Wine and Weddings

Winery tours, a wedding, a birthday party and country carriage rides filled this exquisite weekend in June! Each moment from sunrise to sunset was enjoyed in glorious sunshine and cool breezes. On Sunday night, the first round bales of the season were placed in the paddocks. As is evident by the picture of Danny and Dakota at their bale, our horses eat well!

Photos: Top: "To the Vineyard" - Saturday had us doing winery tours.

Second: The surrey-top wagonette was in use on Saturday for large groups to the winery.

Third: Saturday night's wedding was held at a local religious retreat. Sam and Cody joined us for a double shift that day!

Fourth: Sunday had us at a birthday party and doing country carriage rides from the farm. Here Danny & Dakota were placed on the white wedding carriage for a newly married couple's carriage ride through the country side.

Last: These round bales, at about 800lbs each, will feed each team for five or six days.

When in Rome...

...do as the Roman's do! This is the motto that Terry lives by, pretty much on a weekly basis. Not a day goes by when in Pennsylvania that his bosom buddy, Paul, doesn't coral him into daily chores on the farm. The thing is, chores here consist not just of feeding livestock, or of moving horses to the sale barn or selling them to Amish half the state away; it is plowing, discing, harrowing, mowing, planting, baling, harvesting, putting up tobacco, baling tobacco, picking pumpkins, etc, etc. Earlier this week, he baled hay and planted tobacco. All, naturally, by horse power.

Photos: Top: Terry takes the reins and bales the alfalfa fields. The counter read 430 bales at the end of the day. Paul's sons Timmy and Wesley stack the bales on the hay wagon.

Middle: The tobacco "planters" separate the plants, place the plant in the mechanism at the center of the planter, and the mechanism plants the tobacco in the harrowed ground! The driver sits atop a water barrel which continuously waters the newly planted tobacco.

Bottom: Tobacco planting is a three person job.

The Voices of Horsemen

My husband Terry usually lumps computers and "social networking" into the same pile that is, from time to time, spread on the fields by the manure spreader. His wife (me), on the other hand finds the computer and the internet in particular, to be a very useful art medium. Blogging is no different from sketchbook journaling, social networking is so much better than the telephone. Facebook has allowed me to meet so many fabulous characters from all over the world who have important stories to tell about their own horses. I have decided to share some of them here, and hope eventually to compile them into a book. The voices of horsemen, chapter one...

From Michigan horse farmer, Fred Brooks (the photo above is of Fred's grandfather and his team of Percheron mules, circa 1936)...

Cool this morning, but no frost. There was a freeze warning last

night, the cherry orchard folks were up most of the night getting heat

inductors and massive fans ready...but they didn't need them...though

we aren't quite out of the danger area just yet....

Since it has been so wet and cool I haven't gotten anything planted,

though I will travel over to see the Prince this afternoon to pick up

his middlebuster for planting potatoes. I also got seed from him, a

very thick skinned baker that he had no idea on variety...I'll try them.

Traveled to the Jordan River Valley last night, scene of my unproductive

youth, to East Jordan. I visited my Folks, and went over and talked to

Jack Wilson. Jack, if you remember is the guy who had the team harness

for sale. He didn't exactly jump into the car to go out to his son's place,

Neil's, who I grew up with...Jack had problems getting his shoes back on,

and since his last stroke talks to himself a bit.

Jack gew up out in the Valley....tough people out that way, though on

the very strange side. The ol' man had a first name that was

unpronounceable so he went by the name of "Spike."

Jack had a brother by the name of Glen, who I worked with, and went to

school with his boy, Steve, who is now dead, cancer killed him, though

he was left for dead several times; one of those times they found him

froze to the Peninsula Road north of town, nearly bled to death....he

took on the Wiser Brother's by himself, a story for another time.

Glen is still alive, and like his son is lucky to be left up

alive...he has a nasty scare across his throat...back in the 60's he

was working in the woods and fell over backwards with his finger still

on the throttle of the chainsaw, cutting his throat...guess Jack was

out there with him. Glen also owned a horse logging business for a

short while, after he retired from construction, went back to his

roots...Jack owned his own construction company....but he helped

Glen once and a while.

Anyway-I looked over the harness, I think it dates back to the logging

era, I mean the massive logging era...the traces attach to the hames

with eye bolts, I have never seen that before...but everything looked

solid enough to pull out firewood with...and for 60.00 it was a

steal...I told Jack that too. He just told me when he seen the

harness he thought of me and just wanted what he paid.

Another thing about Jack...I never heard him really tell a story...but

he loves listening to them...he has a very infectious laugh, one of

the nicest guys I knew growing up. He could also be a terror in the

bar room.

Another Installment of "Spring"

A few weeks ago I posted pictures of some of the spring flowers popping up here at the farm. Now, we are moving into another phase - the Irises are blooming, the Hearts, both white and pink, are sprouting like poets, the Pansies are smiling, and the Lady Slippers are sneaking up through the fern in the woods. After all this rain, everything looks lush. I will enjoy the sweet Irises today...soon, Lilies and Roses will take over the garden!

Small Talk

Once again, the Cinderella Carriage made an appearance in Hartford for a Quinceannera over the weekend.

Late in the evening on Sunday, we put a full sized work harness on Jessie as part of her training. The pony harnesses we have been using on the girls are just much too small now. The collar on Jessie is a 22" - not properly fitting but it doesn't need to be at this stage in the game. We are amazed at how big these girls are getting! Jessie just turned 1 - Leila will be a year on June 21. Soon we will "hook" them to Gillette and "ground drive" them around the barnyard.

Robin, 'O Robin

Folklore has it that to kill a Robin or destroy her nest, bad luck will surely come to you. I wonder, then, if a nest is discovered, and left unscathed, will the opposite be true? Is not the discovery of those precious blue eggs a blessing in and of itself?

What are the chances of not only finding Robins' nests and eggs in two locations (our property in Colchester and here on the farm in Lisbon), but finding them both on the same day, just an hour or so apart? Is it an omen of good fortune? A divine symbol of spiritual mystery? Or can it be that Earth and her children, no matter what turmoil boils in lands far and near, quietly and consistently seek to replenish all things defined as Good? Selfishly, I hope and pray for the latter.

Happiness Is...

...A Warm Puppy!

Meet Lucy, Terry's new pride and joy. He has been thinking long and hard since the loss of our beloved Blue Tick, Penny, about what kind of dog he would like this time. He had entertained the thought of an Aussie and a couple other, very loyal breeds he could take on road trips with him. In the end, however, the bay of the Coon Hound just runs too thick in this man's blood, and simply left him with little option.

Having learned of a coon hound breeder here in Connecticut quite by accident a few days ago, he made a call and secured a female. The odd thing is, however, that we traveled to the shoreline yesterday thinking we were getting a Red Bone - for whatever reason, Terry had it stuck in his head that the breeder had Red Bones. You can imagine our surprise and joy when we drove up to his house to see a yard full of tumbling blue and black puppies! The voice of their father, a handsome show and trial champion, sent chills up the spine! Our little Lucy already displays the good voice of a well bred Blue Tick, and we can not be happier.

In the car on the way home, I drove and Terry held the puppy in his arms. We reminisced about the day nine years ago (almost TO the day, as a matter of fact) that we brought Penny home. We named the new puppy Lucy in honor of Penny Lucia (Penny's middle name came from my mother's, the Italian version of Lucy), and it fits her beautifully. Of course, she is already her "daddy's" girl. She nestles in his arms and looks at him lovingly, licking his hands and face. The old saying goes that a dog knows a man's character better than the man does. Lucy, of course, already knows that her new man has coon hound blood in his veins, and feels right at home.