Jam Session

Things were hopping – no, make that jamming – around the farm today. Friends Karen and Ken were up with the sun and on their way over to teach me how to make strawberry jam – with a stop first at the Bardstown Road farmers’ market for two flats of perfectly ripe berries.

It was a beautiful summer morning. Karen and I worked out on the porch to cap the berries while Ken set up his outdoor propane three-burner stove that we used for sterilizing jars and lids and giving the bottled jam a final boil. Inside in the kitchen we simmered the berries and honey/agave to turn the concoction into ruby red jam.

After canning 18 jars each, we took a lunch break: quinoa salad, with homemade toasted bread and strawberry jam, followed by, what else but...strawberry shortcake for dessert. 

After lunch, Ed took a tour around the backyard on our new zero-turn mower. We are pretending that those weeds are our lawn.

Here are a couple of photos I wanted to share from earlier in the week...

A very hungry baby

A welcome sign after a week of wind and rain

Life is good.

Peace, Annihilated

Post by Ed Galloway

Debbie mentioned previously that we visited the Antietam battlefield on our way to pick Mary up from school.  The battlefield site is rich and gently rolling farmland surrounded by the low green mountains of Western Maryland, one of the prettiest places anywhere.

Today this quiet place echoes with what happened there nearly 150 years ago.  In an area not too much bigger than our little place in Shelby County, on a warm September morning, two armies met –- 120,000 men -- determined to destroy each other.

At daylight, boys like our own loaded their muskets, fixed their bayonets, strapped on their packs and at someone’s order, stood up and walked into hell.  In a few short hours 12,000 of them were dead.  From their defensive positions like the sunken road, Confederates mowed down the Union soldiers.  When the defenses were at last overwhelmed by the Federals’ numbers, it was the Confederates’ turn to be destroyed.  Survivors talked about dead lying in rows and stacked like cord wood.

I think of that now in our peaceful little place where in the morning the loudest sounds are the birds.  It must have been like that at Antietam Creek before the soldiers got there, before peace was annihilated by madness. 

No doubt it will happen again and again. 

And so it goes.

When Life Gives You Weeds...

If you squint your eyes and look out at our "backyard" you can pretend that you are seeing a field of luscious grass. But if you unsquint your eyes, you will realize that it is just wall-to-wall weeds. Thousands, no, make that tens of thousands, no, maybe hundreds of thousands of weeds.

Ed and I pull weeds every day for an hour or two. Just when we think we are making progress, we look around and realize that more have grown in that hour or two -- many more than we have pulled. So, just for today, I've decided that if I can't beat them, I'll join them. Or, if life gives me weeds, I'll make bouquets...

Parenting: The Process is Not Over

Giving birth to our house in the country was fun, challenging, occasionally frustrating, but mostly very satisfying. While we have moved in, the process is not over. There is still plenty to do; it is just a different kind of doing.

I’m thinking that metaphor holds up pretty well with parenting. Raising our three children has been fun, occasionally frustrating, but mostly, very satisfying. Mary, our youngest, turned 20 this week. So while we don’t have any more teenagers, the process of parenting is not over. There is still plenty to do; it is just a different kind of doing. It has more to do with listening, than telling; more to do with being a sideline cheerleader than a coach; more to do with watching them soar on their own, rather than teaching them to fly.  

In some ways, our roles have switched. I’m gleaning more about farm life from Maggie than I could ever teach her. Mary's eye for design takes my breath away. Jack’s wanderlust is a reminder for me to embrace change and lifelong learning. 

I am enormously proud of Maggie, Jack and Mary. They are turning out to be people who are making this earth more peaceable, more beautiful and more interesting. And they are each very good to their mom. What more could I want?

           

For Mothers' Day, Maggie and Mary tracked down
old whiskey barrels for back porch planting.

And Jack send me a musical Mother's Day greeting.

And We're Off!

On the road this first Saturday in May morning with a coffee, scone, Ed and Mary. Headed toward home.

Our road trip adventure began on Wednesday afternoon when Ed and I headed east on I-64 towards Baltimore to pick up our teenager-for-only-one-more-week, youngest daughter from the finish of her second year at MICA. We stopped for the night in Morgantown, WV, home of West Virginia Mountaineers and found one of those quintessential college-town hangouts for a beer and a burrito.

We had the whole next day to find our way over to Frederick, MD so we planned our first stop at Antietum National Battlefield where we spent a couple of hours recreating the sequence of  the bloodiest single-day battle in American history. It was disconcerting to wander the beautiful fields of 19th-century farms and realize that in September 1862 they were littered with 23,000 dead or wounded men. Maybe it was because it is Mother's Day weekend and I'm feeling especially sentimental toward my three children, but it made my heart ache to think of the carnage and calamity the Civil War (or any war, for that matter) caused. Those poor young soldiers, and their inconsolable mothers...

But onto happier thoughts...from there, we made our way over to Harpers Ferry, a tiny town situated at the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers where the states of Maryland, Virginia and West Virginia meet. The town is best known for John Brown's raid on the Armory in 1859 and its role in the American Civil War, but today it is a sleepy little historic burg that didn't feel terribly touristy. With a vanilla-chocolate custard swirl cone in hand, we explored the river banks and the restored streets.

We spent the night in Frederick, just outside Baltimore and dined on soft shell crabs and crab cakes at "Maryland's Best Seafood Restaurant," May's Restaurant. The next morning we were reunited with Mary at the local coffee shop -- and it felt so good. We moved a van load of furniture into her apartment for next year before wandering around Fells Point. That evening,we feasted at The Helmand, Hamid Karzai's brother's afghanistan restaurant.

And so now our day will be spent in the car, headed home. We expect to open the cattle gate to our gravel drive just as the gate opens at Churchill Downs for the running of the 137th Kentucky Derby. May the sun shine bright on all.

A Quick Look Around

Heath sent me an email today to see how we were settling in our new house. Heath worked with sister Julie and me to design the house. He now commutes to Chicago so has not seen the finished product. It occurred to me that I had never posted many photos of the inside of the house. So, for Heath, and for those of you who are just curious, here are some quick shots. Someday I'll take some "staged" shots that are magazine worthy, but for now, here's a look at how we really live.

Family Room, taken from the loft

Another angle of the Family Room

Someday Pool Table Room, which is above the kitchen

Looking into the Kitchen

The Pantry with a yellow barn door

A Guest Room for little visitors

The Girls' Bedroom

Our Bedroom

Our Bath

Looking into the Study

Inside the Study, looking through our Bedroom into the Bath

Ed's desk in the Study

Our Cottage, ready for guests!

Another view of the Cottage Living Room/Bedroom

Cottage Bath

So, that's the tour. If it ever quits raining, I'll shoot some outside shots.

Enough is Enough

It’s damp.

I’m feeling cranky and a bit moldy. A record 13.6 inches of rain has fallen in the past two weeks and more is expected tonight. That translates of 91 billion gallons of water dropped on our muddy country farm and surrounding area.

I’m not one to usually complain about the rain as there is nothing nicer than a good rainy day to stay inside, read a book and cook a bit. But enough is enough. I’ve got asparagus to plant, strawberries to get in the ground, grass seed to spread, potholes to fill and fish to feed.

Yes, I said fish to feed. On Saturday, in the midst of a downpour, we slid 500 bluegill, 125 bass, 50 catfish, 5 pounds of fathead minnows, and 50 bull frog tadpoles into our lake.  Only after we bought them from the fish truck up at Metzger’s Country Store did we find out we had to feed our fish – as there is nothing yet in the lake for them to dine upon. So, everyday at dinnertime, we pull on our Glempler mud boots and slosh down to the dock with a Tupperware bowl full of fish food from the 50 lb. bag we purchased for our dear little fish.

Needless to say, we are looking forward to sunny afternoons of fishing from the banks of our lake. Here’s to sunshine!

Ed on his way down to the dock with bags of fish. Fortunately, they like to be wet.

A Friendship Garden

I have been accused of being too attached to things. It is usually not the item so much as that which I associate with it – either a person or a memory. So my ancient, wobbly egg poaching aluminum pan once belonged to Aunt Frances and I wouldn't trade it for the fanciest model from William Sonoma. I'm attached to my costume jewlery from Grandmommy, paintings from Aunt Melta, quilts from Aunt Gladys, and every clay bowl that my children ever made at Montreat.

I've been delighted with gifts that family and friends have bestowed on us for our new home. Many are intended for our garden – transplanted from others' gardens. They give me great delight every time I see them and cause me to count my blessings for having these people in my life.

Sedum from Grandmommy's house on Cannons Lane,
via stopovers at Natchez, Rainbow Drive and Calumet.

Sisters, do you remember blowing these up into little balloons?

A magnolia tree from sister Sherry

Iris from Lynn's garden
along with a basketful of other green goodies

Lettuce and herbs from Patrice; a cottage birdbath from Karen

Apple trees in the orchard in memory of Aunt Gladys
from Jackie & Paul, Karen, Patrice, Lynn & Walt, Beth, Robin & Jim

Peonnies transplanted from Aunt Gladys' backyard,
brought by Gay along with a gooseberry bush and some daffodils

Spring ramps from Maggie,
transplanted to our creek bank

I'm hoping all these plants will take root and flourish in their new environment, bringing us years of enjoyment and a whole bouquet of fond memories.

Field Report from Montreal

Posted by Jack Galloway

My name is Jack Galloway. I am the son of the authors of this blog and I have been asked to contribute an entry. I have found the role of guest blogger a much harder one than I had anticipated.

Though I now count myself a proud member of the landed gentry of Shelby County, I can but imagine what life is actually like on those thirty-some-odd acres off of Dover Road. In the city, when I wake to the wretched cacophony of construction, garbage trucks, and car alarms, I long for the profound silence of the countryside. As I go about my day, my reverie continues. The pigeons and house sparrows become murmuring doves and chipper songbirds, and the ugly mugs of the pedestrians passing below my window are like so many daffodils and tulips. 

A view down Mont Royal Est, Jack's street in Montreal

As I dream, I am beset with the age-old inner conflict between homesickness and wanderlust. This dilemma is not new to me, but something about my parents’ living on a farm lends it greater urgency. Perhaps it’s the obvious contrast of city-living and pastorialism.

For me, home is now more that a house and its inhabitants; it is a living thing that changes with the passing weeks, especially now that it’s spring. Every entry on this blog details some new growth or change—the blooming of the daffodils, the advent of the honeybees, the greening of the countryside and the gradual settling in of the house and its surroundings by its inhabitants—so much to be seen and felt for such a quiet corner of the earth. 

Jack and Ed enjoying a cafe au lait at Jean Talon Market in Montreal

Surrounded by the great goings-on of the city, I feel like I am missing out on something even grander. My longing is poignant, certainly, but it is also joyous. To have such a place as my new home, peopled by such lovely, loving people as my mother and father, is a blessing, and the thought of returning home will comfort me wherever I go.

Don't Worry, Bee Happy

We were all a buzz early this morning as Nate and his dad, Doug, were headed our way with two bee hives and hundreds (thousands?) of honey bees.

Maggie has enthusiastically taken up beekeeping and we have enthusiastically volunteered to be the landlord for her bees. Doug has been an apiarist for years and was most encouraging to Maggie.  

They arrived early this morning with hives in the back of their truck. We waited for a break in the morning showers and then unloaded the hives and bees and set them up just in back of the cottage.

As Maggie's birthday is upcoming, Doug and Nate also brought Maggie her very own table saw, which they set up in our basement. So, I guess we are landlords for a table saw as well.

And Nate's mom sent along a Madame Alexander doll that she thought Maggie might like. She was right. The doll is called: Maggie Goes Green. How perfect.

So, our thanks to Nate, Doug and Lisa for showering Maggie (and us) with their expertise, time and gifts. If all goes as planned, here's what friends and family can expect for future gifts:

Spring has Sprung

Our windows are open, blowing in a not so gentle – but very warm – breeze; the tulips and daffodils that Jack planted are up; and a mama and papa goose are checking out our lake, looking for a nice place to nest. I hope they chose us.

Continuing on the Theme of Time

Posted by Ed and Debbie Galloway 

For something different, but continuing on the theme of time, we'd like to refer you to a charming article by Jack’s friend at McGill, Matthew Kassel.  

Matt is a columnist for the McGill newspaper.  He also writes a very informative and insightful blog about jazz.

Remember Matt’s name.  We wouldn’t be surprised if we hear of him again in the future.  

It’s About Time

Posted by Ed Galloway

With the death of Aunt Gladys at 96 and of Mabel, my friend Bob’s mother, who died just before her 102 birthday, time has been on my mind.  Both of them talked about how fast it had gone by and both thought they had more of it coming.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been over a year since we sold the house on Rainbow Drive and moved to the Rudds’ house where we’ve been so happy. Now, it’s time to make our home on the farm on Dover Road.

Most of our friends and acquaintances have been pretty kind about all this (they're nicer than I am).  Beyond asking how far is the commute and where is a liquor store and how are you going to get internet, they have by and large kept their misgivings to themselves.  Never wondering aloud, to me at least, what on earth are Ed and Debbie thinking – a quarter mile to the morning paper, no neighbors, what if they get sick in the night, what if they’re eaten by coyotes or blown up by a meth lab,etc.

It’s a little anxiety-ridden – what have we failed to consider?  Well, we’re about to find out.  

Anyway, I get to look at my things again, which have been packed away in boxes for the past year. I had to go through a major downsizing when we got married 25 year ago.  Always generous, Debbie let me keep all my bachelor stuff – as long as it would fit in a cigar box. And I still have it:  a King Edward cigar box with my arrowhead, corn cob pipe, Mammoth Cave pencil shaped like a rifle, Stan Musial baseball card and Indian head penny.

However, in the meanwhile I’ve collected a bunch of other invaluable stuff that will be like new to me -- when I find it. 

For example, I bought an old fishing rod at an antique store in Florida.  "Look", I said, "only $90".  Debbie stumped me with her response, “What are you going to do with it?” Now, maybe I can find out.

I do swear to get rid of clothes that I don’t wear … unless, maybe I’ll need them on Dover Road.  Also, I’m going to go through everything to find all sock matches.  For years I’ve expected each missing sock to come home like a long-lost child.  Now, I promise to get rid of all unmatched socks – well, unless these perfectly good singles match up pretty well – at least well enough for the farm. We’ll see.

And so forth and so on.

Tune in soon for the rest of the story…

           

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

I worked hard to reuse existing furniture in our new house and was mostly successful. The only place where my resolve broke down was with some new mirrors. For a (relatively) small amount, I bought three new mirrors that make a big impact in the house.

Here's a mirror I found at Meridian in St. Matthews.

I hung it vertically above our living room mantle. I love the way it reflects the orb fixture.

And I found two mirrors at Work the Metal, a cool shop in Butchertown.

The one at the top I've hung above our painted orange chest in the upstairs back hall and the second one I've hung horizontally above our bed (thanks to sister Julie's great suggestion). When you walk into our bedroom, it feels like you are looking out a window into a forest of trees.

So, you tell me: which is the fairest one of all?