Tuesday, June 12, 2012
We’ve Been Busy
Since I last wrote, I’ve been busy taking care of the rest of my life’s issues. The oldest returned from college; the middle is about to graduate from high school; and the youngest has drained us of energy as we helped him through a rough patch. We also listed and sold our house and bought a condo. And I’ve been spending a lot of time at the high school finishing up some volunteer projects. Life in the country really hasn’t been forefront in my thoughts much at all.
When thinking of Maryland, I primarily think of my looming lone drive across country to take my car there. I have been ripping audiobooks to my phone to help keep me entertained during the 40-hour drive. I have also been working with Peter to decide what goes to Maryland and what goes to the condo. We are still working on how to get the cat out there and when to schedule a visit by our middle child and her boyfriend. We thought we had this figured out, but then the youngest delivered a health concern that has put a wrench in our plans.
This is all to say that I haven’t blogged because I have been more focused on my family and the issues in Washington than on anything in Maryland. I expect to drive out during the last week of June and will spend a week there before returning to Bellevue. My final move there will occur by the end of July, health matters willing. I’m eager to experience the country life on Kathleen’s new boat, so I can blog about life on the river.
Stay tuned.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Stop This Nonsense!
I recently planted a bunch of flowers, vegetables, and herbs around my house. Immediately after, we were hit with a day in the 90s and several other really warm days with no rain. Despite my daily watering regimen, my plants were drying out and the dirt around them was getting hard and cracking. I knew that I needed to mulch my beds, but I just hadn’t quite found the time. Last night, I made the time.
I showed up at the large warehouse in search of regular mulch. I quickly learned that “regular mulch” is akin to looking for “regular sneakers.” What kind of mulch was I looking for, the sales girl asked. I tried not to sound snarky in my reply. I want the kind that helps retain moisture and reduces weeds. I stumped her. She quickly excused herself to find someone more knowledgeable about the issue. Soon a boy, who may have been a whole two years older than the girl, approached me. I gave him the same line, and he told me to use this mulch. I was standing in an aisle with probably 50 variations of mulch and he told me to use the one right at the end next to him. I suspect it may have been the highest priced mulch of the bunch.
Some mulches appear to have weed deterent chemicals imbedded in them. I didn’t want that. I just wanted plain old everyday mulch. I didn’t want the rubber stuff that’s used on playgrounds. I wanted the kind that is natural and slowly breaks down around my natural plants. The one he pointed to appeared to meet these basic needs.
The next question stopped me. What color of mulch did I prefer? What? I chose not to take Botany, but I do believe I understand enough about plants and mulch to know that mulch is made from shredded wood. Wood can be a variety of colors, but it’s a safe bet to say that most are a hue of brown. I had my choice of brown (“color guaranteed to last a whole year!”), black, or red. Being the natural girl that I am, I went with brown.
When I returned home with my bags of mulch, I again pondered the color question. Did I make the right choice? Brown is rather boring, after all. Should I have gone with red? Our chimneys are red and our pool is edged in red brick. Our porch floor is painted brick red. Maybe the red mulch would color-coordinate better and enhance the beds. Or maybe black would look good. Our house is large and white. Black would provide a good contrast to that which would make the plant colors really pop. Why didn’t they offer blue to go with the color of my pool or green to blend in with the weeds that might get through?
Stop this nonsense!
Manufacturers provide the products that consumers are asking for, not the products that consumers really need. What we need here is plain mulch that protects our plants and slowly decomposes over time. What we need is practical, not ornamental. The flowers are the ornaments.
I’m happy I chose brown. It will nicely offset the reds and purples of my tomatoes and peppers. It lets the natural colors of my marigolds shine brightly without competing with them. It provides the perfect backdrop to my purple and pink petunias.
Brown in the perfect color.
I showed up at the large warehouse in search of regular mulch. I quickly learned that “regular mulch” is akin to looking for “regular sneakers.” What kind of mulch was I looking for, the sales girl asked. I tried not to sound snarky in my reply. I want the kind that helps retain moisture and reduces weeds. I stumped her. She quickly excused herself to find someone more knowledgeable about the issue. Soon a boy, who may have been a whole two years older than the girl, approached me. I gave him the same line, and he told me to use this mulch. I was standing in an aisle with probably 50 variations of mulch and he told me to use the one right at the end next to him. I suspect it may have been the highest priced mulch of the bunch.
Some mulches appear to have weed deterent chemicals imbedded in them. I didn’t want that. I just wanted plain old everyday mulch. I didn’t want the rubber stuff that’s used on playgrounds. I wanted the kind that is natural and slowly breaks down around my natural plants. The one he pointed to appeared to meet these basic needs.
The next question stopped me. What color of mulch did I prefer? What? I chose not to take Botany, but I do believe I understand enough about plants and mulch to know that mulch is made from shredded wood. Wood can be a variety of colors, but it’s a safe bet to say that most are a hue of brown. I had my choice of brown (“color guaranteed to last a whole year!”), black, or red. Being the natural girl that I am, I went with brown.
When I returned home with my bags of mulch, I again pondered the color question. Did I make the right choice? Brown is rather boring, after all. Should I have gone with red? Our chimneys are red and our pool is edged in red brick. Our porch floor is painted brick red. Maybe the red mulch would color-coordinate better and enhance the beds. Or maybe black would look good. Our house is large and white. Black would provide a good contrast to that which would make the plant colors really pop. Why didn’t they offer blue to go with the color of my pool or green to blend in with the weeds that might get through?
Stop this nonsense!
Manufacturers provide the products that consumers are asking for, not the products that consumers really need. What we need here is plain mulch that protects our plants and slowly decomposes over time. What we need is practical, not ornamental. The flowers are the ornaments.
I’m happy I chose brown. It will nicely offset the reds and purples of my tomatoes and peppers. It lets the natural colors of my marigolds shine brightly without competing with them. It provides the perfect backdrop to my purple and pink petunias.
Brown in the perfect color.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
A Smart Retreat
Usually, Peter is the one who retreats to Maryland for long stretches of time. He can work remotely and also take care of the house, the yard, and the vineyard. He’s pretty amazing that way. This spring, however, Peter suggested that I be the one to go to Maryland for the extended trip. Peter joined me for the first two weeks, but he returned to Bellevue to take care of our daughter and cats and to umpire for the Little League season.
I was initially reluctant to commit to the big trip. I am not as capable as Peter in getting lots of physical labor done in a day. I am more easily distracted and injured. I’m not strong enough to do some of the work that is required. I tend to be lawn mower challenged on this property. Time has once again proven the wisdom of Peter’s suggestion. (The man is rarely wrong … it’s so frustrating!) Not only have I had a good opportunity to move from Bellevue and adjust to living in Maryland, but I’m also slowly strengthening my body as I learn when to stop and take a break and when to keep going. I have been submitting my resume to various employers in the area and researching many local companies with the hope of landing a job by summer. I’m slowly turning this house into a home.
Most importantly, perhaps, I have had a break from my teenaged daughter. I love my daughter and we can get along quite well during times of low stress. This is not one of those times. She is currently choosing which college among the five that accepted her will be her final choice for the next four years. This is a stress-filled decision and not a little prickly to bring up in conversation. When she is stressed, tempers flare, accusations fly, and feelings get hurt. I confess that both of us are guilty of that.
I have chosen, therefore, to consider this break a retreat. It’s a retreat from a lot of the responsibilities that I have in Bellevue, and it’s an opportunity to break the cycle of daughter-mother bickering that can lead to very tense and unhappy homes. Peter is very well equipped to handle Allison and guide her through this process. (We did just do this a year ago, after all.) He offers her a different lens to look through as she considers her choices. He has a sense of humor that can lighten intense moments. In two weeks the decision must be made, and life will move forward. That’s about when I return to Bellevue.
So here I am, retreating in warm (hot!)sun-filled days as I plant flowers and herbs, plan long-term projects, repair and maintain the house, and attempt to find a job. Except for being away from my husband, I’m quite happy with the way things are at the moment.
Thank you, Peter. Allison is lucky to have you as her dad.
I was initially reluctant to commit to the big trip. I am not as capable as Peter in getting lots of physical labor done in a day. I am more easily distracted and injured. I’m not strong enough to do some of the work that is required. I tend to be lawn mower challenged on this property. Time has once again proven the wisdom of Peter’s suggestion. (The man is rarely wrong … it’s so frustrating!) Not only have I had a good opportunity to move from Bellevue and adjust to living in Maryland, but I’m also slowly strengthening my body as I learn when to stop and take a break and when to keep going. I have been submitting my resume to various employers in the area and researching many local companies with the hope of landing a job by summer. I’m slowly turning this house into a home.
Most importantly, perhaps, I have had a break from my teenaged daughter. I love my daughter and we can get along quite well during times of low stress. This is not one of those times. She is currently choosing which college among the five that accepted her will be her final choice for the next four years. This is a stress-filled decision and not a little prickly to bring up in conversation. When she is stressed, tempers flare, accusations fly, and feelings get hurt. I confess that both of us are guilty of that.
I have chosen, therefore, to consider this break a retreat. It’s a retreat from a lot of the responsibilities that I have in Bellevue, and it’s an opportunity to break the cycle of daughter-mother bickering that can lead to very tense and unhappy homes. Peter is very well equipped to handle Allison and guide her through this process. (We did just do this a year ago, after all.) He offers her a different lens to look through as she considers her choices. He has a sense of humor that can lighten intense moments. In two weeks the decision must be made, and life will move forward. That’s about when I return to Bellevue.
So here I am, retreating in warm (hot!)sun-filled days as I plant flowers and herbs, plan long-term projects, repair and maintain the house, and attempt to find a job. Except for being away from my husband, I’m quite happy with the way things are at the moment.
Thank you, Peter. Allison is lucky to have you as her dad.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
A Walk in the Woods (with apologies to Bill Bryson)
I awoke today at about 3:30 am with my expected post-vacation migraine. This was a doozy that immobilized me for much of the morning despite my attempts to medicate and rest.
After my headache began to subside a little, I decided that today was too nice of a day to wallow in my misery inside on the sofa with a pillow over my face. My dog, Tully, needed a walk, and I needed a life. I decided to go for a walk.
The Three Notch Trail is a Rails to Trails project that runs in front of our house. I have walked small parts of it, but I haven’t been to the ends. Even during its busiest times, the trail lacks the clutter and danger from cyclists training for big events like the STP (I stopped using the Sammamish River Trail for that very reason.) Instead, it attracts crowds of families with kids on tricycles and dogs on leashes, casual cyclists, and skaters. It is a wild, relaxing respite from the chaos that surrounds the DC area as it traverses farmland, backyards, and woods.
Today I resolved to walk to one end. Tully and I headed north on the trail and walked about 2 ½ miles to the northern terminus in Charles County. The trail is expected to be extended, but for now that’s the limit. On another day, Tully and I will explore what lies to the south.
Along the way, I smelled the wisteria that is in full bloom along sections of the trail and inhaled some refreshing but seriously pollen-thickened air. I saw all the deciduous trees bursting into green, rabbits taunting the dog, the puffy white clouds floating overhead, and the creeks trickling along around me. I listened to the sounds of birds, crickets, bees, frogs, and squirrels. I felt the warmth of the sun and the refreshing breeze as I worked off some extra calories I found while in Europe. I reflected in all that is beautiful in my surroundings and how blessed I am to be part of it.
Am I all better? No. My head still hurts a bit, my allergies are now bugging me, and various body parts are reminding me of their middle-aged existence. Do I care? No. My mind is refreshed and alert, my mood is elevated, and my dog is exhausted. I feel energized and happier than I did before I left home. All the same problems still awaited me when I returned, but I had a better attitude in dealing with them.
The next time someone tells me that they are suffering from a migraine, don’t be surprised if my response is, “Go take a hike!” I mean well.
After my headache began to subside a little, I decided that today was too nice of a day to wallow in my misery inside on the sofa with a pillow over my face. My dog, Tully, needed a walk, and I needed a life. I decided to go for a walk.
The Three Notch Trail is a Rails to Trails project that runs in front of our house. I have walked small parts of it, but I haven’t been to the ends. Even during its busiest times, the trail lacks the clutter and danger from cyclists training for big events like the STP (I stopped using the Sammamish River Trail for that very reason.) Instead, it attracts crowds of families with kids on tricycles and dogs on leashes, casual cyclists, and skaters. It is a wild, relaxing respite from the chaos that surrounds the DC area as it traverses farmland, backyards, and woods.
Today I resolved to walk to one end. Tully and I headed north on the trail and walked about 2 ½ miles to the northern terminus in Charles County. The trail is expected to be extended, but for now that’s the limit. On another day, Tully and I will explore what lies to the south.
Along the way, I smelled the wisteria that is in full bloom along sections of the trail and inhaled some refreshing but seriously pollen-thickened air. I saw all the deciduous trees bursting into green, rabbits taunting the dog, the puffy white clouds floating overhead, and the creeks trickling along around me. I listened to the sounds of birds, crickets, bees, frogs, and squirrels. I felt the warmth of the sun and the refreshing breeze as I worked off some extra calories I found while in Europe. I reflected in all that is beautiful in my surroundings and how blessed I am to be part of it.
Am I all better? No. My head still hurts a bit, my allergies are now bugging me, and various body parts are reminding me of their middle-aged existence. Do I care? No. My mind is refreshed and alert, my mood is elevated, and my dog is exhausted. I feel energized and happier than I did before I left home. All the same problems still awaited me when I returned, but I had a better attitude in dealing with them.
The next time someone tells me that they are suffering from a migraine, don’t be surprised if my response is, “Go take a hike!” I mean well.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Roasting Marshmallows
We have been having nightly campfires to burn up some of our huge burn pile that is primarily a result of last summer’s hurricane. With our visiting college students, we sat around the campfire and talked and roasted s’mores and looked at the many stars that are not visible in Bellevue.
The first night Erin insisted that we roast s’mores using homemade shortbread instead of graham crackers. They were delicious, but they were really rich! After that, we branched out into Special Dark chocolate, standard graham crackers, and different marshmallows.
Our next run to the grocery store brought back strawberry and vanilla marshmallows (from the Mexican food aisle). They were really good and worked well with the chocolate. Then I bought the jumbo marshmallows which are only for the super patient roaster who truly appreciates a lot of sugar. (Some people roast it, eat the roasted section, and then continue to roast the middle.) We also tried the flat marshmallows. Presumably, they are for making s’mores indoors in an oven or even without heat. I didn’t roast one, but watching others convinced me that they aren’t a good choice for fires.
Another day found us at Target where they stock marshmallows in “chocolate royale,” and “chocolate mint.” Who could resist? (I passed on the “cinnamon bun” and the bunny-shaped marshmallows.) The problem with these very yummy varieties was that they were smaller than a standard marshmallow but a little bigger than a mini. We needed to roast several at a time and they got messier than normal.
Finally, we had to roast the king of them all: Peeps. The key here is not to let them catch fire. They need to be slowly roasted to caramelize the outer layer of sugar into a perfect hardened crust. Gerald (below) referred to them as crème brulee on a stick. Sublime. I suggest that we start with refrigerated Peeps in the future. They seem to have very soft centers which melt and fall off the stick before the caramelized sugar is perfect. I’m looking forward to the after-Easter clearance sales to stock up on this delicacy.
If you’re in an adventurous mood, stop by. We have lots of wood to burn and lots of roasting sticks available. While we’re at it, we’ll introduce you to fine dining, country-style.
The first night Erin insisted that we roast s’mores using homemade shortbread instead of graham crackers. They were delicious, but they were really rich! After that, we branched out into Special Dark chocolate, standard graham crackers, and different marshmallows.
Our next run to the grocery store brought back strawberry and vanilla marshmallows (from the Mexican food aisle). They were really good and worked well with the chocolate. Then I bought the jumbo marshmallows which are only for the super patient roaster who truly appreciates a lot of sugar. (Some people roast it, eat the roasted section, and then continue to roast the middle.) We also tried the flat marshmallows. Presumably, they are for making s’mores indoors in an oven or even without heat. I didn’t roast one, but watching others convinced me that they aren’t a good choice for fires.
Another day found us at Target where they stock marshmallows in “chocolate royale,” and “chocolate mint.” Who could resist? (I passed on the “cinnamon bun” and the bunny-shaped marshmallows.) The problem with these very yummy varieties was that they were smaller than a standard marshmallow but a little bigger than a mini. We needed to roast several at a time and they got messier than normal.
Finally, we had to roast the king of them all: Peeps. The key here is not to let them catch fire. They need to be slowly roasted to caramelize the outer layer of sugar into a perfect hardened crust. Gerald (below) referred to them as crème brulee on a stick. Sublime. I suggest that we start with refrigerated Peeps in the future. They seem to have very soft centers which melt and fall off the stick before the caramelized sugar is perfect. I’m looking forward to the after-Easter clearance sales to stock up on this delicacy.
If you’re in an adventurous mood, stop by. We have lots of wood to burn and lots of roasting sticks available. While we’re at it, we’ll introduce you to fine dining, country-style.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
What's In a Name?
From time to time I use names of places that I realized are not universally recognized by my readers. Here is a short list of common places near here.
Petherbridge
This is the name given to the house we live in. Apparently, the first person to live here was Dr. Petherbridge with his family. The house was built in approximately 1880 to accommodate Dr. Petherbridge’s family and his medical practice as well as serve as a dormitory for the nearby Charlotte Hall School.
Long Lived For Come at Last
This is the property that the family refers to as “the farm.” Family legend has it that this was the name of a large tobacco plantation along the Patuxent River. Our property, purchased in the 1940s, is only about 240 acres but was part of the larger plantation. The river is three miles east of our land, so the plantation must have been very large, indeed. One building on our land is said to have been the foreman’s home to oversee the slaves who worked the plantation. We also appear to have an old slave cemetery up on a hill. The only markers are large rocks.
Though many people hear us refer to the vineyard and think that’s all we have, that’s not quite true. Only about nine acres are under vine on the property. We also have limited logging, a Christmas tree farm, and lots of woods. The farm has a rental house on it and has previously leased out fields for corn, tobacco, and grain crops.
Charlotte Hall
This is the name of the unincorporated village in which we live. It spans northwestern St. Mary’s County and eastern Charles County about an hour due south of Washington, DC. It only includes about 5.1 square miles; much of that is agricultural. It also includes two grocery stores, a hardware store, and numerous fast food stops. We are fortunate to have a post office that's not closing. The farm’s mailing address is PO Box 1, Charlotte Hall. We would be sad to have to change that address. We own a book that probably describes exactly where the Charlotte Hall name came from, but we can’t find the book.
Mechanicsville
This the name of the unincorporated area in which the farm is located. It is the region east and south of Charlotte Hall.
St. Mary’s County
This is the name of our county. It is the southern-most county on the Southern Maryland peninsula. It is surrounded by the Potomac River to the west and the Patuxent River to the east. The southern tip juts into the Chesapeake Bay. I am unsure which St. Mary the name refers to.
Maryland
Named for Queen Henrietta Maria (1609-1669), the wife of King Charles I.
Though Maryland is considered a northern state, it housed many southern sympathizers in this region during the Civil War. Due west of us (about an hour's drive) is Fredericksburg, Virginia.
Petherbridge
This is the name given to the house we live in. Apparently, the first person to live here was Dr. Petherbridge with his family. The house was built in approximately 1880 to accommodate Dr. Petherbridge’s family and his medical practice as well as serve as a dormitory for the nearby Charlotte Hall School.
Long Lived For Come at Last
This is the property that the family refers to as “the farm.” Family legend has it that this was the name of a large tobacco plantation along the Patuxent River. Our property, purchased in the 1940s, is only about 240 acres but was part of the larger plantation. The river is three miles east of our land, so the plantation must have been very large, indeed. One building on our land is said to have been the foreman’s home to oversee the slaves who worked the plantation. We also appear to have an old slave cemetery up on a hill. The only markers are large rocks.
Though many people hear us refer to the vineyard and think that’s all we have, that’s not quite true. Only about nine acres are under vine on the property. We also have limited logging, a Christmas tree farm, and lots of woods. The farm has a rental house on it and has previously leased out fields for corn, tobacco, and grain crops.
Charlotte Hall
This is the name of the unincorporated village in which we live. It spans northwestern St. Mary’s County and eastern Charles County about an hour due south of Washington, DC. It only includes about 5.1 square miles; much of that is agricultural. It also includes two grocery stores, a hardware store, and numerous fast food stops. We are fortunate to have a post office that's not closing. The farm’s mailing address is PO Box 1, Charlotte Hall. We would be sad to have to change that address. We own a book that probably describes exactly where the Charlotte Hall name came from, but we can’t find the book.
Mechanicsville
This the name of the unincorporated area in which the farm is located. It is the region east and south of Charlotte Hall.
St. Mary’s County
This is the name of our county. It is the southern-most county on the Southern Maryland peninsula. It is surrounded by the Potomac River to the west and the Patuxent River to the east. The southern tip juts into the Chesapeake Bay. I am unsure which St. Mary the name refers to.
Maryland
Named for Queen Henrietta Maria (1609-1669), the wife of King Charles I.
Though Maryland is considered a northern state, it housed many southern sympathizers in this region during the Civil War. Due west of us (about an hour's drive) is Fredericksburg, Virginia.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Mending Fences
Peter and I spent yesterday working at the vineyard. Peter’s dad mentioned a few days ago that he suspected deer were in the vineyard.(see the photo of deer tracks)
That’s like saying there’s a fox in the hen house if it had been growing season. Deer can wreak havoc in no time at all by eating all the tender new shoots. Therefore, the entire vineyard is surrounded by nine foot tall nylon deer netting. Since I don’t believe deer use scissors (where would they store them?), I can’t figure out just how they managed to breach the fence in three locations. They aren’t jagged breaks; they’re usually straight lines. (see photo of broken fence, below)
The fencing is also intended to keep out small animals. Unfortunately, the woodchucks had already set up shop within the fence boundaries when the fence was installed. Anyone who has seen Caddyshack will appreciate the futility in trying to eradicate them. Similarly, raccoons can’t be blocked. I will readily concede that they are smarter and more persistent than we humans. (The gluttonous birds require their own separate fencing later in the growing season.)
You’ll notice the bicycle rims that we used to mend the fence at the creek. Peter’s dad has a supply of old, free rims that he gets from a bicycle repair shop. In their repurposed lives, the rims allow water to flow while dissuading deer and other wildlife from entering the “no wildlife” zone. Even if the deer choose to re-break the fence, they won’t walk on the wheel spokes. We think the solution is fool-proof. I’m sure the deer will continue to make fools of us.
The fencing is also intended to keep out small animals. Unfortunately, the woodchucks had already set up shop within the fence boundaries when the fence was installed. Anyone who has seen Caddyshack will appreciate the futility in trying to eradicate them. Similarly, raccoons can’t be blocked. I will readily concede that they are smarter and more persistent than we humans. (The gluttonous birds require their own separate fencing later in the growing season.)
You’ll notice the bicycle rims that we used to mend the fence at the creek. Peter’s dad has a supply of old, free rims that he gets from a bicycle repair shop. In their repurposed lives, the rims allow water to flow while dissuading deer and other wildlife from entering the “no wildlife” zone. Even if the deer choose to re-break the fence, they won’t walk on the wheel spokes. We think the solution is fool-proof. I’m sure the deer will continue to make fools of us.
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