The vivid beauty of this spring season is present at Boone Hollow Farm near Defiance, Missouri. In our attempt to get away from the urban or should I say “world” troubles, this farm became our mid-week oasis. It is almost magical at the farm where Dean and I’s greenhouse seats. The lowering sun illuminated the purples and greens in the fields and groves of trees, the grass plush. Birds singing their evening tunes, frogs peeping in unison, sheep in the neighbor farmyard baaing. A serene symphony of countryside calm. My country garden is a dwelling place for me, a bed to lay my cares aside. Our sowed seedlings in the screenhouse side of the greenhouse are coming up well. We are hopeful the leafy greens will be ready to provide the base for our salads by the end of April or early May. In the mist of viral chaos there is a dwelling place for each of us, even if it is just in the mind.
I put on my rain boots anticipating a muddy walk to the greenhouse at Boone Hollow Farm. Sure enough the storms we received earlier in the week produced quite a bit of rain, and the creek beds were full. Dean and I parked near the barn, gathered our gardening gear, jumped across the rain-filled ditch, and walked up the hill to our 9-month greenhouse/screenhouse. We had not been there all winter season as it was too frigid cold for 3 solid months, a true Missouri winter like I remember years past. And unlike last year where it drug on for 5 months!
Spring has arrived in Missouri! The frogs croak and birds tweet in harmony making an evening song of peace! What a welcome greeting to Dean and I! I love gardening. Not the exact science-type gardening. Care-free and whimsical like. There is work involved, but less so with a bed of organic soil inside the screenhouse side of our structure. We pulled old tomato vines and prepped the soil. It turned up nicely, loose but a little dry. We had enough snow and winter rains to keep the soil moist even without being in direct exposure. We watered the soil with the rain/snow water from our barrel just outside the structure. And then the first sowing. We made 11 rows altogether. I sowed 8 rows of greens seeds. My favorite, arugula, and then various lettuces. We are trying a oriental variety this year. The other 3 rows are beets. My first stab at growing these, too. As an apprentice with EarthDance Farms, I learned to love this root vegetable, greens and all.
Next weekend the herbs will be sown as well as zinnias, forget-me-nots, black-eye susans, and wildflowers at the farm along with the cottage gardens. The evening drive back from the greenhouse was lovely, a longer drive to the cottage than our other house. We will make every trip to the countryside count. Savoring the frog and bird chorus, smelling the blossoms along the strolls at Boone Hollow Farm, and harvesting delicious organic vegetables, herbs, and flowers for our dinner table. And we trust our God and Mother Nature for plenty to share!
Golden sunshine graced the Missouri earth this past weekend. Pots of red geraniums contrasted with vivid green leaves and vinca made their first showing near the front porch this warm Easter. More delicate Swedish ivy and arrowhead plants set in the shadows of the porch benches while breathing the fresh spring air. Ahhhh! Tree frogs and tweety birds sang the longest song I heard in months while in the countryside of St. Francois County. Even a few bumblebees and wasps made their grand entry for this warmer spring day. The ants and the puppy Bleu found the jelly beans inside the plastic Easter eggs hidden in the grassy farm fields before the grandkids did! Dean and I stuffed 95 plastic eggs and cleverly hid them, sadly not from the crawling critters. Why are we surprised by their presence? This is their world, too! What I love about nature is the lack of expectations. Co-existence. Just being in it, a part of it. No proving anything or acceptance needed. It’s there already. What Jesus did for you and I. His death and resurrection, a free gift of love from our Father God. He accepts you just the way you are now. He accepts me just the way I am now. One in spirit.
Also referred to as the vernal or March equinox in the northern hemisphere, the spring equinox has come finally! Oh, the joy! And what a lovely day this first day of spring in Missouri! Just so happy to FEEL spring! I had my indoor Tai Chi class at my lunch hour, though I walked outdoors in sunshine and a brisk breeze to get back to my office and strolled for 10 minutes during my afternoon break today. Picturesque!
All things spring …
Anna Marie Gall
March 20, 2014
As we frequent the greenhouse more often with our watering duties, I wonder about our visitors to Boone Hollow Farm and Deanna Greens And Garden Art greenhouse and screenhouse. What critters are there when we are not, or hiding when we are there? Ticks, bees, and dozens of bugs make an appearance at every visit. No deer seen yet by Dean and I, but we see their prints. The neighbor farmer has crops chewed on. A couple of weeks ago I placed my large planters of geraniums outside to greet us when we drive up the dirt road to the greenhouse. No signs of deer eating on them for a snack none less dinner. While in the screenhouse this week, I found a baby copperhead snake, with its shedded skin just inches from him. He wiggled his tongue at me, and I quickly hollered for Dean’s assistance. Relieved I had my muck boots on. The baby toad Dean found earlier would be this slicky guy’s dinner if we did not get him outside as far from the screenhouse as possible. I will share our plant space with frogs and toads, but not snakes. Sorry Slick. And keep your brothers out, too! Butterflies flutter about and bees buzz from the hives our neighbors have. Always good to have natural pollinators with plants. An owl starts hooting about 4:00 every afternoon. In past posts I have written about coyotes and I believe, Chuck the groundhog. God is the Creator of all these critters. So what do these critters think of us? Is our dog, Midnight, Dean, and I invading their homes? What prints are we leaving in the countryside? Maybe Midnight, Dean, and I are the visitors at Boone Hollow Farm?
Sometimes I do not care, or want to care. Right now I am too tired to care. My head spins. It hurts. Am I an apathetic person? No, I just need to rest. To have no cares in this weary world… That was my day on Friday. A headache from hell, and it finally subsided into the evening hours, and sleep swallowed it… The Memorial Day 3-day weekend was met with markets on Saturday and Sunday. I was at the spice shoppe, selling BBQ rubs and teas for pouring over ice this balmy weekend. Local folks and tourists searched for that missing ingredient to make their recipes more spectacular than the last. Dean went to two farmers’ markets this weekend. Not as busy, but just as excitable with the locals and tourists. By Sunday late afternoon, after I closed the shoppe I headed home to gather the food and dog for Dean and I’s first overnight at the greenhouse. Dean greeted me at Boone Hollow Farm as I drove the Jimmy in the upper field road rounding the bend, his smile and his hand waved me in. What a heavenly evening and night … just what I needed. The screenhouse had a cool breeze flowing through the mesh. The citronella candle glowed to ward off the bugs and make for an exotic ambiance. Frogs and crickets croaked and hummed throughout the night. We anticipated the howl of the local coyotes, but never did hear. Midnight, our big black labrador probably deterred their visit. The night sky was cloudy with flashes of lightning in the distant and few rumbles of thunder. No rain until later, but the raindrops sooth my busy mind into la-la land. Moonlight and the stars shined somewhere in the night as I recall waking for a few short minutes. Dean and the dog were restless. Finally my partner’s snoring chimed with the morning bird tweets just as the darkness slipped away. I managed to get back to sleep for a 7:00am rising. Dean slept for another hour while I read. We finished our camp stove sausage and egg breakfast with a piece of homemade strawberry-rhubarb coffee cake and hot hibiscus tea. And then the greenhouse became our work station. I cleaned terra-cotta pots, and potted our basil and dill. Dean worked on the structure and potted wandering jews into the coco-lined baskets. New edible and adorable plants for the market. Another storm was brewing, yet we waited for Grandpa’s visit before calling it a day. My uncle and aunt brought Grandpa to Boone Hollow Farm. My grandfather and uncle were well impressed with the struture Dean and I rebuilt. My artist aunt said the screenhouse would make the perfect studio. Yes, art in the making. My thoughts precisely. A quick visit, back in their vehicle just as the nickel-size drops came full force. An electric storm finished off our time at the memorable camping trip. But more about the evening of Memorial Day later … a bit of patriotic history in the family. So glad apathy does not reside more than a day. Too much to experience. Life is an adventure.
This St. Patrick’s Day brought snow flurries, sleety rain, thunder, and later pouring rain. No rainbow with a pot of gold, though the soil still welcomes much moisture after the parched seasons of past. Hard to believe yesterday was a warm and partly sunny spring-like day. Yellow daffodils blooming on the country hillsides contrasting green while tree frogs croaked near the rain-filled creek beds. Midnight, our labrador retriever seemed to be in heaven sitting in the slushy cold rain, dreaming of ducks and geese landing on the water while Dean and I worked at the greenhouse. I, bundled in boots, snow pants, heavy winter coat, and hat kept warming water on the camp stove for hot tea. My Irish blessings came with an old hymn this morning at church …
An Old Irish Blessing
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.
Saturday morning we awoke to rain! This is an occasion as we have been in a severe drought since last spring. The 14 inches of snow we received in the past 2 weeks, melted to 4 inches of liquid according to the rain barrel at the greenhouse. Now with this rainy weekend, we received another 2 inches. River barges started moving on the rivers again after sitting idle for 2 months. The melted snow running into the northern streams have made their way to the Mississippi, Missouri, and Illinois Rivers. Creek beds have filled once again in Missouri. The 2 creeks on Boone Hollow Farm were running with a cold rush, a soothing sound to the ear. I walked the plank to get over the creek and up the hill to the greenhouse. We cleaned the barn while the rain watered our earth. Late morning the rain subsided, and finally the sun peeped out of the clouds. A chainsaw was used on old trees near the barn, trying to avoid storm damage to the outbuilding and roads. Working alongside the half-full creek bed, I lobbed small limbs. I hauled the twigs to the huge bush pile down the gravel road while the tree frogs croaked “its spring!” Honey bees and flies buzzed about the warm afternoon air. Nature’s critters tell us.
My brother wanted to bring my grandpa out for a visit. This was their first visit to Boone Hollow Farm, so a countryside adventure for both this fine Saturday afternoon. Cellular telephone service is hit or miss, so I hoped they heard my directions okay. I explained several times before, “we are between Chandler Hill Vineyards and the Daniel Boone Home off Highway F, look for the huge barn on the right side.” Our labrador, Midnight chewed on sticks and chased after two barn cats up the larger trees while I cleaned up the limbs. He would follow with such enthusiasm walking near the gravel path alongside the wheelbarrow. But when a white SUV pulled onto the gravel road off the highway, and he recognized the sound of the vehicle. It was my father’s old SUV, and in it was two of Midnight’s favorite persons, Grandpa Earl and my brother, Steve. Grandpa took care of Midnight as a young pup. This overgrown Christmas gift became my father’s hunting companion when Midnight was too much for my 97-year old grandfather to handle. Now Midnight is Steve’s duck and goose hunting companion. Midnight ran to greet his buddies, and stayed at their sides their entire visit. Grandpa could not make the walk up the hill to our greenhouse, and it was too muddy to get a vehicle up there. So that will have to be their next trip to Boone Hollow Farm. But the farmer chat while the elder sat on the farmer neighbor’s bushhog was so refreshing like that spring rain heard in the creek bed. It backed me up 45 years ago, when jaws jabbered during the farm visits in Franklin County, where my Grandpa and Uncle Lloyd made their father’s farm into a weekend get away for their families. That circle of life again, Dean and I making a weekend refuge for our family now. And Grandpa was able to enjoy it after the weekend rain.
- Life in the eyes of a child … simple.
A child’s life moves in slow motion though they run and play with full speed. My granddaughter Ella wants to experience life to the fullest, yet slows down to view upclose a green frog hopping in the garden. Life is simple as a child. Slow is simple. Simply said …
Green frog in the garden, a child’s bauble, maybe prince charming, a fairy tale in the making …