of "Little House on the Prairie," and, perhaps a winter hike or some splashing in the driveway puddles. I'm a believer that children also need some slow time.

This slow time won't last forever. We are anxiously awaiting the arrival of grandchild #3, expected in just a couple of weeks in Brooklyn. We will need to bond with this precious girl and help some (surely) tired new parents anyway we can. 

Seed catalogs will be poured through and packets ordered for spring planting. Before too long, hellebores will bloom, and daffodils will poke their green tips up. Ed's tree seedlings will bud out and need to be cleaned out around and mulched. The slow time will be over and the time of growing and nurturing will begin. We will be rested. We will be ready. 

I am grateful

 "Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind."

-- Lionel Hampton

Because our family is spread out geographically, the times we manage to come together are all the more precious. It takes a willingness, time, expense and energy on each person's part to make it happen. I am grateful. 

Making pierogi on Thanksgiving Eve.

Over the past couple of weeks, the Galloway clan has made its way to Farm Dover; with Jack arriving from Berlin two weeks ago, followed by Kasia (his financée) the Saturday before Thanksgiving. Mary, Brian and their two greyhounds arrived the same night, driving from Brooklyn. Maggie and family (in New Albany) have been back and forth, serving as airport greeters, treating Jack to a Peppa-Pig singalong at the Center for the Arts, participating in our early Secret Santa dinner and gift exchange, and feasting with us at Thanksgiving.

Slowly, the coming-together process unwound itself with Maggie and family leaving last Friday to continue celebrating Thanksgiving with Nate's family; Mary and crew leaving early Saturday morning for their long drive back, and Kasia catching a flight this morning back to Berlin. Jack is staying a few days longer but is off to the airport and some in-town errands, leaving the house eerily quiet this morning. 

Our farm house was designed for Ed and me to live comfortably. It was NOT designed for 8 adults, 2 children and 2 dogs to co-exist over days at a time; but somehow we did. My favorite memories will always be the in-between times when dishes were done and we all jostled for a spot to settle in for conversation. Much to their chagrin, greyhounds Saltie and Rita were often asked to give up their prime positions on the couch and relegated to doggy beds on the floor. 

Fortunately, there were long walks on our trails, late-night pool games in our basement, a big cardboard box on the covered porch for grandkids to play in and a fire in the outdoor fireplace in which to roast marshmallows. Somehow, we made it work; and I am grateful. 

Airport greeting committee

Family hike to the Fairie Village with (most) of Ensor cousins

Stairlanding commandeered for Magnatile creations

Dressed to avoid deer hunters

After the puddle jumping 

Nicely cleaned up for a friend's wedding celebration in Bardstown, KY

Peppa-Pig fans

Lego project under construction

At this point, I don't know when we will all be together again. I do know it will not be soon enough!