Farming in the Blue Ridge

When people use the word “farm,” images of John Deere tractors often come to mind.*  People picture wide fields of crops.    But here in the Blue Ridge, the tradition of farming is linked to the tradition of the mountains – to smaller fields, herds,...

When Plans Change – House First, Barn Later

Just outside the living room window, a very fluffy junco has alighted on the porch swing.  He’s just one of the many songbirds we have living in this beautiful space with us. And they are just one of the many reasons why I cannot get over what I get to wake to...

A Little Bit at a Time

As the sun settled over the mountain tonight, Philip and I took all our paper up the hill to our latest burn pile and lit the sky with all that we save from the dump.  We tossed in a few limbs and picked up a little further up and out on the trail.  Each stick is one...

Absence and the Heart

I miss the farm. It’s been almost a week since we’ve been there because of visits with family for the holidays and then a scary few days with Philip’s dad when he had chest pain.  (He’s visiting his family doctor tomorrow, and we hope to have...

The Season of Waiting

Yesterday, our neighbors hung their twinkling lights on their front porch – the blazes of hunter orange speaking almost as much of the season as the lights themselves.   Late into the dark last night, our other neighbors moved earth, making way for something...