The Big Stuck-Up

So we get home Saturday after a day of working at the Street Fair.

The firepit is lit. The wine bottle is open. The shoes are off. It is time to sit back and relax.

The phone rings.

"Granny."

" What's up?" It's our oldest grandson. I know his Dad is gone for the weekend. Generally, if Dad isn't home, these kinds of calls are not good.

"Ummm...is Poppa Larry there?"

"Yeah, he's here."

"Well, I need him to pull me out. I'm kinda, well, stuck in a big mudhole."

"Where are you?"

"Well, I'm..." He describes the location. I know exactly where he is; worse, I even know the mudhole. This road has never known a piece of gravel, at least not in the 30 years I've known it. It's one of the orphan roads that is still in use by a few people who have land back in there, or who own four-wheelers or horses. It's certainly not for anything less robust.

I recall how, back in 1977, we left dual exhausts smoking in that mudhole after they became detached from our four-wheel-drive after a tractor pulled us out. Nothing has changed for the better on that road.

I get Larry; he's just got the fire going good and isn't too thrilled about leaving. I remind him of the time he slid his Dad's truck over the hill when he was a kid. He gets the log chain, I get flashlights and a pair of mud shoes (so called because I keep them for when I know it's gonna get dirty) and we head out.

I am picturing my grandson's little Nissan pickup, two-wheel-drive, stuck in this hole. No problem to pull it out, I'm sure; the little truck goes well anyway, but is probably high-centered on ruts. We head out to White Rose Ridge.

We don't get too far out the road when a confusing array of lights greet us. Of course! It's Saturday night, and the four-wheeler crowd is out in force. A group of them came upon Jared stuck in the mud and had stopped to help. They have hooked a tow strap to his car.

Car? What a minute. Where's his truck? He is in his Dad's fairly new car, sunk into mud to the top of his tires. Not only that--the car has slid off the road and is dangerously close to a tree. Or maybe the tree is a good thing, because it's a pretty good drop-off on the hillside below the truck.

As we pull up, one guy on a four-wheeler revs it up and gives a mighty pull. Grandson guns the engine. The car slides further over the hill and closer to the tree.

"STOP!!!" I scream as loudly and angrily as I can. Two more inches and the side of the car is into the tree. The sun disappears behind the hills and light is fading. I grab a flashlight and go to look at the scary sight ahead.

A little girl (okay, I'm getting old, but 16 looks like a little girl to me) stares big-eyed from the passenger's window. Grandson is just as big-eyed in the driver's seat.

"Hey, Granny." Calm is what he tries to project. Calm is not what I'm feeling. The car is sitting at an odd angle, and the tree looms over it.

"Hey!!! This your car?" One of the guys walks up a little unsteadily. Well, it is Saturday night.

"No, it's my son's car and it's about to get torn up on that tree."

"Well, we were tryin' to pull it out, but ya know the four-wheeler just cain't do it." No duh.

He whispers, "I wasn't so stuck before they showed up and helped."

I whisper back, "What the hell were you doing out here anyway?"

"Well," he says, "it wasn't any trouble going through the first time."

First time? First time? I then realize he's heading back towards me, so evidently he had been through this hole once already.

After careful assessing of the position of the car, we hook to our truck and pull again. The car moves, but closer to the tree, the rear wheel now right against it. "Stop!!" I scream again. They probably wish I'd crawl in a hole somewhere, but all I see is this nice car sliding into the tree and its side being crushed in. Explain that to my son? I sure didn't want to!

More assessing by some sober, not-so-sober and not-at-all-sober people. Two women reassure the girl in the car. "We love you, honey, it'll be awlll right, you'll see." The girl does not look reassured.

The tow strap is hooked to the car again. The drunk guys go down over the hill on my instructions (what was I thinking?) and push against the car as the truck slowly, slowly accelerates. They manage to push it enough that the car clears the tree and the mudhole.

Everyone cheers. The tow strap twangs loose but all is well. The car is plastered with mud and so are we.

On the road, a woman starts to wail. "I lost my flip flop! I lost my flip flop!" By now it's completely dark but we use our flashlights to search for her shoe. No luck. She continues to wail. "My flip flop!"

One of the men confides, "Don't pay no attention to her. She's my wife. She's a drama queen and I have to put up with this every day of my life." What answer could I give to that? I give none.

We leave, making sure the car is behind us.

At home, the firepit is still lit. The wine is still open. We take off our shoes and wonder if we should call our son to tell him about his car. We recall the many times we have answered the phone at odd hours of the night and it is our son who calls for help. Like father, like son? Payback, as they say, can be hell.

Never mind. The call can wait for another day. For now the moon is high, the fire is bright, the car is okay and the grandson has been saved from yet another inexplicable situation.

Life is, after all, good. Muddy, but good.

What to Write?

I'm thinking about what to write tonight, sifting through the past few days in my mind and considering what is worth your time to read.

Should I write about the guy with the flat tire who told me he got fired from his job at Long John Silver's for bringing a gun to work? He figured that they wanted to get rid of him because his wife had chopped off her finger there a few months back. May...be....

Or about the older lady at the grocery store who told me more than I ever wanted to know about her sex life over the chicken breasts? And the young contractor working on her house who she was sure was in love with her old wrinkled 70+-year-old self. May...be...

Or would you would like to know about the author Fran Cannon Slayton who visited my library today, and about our lunch together? Her first book, the story of a young boy growing up in 1940's Rowlesburg, West Virginia has won accolades from high places.

Or would the story about my grandson's big stuck-up in the mud in the back of beyond be interesting? Especially the part about the four four-wheelers of somewhat inebriated people who tried to "help" and had him slid over the very steep hill and almost into a tree, and how I used my best drill-sergeant-granny voice to scream "STOP!"--and they did and they helped us get him out with no damage except much, much mud and a really scared little girlfriend.

What about the lady who bought a book about Kanawha County at the book sale, and told me that this was her first trip home in 37 years, and she'd come to bury her father? Her longing for her mountain home brimmed in her eyes.

Then there was the waitress who remembered that I like Chardonnay even though it's been a month since we'd been to that restaurant. Maybe she remembered because my grown sons played with the princess pink sunglasses of a young friend while we were there last time? The photos--priceless.

Or do you want to hear about the many quarts of beans we've canned, or the first ripe tomatoes Larry picked this evening, or how we're worrying over the black rot that is hitting our grapes no matter how hard we've tried to protect them?

Then there was the very beautiful young girlfriend of my youngest son who visited this weekend and very calmly picked up the six-foot black snake that resides in my chicken house. (Larry, of course, was beatin' feet in the other direction). Gotta love a girl who can do that and grill eggplant while looking like a model.

I'm pretty sure you don't want to hear about the long hours I've had to work recently, the up-and-out before 5am drill that is beginning to wear thin, or the many-many-many-page report I'm writing that is turning the rest of my hair gray.

But you might want to know about how Fran Cannon Slayton's parents knew my parents and how Fran and I attended the same small Catholic elementary school in Manassas, Virginia, years apart but still some of the same nuns teaching. A small world, this is.

Or how once again I have learned that the bonds of friendship can transcend many difficulties and still hold strong, testament to connections that hold us despite the challenges we encounter.

So many things I could write about, and so I sit here undecided. Maybe this little bit about each is enough.

Maybe by telling a little about each creates a patchwork quilt of the past three days that is in itself a testament to the variety, surprises and richness of life for two not especially unusual people who live in a tiny house on a small farm where anything can, and often does, happen.

Street Fair Photos

It's been a long, fun, hot, busy weekend--the annual Street Fair and Used Book Sale at the library where I work. Doesn't the grand old girl look great with some balloon accessories? We're celebrating our 100th year of service.


Some tall people paid a visit during the day:

This lady could dance to the rhythm of the band on her stilts,

While this gentleman juggled, blew his horn, conducted bouncy ball races and also danced on his little feet.

Today's book sale was very good. We all worked hard to get set up in an hour and a half; the line of people waiting to get in went around the block. When they were let in, look out! The rush was on and no lie. My favorite place to work was the Collector's Corner; we had many old and rare books for sale and our sales were brisk.

Best sale of the day? An autographed copy of the complete poems of Robert Frost, a limited edition of only 500 copies. Other cool sales were some books on antique radio tubes, a book of anatomy drawings, a complete Edgar Allen Poe set, and poetry books to a lady who didn't care who wrote them, she just wanted poetry.

Best part of the day? Talking to so many people who loved old books.

A Good Evening

A good evening includes:

Feet up,
a fire pit with the coals burned down to a glow of oranges, blues, and reds,

dogs for petting, a glass of wine,

and a darkening sky with new moon.

(some cheese and grapes would have been good too, but sometimes we have to go with what we have on hand.)

Making Sauerkraut

Every year I grow too much cabbage. It's a throwback to when I had many boys at home and used to make a lot of sauerkraut. Now there are only two of us, yet I still plant a dozen cabbages.
This year I decided to make kraut again, using the simple method I used for large batches years back.

Women used to make kraut by the crockful, just as they made pickled corn and pickled beans. I made kraut in the crock a couple of times, but that's a lot of kraut! I suppose people ate a lot more of it in older times; today, a few meals with a venison roast or pork roasted with sauerkraut is enough for us.

Here is the method I used: first, clean and wash the cabbage. Quarter it and cut out the core. Then slice as fine as possible. I have a kraut cutter, but this time since it was a small batch we just used knives and a chopper.

Once the cabbage was chopped to my liking, I added salt. I had two different cookbooks with different amounts--one called for a tablespoon of salt per pound of cabbage, the other for a teaspoon per pound. I split the difference and put about a teaspoon and a half per pound. I used plain salt--iodized salt is usually not recommended for pickle-making. After the salt was mixed in, we left it for about 5-10 minutes.

We packed the chopped cabbage in pint jars with a wooden masher that came with my Squeezo.

During packing, juice is squeezed out of the cabbage. This is good; this will help make the brine that makes the kraut.


After the jars were packed as full as possible, we added enough cold water to fill them to within 1/2" of the brim. Then I put the lids on loosely, set the jars in a glass pan and put them in the cellar. The kraut will "work" for about 3-4 weeks until ready to can. At that time, the lids are removed, the top layer of cabbage removed just to be sure there's nothing icky in there, the rims wiped clean, new lids added and tightened on the jars. Then the kraut is processed in a canner. I'll have to look up which type of canner (water bath or pressure) and the time for processing when we get to that step.

Right now, I'm just happy to have a little bit of kraut made again. I think it's been 20 years since I did this. Why did I wait so long?

I'll let you know how this turns out. Have any of you made kraut before? Tell us how you do it. You may have a better way than this to make it!

For other instructions on making kraut, try The Mother Earth News

or this video on YouTube. For readers who cook in grams and such, Spindles and Spices has good instructions too.

Church Rummage Sale

They ain’t from here, the old lady said,
As she pulled through the offerings
at the church rummage sale.
No wonder they don’t know
you ain’t supposed to do that.
She pushed her reading glasses up her nose
and tried to read the washed out tag on a denim jacket.

Reckon where they’re from? her friend mused,
turning over a shirt to check its size.
Out of state or just some other county?
Oh no, the old lady said, not that far,
just down the road you know,
up Johnson Holler way.

Well then, you should have known
Them folks up there are different.
They don’t know how to act.
They ain’t from here--
So what did they do?

This jacket ain’t no-count,
And look at the price they want fer it--
Do? What did they do?
Why, they put mustard on their hotdog!
Whoever heard of such a thing?

Well, what can you expect?
They ain’t from here, you know.
Reckon no one ever taught them any different.
Wonder what they’re asking for this shirt?
It’d make a right nice patch on the quilt I’m piecin’.

Hmmmm....too many photos?

Did you know there is a limit on how many photos you can upload on Blogger?

Guess who did NOT know that? Me of course; I'm always last to learn these things.

So tonight I'm getting ready to upload Larry's beehive photos and I get this message: "Sorry! You've exceeded your Picasa Album storage. You gotta buy more!"

Hunh? Buy more? I thought this was free?

Well, yeah. With a few strings, it seems. Which is okay, really--I mean, I've used 1G of space with my photos, and that is a lot, no question. So I just plunked down $20, which will be an annual fee for 10G of storage. It seems reasonable enough now, but what will happen in the future? How long will the price stay $20? That makes me uneasy.

So tonight, no photos. No cool post about bees. Or even about the sauerkraut which we made this evening (or are attempting to make--it's a long process). Just me fidgeting about 20 bucks.

I could of course create a new account and a new blog but that would be a real headache and this one has become my online home. So I pay, and fidget.

Has anyone else reached their storage limit? Did you pay to play or move on?

Storytelling this Week

Catching up on the past week's storytelling in today's post:

This week's storytelling was at home, mid-state and up north--West Virginia's northern panhandle, to be exact: Paden City, Middlebourne and Parkersburg (which isn't really in the Panhandle but it's north of my home so...).

I have had so much fun with this summer's programs. The theme for library summer reading programs this year is Be Creative! Now, what is not to like about that for a storyteller? Last week I outlined the program I planned to present this year and for the most part that program is what I am doing. Except for today. More about that later.

Since the theme is creativity, I wanted stories that reflected a range of arts as well as creative ways to tell a story. I developed a new flannelboard story and pulled out an older one to re-use, found a story about generosity and helping others that could be drawn as well as told, developed two new stories to tell with puppets and participation, and added a few songs. The result is a fast-moving, highly interactive program that has been a hit so far. I am loving it--not always does a program fall into place like this one has.

The program got its first run last Friday at my local libraries in Ripley and Ravenswood. The next day we were at Glenville for the Folk Festival and what I told there was a mix of folktales, tall tales, ballads and some of my poems. Completely different material from the summer programs.

Then on Monday it was back to the libraries. At Paden City, I recognized several children from past years and they knew just how to participate in the stories. I was sad to hear the librarian was retiring--she's become a friend over the years--but glad for her. We did not have time to explore Paden City's marble factory again but I am going to put that on my to-do list for this year. Paden City was at one time the source of many of the world's marbles and continues to produce them today.

On the way to Middlebourne we passed Gamble's Run, site of one of our state's many good ghost stories. Again, no time to stop! We had to get lunch somewhere before the next performance, so we drove on into town and to the little restaurant I'd eaten at previously. It was good food then and I was looking forward to being there again.

We were disappointed, however. Apparently the restaurant was short-handed; after ordering and waiting over half an hour, we had to leave without our lunch. I paid for the good coffee and cottage cheese and we headed on to the library.

Again, I recognized some of the children from past years. Some of them are getting as tall--or taller!--than I am. That is one of the joys of storytelling--getting to know people in many places.

We looked around Middlebourne a bit before leaving town and heading back down the beautiful Ohio River. This house begged to have its picture taken. Check out the dude on the upstair porch!

The little town boasts many beautiful homes and again I need more time to stay, talk, walk and discover.

We were really hungry by this time so we stopped in St. Mary's to find lunch/dinner. And that stop is a whole 'nother post! When you ask a friendly looking guy where to eat, sometimes you get much more than you bargained for!

This morning we headed to Parkersburg to tell ghost stories. Planning for this took a little time--I knew the audience would be mixed ages, basically 3 years old to adults, but mostly in the 5-12 year-old range. So how to select ghost stories for that mix? I ended up developing two program plans, one that could be used if the audience was younger and one if the majority was older. As it turned out, it was some of each, so that's what I told. About 100 people or more were crowded into the room that was appropriately decorated for spooky tales, complete with a smoke machine (that set off the fire alarm before I arrived--excitement!).

The group was charged up right away so I knew I needed something interactive and intriguing to get them started. I decided on a story with good audience participation, spooky but funny in the end. It worked and we were off. Tailypo, Wizard Clipp, Jack and the Ghost, The Ghost of Silver Run, Mothman and the Braxton County Monster, a story from Parkersburg and one from Jackson County, a couple songs and the time was gone before I knew it. It was a very good session. I left as the kids trooped excitedly into the Haunted House. They had more fun ahead--for me, it was a 70-mile drive to work the late shift, getting off work at 8:30pm. But worth it for the chance to be at this library!

Six events and three different programs in six days--storytelling is certainly never boring. The rest of this week is quiet, except for canning more beans, a huge project at work and preparing for a week of programs after July 4th--two writing workshops, one for children and one for teens, more of my summer reading programs, two puppet craft programs, a Celtic program and a ghost stories program. But I'll be on vacation from work that week, so it should be a piece of cake, right?

Geez, I love this stuff!

Stop and Go Driving

Have camera: will stop, back up, pull off or otherwise become a hazard on country roads. Larry took this picture of me getting ready to take a picture along Trace Fork on Monday. A man of infinite patience he can be at these times.

Something will catch my eye, like little Joe's Run near its beginning and I have to stop and take a photo. Or back up. Or pull off the road.

For this photo I had to back up, park, then move the car several times for the right shot. I tried getting out, but then I was lower than if I was in the car and the photo wasn't the same. I had to be careful not to hit one of the goats that is usually out in the road in this area. But who could resist that perfect path of light through the trees?

On the way home one day last week, this patch of orange butterfly weed, complete with butterflies, stopped the car. Good things like wildflowers just don't last long enough; if I don't stop when I see them, they're gone.

On Monday, I saw this patch of wild roses on our way out Trace Fork Road, which is another way to get to our home if you don't mind about 9 miles of back roads (we usually come up Joe's Run, which is is 4 miles from the two-lane). I worried all day that the state roads workers we saw on the way out would cut the roses before we returned. (I really do worry about things like that! Every year they cut down the Canada lilies which are fairly rare in this area. Don't they know???)

But the roses were still there when we returned. Larry stopped, I got out. A tractor appeared around a curve. Larry backed up to get out of his way, I scooted over to the fence. When the tractor was gone, I got back in the road, and was just ready to take my pictures when a pickup came around the curve--he was following the tractor, you see. This is haying weather bigtime this week and everyone is in the fields getting it done before the rains hit again.

So back I popped to the fenceline--Larry had decided to stay put where he was.

"Come on," he yelled. "Hurry up." Even his patience wears thin sometimes.

Yeah, right. I can't hurry when I'm taking pictures. Sometimes it takes going backward as much as going forward.

And sometimes it means taking time to stop and smell the roses.

I just hope I'm not found smashed flat by a tractor one day, camera still dangling from my hand, beaide a roadside patch of wildflowers...although I suppose there are worse ways to go.

Beans!

Larry picked the first of our "green" beans on my birthday and we had one of our favorite things for dinner: green beans and new potatoes.
These beans are called Royal Burgundy and they are my favorite bush bean. They are hardy, attract fewer bugs, and produce early and abundantly.
They can beautifully too, with a flavor resembling Blue Lake beans. And the flower? Deep purple, of course! I don't have photos of the flowers to share, so you'll have to take my word for that.

Here are the beans in the jars before boiling water is added,

and here they are after a few minutes in the boiling water, already turning green. Right now they are in the canner, and when they come out they will look like any other canned green beans.

How cool is that?

Surprise Gifts

During a visit to our friend Jason's new house recently, he surprised me with a mystery box. It was something he knew would thrill my heart-- the odds and ends left over from his yard sale! He knows how much I love junking, so he culled his remainders for things he thought would intrigue me. How well he knows me!

What was in the box? Take a look:

A flower frog, three little ceramic cups and saucers that look like they're supposed to be on a wind chime, a heavy pair of old pinking shears, a red-handled tea strainer, a ceramic model of Westminster Castle, an old receipt book, a hand drill, a sign that says "Hoem is the starting place of lvoe and dreams," and two railroad spikes with a lump of coal mounted on a board. Oh, and a little smurf book.

I. loved. it. All of it!

But the best thing in the box? This!

It's an old WWII artillery shell casing, brass and copper and very heavy. It is the perfect thing for holding our barbecue tools. Larry was a happy man when he saw this item! I'll put a little polish to it when I have time.

Thank you, Jason!

And John, thank you for the marvelous jam. I have to admit the blueberry didn't make it home--we tasted it at Tommy's place and Anastasia fell in love with it. The plum butter though--no one better get between me and it. That stuff is delicious, sweet and tangy and just right on toast.

You guys rock. I'll be owing something back your way, but it's got to be the right thing for your very cool house.

Folk Festival Memories

From the old traditions (the "belles" selected from each county's homemakers clubs)

to the new (young street performers juggling and playing accordion with their companionable dog),

and young ones with their elders playing together in jam sessions on the streets, on corners, under porches, in parking lots and in front of motel rooms--not to mention fiddle contests and masters concerts,

that was the West Virginia Folk Festival at Glenville this weekend.

Did I mention street jams?

and everywhere

everywhere

musical instruments

waiting to be played--








Old-time and bluegrass music, storytelling, balladsinging, parades, good food, crafters, friends and laughter combined into one good time.

Being West Virginia

How to be new, but still old
how to be old but not old-fashioned
how to honor our roots
but not cut off new growth
or kill the transplants

How to affirm our independence
without locking doors
and hold onto our values
without harsh judgment
or religious extremes

How to protect our land and its treasures
and nurture the growth that can come
from what we hold in trust:
our resources--natural,
human, artistic and wild

How to be West Virginia
beholden to no landlords
proud of our heritage
strong in our commitments
and good stewards of our home

Happy 146th birthday, West Virginia.

Flash Fiction: Reading Light

He waited; day's light faded to dull metallic.

On his lap electric blue glimmered along the edges of the book’s cover.

Opening, light flowed from pages where men and women, tiny figures, danced.

Music tinkled, glasses clinked. Pages turned. Night passed. Dawn edged the horizon with gold.

He stepped between the covers.

The book closed.


For more flash fiction stories, go Mr. Know-It-All's blog for links to this Friday's submissions.

Storytelling and the WV State Folk Festival

Unknown musicians performing in a doorway at Glenville.

A big weekend coming up: Storytelling all day Friday, the WV State Folk Festival Oral Traditions tent (not to mention lots of good music!) in Glenville, WV on Saturday, my birthday AND Father's Day on Sunday, and storytelling all day Monday. Whew!

First is tomorrow morning, storytelling at the two libraries in my county. I've thought about what stories to share, worked on some new ones and I think I've got a good program ready to go. This will be the same program I will be using at several libraries this summer:

Since this summer's theme is Get Creative! , I've got lots of room for...creativity! Here are my choices:

Swapping Song-- this is a fun, interactive song that comes from the British Isles and was shortened a bit in the Appalachians.

Magic Paint Brush--a story from China. I will tell it using a whiteboard to draw the various parts of the story--not a draw and tell story, but more a story with illustrations. It teaches the benefit of helping others instead of serving your own greed, but like all good stories the message doesn't beat you over the head.

The Perfect Pet--this is an original story I wrote to go with my three dragon puppets, fairy puppet and king and queen puppet. I think it is going to be a lot of fun to tell. There is a participation chant and of course children from the audience will use the puppets to help tell the story.

How the Dog Chose its Master--a simple tale from India that allows audience participation and again, audience members using puppets to help tell the story.

The Tug of War-- a comic trickster tale from Australia. This story will again be audience participation and the only prop I need is a rope.

Bar the Door-an old British ballad that traveled to the mountains, this is funny and fun, with a lesson about being stubborn.

Fill Bowl! Fill! --a Jack tale from the Appalachian Mountains, and like all Jack tales great fun to tell and to listen to.

How the Vulture Got its Color--a tale from Burma that makes a point about vanity and gratefulness. This is the story I prepared as a flannelboard story, so children can help with the telling.

Aiken Drum--from Scotland, a story and a song about a funny little man. The original ballad was a political statement, but became a nonsensical children's song over the years. I tell the story of the brownie Aiken Drum who came to help out but was insulted by the gift of new clothes, then close the story with the song and a flannelboard. It's good fun and lots of participation in the song and flannelboard.

Of course, I may mix it up with a few alternate stories. I keep a ready supply to be sure what I tell is right for the audience in front of me. But I like this mix of world folktales, Appalachian stories and ballads, flannelboard stories and participation stories. I think it's going to be a lot of fun for all of us, listeners and storyteller.

Saturday is Glenville and the West Virginia State Folk Festival! Traditional mountain music, crafts, country people in town to celebrate, friends, and a lot more at the oldest folk festival in West Virginia. Click here and here to see my posts about last year's festival in Glenville.

So what does the festival have for writers and storytellers?

Plenty! The Oral Traditions Tent at the WV State Folk Festival in Glenville, WV this weekend will feature some of our state's best writers. Here's the schedule of presenters, and remember, the festival is free!

Fred Powers, telling last year as a coal miner. Powerful.

Friday, June 19th:
11am:Kirk Judd (poet)
12:00 Laura Treacy Bentley (poet)
2:00 pm Marc Harshman (poet, storyteller, writer)
3:00 pm Mountain Echoes (storytellers)

Saturday, June 20th:
10 am Fran Schmetzer (local Gilmer County author)
12:00 Susanna Holstein --that would be me :-) (storyteller, poet, writer)
3:00 pm Cat Pleska (storyteller and writer)
4:00 pm Suzi "Mama" Whaples (storyteller)

Here's a link to the festival: www.wvfolkfestival.org/

Will I see you there? I hope so!

Oh, and the birthday/Father's Day? I think we'll see in the summer solstice with a fire in the firepit and a few glasses of wine, then on Sunday morning we'll make pancakes with homemade strawberry syrup, drink coffee on the porch, and maybe get those cabbages in the freezer--and who knows? Maybe I'll get the kraut made too.

If that doesn't sound like a real celebration, remember that I work away from home most of the week, and for me this kind of day is a perfect celebration of why we live in the country.

Graduation Night

Moon
Through trees
Branches soft
With evening mist
Diaspora lit
Flames on new graduates
hot with knowledge of freedom
and frightened too of the future
golden moonlight on the path ahead
painted shadows in unknown dark of night

Of Cabbages and Kings--Make that Beans

More pics from the garden:

The cabbages--Savoy and Stonehead--are ready to cut. I do not remember ever having cabbage ready this soon, a testament to growing your own plants. We started our seeds in the greenhouse at the beginning of March.


The Savoy cabbages are on the left, just above the red Romaine lettuce. Savoy is a good, sweet cabbage with firm heads; it's a a good keeper. The Stonehead cabbages are supposed to hold for a good while in the garden, but these are already showing signs of cracking, probably because of all the rain we've have. So we'll harvest them all now and not take a chance on them rotting. You can also see the onion tops laid down to dry; lettuce and radishes have been planted in the row between the cabbages and onions, where the peas were pulled out. On the far left are half-runner beans, Larry's favorite, planted in April and getting ready to set beans now that the vines are in bloom.

Some of the Stonehead cabbages will be turned into kraut (I hope) on Sunday. A head or two will be kept in the fridge for use in the coming week or two. The rest will be frozen for winter and to use when I make vegetable soup. I will post photos of the kraut making if we actually do it. It's going to be a busy weekend with storytelling, and my birthday is Sunday, but we'll see what happens.

In the lower "big" garden, the early Sunglow corn is beginning to tassle--we might actually have corn by July 4th this year. We took a chance and planted this seed in mid-April, far ahead of the last frost date. Our gamble paid off this year. Potatoes are on the left, beans on the right.

The beans are already setting on and will need to be picked next week, I think. These are Royal Burgundy purple-podded beans. They turn green when cooked and have a flavor very like Blue Lake or half-runners. We should have plenty to can this year! The electric fence has done its job so far at keeping critters out.

The Silver Queen is at the right of the beans, and we planted pole beans in with it this year. Both the corn and the beans are doing well. The beans are beginning to climb the cornstalks so I hope the corn grows fast!

One last pic that has nothing to do with beans, cabbage or corn. This one shows the grapevines near the big garden. What you can't see in this photo is how full the vines are. Pears, apples and peaches will be scarce because of untimely frosts, but goodness will we have grapes!

Grapes

The old equipment shed is leaning pretty badly these days, and I think the grapevine is actually responsible for the shed still standing. This vine was growing by the house before we built the log room and deck. We had to move it and it struggled for the first two or three years in its new location.
But not any more. Now it's like the eggplant that ate Chicago, sprawling over the ground and up the building.
It is also full of grapes. Look at them hanging near the building's roof. If we can keep the black rot at bay we will have plenty of grapes for jelly, juice, and maybe even wine--who knows?

These are just concord grapes, not a fancy variety but they are certainly healthy at the moment. For the past few years we've not had many grapes because of the black rot, but perhaps this year we'll get lucky. We also have some Niagara and some Catawba grapes, but they don't yield like the old standard.

Does anyone have a good grape recipe to share? We just might need it this year. Or a recipe using grape leaves? Seems like I made something with them a few years back but now I can't remember what it was.

In the Garden

What's going on in the garden now? Here's what Larry's been up to while I was at the writers conference this weekend:

The peas and spinach are finished and the chickens enjoyed the pulled-up vines and greens. He put the last of the peas in the freezer and put away the pea trellis.

The tomatoes are staked, pruned and mulched.

More cucumbers, lettuce, radishes, basil and nasturtiums are planted.

All the gardens are tilled and hoed.

The onion tops are bent down to start drying so we can pull them for storage.

Next on the to-do list?

Continue spraying the grapes for black rot. If we don't spray, we get no grapes at all. With the wet weather, the blight is likely to be bad this year.

The beans are in full bloom so we'll be picking in a week or so, I think. That means canning time. The beets are close to being ready to pull too. I haven't checked on the carrots yet but they were planted later.

The mulberries are almost gone and I did not get any put up. However the birds and the grandchildren enjoyed them, and I have quite a few jars of jam left from last year's crop.

The new strawberry patch needs to be weeded and the new asparagus plants need to be hoed.

The last flower bed still needs to be planted. I have put out very few annuals and no marigolds which seems very odd. My gardening time is usually in May but this year's rain precluded a lot of the things I normally do. Now that we're into June, storytelling will be keeping me out of the garden in my off-work time. So this year, what's done at this point is pretty much all that will get done.

I am disappointed in my herb garden--many seeds did not germinate, the dogs dug up what was doing well, and it just looks yucky. I am thinking about moving it to a new, sunnier location next year and finding fencing that will keep the dogs out.

That's all the news that isn't in the gardens at this point. What's going on in your garden?

Program Prep Time

With the writers conference over (coming in at 4 am made today a short day!) I am moving on to the programs coming up this week: storytelling at the two libraries in my home county and presenting in the Oral Traditions tent at the WV Folk Festival.

I'm also working on puppet crafts to go with programs that are coming up later this month. I make a mess when I craft!


The storytelling programs can be easy to plan; I have a large stock of stories I can tell easily. But I perform at these two libraries every other year or so, and I don't like to repeat stories too often. A program of mixed new stories and old favorites is my goal.


So, what stories go on the list? That's what I am working on today. I prepared a flannelboard for a new story that I told at Migration Celebration last month. I liked the story, and the audience reacted well to it, but I thought that this one might work even better with visual aids. What is the story? It is a tale from Burma about why the vulture is ugly and bald.

In the story, the vulture begins to moult. Now we all know birds lose their feathers so new feathers can grow in. But vulture worried so much that the other birds took pity on him and decided that each would give him one of their feathers so he would stop worrying. Each bird gave a different color feather until the vulture looked very handsome indeed.



But he became so vain and bragged so much about his lovely coat of feathers he made the birds angry and they took back their feathers and pecked all the feathers off the vulture's head as well. Which is why to this day vulture has no feathers on his head and still wears a dusty coat of old feathers.

It's a simple tale, and I believe that it will work well with the flannelboard vulture, feathers of various colors that attach to him during the telling, bird props of various bird species that chirp (so we can talk about their songs as well), and a red head to cover the vulture's head at the end of the story.

Wooden spoon and finger puppet crafts are in progress. I am sure the kids will do a better job than I do. I plan it that way--make my samples simple and not too perfect so they feel sure they can do as well or better.


Now I am looking for a story with a king, a queen, a dragon and a fairy. I have these puppets and I want a story to tell with them. Off I go to search! or write my own as the case may be.

Anyone got a cool unicorn story? I bought a very neat new puppet recently...

At the Writers Conference

I'm away at the WV Writers Conference today. Back tomorrow with (I hope) some ruminations about the conference. So far it's been great. Best part? Seeing friends of course. Some of these people I only see once a year.

Choice: Flash Fiction Friday

Following Susan of Stony River Farm blog's suggestion, I'm trying out this form of very short story. To tell a story in 55 words or less is no easy task, especially for someone as wordy as I am.

Here's what I came up with:

Choice

photo citation: Steve Dewey,

Utah State University, Bugwood.org
Steam rose from the blue pottery mug. An age-spotted hand lifted it unsteadily.
A sip. A sigh.
The cup returned to the counter.
Another hand, young and soft, picked it up.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
“This is how you want it?”

“Yes. Good-bye, dear.”

She’s gone now.
It’s time.
Six, dressed in black, filed in.

If you want to give this a try, be sure to go to Mr. Know-It-All's blog and leave him a comment on his Flash 55 post. It was his idea, after all. It's a good exercise for writers to hone their words to the minimum.

Morning Commute

Across the ridge, riding in clouds
Through emerald tunnels
and along a winding downhill trail
to wait for pedestrians crossing on their way to workthen through town as the sun breaks out for a brief glance at earth
and down the interstate with others hurrying to finish the work week.