hardwick « onegecko.com: risking absurdity since 1996

July 10, 2011

Even Scottish cows eat haggis

The area between the house and the back woods used to be used as a pasture back when my dad was a boy here. Cows and horses grazed it. When I was a boy, our neighbors ran their horses there. What used to qualify as a pasture can now be considered nothing less than a wilderness meadow. Sweet Bedstraw, Milkweed, Goldenrod, Wild Strawberries, Moss, Alders are all competing for space and pushing out the grass and alfalfa that used to hold so much sway.

While mowing yesterday, I produced quite a lot of mulch from this mix of wild growth and human-designed plantings and wondered what kind of animal — if any — could eat it. Danielle and I would love to get some Icelandic sheep to graze out there. We’ve recently started thinking about — at least I have — having some kind of cow (though a lactose-intolerant family would lead me to believe that perhaps a goat would make more sense) out there. So what kind of animals could survive on such a wild mix of crap? According to my dad not any kind of cow except a particular kind of Scottish breed. As I thought about that, it struck me as funny. So funny, in fact, that the following scene has been playing through my head since yesterday morning. I imagine a breakfast session in our back pasture might go something like this: (with honor to Danny Bhoy).

Morning on the farm. The sun rises above the northeastern woods. A few cows and sheep graze passively in the meadow.

Holstein (munching on straw and hay): Mmmm. I love this clover and grass here. It’s so good. Yum yum light tasty breakfast.

Icelandic (chewing contentedly on a string of moldy roots): Mmph. Ya pansy.

Ayershire (coming in with a giant wad of grassy, weedy, seedy stuff): Aye, sheep. That’s no way ta start tha day, Holstein.

Holstein: Ew. What’s that ball of sloppiness you’re chewing on?

Ayershire: It’s “graggis”. My mum used ta make it for me every mornin’ when I was a wee calf. Goldenrod, grass, moss, alder sprouts all wrapped up in a milkweed leaf. Wanna bite, lass?

Holstein: Heavens, no!

Ayershire: Suit yerself. Oi, sheep! Wanna a taste o’ the graggis?

Icelandic (spitting a mouthful of something out): Ya! That sounds fantastic. It will go well with this moldy squashroot.

Holstein: …

Filed under: family,humor,thoughts,vermont — Tags: achenmead west, ayershire, hardwick, holstein, icelandic sheep, meadow, pasture, vermont — Sabin @ 10:02

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July 3, 2011

Pulling magic from the land at Achenmead West

Our garden is coming along slowly compared to some others I’ve seen. We’ve planted squash — perhaps far too much of it — beets, corn, parsnips, chamomile, sage, thyme, rosemary, lavender, nasturtiums, blueberry bushes, parsley, calendula, and a few other herbs I’ve forgotten. I still haven’t gotten the zucchini, salad greens, carrots, tomatoes, or any of the other traditional veggies planted. I’m feeling a little lazy about that. Also, it’s a little disconcerting to see the meadow continue to creep into our planting space. Why milkweed, Bishop’s Weed, Sweet Bed Straw, Goldenrod and a thousand other species of “weeds” thrive while the stuff we want to eat doesn’t is beyond me at this point. Granted, there are some species out there that I normally value for potential herbal remedies, but still. They could at least stay out of our veggies. So did I use today’s sunshine and get a head start? No. I watched Rollerball.

Some days — like today — it seems so overwhelming to go and try and put my imprint on nature. Who am I, after all? This land we’re stewarding has been here far longer than the house has and will be here long after we’ve gone, too. For some reason, though, I feel an urge to try and convince this land to allow us some modicum of control over its tendencies: veggies here, pasture there, wood trees up there, maple trees on that side. I think in the long run the land will concede somewhat but so far it’s a struggle, the garden patch being a microcosm of the entire property.

By no means am I giving up or relinquishing any of my desire — from where ever that comes — to gain sustenance and support from this little piece of Vermont. Not at all. In fact, when I think about watching Rollerball for a fifth time, I feel myself willingly drawn to the encroaching meadows, invasive poplars and elders, and scarcely-growing vegetables to try once again to exert our vision.

Filed under: hardwick,thoughts,vermont — Tags: farming, garden, hardwick, mackville, meadow, nature, rollerball, vermont — Sabin @ 03:14

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April 12, 2011

Spring is breaking through

Here at Achenmead West, spring is starting to finally show itself in recognizable ways: the grass is showing brown and damp from beneath the heavy snow, small birds are flitting about and ravens are hovering above, the driveway is a nearly impassable run of foot-deep mud. Early spring in Vermont: two parts delight, one part slimy brown mud.

Before I get into that, though, I feel I should explain “Achenmead West”. It’s my dad’s name for the 10 acres we live on here in Mackville — an old village within the town of Hardwick. He takes the name from the mythical location of the Densmore family back in Scotland circa 1630 or so. The story goes that a Laird Dinsmoor lived in Achenmead and had two sons. The younger ran off to Northern Ireland and eventually had children who made it to New England. While the hunt for the factual Achenmead — Auchenmade is perhaps a candidate — continues, my dad felt that the legend was enough to lend name to the land here.

While I think that the naming of the land was partially a joke or at least tongue-in-cheek on my dad’s part, it still gives a great deal of credence to this house and the land around it. Here is where my dad grew up with his mother and father and grandfather; here is where I grew up with my mother and father; here is where my son and daughter are growing up with their mother, father, and grandfather. There’s a cycle of history within the last few generations around this place and to give it a name that hearkens back to pre-family times that cycle is strengthened and made clearer. This is my father’s land as it was his father’s land. I continue the cycle as its current steward — I’m in no hurry to own it, just in case any wights are reading this — and the name gives all of that a reason to tell the story.

A farm of your own is better, even if small,
everyone’s someone at home;
though he has two goats and a coarsely roofed house,
that is better than begging.

Cattle die, kinsmen die,
the self must also die;
I know one thing which never dies:
the reputation of each dead man.

The power of the place and of having a place of our own. Stories of family, of names of land, of histories of homes all lend to building the reputation of all of us. Here in Mackville in Hardwick is Achenmead West staking a humble claim to these 10 acres. What stories might be told about it and its residents in the future? What stories do we want told about it? Those future stories are our current lives. We make them as we live.

Filed under: hardwick,thoughts,vermont — Tags: achenmead, densmore, family, hardwick, house, vermont — Sabin @ 10:38

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October 20, 2010

Living in Mackville

Carey Road was graded today. You can tell when that’s done because there are loose stones on the surface of the road where there once were only potholes. Generally speaking, these loose stones are on the outside edges of the sharper turns. Add to that the fact that here in Hardwick we only put up guardrails where someone has already died, and your nine p.m. trip to the convenience store becomes fraught with danger.

Mackville was first settled in 1834 when the Mack family built and moved into the first dwelling here. Prior to that, a sawmill ran up by Nichol’s pond. It’s an area about one mile south of Hardwick Village, and was once home to a woolen mill, granite shed, ice house, saw mills, and granite quarry. Right now, it’s a quiet town road that fades into dirt about one mile south of our driveway.

It is quiet here. The moon tonight is bright, unhindered as it is by absent streetlamps — which end at the Village edge — and darkened houses shadowed further by full trees and ample space between neighbors.

The 10 acres on which we sit is mostly wooded. A steep birch and evergreen infused granite/slate ledge rises some 500 feet out of the pasture east of the house proper and plateaus to give rise to a stand of maple and old hemlock. We are bordered on the north by a rising pasture that separates us from the neighbors there, and a low marsh that keeps us apart from the southern folks.

Once a busy, factory-centric neighborhood, Mackville still seems to vibrate with a thick and separate energy from the village just north of us. There’s something about the central pond, the overflow that once generated power for all of Hardwick and the bordering mountains that make this section of Hardwick town special and different from the rest of it.

Filed under: hardwick,vermont — Tags: hardwick, home, mackville, vermont, vt — Sabin @ 22:30

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May 7, 2009

This year we’ve decided to replant the family garden. The plot my mother, father, and I used to use is about 3,000 square feet and should be plenty for my father, sister, and the three of us here in MA. There’s something phenomenally exciting to me about this plan. Not only does it involve more trips to Vermont — which are never bad — it also is a start towards what I think the future will be like: a further reliance on the land for survival. Because for everything this garden is — educational, an excuse for weekend VT trips, a supply of food — it is also about survival: ours and that of the food itself.

There will be a point at which the cost of fresh food will be so hampered by the cost of delivery and logistics that unless people grow their own or purchase extremely locally, it will be unaffordable for most families. People will be forced into buying the less-nutritious, more genetically-altered veggies in the local frozen or canned goods aisle. While I don’t necessarily believe that frozen or canned food is poisonous or will be in the future, there is something to be said about eating food that hasn’t been engineered. Engineering food changes its relationship with the ecosystem, introduces unknowns into our diet, and otherwise messes with Mother Nature. Engineered food may or may not cross-pollenate with un-engineered varieties and could limit our chances of preserving seeds for the future. And even if that’s not likely, why would we take the chance?

Anybody with a small bit of grass, window space, a porch can start a garden for themselves. Even if you live in the middle of a city, there is probably a chance to start a neighborhood plot somewhere. Anytime humans can do something for ourselves that keeps us in touch with the way the earth works, we gain a little something out of life. It’s not tangible nor measureable, but I do feel it’s noticeable.

I designed the garden with not only work in mind, but also with the idea that it could be relaxing place to laze away a few hours. There’s a central circle with some benches and plenty of paths. The patches are all raised beds, and the paths are covered in straw or compost to keep the weeds down. Around the garden is a fence to keep the dogs from romping around willy-nilly. We plan on putting some pleasant chimes on the posts to hopefully kepe the deer away, too. There are animals, however, that we do want in the garden.

The grey circles are piles of stones for snakes, and the tan/sienna circles represent toad homes: clay pots on their sides. Both toads and snakes will help keep the nasty bugs to a minimum. Milkweed, Queen Anne’s Lace, and other wildflowers around the outside will attract butterflies, ladybugs, and bees.

All-in-all, I think we have the potential for a pretty good space, and I’m looking forward to getting a start on it. First planting should start on the 15th of May, with the second one being the week after.

Filed under: thoughts,vermont — Tags: garden, hardwick, nature, vermont — Sabin @ 20:22

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