Since any fence that won’t hold water probably won’t hold goats either, I felt I was in a bit of a fix in trying to save my best trees and flowers from the creatures. At my Dad’s, they have the run of the place, and have stripped nearly every tree of everything green as high as they can stand. I love my plants, and don’t wish such a fate on them. As I puzzled and prayed recently, voila!, I saw it – a rose hedge, advertised to keep critters and kids either in or out.

I feel it is a workable, long-term solution, though it definitely is not a quick fix. Since I was planning on moving some roses from the house in town anyway (I had yellow, white, and pink hedge roses there), I at least have somewhere to start. Then, it will be a matter of getting them to grow in the directions and to the extent that I want them to. And, it won’t matter if the goats eat some; they are unlikely to eat their way through the whole thorny hedge.

I picture a rose fence around the whole yard area, and a perimeter fence around the main tree area, to keep the goats in. (I’d like to save my pasture mostly for other critters, if possible.)

Of course, ideally, I desire a tall, Beauty-and-the-Beast type hedge, all swaying with blood-red roses. (Everything sways here – it’s windy.) Perhaps, all in good time.

Courtesy of: http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.growquest.com/rose%2520section/roses_2.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.growquest.com/rose%2520section/roses_a_to_z%2520L.htm&h=640&w=480&sz=58&tbnid=U4yc_szYk7yRFM:&tbnh=259&tbnw=194&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dred%2Brose%2Bhedge%2Bimages&zoom=1&q=red+rose+hedge+images&hl=en&usg=__TjmsyvK-5BCf_p2fC4WxqvLOgAo=&sa=X&ei=n6ckTbLaHoSlnQec4bXBAQ&ved=0CB0Q9QEwAQ

On a stern and rock-bound coast,

And the woods against a stormy sky

Their giant branches tossed;

And the heavy night hung dark

The hills and waters o’er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark

On the wild New England shore.

Not as the conqueror comes,

They, the true-hearted, came;

Not with the roll of the stirring drums,

And the trumpet that sings of fame:

Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear;

They shook the depths of the desert gloom

With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst th storm they sang,

And the stars heard, and the sea;

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang

To the anthm of the free.

The ocean eagle soared

From his nest by the white wave’s foam,

And the rocking pines of the forest roared, -

This was their welcome home.

There were men with hoary hair

Amidst that pilgrim-band:

Why had they come to wither there,

Away from their childhood’s land?

There was woman’s fearless eye,

Lit by her deep love’s truth;

There was manhood’s brow serenely high,

And the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus afar?

Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? -

They sought a faith’s pure shrine!

Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod;

They have left unstained what there they found, -

Freedom to worship God.

- by Felicia D. Hemans, from The Family Book of Best Loved Poems, ed. by David L. George

Here’s the article, with recipe variations. Tell me what you think, and you can tell Patty (the author), too. She’d appreciate it.

To me, mincemet belongs in that somewhat mystical place along with headcheese and homemade cider, shelves full of sewn-up, buttered cheeses and barrels of homemade beer. It comes from a place I’d love to visit, and see how everything is done, and taste and touch and smell, then go home and duplicate the most pleasing parts for my family.

If you wish to share your thoughts about mincemeat, or your favorite recipe for mincemeat, my comments section is open.

(I apologizie for the terrible photos, but it felt so good to be out in the sun looking at flowers, after such a long winter.)

I am eager to see what other surprises are in store for me here. Violets, maybe?

And likewise, every week since.

We had hooked up a short length of garden hose to the drain hose – just long enough to run out the front door and off the step. After dealing twice with icy puddles, we rigged up a system to run it through a pipe away from the path, which is working very well.

We also fixed up drying lines in the basement. I had tried to freeze dry the clothes, but there was not enough wind among the trees in the yard to do this properly. After hanging out nearly five days, some of the heavier items were still damp. So there are just three lines, strung the “short” way across the main room, but paired with the wooden drying rack, it is usually enough room to hang a week’s worth of wash.

If I am ever to get the old clothes worth selling washed, I’ll have to up that to at least twice a week.

His tendencies were confirmed after we caught him resting near his basketball last week.

Tyger added the glasses, but the pose with the ball was spontaneous.

They first replaced the frayed wires coming in from the transformer. They had to add a pole mid-way down the driveway, of to the south side among the trees. This held the new wires much higher than the old ones, and made Will’s tree trimming job mainly unecessary, but who knew?

It was really neat to see the lights come on in the house. I didn’t think it was going to be that big a deal – I mean, I was prepared to live without electricity, if need be. But when the lights came on in the kitchen, the thought struck me, “Yeah, finally – this is a real home!”

We went all over the house, checking every pull-switch and flip-switch, and found the system to be above and beyond expectations. The only problem we noticed was a mild “pop” in the kitchen switch. That one will need replaced.

Other than that, things seem to be ship-shape.

It’s this way:

We need different equipment in order to access the signal from one of two towers in the vicinity of the farm house. We need a direct line of sight to one of them. We also will, of course, need new cable strung into the house, and, as usual, haven’t had an overabundance of money with which to get the needed equipment. We also are still paying on a three-year lease for the last batch of equipment…and will be until July, apparently, whether we move or not.  We are told we may be able to work something out there (keeping fingers crossed).

But any way we come at it, it appears that I will not have internet access for three to four months after moving. Oh well…maybe I’ll take up some hobbies I used to have, like novel writing. Or maybe I’ll finish a couple of sewing projects I’ve let go dormant since high school. I could use a couple new dresses.

And, of course, there’ll always be the new housekeeping routine to get used to, and probably more chores than I’m accustomed to (supposing I bring in milk goats right away), and, weather providing, lots of home improvements to accomplish, both inside and out. I reckon I’ll manage not to get bored.

But I’ll miss e-mailing some of you.

Since I can’t stop the phenomenon, the above is about all I can say about the insistent winter weather we’ve been having since October. Really, I guess I wouldn’t mind, except that we haven’t been able to get moved out to the farm house.

Somehow, it’s very difficult to cure paint and make other such improvements in 20* F. weather. Such temperatures are also not that convenient for washing down walls, scrubbing floors, and cleaning hundreds of glass jars which we inherited with the house. Not that I’m complaining about the jars – anyone who gardens and uses canning as a food preservation method will know that it’s hard to have too many jars.

Still, I wish that the snow would melt, and that grass would once agai grow. I’m not asking much. Just four or five days of fifty to sixy degree temperatures would allow us to do wonders.

Sigh.

But it looks like we’ll have to do without those wonders. Last July or thereabout, I vowed that if possible, I would not spend another winter in our present house.  It was cold all summer long. It’s been at times downright miserable this winter, even with both woodburners going at full capacity.

So I have decided that I don’t need new paint right away. I don’t re-finished floors. I don’t need a lot of things. But I need to get out of this house, and out of this town. I need to have room to let my kids play, and room to enjoy being human. This town doesn’t allow that sort of thing.

For Christmas, Will gave me a very special gift. Do you like the wrapping? 

He managed to pick up two wine glasses:

This photo was snapped amid all the hubbub on Christmas Day. I was going to get a better one, but decided against it, for this reason – the electronics and pretty little night light (Tyger’s) are part of the wonder that needs worked at the farm house.

There’s been no electricity out there for nearly 20 years. We finally got a guy from the Highline Association to come inspect the wires and general situation. He determined that they need to replace the wires, and add a pole, before they can safely hook things back up.

Darn.

Delays, delays, nothing but delays.

Still, I guess I wouldn’t so much enjoy being out there if I couldn’t connect to all my internet junkie friends (all two of them), and add trash like this to the glut of blogs clogging the internet. And, really, it’s not much of a delay – Highline’s supposed to put in that pole and replace the wires tomorrow.

Then we can move!

And Will and I can use those wine glasses to celebrate our new phase of life. He won’t let me touch them until then.

Will took his chainsaw to them, then used his tractor forks to push them out of the way, and haul them to a burn pile he’s made in the pasture. He’s also hauled out an enormous amount of tumbleweeds and other brush. We’ll have a bonfire on the first windless, wet day available. Get a member of the local volunteer fire department to drive the  water truck out, in case anything goes wrong.

Will’s tree surgery opened the drive up considerably, knocking out some of the charm which the over-arching branches made, but it had to be done.

And it’s not that bad: