Hello, friends.

I chose to end my regularly scheduled blog programming in order to give myself some flexibility. I knew that might mean these posts would be fewer and more spread out, and that’s indeed what has happened. It’s not that I’ve run out of things to say (far from it), or the desire to share them, but I found that I was observing less. By waiting until I’m overflowing with the need to articulate what I’ve been mulling over, I figure I’ll take in more of what’s around and within me.

Now here we are in December (?!), and the fall season is in full swing and I’m even looking ahead toward winter. Up here, the weather changes early and dramatically, so we’ve already seen some snow and said goodbye to many of our deciduous leaves. The ground each morning is harder and even covered with a thin layer of frost. Stepping outside for a quick run to the compost heap or the barn requires a coat. The cars go in the garage at night to avoid icy windshields in the morning. The ducks either get a pool full of water- or don’t- depending on whether the water in the hose is flowing or frozen. While ducks don’t mind the cold, our ladies seem to prefer to hang out in their spacious shed during the day, and only emerge for water, food, or to quack at me as I walk by. And before you ask…nope. No eggs yet. They’ve just hit the 7 month mark, which is the tail end of when they’re supposed to start laying. They’re healthy and happy otherwise (except for their doomsday obsession), so all I can figure is that they don’t “know” they’re supposed to lay since there’s not an older hen showing them the ropes. So we’ll continue to wait, feeding and protecting the freeloaders until they figure out their place in this homestead system. The local farmstand up the road has closed for the season, so I have to time my egg shopping for the one weekday when our local farmer’s market is open. I’ll admit that I’ve also bought eggs from our grocery store a few times lately. Each week I tell myself this is the last time, since surely the ladies will repay our efforts at any moment, but…not yet. Since winter is on the horizon and the days are getting shorter, I might even have to accept that they won’t give us any eggs until the spring! No matter. They’re still a fun and rewarding part of our routine (not to mention a reminder that things don’t always go according to your plan!).

Ok. I’ve held off bragging about the fence for long enough, which is more than what I do when we have visitors. Usually I march them straight from their car to the duck run and make them try the gates and test the sturdiness of the posts. I’m still somewhat in awe of what we accomplished and more than pleased that we went ahead and tried, despite being utter novices at building. From the outset, my husband and I decided to discuss each step, measure twice, and take our time. We’d find an hour or two on weekdays after his work was done, or dedicate entire weekends to sinking posts, cutting chicken wire, or making another countless trip to Lowe’s. My desire for perfection trumped my impulse to power through, and we ended up with a fully functional, beautiful structure that came in just under the deadline of Thanksgiving day. We saved the gate building for last, and despite its massive size of 60″ wide, it’s smooth, straight, and safe. Actually, the only “oops” we encountered was not installing a latch on the inside of said gate, which I discovered we needed the first morning after it was done. Sadie was at my heels, as usual, and my hands were full of food bowls, and I realized that nothing would keep the entrance closed behind me once I was in! But a simple hook and eye lock got installed that very day and no harm done. Throughout the building process, the ducks kept a close eye (side eye, that is), and one even ended up with a little white paint on her beak from getting too curious. I was happy to see that the noise and activity (not to mention close proximity of scary humans), didn’t faze them. On the contrary, I have a suspicion that it brought them closer to us, as now they don’t run away so quickly if I try to pet them… I’ve accepted they won’t be cuddly and affectionate like some ducks are, but then again…they’re not pets! And Sadie is more than happy to fill that niche.

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This fence project went so well that it’s given me confidence to start planning our raised-bed vegetable garden for the spring. There’s a large flower garden across from the sunroom that’s lovely but too much for me to tackle on top of everything else. If left to its own devices, it gets overrun with weeds that choke out the flowers. So I’d like for it to have a new life as our vegetable and herb patch. The bunnies, squirrels, moles, and chipmunks do a number on the veggies I’ve tried to grow in the ground here. So my idea is to fence this area in, put in raised beds a few feet high, and install hoops with netting for the warmer months and plastic covering in the winter. I’m getting a better idea of what varietals work well in this climate and in this soil, so I hope I can be strategic and successful in growing a few things really well. While I loved the crates on the deck this summer and will probably do more next year, I might dedicate them to tomatoes and a few herbs: mostly parsley and basil (things I often dash out to grab from the kitchen while I’m cooking), and use the vegetable garden for kale, cabbage, cucumbers, and carrots. (Remember how I said carrots aren’t my favorite? I’m a carrot convert. I grew multi-colored ones this year that were so scrummy and brought home so many from my farm job, that they became a regular part of my cooking and baking.) I grew a teenie tiny cucumber plant in one of the crates as an experiment, and I knew I didn’t give it enough room to thrive. But even so, the few cukes I harvested were so delicious! I have a vision of a cucumber archway covering the walkway for the garden, just as you step through the gate through the arbor. As for the herbs in the garden, I’ll plant lavender, thyme, rosemary, and mint. We all know mint can run rampant, but I loved having both peppermint and apple mint this year, which I grew in hanging baskets and planters. We put the apple mint in our G&Ts and I used a few handfuls of the peppermint in my pesto, which gave it a lovely fresh taste. There’s a large patch of white hydrangea currently dormant in this garden that I think I’l leave as is. Maybe I’ll even put a bench up against them? I’m also scheming about hanging a rain barrel up high and rigging a sprinkler system of hoses with tiny holes stretching across the beds. Pinterest has been my friend and enemy as I plan this project, because I’m getting so inspired and so impatient to get started! As for an ornamental garden, I love the idea of consolidating all the plots into the main space behind our house, both so I can better maintain and appreciate it. Some of the other existing garden plots are tucked away behind buildings or hedges, and I have to admit that I forget about them and it shows. And while I got overwhelmed with weeding and pruning this year, I suspect that come spring I’ll be eager to get out there in the dirt.

Speaking of dirt…my job on the farm (the real farm where they provide CSA boxes for more than 500 households each week!), has ended for the season. There was a flurry of activity before the frost took hold, and I had a few long days of bundling up and digging potatoes or washing them for storage. One day I was even on my own as the other farmers had their own tasks to do. And I got to spend a few hours in silence in the barn, meticulously checking vegetables for spots or imperfections before loading them into boxes for a local grocery store. The current farmers have owned the land for less than 20 years, but they bought it as an existing working farm. The barns are all very old and show signs of what used to be there- chickens, hay bales, rusty equipment. And that history, that weight, underscores the happy flurry of activity as we pick, inspect, pack, and repeat. In the few weeks since my job there has ended, I’ve found a small hole in the fabric of my day. I miss the work. It’s been so much more than I could have expected. I don’t mean more labor, I mean a more fulfilling and gratifying experience. The people I work with, mostly young women, have been such a rich resource of information: from food preservation tips, to recipes, local hangouts, neighboring farms and festivals, and maybe most importantly, a sense of community that I’ve really been missing. Perhaps for longer than I realized. Even before the pandemic, I felt out of touch with nature, and myself, yes, but also with an overall connectedness to a group of people. Living in a city, I was surrounded by bodies but felt so alone, an experience I know others have shared. There was the group of co-workers I saw for a few hours on weekdays and wonderful friends who I would see when our schedules allowed. There were the shows I was involved in that lasted a few months before we all went our separate ways. But there was a disjointed nature to it all, at least for me. When we moved here and I was trying to envision what I wanted my life to be, I made this agreement with my husband: I would only seek out work in one of three areas: music, animals, or plants. Maybe I didn’t realize this then but in addition to spending my time working on things I care about, I’d also be surrounded by people who cared for them as well. I wouldn’t have to feel silly for getting excited over the smallest purple cauliflower I’d ever seen. Or being moved by the act of singing with 60 other people in front of a live audience for the first time, as I did recently with my choir, Albany Pro Musica. Or nerding out with the goat farmer I recently met, who’s going to supply our kids this spring or next.

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There are moments of loneliness here, of course. We moved away from all the people we knew and started from scratch. I knew it would take time to meet and make friends. But I don’t mind the solitude here, because there’s also silence. I cherish that now and know that I will make space for it as long as I live. Maybe that’s the second reason I had to leave the city, the first being I needed wilderness. Silence and green. And music. My formula! We’re only now coming up on the 1 year anniversary of moving and I know that more connections will come. As we figure out the kind of life we want to lead here, we will bump into our fellow travelers again and again. For now, I’m eager for the introspection of winter and what I might find. I know I’ll spend time updating my home recording studio so I can work on some music a friend has composed. I’ll also research raising geese and decide if this is something we want to undertake this spring. The hatcheries finally have goslings in stock and they’ve all emailed to tell me so… I’m also looking forward to savoring some more time inside with my sweet little family. We got to spend many months in lockdown together but it wasn’t enough, will hopefully never be enough. Tonight, we’ll bundle up and go find a Christmas tree- finally one the size I want as we have an actual house- and decorate it with our small collection of ornaments. We’ll go for a drive and see the houses lit up with string lights. We’ll put the ducks away, with Sadie’s “help.” We’ll share a drink and chat about our day and make plans for tomorrow. And I’ll have that bittersweet mix of gratitude and melancholy as I try to see and feel and savor everything, all at once.