A changed woman

I've been thinking about how to tell you about our trip to China. I'm stumped, as this trip has changed me in ways I won't be able to articulate for a long time. It's something about the way I now view the world and the people on the other side of it. Something about a clearer understanding of how history impacts our lives today. Something about moving out of my comfort zone to try new things, to go new places, to experience different cultures. And something about what it means to be a family. I can't yet describe to you what changed for me 8000 miles away from Farm Dover, because I don't yet understand it myself.

So, please be patient with me as I try sort this all out. In the meantime, I thought I'd share some trip highlights. It really was an incredible trip.

The idea for a trip to China happened last August when Jack announced that he was moving to Shenzhen, China for a year to teach English and American Culture to Chinese high schoolers who dream of coming to the United States for college. Ed and I wanted to visit Jack, but wanted to wait until he had set down roots in his new place. It took a while to figure out where we wanted to go and to determine logistics of a trip to a faraway country where we could neither speak the language nor read it.

On March 9, we flew to Hong Kong, which is the city just south of Jack's Shenzhen. While Jack worked during the day, we explored the city on our own from the old Wan Chai neighborhood to the markets on Kowloon Peninsula to a flower show at Victoria Park. Jack came over to meet us for dinner on our second night and then came back the next day for an afternoon visit to the Big Buddha on Lantau Island, followed by dinner at at the Jumbo Floating Restaurant in Aberdeen.

Hong Kong harbor and skyline. Photo taken from the Star Ferry.

Caught up with Jack. Hadn't seen him since last August. 

Statues surronding the Big Buddha. It was so foggy, we couldn't see the top of the 100+ foot bronze Buddha.

On day 4, with clear instructions from Jack, we made our way to last stop on the Hong Kong train, disembarked, cleared Customs inspection, and grabbed a taxi for our hotel in Shenzhen. After class was out, Jack met up with us and showed us around his city of a mere 14 million people. We ended up at Dafen Village, an artist community where we wandered around watching calligraphers, carvers, and painters producing their works of art.

One of the many Dafen Village artists.

During our time in Shenzhen, we met Jack's students, experienced a family reflexology session (foot massage), toured around the town with a friend of Jack's (while Jack worked) and then met Jack and a group of his friends for dinner.

Jack's students.

Family reflexology session.

Jack's friend, Shoating, took us to Shenzhen's public library and a park.

After dinner with Jack's friends.

After two days in Shenzhen, we said goodbye to Jack and flew to Guilin, on the Li River in northern Guangxi (south central China). We were met by Ricky, our guide from WildChina, and our driver, Mr. Chin, who drove us to Longsheng, a small mountain village famous for its rice terraces. Our time in the Guilin area included a boat trip down the Li River, affording us great views of the Karst landscape.

The fields were fallow, too early in the year to be planted, but stunning nevertheless.

A local specialty, which Ed had to try, of course.

I fell in love with these karst hills, which lined the banks of the Li River.
This particular point was the inspiration for the engraving on the yuan bill.

After gettting off the boat, we strolled in Fuli Town, stopping for lunch and to tour a family-run paper fan workshop.

Then we were off to Yangshuo, where at dusk, we watched a fisherman partner with a cormorant to catch small fish.  We even gave it a try ourselves. (I think I'll stick to bass fishing.)

Cormorant fishing

My fishing partner.

The next morning we hiked to the top of Moon Hill, which I'm pretty sure was really a mountain. We were so proud of ourselves, until we saw a little elderly woman round the last bend at a fair clip. She climbs up every day carrying a cooler full of cold bottled water to sell to the thirsty tourists.  

Moon Hill.

Every short Chinese woman wanted to have her photo taken with Ed.
It's like they had never seen a tall handsome westerner

Our time was up in Yangshuo. We were off to Kumming in Yunnan Province, where our tour guide did NOT meet us at the airport. (Just a small mixup, which eventually was rectified by a man showing up, unable to speak a word of English, but who managed to get us in the backseat of his car, where he drove like a manic, then pulled over on the side of the expressway, where another man, who also did not speak any English, put us in the back of his van and drove us 4+ hours to a dark alley and made us get out with our luggage and start walking. I was certain an untimely and gruesome death awaited us. Instead, we eventually found our way to the delightful Windoo hotel on the Erhai Lake.)

We woke up to this view out our bedroom window.

Our new guide, Huang, showed up at breakfast and life was once again, good. We headed out to a morning market in Xizhou Village where we saw everything from a medical team handing out polio vacination "candy" to children, to baskets of spices, vegetables, cones and blocks of brown sugar, small fishes, and even chicken feet. Nothing I like more than to wander around a food market. We next visited a family-run tie-dye workshop where an old woman knotted cotton cloth that was then dipped into homemade indigo dye to create beautiful tablecloths and clothing. From there, we moved on to old town Dali where Huang began an on-going discussion of Buddism and Taoism. The next morning we travelled from Dali to Lijiang, stopping on the way to explore a Shaxi Village, an important conduit connecting Tibet and Eastern China during the Tea and Horse Caravan Road era. Jack joined us in Lijing, where we toured Buddist Monasteries, hiked in the Tiger Leaping Gorge and watched at dusk as the villagers danced to traditional music in the town square. Three days later, we (sadly) said to goodbye once again to Jack. He headed back to his teaching job in Shenzhen and Ed and I headed to the final destination of our trip: Bangkok, Thailand. We've now been home for three days, waking up at odd hours, being hungry or not hungry, taking mid-afternoon naps, and catching up with Maggie, Nate and Mary. At night, I dream of our trip and during the days, I find myself recalling the sights and sounds of our adventure. It's affecting me the way no other trip has. I'm looking for the understanding of it all.

nǐ hǎo

nǐ hǎo (that's "hello" in Chinese),

Yes, Ed and I are back from our epic trip to China. We got back about 1:30 a.m. and are seriously jet-lagged.  I'm sure it will take a few days for us to get back on a Shelbyville schedule. But, in the meantime, I wanted to let you know that we are grateful for our travels half-way around the world, for our visit with Jack, and to wake up this morning at Farm Dover.

Six-hundred-year-old bridge in the village town of Shaxi,
on the Ancient Tea and Horse Caravan Trail in Yunnan, China.

Desperate

I'm looking hard for signs of spring around here – and I'm not finding many. Everything still looks awfully beige, and muddy. I'm desperate for something green, something fresh, something tender.

On my walk this morning, I crossed Dover Road and searched among the wet, brown leaves for signs of tiny grape hyacinths or the first push of daffodils. But nothing.

I hopped over the creek and followed it for a bit, looking for green cress or maybe some ramps. But nothing.

Along the banks I searched for the earliest wildflowers: snowdrops, bluebells, trout lilies or wood violets. Nothing.

I headed back in to report to Ed that spring evidently just wasn't coming to Farm Dover. But there, in my kitchen, spring had sprung. Right in front of my eyes were beautiful fruit blossoms. You see, a couple of weeks ago I pruned our orchard trees and rather than composting the cut branches, I brought them in and placed them in a huge pitcher filled with warm water. This morning, they decided to burst into bloom. I don't know if they are apple blossoms, pear blossoms, or peach blossoms. I don't care. They are beautiful. A sure sign of spring. Desperation over.

As if on cue...

Scrape away the snow, pluck away the frozen brown leaves, and there they are. The first blooms of a Lenten Rose. Making an appearance on Shrove Tuesday, as if on cue for tomorrow's start of the Lenten season.

The garden awakes to this spiritual time with these charming hellebores. 

Why did the opossum cross the driveway?

To get her photo taken, of course!

Love her pink nails...

Of Plans and Projects

Spring is a time of plans and projects.

- Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

Yes, plans and projects are in full swing at Farm Dover, even though it is clearly not yet spring around here. In fact, it is still freezing cold and more snow is predicted for tomorrow with highs only in the 20s.

Our recent projects include cleaning up fallen trees and branches, a result of the long-lasting ice storm. Fortunately, no big trees were downed and the willows and river birches have finally uprighted themselves. We did lose a number of large branches and the tops to several cedar trees. The wild cherry trees and water maples seemed to take the brunt of the beating. Our woods look scarred, with the fresh wounds of fallen branches. The wounds will heal; the fallen branches will eventually compost on the forest floor; and new seedlings will emerge. But in the meantime,  Ed and I have been out with our chainsaw and clippers, cleaning up the worst of the messes.

As for plans, I've got big ones for our 2014 garden. I've spent hours combing through seed catalogs and organizing my left-over seeds from last year. One of the dwarf apple trees in our orchard did not make it and so I've been dreaming of replacing it. Perhaps a pear? or maybe a plum? or apricot? It's just so hard to decide....

Any day now, we are expecting delivery of our seedling order from Kentucky's Division of Forestry. We've ordered 10 each of sassafrases, sycamores, shagbark hickories, persimmons, Kentucky coffeetrees, eastern redbuds, blackgum and wild plums. Sure, they are only seedlings, but we have high hopes of populating the farm with these tiny native species and watching them grow into full-sized trees.

So our plans are in place; more projects are lined up. Now all we need is for spring to show up.

Until Death Do Us Part

My sister, Sherry Carpenter Leavell, delivered this eulogy at my mom's memorial service this morning. It was not so much a eulogy as it was a tribute to my father, Jack Carpenter. I thought you, my readers, might like to read it. I wish you could have heard it. I was so proud of my sister, and of the others that spoke/sang/read at the memorial service: sister Kathy Carpenter Brooks and nieces Callie Brooks Picardo, Amy Leavell Cooper, and Belle Ensor. 

Memories of a Marriage

Over 60 years ago, on June 19, 1953, at the youthful age of 20 and 22, my parents Jack and Diane were married. My Dad on that hot June day, home on a weekend leave from serving in the army at Fort Knox, said the following words: “I, Jack, take you Diane, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward until death do us part.”

It is with much admiration that their four daughters, 11 grandchildren, and many other family members and wonderful friends, have witnessed this couple as they so beautifully kept their wedding vows in sickness and in health, till death has caused them to be apart for a time.

Over 12 years ago, my Mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease. The first few years, my parents, who were affectionately called by so many of us, Gramme and Honey, were able to continue their routine of wintering in Destin, Florida, hosting our large family for Christmas night, eating dinner out most nights, Daddy playing lots of golf, and Mom happily entertaining herself at home. Slowly over the past handful of years as Mom's memory loss escalated, their lives began to change and narrow.

Almost four years ago, my Dad had a hip replacement and was in the hospital for a few days and then went to Oaklawn for rehab. Mom was so distraught without Honey that her confusion greatly increased and made it impossible and unsafe for her to remain at home, even with us taking turns staying with her. We moved her to The Episcopal Church Home for her to settle in and begin a life apart from Honey. In our minds, it was time and we thought Dad would enjoy the freedom with less responsibility.

Not so. Honey recovered from his hip surgery and missed her so much that on Mother's Day of 2010, he checked her out of the home and was determined he could care for Mom all by himself. He cooked for her, he cleaned the house, he took care of their large yard, he bathed her, dressed her and tended to her every need. I am convinced that the reason Mom lived as long as she did is because she was so well loved and cared for by Dad.

In God's Word, John 15:13 tells us, "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends." That is a sacrificial love, an unconditional selfless love and that is what we have all been so beautifully privileged to witness these past 12 years. What is the secret to their love? You may be asking yourself if you were put in a similar situation, could you go the distance and love until death do us part? I believe the answer is found in Ecclesiastes 4:12, a cord of three strand is not easily broken. In this case, there is the husband, the wife and the Lord is the third strand.

My Mom and Dad love one another and they also love Jesus. Daddy kneels by his bed every night and prays long prayers. Mom use to laugh because on occasion she says Daddy would be so worn out that he would fall asleep kneeling on the hardwood floors beside their bed. I believe it was the Lord who gave my Dad the perseverance, the patience and the tenderness that Mom's disease has required all these years.

It was a true love story and one that has changed me. I am proud of my Dad for the care and love he gave to our Mom. There was no greater legacy or gift he could have given to us girls than to care for our Mom in this way. So thank you Dad. I pray you will be abundantly blessed all your days and we look forward to making new memories with you. 

Hurry Up Springtime

Spring needs to get a move on around here. Our wood pile has gone from this:

To this:

Of course, we have multiple woodpiles scattered in our woods, but there is still so much snow we can't get out in the truck or Polaris to load the logs up and bring them in.

So, hurry up Springtime!

Leave Something Behind

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there.”

“It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.”

excerpt from Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451

My mom died today. The most important thing to her was her husband (my Dad) of nearly 61 years, her four daughters and 11 grandchildren. We are what she leaves behind. Her spirit will dwell within each of us.

Tracks

This long-lasting snow cover has not kept me from my daily walks on the farm trails. It has kept me occupied with trying to identify the animal tracks that I see all over the farm.

Based on what I see, you would think that our farm was overrun with bunnies – hundreds and hundreds of cottontail bunnies prints. Their tracks are everywhere: crisscrossing the trails, turning into the woods, resting for warmth near the house foundation.

Often side by side with bunny tracks are cayote footprints...

I've found white-trailed deer hoof prints...

Little brown bird claw prints...

Raccoon paw prints...

and strangest of all, snake belly tracks?...

As I walk and take note of these prints, I wonder about the critters that create them. What are they up to? Are they alone? Or traveling with a mate/offspring? Are they searching for something to eat? Or just warming up in the sun? Do they wonder the same things when they see this print?...