Country Living Update: From the Lighter side

Quincy and Rawley: The Terriers

This morning, while I was engaged pulling the cockleburrs out of Squirt the pony's mane, the terriers went absolutely crazy at the other end of the barn.  It didn't take long to discover the source of the ruckus.  The unmistakable odor of Mephitis mephitis (the striped skunk) wafted through the barn and made it impossible to stay with the job at hand.  North American Wildlife explains it thus: "When provoked, the Striped Skunk arches its back, raises its tail, stamps its front feet, and shuffles backward.  If the warning is not heeded, the animal ejects a fine spray of acrid, blinding fluid from its anal glands.  As a result, few animals other than large owls prey on skunks..."  No kidding!

Many years ago, while hunting squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) in Wisconsin I came up over a rise with my dogs (Beau and Wulfy back then), was confronted by a relative of today's entertainment, and witnessed the entire dance.  Fortunately, the dogs were distracted by a flushing ruffed grouse (Bonasa umbellus for my readers who may be familiar with other types in the UK), and we were spared the "fine spray of acrid, blinding fluid" on that day.  The boys didn't come off so well this morning.  While they managed to avoid the direct blast, it is fair to say that they will not be allowed into the house until they are cleaned up and descented.  Opinions vary on the best way to accomplish that little job, and this afternoon I will probably try at least two or three of the proposed folk remedies.

But to finish the story, by the time I got the horses out of their stalls and into the front pasture, and checked to make sure the chickens were ok, I saw the raised white tail of my offended neighbor going over the hill and under the fence into the woods.  Even if my shotgun had been handy, I didn't have a safe angle for the shot.  And so he lives to spray again.  The terriers have taken it all in stride, and are quite proud of their accomplishment.  It is as if someone has given them both a shot of adrenelin.  Faithful Pat, the retired white rabbit hound, witnessed the entire thing and seemed quite bemused by it all.  But after a life spent in the woods and hedgerows, he was more than willing to leave the whole thing to the terriers.

An elusive neighbor to avoid!

Ah, Spring!

The Gateway to Paradise: A Garden Entrance at Briarwood Last Spring

After an unusually mild winter, spring seems to have come early to Fairfield County. It has been accompanied by what the ancients would have considered to be powerful omens. Jupiter and Venus have been profoundly beautiful as they danced together in the western sky over the past few weeks. Mars is ascending steadily in the east, and friends who are not as distracted by city lights as we are here at Briarwood tell me that Saturn is clearly visible on the eastern horizon. Last night, a mighty thunderstorm struck after mid-night and the counties to our east and southeast experienced flooding and reported tennis ball sized hail. I really don’t know what to make of it all, and I don’t put much stock in omens, but the passing of winter this year has been spectacular.

Daffodils and Narcissi bloom profusely in the cutting garden, and the greenhouse literally bulges with young spring plants awaiting their final transplanting into the garden. The propagators have been working overtime, and are currently populated by tomatoes, peppers, and second plantings of lettuces, cabbages, and greens. Hopefully, next week I will be able to till the garden plots, set the trellises, and plant garden peas. Potatoes are also in our future. About half of the plot will be grown in containers filled with straw, a little experiment I’ve contemplated for several years, but never gotten around to managing. Over the weekend, parsnips, turnips, kohlrabi, and beets should get their starts in the propagators. I’ll plant a few more than we can use, because the chickens seem to like them (but then the chickens seem to like about everything!)

Speaking of chickens, my beautiful flock of eight Speckled Sussex hens is now presenting me with six to seven eggs a day. They are overseen by Chanticleer, a monstrously mean, but dashingly handsome rooster of the same breed. Sussex hens tend to be pretty broody, so as the year advances, I’ll let one of the girls hatch out some chicks. We will keep two or three as replacements, and donate the rest to the Common Friars in Athens.

The pastures have greened considerably in the last two days, and as always, it is good to see our old horses, Princess and Squirt, enjoying their retirement. A bit more gaunt and swaybacked than when they were in their prime, they are ever present reminders of when this farm rang with the laughter of children on a daily basis. The place would not be the same without them.

The trees are beginning to show signs of life, and it won’t be long until I will be able to sit on the porch with a pipe and a wee dram and hear the buds pop open in the woods. Even as I write, the air is filled with the deafening chorus of a plethora of peeper frogs. Just a few years ago, we were afraid that we had lost them, but this year and last they are back in all of their spring glory.

Briarwood is a blessed place to be any time of the year, but especially as the winter turns to spring. It is in a very real way an icon of that Heavenly City, which will one day come down as a bride adorned for her husband. Here is balance and harmony, plenty and peace. I pray Rebecca and I might be good stewards of this place that all who come here might be drawn into relationship with the maker of it all.

As I pen my goodbyes tonight, the terriers are curled up at my feet. Faithful Pat is in the woods running game, which is what all old hounds are paid to do. Might we all so employ our instincts that the Great Architect and Creator of the Universe be ever glorified! Amen.

Morning Resolve

Rawley is at my feet, and just outside my window, chickens and horses range on a luxuriant green pasture filled with white dutch clover. The sky is slate grey and the birds sing. The scene is idyllic, and a heady tonic with which to start the day. Tristan called early this morning to confirm his flight number for some Marine paperwork having to do with his upcoming leave. I’ve made coffee, visited with my dad, pulled weeds in the garden, and taken care of chores around the barn and house, and cleaned up my e-mail. Shortly, I will begin my daily rounds. Most of today will be taken up with visitation, but I will find time to take dad to the pharmacy, and to work on a pre-baptismal curriculum for adults. Along the way, I also need to spend some time in the Psalms and with a couple of Paul’s Lesser Epistles. I’ve just finished a week in the Pastorals to significant profit. How sad it is to realize how I fall short, but how refreshing to experience God's forgiveness and strength for the next round. When Saint Paul used his boxing and track & field images, perhaps this is a bit of what he had in mind.

A report in the Washington Times today alleges that the last administration instructed the Federal Reserve to threaten and bully Bank of America into buying Merrill Lynch, or some other troubled financial concern. A sidebar directed my attention to an earlier story about how the current administration allegedly applied undue pressure in the General Motors bailout and bankruptcy proceedings. If the allegations are true, it occurs to me that we live in a world characterized by coercion. Most of us are very willing to make other people do what we want most of the time. What a sad sate of affairs when men and women employ force to get their way from their fellows. It always leads to hard feelings and violence of one sort or another.

A few days ago, I received a well intentioned, good natured invitation for St. John’s to become involved in the distribution of government faith based programs. I respectfully declined, not because the programs would not help people (they probably will) but because where money flows, regulation and ultimately control follow. I firmly believe that the Church must maintain her independence if she is to function prophetically in society. So often we might temper our words or our actions to protect our capital investments, our clergy remuneration plans, and our structures. I’m not sure it is wise to complicate the matter further and buffer our witness to the Gospel of Christ by tying our programs and budgets to public monies.

It is 7:30, and time to move on to the next item on my list. Today, I will do my best to appreciate the blessings of God all around me, and to do no act or utter any word which might serve to coerce or control any person whom God has made. I shall attempt to model the love of God to all I meet by remembering my own shortcomings, studying to be quiet, and working with my own hands to accomplish the mission God has given me.

Bill+