The old cabin

This old cabin sleeps quietly in our back yard, undisturbed except for birds and small woodland animals which feel free to come and go as they please. 

This is the view from our living room window.  It's a comfort to to look out the window of our house and see the old cabin still standing there in all seasons. 

 It is no longer used by man, except to hang tools from it's still strong outer walls. 

The cabin's history is largely unknown, as the folks who built it and enjoyed it have long ago passed.  My husband says his grandfather L.E. Bolte built it possibly in the 1920s or 1930s.  The story goes that he first constructed it as a sort of playhouse for his children, including my husband's late father Charles Bolte.

It was orignially built back on the hill on our farm, but was later moved to its current location near our house. 

No one lived here, but my husband's parents would come here frequently when they visited the farm. Then nearly 20 years ago, our current farmhouse was built on the lot in front of the little cabin.  So now the old cabin once again has people to keep it company. 

The shady spot between the house and the cabin is the perfect spot for the "reading chair."  The trickling of the small creek, and the gentle blowing of the breeze from the hollow behind the cabin make it an ideal place for one to sit away a summer afternoon.

The secrets of the old cabin will forever be mysteriously kept within its ancient walls.  My husband's father told him stories of how he played in the cabin as a child, even describing a "trap door" that the kids used at one time to go outside.  Now it gracefully ages at the mouth of the cool hollow, watching the generations of children come and go, the family and friends as they play, and laugh, and have cookouts.  It just stands and watches, at peace.  

Chloe the Farm Dog

Our boxer Chloe is so curious about the cows.  Notice her tongue in this picture?  She's licking this cow's nose! 

The calves are curious about her too.  They always want to sniff at her through the gate with their big wet noses. 

Occasionally they have a staring match.

Last winter I caught her in the middle of a face-off with this calf.

Deep inside I think she's secretly afraid of the cows, but she won't admit it.  She's always wanted to be a real farm dog, so I don't have the heart to tell her that she really serves no purpose.  I showed her pictures of cattle dogs on the internet, hoping she would see that she doesn't have what it takes, but she just won't take the hint.  So when she's around I call her Chloe the Farm Dog.  She says it makes her feel that her life has a purpose.

I told her that she had other important jobs around the house... like digging biscuits out of the snow.

And holding the rug down ....

And guarding the tractor....

And playing games with the boy....

Watching the kids when they're playing in rivers ....

Keeping the yard toys away from the lawn mower ....

And traveling with the family on camping trips.

"It all comes with the territory,"  says Chloe, "a farm dog's work is never done." 

Fruits of our labor....

Or should I say vegetables of our labor?.....

Today we picked our first eight ears of sweet corn from our garden.  There's just something about eating farm-fresh food that one has grown from his own garden.... the garden that he has plowed himself, the rows that he has hoed, the seeds that he has dropped into the fresh dirt and tenderly covered with his own hands.  For some reason all that anticipation ... all that standing at the edge of the garden... all that praying for rain ... just makes it taste better. 

We have a bumper crop of tomatoes this year.  We have a mix of red and yellow... and occasionally we'll find a couple of bright orange ones.  The yellow tomatoes are large and meaty, while most of the red ones are smaller.  They are all fabulous when eaten warm... fresh from the vine. 

We grow yellow crook-neck squash, which is actually not common.  Most people grow the plain yellow squash, but I prefer the crooked ones.  Why?  Because that's what I grew up on!  My parents grew yellow crook-neck squash when I was a kid, so that's what I grow.  I don't cut them in circles and fry them, but I dice them up like fried potatoes.  Then I coat them in flour, and fry them in a skillet until golden ... just like frying a skillet of potatoes.  I do this for two reasons... 1) this is how my mother fixed squash 2) it saves bundles of time, and as an added bonus, it's GOOD!

Today's harvest consisted of corn and tomatoes...

Alec and our boxer Chloe shucked the corn in the back yard while I put the water on to boil...

Then he brought them to the kitchen for me to clean.  These ears are slightly small, but that means they'll be tender.  Into the pot of boiling water they go.

We added today's tomatoes to the group ripening on our sink top.  We'll carefully choose the ripest ones to slice for our supper this evening.  They'll be good beside that hot buttery corn on the cob.

The mixture of red and yellow is pretty! 

Gotta get the rest of my supper on the table....
Nothing in the world tastes as good as garden-fresh food!

Simple farm pleasures ... what I love

Gazing at the early summer sunset over the barn on our farm.....

A waiting farm tractor .....

        Cows grazing on a rocky hill side....

The "reading chair" in my back yard.....

A truck load of hay fresh from the field.....

A fried squash and ripe tomato sandwich... fresh from the garden....

Impatient baby robins..... waiting for momma....

It's a love story

I grew up on a farm.... I remember as a child, I would go out in the blazing sun with my dad.  He would take a pitch fork and hand me the other, and we would go out through the seemingly MILES of hay, turning one heavy section at a time with the pitch fork. Over and over and over.  Those rows of raked hay seriously seemed to go on forever and ever, but I guess they didn't, because eventually we would finish... and then... what a sense of accomplishment! 

I remember how much my dad LOVED the farm.  I didn't really know why.  My mom had no clue.  No one knew the answer to this great mystery, because everyone knows a farmer's work is never done, yet it is a thankless job in many ways... especially the money-making way.  There's no money to be made on a small farm in WV.  My dad just loved farming... period.  He would spend hours fixing fence, tending to cows, shoveling cow manure out of the barn, working on a tractor.... basically because he wanted to do it. 

Alec at age 9 with my dad.  He was so proud!

My mom said, "Stephanie, never marry a farmer."

So.... fast forward 30 some years later.....

My husband Steve mowing hay...

Our shoes .... I looked down and snapped this picture as Steve and I rode together on the tractor.

 What is it about this man that I love so much it makes my heart ache?  This man who is so like my dad....

Is it his kind eyes?  His cowboy boots?  The bandana he carries in his hip pocket?  The way he handles a tractor?  His love of the land?  The way he can stand and look at a new calf for hours? 

Pumpkins

At the end of May, we did something we'd never done before.... we plowed the level bottom near the barn.  We plowed and plowed.  Then we picked up rocks.  Then we plowed some more.  Finally, on one hot Sunday afternoon we planted nearly 1000 pumpkin seeds. 

Steve made the hills, and my 15 year old son Alec followed behind putting six little pumpkin seeds in each hill. 

The pumpkin field stretched almost as far down the bottom as I could see. 

Planting the pumpkins was a family project, so the kids can take ownership.  Alec eagerly anticipated the first tender little sprouts popping out of the ground.  We studied every weed, every blade of grass ... until one day we spotted the unmistakable two-fold leaves that would eventually grow into 30 foot long vines that would grow our pumpkin crop!

Two hot (but still handsome) farmers at the conclusion of a job well-done.

One month later .......

We've had plenty of good rain and sunshine.  Pumpkin vines grow like crazy!

And we even have little yellow blooms!

And then in another two weeks.... pumpkin vines are every where!

Until FINALLY... the day we've been waiting for!  A perfect little green pumpkin graces us with his presence.  At this point the vines are too thick for us to walk between them, so we have no idea how many of these little guys are out there.... but we're hoping he has LOTS of friends!