Yesterday in the cool evening air, I swept the last of the Christmas holly off the front porch.  I was surprised to find it hiding behind some things I don't move very often.  It felt good to get the porch cleared off--the Pro-Mix had been living out there for weeks, waiting for us to build the raised beds.  Even thinking about it now, it feels good to know that our porch is clear.

Really, it means a return to normalcy after a month of being busy around the clock.  There's a reason I keep my calendar clear and advocate less being more--I'm a homebody.  I like working at home, taking care of our home, and making it a place of peace.  I like working in the yard (when I'm not sore) and hanging clothes on Mrs. Houck's line.  I like sitting down to my sewing machine or kneading bread.  There is peace in repetition.

We've still got more things planned, but very little away from home for the next 4 1/2 months.  There's some trail work, a trip to Atlanta and maybe a festival if I'm up to it in October.  For now, we circle the year tending the garden, minding the harvest, and filling the canner.  I'm making lots more napkins and hankies for the shop.  I continue to find that mornings are my most productive times.  I can always carve out a few minutes to hem a couple napkins or iron others for sewing.

After weeks of work and worry, tonight we rest.  Mike is making supper and a soft rain is falling outside.

The past little while, Mike has been digging up sod in the back yard to build some more raised beds for our garden.  We've planted lots of stuff in the yard over the past year.  Let me bore you with the details:

• Grapes (four kinds)
• Red raspberries
• Black raspberries (my favorite)
• Thorn-less blackberries
• Blueberries (early, middle & late)
• Currants
• Lingonberries (like cranberries, but Swedish)
• More strawberries
• More pumpkin/gourd/cucumber/watermelon room

I'm really hoping that these additional raised beds (since we live on bedrock) will be a significant help to our food production.  With all we grew in 64 square feet last year, I don't see why not.  My mom used to grow tomatoes right next to her rented trailer space in college.  I've got strawberries growing beside the chimney right now, and they're my best ones.  Don't let a small space deceive you.  Proper management and water collected from the window AC can do wonders.

I once saw a bumper sticker that said "Food Not Lawns" and I thought it had a really good message.  What does my yard do for me?  Do I roll around on it staring longingly into the dandelions?  Not so much.  Our yard is the place Mike spends 1 1/2 hours every week or so beating back the forces of fescue.  Since Mike and I live a block from a playground, we have no plans for a swingset for the Little Pumpkin.  We did add a fire ring for entertaining, because life never has enough weenie roasts. 

As food prices increase and we face a major life change here at the Blackberry Bungalow, I think more and more about how we can be independent of the grocery store.  Those home-canned tomatoes and the frozen pumpkin sure are wonderful.  If only we could fit a cow back there. . . so, think of this and follow the link in the above photo.  What does your yard mean to you--could it be your freedom?

Just what I needed.  Mike and I enjoyed homemade local bacon, fried eggs and toasted sourdough for breakfast (I just love breakfast) on Saturday before loading up to go to Anna and Mark's.  The drive was uneventful and I knitted on a hat for me while Mike took us over the mountains and through the valleys.  The Alligator Swamp over at wetkneefarm's wasn't all that bad and we managed through it all with none of us falling down!  Anna made us Lad Na, which we'd had on our trip to Foamhenge, and it was yummy!  We enjoyed peach gelatto and some of Mark's birthday cake for dessert.  Can you tell I'm waiting for lunch?

The weather was just right on Saturday for traipsing around the farm and wandering in the woods.  Anna gave me the full run-down on her baby orchard, we looked at the sleeping strawberries and I got to meet the new rooster (who might be called Cranberry-in-secret by Anna-and-Mark who-are-not-admitting-it).  On our way out, we met some mostly drunk guys smoking cigarettes with a tractor (worried?).  They asked Anna where she was growing the pot.  Sorry, not on that farm.  After leaving, we headed over to Hanging Rock so mikecnichols could take some photos.  I had forgotten the digital camera, so all these pictures are his.  And they are pretty good.

While Mike stood on rocks in the now-rushing stream (more rains!), I went on a walk over mossy paths and sorted through some more of my stress.  I'm still working it out, and I'm really glad I've got a four-day week this week and next.  I must make time to travel to the woods and find my feet again on the hillsides.  We've been going out a couple times a month, but it's really not enough for me.  I used to be in the woods three or four days a week back in the good ole days of Ranger Brandy.

On the way home, we drove the steep road up to Hidden Lake to watch the sunset.  The Lake is much like Laurel Bed Lake, high above the valley, surrounded by Rhododendrons and prone to fogs.  I had been up there before, but hadn't been able to see anything because the fog was so thick on the bog.  This time, the view was gorgeous and Mike did a great job capturing our drive across the ridge and the gloaming around the lake.

While some things may be negative or nagging right now, other things are going really well.  Mike and I have been asked to join the Mount Rogers Naturalist Rally Committee.  Here I go being the youngest again.  We came up with some good ideas for streamlining and dividing up the work at the last meeting.  I was also asked to look into leading a caving trip to Robert's Cave for the rally.  I've been into caves lots of times--wild and commercial--but I've never been a leader.  Dad says he'll help me map out the cave and we'll visit it several times before the big day.  I plan to focus on underground manners and general knowledge (what a focus!).

This weekend I also continued my decluttering efforts, focusing on the back porch and bathroom.  I washed nearly every inch of the bathroom, washed the shower curtains, scrunched myself beside the toilet to clean behind it, washed out the cabinets and eliminated excess hygiene products.  I also nearly made myself pass out vacuuming the vent.  Very clean, indeed!  The back porch wasn't so much of an overhaul.  I sorted out items for Goodwill and trash and gave things a good vacuuming and dusting (our back porch is enclosed).  The rest of the house is also in pretty good order, too.  It made me feel really good to get those things done.  Up this week on the Declutter Train--the Apiary craft room and Mike's office.

I've got some knitting going on and a hat swap to ship off tomorrow, so I'll try to post pictures.  Just haven't felt like saying much lately.  Well, I'm off to lunch at The Grayson, where the desserts are alway homemade.  Yum!

Maybe the weather guy was right. . . we came home to find two massive holes in Main street, which is at the end of our street.  Water was pouring from one of the holes and from a nearby fire hydrant.  We're not sure what happened, but I bet a water line froze and burst.  Mom, whose bungalow office is at the end of our street fronting Main, said the men had been there all day working on it.

We had water for the window of time in which I decided to cook supper instead of going out.  After I put the Oven Apple Oats in the oven, I drove over to Voldemart and picked up ten gallons of water to tide us over.  Luckily, we're used to water conditions at the cabin (where it hasn't been running for months until lately).  So, I set out a big bowl for rinsing and put water on to heat.  We washed the dishes and I saved most of the dishwater in the event we need to flush the toilet.  Makes me think I ought to do the rinse bowl all the time.  Why not save water?  Tammy has great tips for saving dishwater.

Ironically, when I said I'd say a prayer for people who are cold, I didn't venture to guess that likely the coldest guys in town would be at the end of my street operating a backhoe and staring down into a large hole.  The water had frozen on the street in big icy puddles and I think no amount of salting will help.  Good thing my street's not a dead end one!

So, yeah, I'm snuggling in and finishing up chores from yesterday.  Pretty soon I'll cuddle up with Mike under the woolly moose blanket and enjoy a little rest and a movie.  Maybe I'll have a few chocolates from the nifty record bowl Felicia made for Mike and knit on my sock.  Another super crafty way to use old records is to make a clock, like krusig did for her brother.  If only Mike would let loose of some of his records.  ;-)  Stay warm!!

I was born wanting more snow, so it only makes sense that the start of Winter is a major occasion here at the Nichols Homestead.  Mike has planned a bonfire in the backyard, but the day dawned rainy, so a fire would have been quite a challenge.  Instead, we drew in around the candlelight and snuggled up to bowls of Monastery Lentils with krusig.  I made bread in the afternoon and Rebecca brought a seasonal salad of carrots and oranges with cinnamon.  The perfect meal for a chilly night. 

Rebecca came bearing gifts of more gingerbread, one being especially detailed.  She made a gingerbread replica of the Blackberry Bungalow!  I was absolutely thrilled and I'm sure that Mike and I will keep it until it crumbles away.  The other cookies she brought, we will gladly eat.  The little house seemed quite suited to the korknisse and I imagine they're looking for a place to take shelter in all this cold and wind, anyway. 

I gave Rebecca a candle made using a hollowed acorn squash and recycled wax bits from the past year.  Making the candle went much better than last year, especially considering I didn't stab myself in the hand with a butter knife like the last time. :-( 

We took a walk around the neighborhood to see Christmas lights and I brought along the Winter fairy for good measure.  Rebecca showed me her knitting progress and she's practically finished with her first mitten.  The gauge is perfect and the pink yarn lives yet again (thanks wetkneefarm)!  I think she's the only student of mine who's managed to keep up the knitting.  I'm so glad for her.    It was a great night, with still a long chilly while to go.  I think I'll spend the rest of it thoroughly flannel-ized and tucked into bed.


Tomorrow's the first day of Winter and we're headed to the cabin to face it hat-covered head on!

Mike just finished the site for The Blackberry Bungalow!  I'm sure he'd love to hear what you all think. ;-)

How refreshing it was this afternoon to arrive home and find the house a pleasant 72 degrees, cooled by our tiny 5,000 BTU window air conditioner!  It got me to thinking about how efficient smaller homes are, when properly managed.  Awhile back, I read The Not So Big House and it praised the many benefits of living in smaller spaces.  I have to agree.

So in the fashion of the great listmakers wetkneefarm and maggie_hess, I present the benefits of bungalow living:

1. More efficient heating and cooling--I'm so thankful for the new insulation.  It's helped dramatically. 
   
2. Less electricity consumption--Fewer rooms, fewer light bulbs.  No crazy extra TV's or computers.
   
3. Quick cleaning--Two hours to do a good job on 1,080 square feet, apart from porches.
4. Automatic accumulation control--With only three closets, we're bound and determined not to become packrats!
5. Tiny bathroom--Inexpensive to remodel very nicely, when we save the money.
6. More time together--People who need their space can just go outside, or learn to like each other!  ;-)
7. A bona fide sense of coziness--krusig has said that she feels very at home at the Blackberry Bungalow both times she's visited.  That's the best complement any homekeeper could every dream of.  :-D

Aaaaah, home.  It's been a long journey for this perfectionist to adjust to living in a 76-year old bungalow, but I think this home was made for Mike and me. 

When krusig came to visit us, she wondered if we had a name for our little bungalow. 

A good one was already taken--the mailbox down the street proudly proclaimed the residence was called "The Pin Oaks."  Mike and I mulled it over--I even looked at the old Sears & Roebuck prefab bungalow plans from the early twentieth century.  No ideas.  I  was contemplating accepting nominations from you all as to what we should name our little house.  At last it came to me.

Owning a home is like taking a journey.  When Mike and I moved in, we didn't see any major flaws with our house.  Until the 75-year old sewer line bit the dust.  Suddenly, my home was so foreign to me.  There were leaky pipes, overgrown shrubs, rattling windows and drab walls--all begging to be fixed.  Repairs were like blazes marking the trail towards a real feeling of home.

We did a lot ourselves.  My dad did a lot.  We paid our home improvement men to do a lot.  Through it all, the house was getting better, after being neglected for a few years.  I like to say the people who rented out the house before us rode it hard and put it up wet (horse humor, I know).  My dad says we given the house a new lease on life (or at least sitting quietly on its foundation).

In past year and 1/3 we've:

Seems whenever I take a trip, it takes me longer than the trip itself to ponder on all of the events.  Narrow Ridge was such a whirlwind, that I'm finding it hard to pin down what the trip meant to me.

I suppose, among other things, it was the first "adult" trip Mike and I have taken wherein we were with other adults who were not our parents.  The twenty-somethings are the difficult years between teen and bona fide adult, which I have termed the pseudo-adult years.  Mike and I have a mortgage, jobs, student loans to pay and a very real life away from our parents.  Yet, last week I was told countless times that I was "just a baby." 

I'd mention my birthday, real adults would ask my age, and then proceed to tell me how little living I'd done.  It seems to almost devalue to living we've done--the social justice work, the fact I'm the president of a group where everyone's twice my age, and the idea that we are indeed quite responsible.  Mike and I agreed that we got a vibe similar to that from some of the folks on the trip.  My dad says it just shows how little people know about us.  I must comfort myself with this thought and know in my heart, that years don't make the adult.

Moping aside, I'll also say that the trip showed me the plausibility of solar energy in the "real" world.  What I haven't said about Narrow Ridge is that it is a land trust-conservation easement sort of place.  There are areas they've designated as wilderness and areas with homes.  There are lots of open spaces and land that will never see development.  Some people have the land, just so that it will remain in responsible hands.  Ownership is not a real idea here, the land is leased from the trust and borrowed from the Earth. 

Homes are to be no more than 2500 square feet (still huge!) and must be off the grid (only solar power and no public water).  The six homes we saw showed us how real people are living with the conscious choices they've made.  They were quite comfortable and were proof of how little electricity we really need.  On the left, the photo shows some of the power infrastructure for the solar-fed batteries.  I don't know much about it, but I know I want to have it in our home in a few years when we've saved up the money.

I learned about the ease and power of recycling.  We do it at home on a small scale, and I do it with my crafting, too.  I make lots of things out of old felted sweaters, well-worn pillow cases and little bits yarn that hold such wonderful memories.  I've made favorite pajamas into a crocheted rug and a beloved shrunken sweater in a stylish handbag.  Good job to Felicia and her Fluffy Flowers etsy shop for all her recycled goodies!  It keeps the memories going.

One home visited was being built almost entirely of reclaimed wood.  It even had an old post office counter window in the kitchen area!  Some homes have insulation made out of old phonebooks and newspapers (much like the old days), while others use recycled blankets to keep out the heat and cold.  Another house, the Mac Smith Resource Center, was almost falling into the ground when Bill Nickle and the Narrow Ridge folks refurbished it and made it solar.  The back part features a large kitchen of straw bale construction.  The beautiful stained glass I showed earlier resides above the library in this house, too.  I was pleased, seeing this house, to know that the buildings can be retro-fitted to the solar and composting technologies.  We've definitely got an old home and I'd love to preserve its character.

I think I learned that with each thing we recycle, we can enliven the human spirit.

To celebrate the Summer Solstice, Mike inaugurated the fire ring with its first flames.

I thought it was a little silly, at first, to have a fire on the first day of summer.  But, as I watched him tend the fire, that old feeling came back of hours of good conversation and relaxation around the fire ring at the campgrounds in the National Forest.  After the day I'd had, it seemed like just the thing to ease me.

We had a simple supper and then I clipped the runners on my strawberries.  I then gazed with excessive amazement at my lettuce actually forming heads!  I let the rest of the chores go and didn't even bring any knitting to work on down to the fire ring.

After a first fire photo session, the Ferrells (our neighbors to the north) joined us.  They sat by the fire with us for an hour and a half!  They talked about their recent vacation, their children growing to be adults, and home improvement.  There were other things, too, but really I just remember everyone stopping their busy lives to be mesmerized by one of the most fundamental things in life--fire.

When I feel like I don't fit in or the world has lost its deliberate pace, I remind myself of the things that humans do that unite us, regardless of geography, class or opinion.  We all eat, drink, love, procreate, mourn, celebrate, and we're all totally captivated by fire.

Leave it to me to post like crazy during the week and then live like crazy during the weekend.  If by live like crazy you mean paint two rooms in 16 hours (eight spent sleeping, one devoted to eating, two devoted to lounging) and then do lots of impromptu planting.

This is the driven Brandy we all know and love.  "Oh, honey, you just can't help it, can you?"  That's what Debbie-the-neighbor says. 

I guess I can't.  Mike picked out the colors and we totally took advantage of the 50% off sale for extended family of employees at Sherwin-William.  So now the back bedroom has become the Apiary, a lovely bee's wax color, and the living room is the Sunset Room, a vaguely mauve color.  No, I didn't make up those names and apparently "vaguely mauve" is another name for pale lavender.  There you go.  Mike picked lavender for a room.  Mainly it matches some stained glass we have.  Photos later.  Gasp!  I'm waiting for the paint to dry.

In transplant news, we visited my parents who live on the old homesite of a massive former farm.  They're only among two who appear to actually be farming it.  Okay, horses, veggies, cats, dog, loads of free perennials.  Here's what we got:

• Stanza (a bulb I'll have to photo when it blooms; I'm just finding lots of poetry and Nissan references on the web)
  
• Yellow Flags
• More Day Lilies (this is Where the Lilies Bloom)
• More Hostas
• Sedum (big fleshy kind)
  

Last week, meaning not this past week, but the one before our vacation, we got around ten black raspberries from Ikey and Mike put them in.  Mortality rate due to heat, three, but some are putting out new growth even.  So, do you get fruit from raspberries when the plants start out about a foot or so tall?  I'd love to know.

Yesterday my 100-year old great-grandmother said the most profound thing to me:

All Things Considered, April 16, 2007 · Historic preservationists can be passionate about keeping the wrecking ball from beloved buildings. But how many would lay down their lives?

One man did: Architecture photographer Richard Nickel spent years with his camera, documenting — and arguing against — the demolition of buildings in Chicago. Thirty-five years ago this month, Nickel died trying to document the demise of a building designed by Louis Sullivan, whose architecture helped define the Chicago cityscape.

In the '60s and early '70s, Nickel watched the demolition of so many of Sullivan's buildings — and buildings created by other turn-of-the-century masters — that he wrote, "I look forward to the day when I never have to enter a wet, charred, smoky building again."

Maybe it's the way the light changes in the spring, but it makes me feel a little sad about the end of winter. 

Even if I go on bulb walks and plot about my yet to be built raised beds.   But I have the maple festival this weekend and the promise of a gallon or so of syrup we will buy (because, yes, we use that much).  And maybe some vintage kitchen towels and tablecloths from the craft tables.

But windows will be open soon enough.  We will reap further benefits from our insulation, and the knowledge and work a year of homeownership has brought to us.  And I will get to wear breezy dresses and sit in the swing at the cabin and work on the quilt with mom.  And maybe someday, dad will put in another outlet in the dining room for us.

Okay, spring, I know I have to take you on if I ever want to cycle through blueberries and butterfly weed, joe-pye weed and apples, pumpkins and egg nog.

I've got to live now.

Last night I had a friend bring me goodies.  It was so nice!

I got strawberries, cherry tomatoes, oranges, plums, sesame seeds, and Earl Grey tea. 

I made a deep dish pizza and we ate salad with blackberry jam dressing.  Yummy!

Then, we went to the library and annoyed the librarians.  And I got vegetarian cookbooks, including the Linda McCartney one, which I plan to use to seduce Mike away from meat.  That, along with the chili recipe.

Today we got nine inches of R-30 insulation in our attic, and it cost about $500 less than we thought it would.  What a relief!

Tomorrow I'm making shamrock sugar cookies.

It is snowing tonight and I am happy.

So, the big snow finally came. 

Saturday was a good day for staying inside.  We walked down to my mom's office and got our taxes done.  It looks like we'll be able to pay off the McGhee brothers for their painting and maybe we'll be able to get some more insulation for the attic!

I made a little baby pixie hat for Martha's baby and also a little pair of mittens with no thumbs.  I hope she will like them.  With the forecast for this week, it sounds like she might not need them, but I guess warm weather will be welcome for taking a little one outside.

Saturday night as the snow fell outside, we watched the Sound of Music and drank blueberry leaf tea.  I got all relaxed and fell asleep.

Sunday morning Mike was VERY excited about the snow.  He had to measure it a lot and take lots of videos for his myspace page.  We had blackberry pancakes for breakfast  and I started my sourdough bread.  We walked to the grocery store and got our food for the week.  In the afternoon we walked over to Wassona Circle and went sledding in the middle of the circle, which was once a pond filled with town water!  Mike loved sledding.

And for your pleasure and my vanity, I offer. . .


And so to my friends, I offer an invitation to visit us.  That means you Maggie, Rebecca, Anna and Mark.  Please come and wear a sweater.

4 to 7 inches, but we're leaning toward 7, since it's more gratifying.

It snowed this weekend a year ago.  That's when we first met our house.  It was all covered in snow.

And GladRags are fabulous!