One of my favorite phrases lately is, "We'll manage."  It seems to be my catch-all comment.  And that's what we're doing lately--managing.  Unemployment has kept us busy and we worked much of the week preparing for winter (freezing berries and peaches), baking for the farmers' market, and dealing with leg cramps (well, me only on that one).   This crazy pregnacy-job-loss experience has left me mellowed out and ready for anything.  Managing is what I do best and God has really blessed us with the skill of resourcefulness as of late.

Things have been very abundant at a time when we needed them most.  People are giving us fruits and vegetables like crazy and I've got a good number of green apples to "put up."  I've never had so much food in my refrigerator and freezer.  I signed up for WIC this week and this has been the biggest help to us.  No one is kidding when they say that pregnant women eat a lot and this service is a wonderful blessing when you need it.  Government assistance can be a sore spot for some folks, but you should use what you've paid for when you are in a tight spot.  Enough said.

The farmers' market was a big hit today.  We sold all the not-so-sourdough and most of the brownies and cookies.  Napkins were great sellers, but the fresh herbs were not.  It'll be pesto all around tonight for supper.  It just depends on the week, I guess.  We still did twice a great as usual and enjoyed getting to be a part of the town we always drove away from to go to work.

We're taking next weekend off for Mike to do some backpacking while he has the time.  We had bought him a nice backpack a year and a half ago when they were on sale in the off-season and the time to use it never came up.  May as well do it before things really change around here.  He's got a job interview on Monday in Abingdon, so keep your fingers crossed.  It's a half-hour commute, but it will work for now.  It's easier to look for work when you're working than when you're not.

What's next for me?  More blackberries, cloth bags for wetkneefarm, working on apples and beets and enjoying the upcoming third trimester. :-)  Here's a shot of me in the new dress, looking a bit confused since I didn't know if Mike was taking a picture.  Oddly, I like this photo, but I'm kind of counterculture like that.

July,
she will fly
And give no warning to her flight. . .

One of the excuses I was given for losing my job, apart from budget cuts, was that I was not forward thinking.  Clearly, some people are not traveling the same sort of forward as me.  Today, my forward gained new momentum.  I've embarked on a journey whose path I do not know, only having the knowledge that I can't go over, around or under.  I've got to go through.  My forward is not to bigger-and-better and more and getting.  It is to less and simpler and quality-over-quantity. 

I never believed that "not forward thinking" bit anyway.

It's hard to say what's in store, though I may end up in a part-time position back at my old workplace.  After all, on unemployment benefits, you must take any job offered to you or lose your benefits.  We'll see what the mail fairy brings over these next couple of weeks.  Suffice it to say, just when I thought pigs couldn't fly, some went flapping by the window as I packed up my worldly goods from my desk.  Sometimes I feel the insanity never stops.

But there is always home.  It is the one place where Mike and I can find peace, no matter what the outside world throws at us.  Our pace here is set by us, not by a society driven by greed and rushed by desperation.  Our vegetables do not shout vain commands and the berries grow sweetly in the grass.  Indeed, my forward is the blessing of time on my terms, infinitely many bathroom breaks, and the first cloth diapers drying on the rack.

Give me my forward any day. :-)

I fluctuate between hard and easy days lately.  Between euphoria and anger.  Right now, I'm trying really hard not to feel angry.  It's not productive and I don't want my angry vibes to have anything to do with my baby.  For a brief time, her world is protected and life is mundane.  It is my task to be a peaceful parent during the last few months.

I had some things said to me on Thursday which were very untrue, but hurt my feelings nonetheless.  Sometimes, you hear about a person so morally depraved that others crumble around him, so unconcerned that no one stands a chance.  I have met and worked for that person.  There is not hope for a transition period, part-time work, or a severance package.  If it happens, I won't be surprised to see pigs flying when I look out the window.

It is hard to be at work these last nine and a half days.  Yes, I'm counting.  There is little work to do.  I've already contacted most of the people who will be affected by my absence.  I'm working on tutorials to coach the computer-illiterate through pieces of a highly technical job.  I've cleaned my worldly goods from my desk and now I wait.  There are a few tasks here and there, by mainly I wait.

A couple of months ago, when eliminations of the "non-essential" seemed like a bluff, our pastor gave an excellent sermon on handling pain and anger.  I am working hard to remember it today since I am really struggling and just want to tell a few people off.  It is not my Christian duty to find fault in others and make them pay.  Revenge and nasty words do nothing but place me in the same boat.  It is not my job.  My anger is fruitless and hurts only me and those around me who must deal with my bad mood.

Really, I look forward to my time being up.  I look forward to time enough to enjoy life more fully.  I've always had trouble with the American ideal of the desperate struggle for money to have big things that we drive away from all day long to struggle for more money to get more things.  I'm not the only one, but I suppose I've been given a direct mandate from God to focus on what really matters right now and in the coming years.  It will never be an employer who cares not for my happiness or my financial security.

It will always be, however, making a home where those who dwell in it long for its peace when they are away.  It will always be time carefully managed to extract life's full sweetness.  It will always be a life that is bigger than me where there is time enough to reach outward.  And even when times are meager, it will always be the first five red raspberries harvested where the lilies bloom.

Well, folks, my last day of work will be June 30. 

Times are strange, indeed, and full of big decisions and planning.  There will be time enough for canning tomatoes, making watermelon rind pickles, and picking blueberries and blackberries.  There will be hours ahead for napkins and hankies and soap and loving frugal meals.  No one will ever steal my joy. 

If you've got questions, you know how to contact me. 

June, she'll change her tune,
In restless walks she'll prowl the night. . .

Simon & Garfunkel :: "April Come She Will"

It's a quiet morning here at the Blackberry Bungalow; just the little pumpkin and me are awake.  Mike and I have enjoyed a few days of peaceful living after a whirlwind month.  We went to see Indiana Jones at the drive-in and, as usual, I was appalled at the price of snacks (we're taking our own next time).  The movie was pretty good, though, when you take out all the stressful parts. 

Yesterday we went to Boone for our quarterly trip to Earth Fare and vegetarian food fix.  Mike ended up eating meat (at the place which has replaced Angelica's), I had tempeh, and we came home with $18 worth of gummy candies from the Mast General Store.  You've got to have priorities.  Really, though, that candy will last us for months.  I hope.

I'm glad it's June, but this month still holds some surprises. 

Monday, we'll find out just who's wiggling around in my tummy and laying on my bladder.  Yesterday, the baby got into such a position that I was nearly squirming with pain and screaming for a bathroom.  Just as quickly, the baby moved and I was able to make it a whole 20 minutes without a bathroom break.  Mike says I've gotten a lot bigger over the past week, and I feel it, too.  Of course, I'm always sizing myself up every time I walk past something reflective.  That's what happens when you have a house with no full-length mirrors. ;-)

My birthday is this month, right before the end of the fiscal year at work.  I'm sure, by now, that you've figured out that they might be downsizing me.  It's nothing I've done, but they blame the state budget cuts and somehow see it as okay to consider eliminating several real people instead of looking at other spending.  It's a big, hilarious mess.  That's all I can say.  Now that the shock has worn off, it's like M*A*S*H around work.  I talk about willing my office supplies to people and who gets my African violets.  Humor in dark times as we wait for a verdict.

Today, I've got a couple dozen napkins for the Fiber Frolic waiting for me in the Apiary.  There are also new curtains to plan for our room and Mike, as Quality Control on all my crafting, is keeping a close eye on the fabric selection.  We've come home with some that's he's just obsessed with.  I knew he was the one when he wore my knitting and was so concerned about, well, Quality Control.  I've also got two sizable custom orders for the shop and I'm so thrilled to have them.  Etsy seems to be working out well for me. :-)

Now, for some flower shots. . .



I'll start with peonies, for Emily. 



I've picked the best and fullest, just for you.



This is the bouquet from the other day.  See how full it's gotten?  I've since restocked with more flowers as the petals drop.



Moving along to the bleeding hearts in white. . .



. . . and tiny pink.  I think these are more closely related to Dutchmen's Breeches or maybe Squirrel Corn, given the leaves and flower shape.



Now, I've got to do shamelss plugs for the shop.  See this columbine?



And this one, too?



Notice how I like to take pictures of my hand?

I show all of these to say that they all came from the same plants, but came out different colors!  I moved these from the Old Davis Homestead our first year here.  For awhile, they stayed well-behaved and were all purple and ruffly.  This year, I don't know if they were carousing with other neighborhood columbines or what, but they've gone and gotten Variety.  I love all the different colors and lovingly collect the seeds each year, which are available for purchase over at Brandy's Fiber Frolic.

Okay, shameless plugs aside. . .



Gorgeous Rhododendron.  And at last:



Dwarf Iris.   Aaaah, love.

Happy Sunday!

Winter seems to have taken a vacation 'round these parts.  While it might have been three degrees a couple of weeks ago, today's forecast is for seventy.  Tired piles of snow still sit in parking lots and Hungry Mother Lake was still mostly frozen when we were there on Sunday.  We've been blessed with lots of rain and with it, lots of fog.  Mud season has officially started.

We traveled out to Miller's Creek today for a bit of addressing work and it was a good thing I didn't try to go alone.  The road was solid, squishy mud in many places and it was a bit of a challenge to navigate some of the hills.  It was wonderful, really, to see everything so moist and refreshed.  We're still what you'd call "below normal" but the rain and snow have been coming frequently.  Miller's Creek looked a lot more hopeful than it did back in the heat of summer.

I've been reading a lot about Appalachia and the Blue Ridge range lately, and it's got me thinking about where we're going.  Used to be muddy roads were all we had, long ago in some time I can only dream about.  In those days we were what you'd call "isolated".  But the interstate came through and we've been changing and growing ever since.  Towns are still small, but some are growing in ways that make me nervous.  Wytheville is getting a Starbucks.

When Mike and I were thinking about where to live and before we had real jobs, we decided to live in Marion.  Wytheville, we thought, had too much going on.  Real estate is higher there, too.  We would have paid much more for our house if we'd chosen Wythe County.  Turned out well for us.  We're near my family and the hospital (should the need arise) and away from the traffic.  Well, the kind of traffic a town of 8,000 can bring. :-)

With all the hotels and proposed shopping areas in Wythe County came a Sheetz--Gas Station of the Future.  I went there today for a soda and was rather surprised.  They have a counter where you can get various hot dogs and hamburgers and coffees.  You don't talk to a person to order your food--you punch it in on a computer screen.  One look at that told me I didn't need a cappucino.  It's the middle of nowhere!  We're supposed to be known for down-home, personable service.

Makes me think of this poem.  I've posted it before, but it still rings true.  Makes me think of Blue Mountain Mama and her work against mountain top removal. . .

It's changing here.
I know it.
Everywhere you look
somebody's putting in
a new road,
a new house,
a new business,
a new something-or-another,
and I know we're growing,
we need some of that . . .
but we're changing the beauty out of things.

It's not like
you can't tear down
a mountain.
Anymore, you can
and people do,
more or less?
So what's one mountain,
more or less?
Level off the tops,
we might have something to farm.

I never thought much about progress
until now,
and I certainly never thought of myself
as against it,
but it's turning out I am against it.
And it's not because progress is bad.

It's because progress--
the way we're doing it--
is so ugly.
A mountain is beautiful.

I'm young
I know that,
and probably rash,
but I swear
I hope I die
before the only thing that's left
that takes your breath away
around here
is the smell.

From Jo Carson, collected from her life in Appalachia

Failed GPS data sent me back over the snowy hillsides and into the woods for another try.  Seven degrees at sunrise and another half inch of snow overnight means the countryside is still at its idyllic wintry best.









Brrrr!!

I pulled the shade this morning and outside I found a Winter wonderland just like in A Christmas Story when Ralphie wakes up on Christmas morning and looks outside. . .

And it was just enough.



Enough to cover the roof and stick to the trees.



Enough to make the roads white.



Enough to make the interstate an icy nightmare.
Trapped in the right lane.
For five miles.
Choose your ice--black or white.



Safely at work, it was enough to add the Christmas spirit to early December.



Enough to make my violets happy.
I couldn't manage to pull them away from the window. :-)

Awhile back, I mentioned the possibility of being moved from my spacious office with the fireplace and door (and sanity).  Surely, it happened and for nearly two months I've been in the "downstairs" environment of chatty ladies and cubicle-ness.  My new abode is sharing with Catrina (who is loads of fun) the great entry room of the old Victorian house that has, in its day, been a hospital, funeral home and boarding house.  I like to think that I can make any place homey, so I present to you the garland made out of paper clips and ornaments sifted from broken decorations found in the third floor attic. . .


Now!  On to my home work to do list (home work is the best kind):

• making panettone (wish me luck!)
• laundry (how thrilling!)
• Christmas decorating
• mailing a secret goody to Felicia
• going to the library for the Winter books on Soule Mama's list (really, check them out!)
• collecting more holly
• visiting my Grandy

Today started cold--an expansive sort of cold.  The cold seemed wide to me as I stepped out the front door to warm up the car for Mike.  The frost seemed to stretch for miles and the grey of a Winter sky gave me an unexplainable feeling of quiet.  It was a cold so profound I felt it go through my soul as I stood on the sidewalk.  I was in awe of its power.

This afternoon came out warmer--around fifty degrees and golden.  As we went out to hunt a cabin named the "Locust Hill Country Club," the road was worn and littered with tulip tree leaves.  Bert and Fonzie, the Basset Hounds, came to greet me and lick my skirt.  The lone member of the club was cheery and pleased to see us.  I convinced him he should let "the boys" into his club and he agreed.

We explored Catfish Lane a little more and found tea berries and more blazing golden leaves.  Turning back, a ruffed grouse stepped out onto the road.  It was calm and we were in awe and without a camera.  The grouse stood in the road and we sat in the truck, taking in its beauty, mystified.  It placidly walked up the hill and never stirred when we drove off.

Passing pastures on our way, we spotted numerous vultures circling hillsides.  I tried to convince Ikey I could get a better look if he'd just lay still out in the field for a little while.  As we whisked past farms, a red-tailed hawk took flight.  It was so near to me I saw it's eye sparkle in the sun of late day. 

Ah, yes.  The peace of wild things.

Life never ceases to show me that all people and all places are interesting.  Life is never boring.  I can't remember the last time I was bored.  I think I was likely just impatient, really.

In my travels at work, I must check out roads that are proposed for naming, to make sure they are as the residents say and that they really merit the naming (three or more houses on a common driveway).  Yesterday, I headed out to Barren Springs to find the future "Laughing Spring Road" for New River Retreat vacation rentals and discovered myself along the way.

Yup.  Brandy Lane.  That's me.  The road sign is not legitimate by 911 standards, but it is clever.  Who knew?  When I was married in the mountains, I mulled over what my new name would be.  Brandy Davis Nichols?  Brandy Lane Davis-Nichols?  Good 'ole Brandy Lane Davis?  I decided on Brandy Lane Nichols because of my grandmothers.  Grandy called me Brandy Lane Cotton-Pickin' Davis and Grandma Lois called me Brandy Lane.  It seemed the two should go together, so I kept them.

I now take it as a sign I made the right choice. :-D

Autumn is evading me. I just want everyone to know this. It's hiding, and if you've seen it, give it a stern talking-to and send it to see me. I feel like Olivia Spencer in Earl Hamner's The Homecoming.

It did not feel like Christmas. That moment which had always come in other years, that mingled feeling of excitement, which she called The Christmas Sprit, had evaded her. . .

Truly, as eighty degree days plow onward, it does not feel like Fall to me. Maybe tomorrow at the Fall Festival it will come. Or maybe it's just PMS. I feel rather grumpy today and I've been told I have to "redistribute office space" at work. Arrrgh! I need my solitude so I can be friendly. I haven't written too much lately that's been personal, but my hormones and global warming have taken over!

Peace. Peace.

A funny aside, which I'm dwelling on so I can feel cheery, is that I am in Wikipedia. Enter stage left about how Wikipedia is unreliable: bla, bla, bla. I'm in it! I was looking for the quote above, as part of a research paper I had written in high school, and found a Wikipedia article on Earl Hamner that someone had linked to my paper. Which is quite reliable, don't you know. And features an unattractive picture of me taken in my parents' living room. Such humor. I've hit the big time.

I think today is just the day to have a big head. Yes, I like me better than anybody I know.*

*Thanks, Dad.

What a delight to return home from the Friends of Mount Rogers Volunteer Picnic and see that I, little old young me, had been awarded!  Even more wonderful to discover that there were awards for peculiar curmudgeons like myself!  It means so much, really. . .

If you're new, and there are those of you who are, I am the youngest president and member of the Friends of Mount Rogers National Recreation Area.  At 24, I guide people who are more than twice my age.  I started as a Summer ranger, went on to be a volunteer in the NRA, and now lead a group that supports the Forest Service.  We provide funding, maps and hiking supplies, interpretive services (making nature relevant to all peoples), staffing, and smiling faces who love the land.  It's the closet I can get to being a ranger again!

When I had to get a real job, I remained a public servant making maps and providing 911 addresses to the residents of Wythe County, VA.  I was just telling Mike on the way home that I was tired and missed my work in the woods.  I was tired at the end of every day, but it was the most wonderful tired.  I had given myself to people all day, teaching and helping, and had gotten so much in return.  The work I do now, while still helpful, just doesn't offer the same fulfillment.  Someday. . .

So, when I got home and saw this award, it was for a moment like I was back in the woods again.  I truly believe that we must be the change we wish to see in the world (Ghandi had it right!), and it seems that others are listening . . .

Tell me Autumn will come.
Tell me the leaves grow weary,
And the Earth is tired.
For a child who never liked naps,
I do rather like it
When the land sleeps.

The old-timers, and a few of us new ones, say that the number of fogs in August will be the number of snows in January.  Call it wishful thinking, but it sure has been a foggy nine days.  And HOT!  I can understand why the Department of Social Services provides air conditioners to those in need.  The word on the street is that the city of Bluefield, VA provides free lemonade to everyone on days when the temperature gets above eighty degrees.  I guess they've been busy.

Yesterday I went to Virginia Tech for part two of last week's workshop.  I felt like the ant that was trying to haul off a leaf sprinkle that fell off of one of my cookies at lunch.  The campus was gigantic, the architecture was beautiful, parking was horrible, and a strange man yelled at me.  I had abandoned my car to try to get directions and answers.  He was unhappy with my blocking a parking lot exit and let me know it.  I burst into tears from my frustration, but it's all over now.  I can now understand why my mother was not a fan of her time as a student there.  A place with 26,000 students is too much for a country girl like me.

I can see signs of Fall all around.  The locust trees have turned brown, the first to change their leaves.  Joe-Pye Weed and Ironweed are blooming in the fields and the farmers are out picking their corn.  Last night I pruned the tomatoes, which took quite awhile.  I've got one German pink plant that has 27 tomatoes--all huge!  Sorry, wetkneefarm, it wasn't one of yours.  However, your mysterious yellow tomatoes--Tommy Toes--are going crazy.  The plant is about seven feet tall!

I'm holding out hope for September, that it will be like last year--a cool balm after a steamy summer.  I long to sit on the side of the hill on the Elk Garden Trail and eat supper cooked on my little camp stove.  We're excited about the Apple Festival, Grayson Highlands Fall Festival, and the Molasses Festival.  Only six more weeks.

Get your mind off wintertime,
You ain't going nowhere.--Bob Dylan

I'm somewhat known to make jokes about the disparities between Northern Virginia and Southwest Virginia.  Up there, life is busy.  Down here, life is slower and more quiet.  Towns up there are exploding with growth.  Young people are high-tailing out of the foothills in these parts.  In the Other Virginia, cost of living is enormous.  Household incomes are way out of reach from here.  The county with the number one household income in the US is in Northern VA--Loudon County.  $98,000 per household, per year.  It would take Mike and me more than two years to earn that much!

So, when my bosses wanted me to go to the Other Virginia (Richmond--5 1/2 hours away), I was a little bit nervous.  I've been to Washington, DC and Atlanta, so Richmond was less busy than that.  But it was still traffic and wrecks and waiting and greyness.  I envisioned Richmond as a Southern city, with lots of shops and old homes.  Well, I'm sure it was out there somewhere.  But not in the downtown.  Lots of governmental buildings and greyness.  There was no shopping and barely any eating.  We high-tailed it outta there the first chance we got.

Charlottesville (3 1/2 hours away), on the other hand, was very quaint, compact and shop-laden.  We went there in the evening in the IMMENSE HEAT for supper and a little browsing.  We ate at a tavern, because they're more civilized and have great food (usually) and then stopped at a gelatto shop.  If only we hadn't been there in the evening.  So nice!

We drove for awhile after supper and stayed at The Inn at Afton.  Let this serve as your warning--don't stay there.  The view is fabulous.  The hotel is built on a hillside so high it's cooler up there.  The inn must have been quite a thrill in its heyday, but that day is over.  We were all so tired, we just needed a place to sleep.  And sleep we did.  It was quiet (only a few other guests) and the sunrise was just gorgeous.  Too bad we were twenty years late.

Friday found us heading home, with a diversion to Luray Caverns to travel back to my childhood.  Still beautiful.  It reminded me how lucky I was to get to spend a semester studying local caves with Dr. Davis.  I wanted to put on my old Super Hunky sweatshirt and crawl and climb and get covered in mud.  Such wonderful creations--caves.

We found a wonderful local pottery on the way back and I got to get a beautiful pitcher to hold my egg nog and lemonade.  It's funny, you know, when you visit people and their possessions seem to be dateable from the time when they started housekeeping.  Someday, that will be Mike and me.  I tell myself that the few items I buy now will be used in our home for thirty years or more.  That's one of the big reasons I choose local and handmade.  I can look at the person who made what I'm buying and tell them their work will be used in our home for many years.

The Other Virginia, the part we saw, was not so scary.  The history lives there in plantations and old downtowns instead of chestnut barns and ramshackle houses.  It's rather pretty there, excepting the chicken CAFO's.  But give me the Forgotten Virginia any day.  May I be one of the few who chose to stay.

It seems lately that I feel using photos helps me to feel a little more connected to my experiences.  They say things I'm just not as flowery with my language about.  If this bothers you, email me or "suffer" in the midst of great natural woodland beauty. ;-)

What makes the hours at the desk a little better?
Getting to go outside!
And I get an intern next week, so there will be loads of good excuses.
A geography intern has to be familiar with the territory, right?
I've got my list started!

Aaaah, the saga of the cheddar chips.

At work we've got a vending machine that is older than, well at least me.  It's faux wood and has parts falling off of it, like the change slot.