Recollections 1: An Introduction (A Day in Autumn)

These are the recollections of days well spent, of trips that will live forever in the deep cavernous depths of one’s mind. Days that stretch on from the first rising of the sun to long past the purple hazy light of the long set sun. These days dance through the halls of memory and inspire the adventures yet to come. I am one of the lucky ones here on this earth, I get so many of those days. I don’t take that for granted, not for a single second, but it does drive me to document those days well spent with the most tenacious and tedious of detail. Journals to live vicariously through when you’re reading this on a screen or when I am anciently old and looking back on my very own past.

We search for the themes that carry us through this life. We search for those fibrous threads that link us to the humanities around us and to the souls of others. For me the landscapes often drive that quest. Be it driving down one lane roads, interstates, or the cobblestone streets of old New York the quest for new views drives me as much as my slow life on my little old plot of Kentucky land drives me to stop this writing and photograph that way the sun is rising against the October sugar maple leaves.

Twenty minutes later I have returned. The light continues to climb up the front of the house and flood through the windows. The light seems especially golden as the morning fog and copper leaves meet and light fractures beyond the screens and onto the white washed floors.

These are the memories of those days from the road and here at home. These are the journals of a life well lived, right here, wherever here might be.

On this day we drove somewhere through Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom and the central parts of New Hampshire, south of Mount Washington down towards Maine, I suppose. Time has a way of blurring the maps of the different days, but the landscapes and conversations tend to stand out. The camera roll says the day began with donuts, delicious donuts from an old fashioned grocery in Vermont. Lunch was pizza at a place near the Canadian border. As I type I remember we then went on up to see the border. We found a lavender farm on a hill that had vista like views of the Canadian landscapes across that manmade arbitrary line that divides us. From there we journeyed on as it began to rain, or perhaps continued to rain. The rain seemed to be ever present on that trip, but the clouds made for the perfect light to shoot photos of the landscapes with. We found lakes around curves that seemed to be formed between the mountains, we found creeks that flowed over long fallen rocks, we found tiny towns that time seemed to have forgotten, but we were lost in the quiet discovery of it all. Places marked on the map for future returns. The rain fell heavier as the day grew on. The Maine border brought pouring showers that persuaded us to stop for the night, and as I recollect the destination for the following day was to be Acadia out there on the coast.

Autumn Wednesday at the Farmhouse

Company is always welcome here, except when it isn’t, but most of the time it is. Usually we have a meal here each week. Usually it is on Tuesdays. We come together to plan workshops or events or to gossip or to simply have whatever is fresh from the garden that week. This week we had pumpkin soup, which is a recipe I have shared here on the website. It is one of my most requested dishes. A combination of basil, pumpkin, garlic, and cream create a delicious warm savory autumn pumpkin dish. Leftover pumpkin is turned into pies. Four pies were baked last night after all the company left. Wednesday was the baking day for the week. One day each week is reserved for baking bread. Typically eight loaves are made, four cinnamon, and four regular. Almost all are given away, but today at least one was for the luncheon table. Bread pudding was served, a variation of my traditional bread pudding (available here on the website) with caramel pecan apple butter (available here) added into the egg/cream batter. It was a hearty meal for all.

As I continue sharing the slow life here at Walton’s Creek it’ll be lots of short ramblings like these. Autumn is really progressing beautifully here, each day more leaves are in their glorious colors and the piles are starting to form on the ground. The back of the valley is especially beautiful this year. The tornado took the treeline out that divided the valley in half. Now the focal point is a beautiful grove of maples surrounding an old house high on the north western edge of the valley.

The day began with a few images of my favorite autumn pieces on the mantle and progressed to the most beautiful sunset after scattered showers. Today, Thursday, brings pumpkin pies and so much leftover bread.

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First Frost

The first frost of the season came, and went. It was early this year, two weeks earlier than it should have been. Today they’re calling for a high of 80 and we likely won’t see another frost for ten more days, more in line when the almanac historically says the first frost should come. For that those fleeting hours, two early mornings ago, the earth and land stood still and calm beneath the near dark of the early morning light. A thin sheet of glassy like ice frosted and tipped all of the once vibrant summer foliage and blooms. Those tender plants now wear the browned and dried battle scars of the first frost.

When the Frost is on the Punkin

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,

And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,

And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens,

And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;

O, it’s then’s the times a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,

With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,

As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere

When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here—

Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,

And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;

But the air’s so appetizin’; and the landscape through the haze

Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days

Is a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin’ to mock—

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,

And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;

The stubble in the furries—kindo’ lonesome-like, but still

A-preachin’ sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;

The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;

The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover over-head!—

O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps

Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;

And your cider-makin’ ’s over, and your wimmern-folks is through

With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! ...

I don’t know how to tell it—but ef sich a thing could be

As the Angels wantin’ boardin’, and they’d call around on me—

I’d want to ’commodate ’em—all the whole-indurin’ flock—

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!

The Tent Giveaway!

GIVEAWAY! Back in the fall we started a tent giveaway. We have absolutely fallen in love with the Stout tent you saw at the farmhouse all summer and autumn. The plan was to give one away the first week of December, there had been two points of entry (The Tourists Welcome issue of FOLK and the Autumn market at the farmhouse) and we would have a third and final one here. Then the tornado came and took the tent in our yard away, and caused us to delay the giveaway. This weekend though feels like the perfect time for us to wrap up the giveaway and for you to enter!

What you’re entering to win: 1 Stout brand luxury tent—perfect for camping, glamping, or enjoying life outdoors. The winner will receive one of these beauties and will be the envy of all their neighbors. We can assure you that you’ve never seen a tent this well made. To enter simply enter your email address below. On March 1 we will add all of these entries to those from the first two points of entry together and a random winner will be selected.

PLEASE GIVE THE WALTON CREEK FARMHOUSE IG A FOLLOW

Ten Years of FOLK, a conversation

This month FOLK celebrated the 10th birthday! A cause for celebration! It has been a journey of highs and lows. I tried and tried to find the words to share, but they simply never came in written form, instead a video was made….

Entry 1: I Want to Live the Life of a Morning Glory

the concept is to write one piece a day, no topic, no goal, just to write, and to see where it goes.

I WANT TO LIVE THE LIFE OF A MORNING GLORY

I want to live the life of a morning glory. I want to slowly creep and crawl towards the sky. I want to weave myself through the gardens, the fencerows, and the corn fields. I want to flower under the cover of the morning dew, quietly awakening with the eastern facing sun. I want my colors to show in that cool blue glow of the dawn. I want the droplets to form and roll off my petals and my skin like they have since the stories of old. I want to cling to the summer months and fade into the cold. I want to grow and curl with each passing hour and day. I want to envelope the landscapes sharing my beauty with those that appreciate it, only to annoy those that don’t. I want to provide refuge for the creepies and the crawlies. I want to be close my blooms and retreat from the noonday sun. I want to reserve my simple grandeur for those hours when the world is is calm. I want to live the life of a morning glory, eternally growing, modest, stedfast, wispy and wiry, yet forever bold. 

The Garden: Checking In

My garden continues to grow. Yes, like the plants are growing, but the size of the garden continues to get larger and larger. It was supposed to be a humble three rows, a fraction of the overall size of the garden area, but as the season has continued on the garden keeps getting larger, and if I can figure out a way to fit pumpkins in, it’ll only continue to grow. 

I never set out to have a garden this large. I truly only wanted it because I had the space and it would make for good photos. I have since realized how much I enjoy it. How much I enjoy the daily growth, the watching it, the caring for it, and the taking pride in it. I also enjoy the ability to experiment with how it looks, and how I grow specific things. It feels like I am actually accomplishing something, and that feels good. 

Last year most of the summer was spent in an apartment buying foods at the Whole Foods. While I love the Whole Foods and do miss it now that I am full time in Kentucky I wouldn’t go back to being an apartment dweller. I enjoy my house, my garden, my yard, my barn, and my community, but that is a blog post for another day, or perhaps even days. 

This week I picked the first zucchini of the season. They will be served for lunch on Sunday. I feel like I will be picking squash tomorrow. I have found the occasional ripe blueberry, and the tomatoes are quickly setting on. My goal is to have the garden full of produce by our July 16th Southern Supper that we’re hosting at the house. 

I already see changes I will make for next year and already have plans to make the garden much larger. Going into this the idea of maintaining the garden felt incredibly daunting, but with about an hour spent each evening the garden seems to be as weed free as I’m willing to keep it, the plants keep watered, and the gardens are staked as it is needed with their new growth. I realize the key is keeping it under control, but so far so good.

These are photos taken over the past week of the continued growth and expansion. 

Let Us Cultivate Our Garden

Musing about being a first time gardener and growing things in the dirt

Perhaps I have read too much Eudora Welty, or perhaps I’ve listened to too much Eudora Welty on Audible, or perhaps I have watched my old VHS copy of Steel Magnolias one too many times, but I have found myself really settling into this Kentucky-southern-farmhouse-small town-rural-slow living-old fashioned-life. There is something completely fulfilling about it, about being a part of a community, and about being a part of this piece of land. 

When I moved to Kentucky full time in December my strongest desire was to be a part of the community. I grew up here, my family grew up here, we’ve been here for a very long time. We are one of those original land grant families. Kentucky became a state after we settled on this land. Back then this farm grew sugar cane, typically a tropical crop, that leads me to many questions about how it so successfully grew here, but thats a topic for another day. We’ve established roots here and I wanted to be part of that. I love the cities, but the cities tend to be cold and impersonal. I wanted that Fried Green Tomatoes or Hope Floats sort of experience. Yes, I do blame this on Eudora Welty and Harper Lee. I blame my love of southern gothic literature on this place and I blame my love of this place on southern gothic literature. 

I will however admit I really love that living here, in a very low cost of living region, allows me to travel much more than New York City did. This summer has already brought trips to both coasts and promises more adventures east and west and all over the fly over states in between. I have found this balance fuels my love of my hometown and inspires me on what we can do here in my hometown based on things I’ve seen in small towns across the U.S. Lately I’ve been alternating staying at home and taking quick weekend trips. I figured it might make for good blog and web content….so…here goes.

Fueled by all this southern gothic literature and Ouisers proclamation that we must wear funny hats and grow things in the dirt I have really taken a liking to gardening. I grew up with there being a massive garden here, but after my aunt and my grandfather’s deaths the garden lay dominant except for the scrubs and weeds that slowly, yet eagerly took over. Together they grew one of those old fashioned country gardens…the kind that taught you at an early age how to break beans, shuck corn, and how to properly plant a row. Those days are long gone though. This year I decided I’d plant a small garden for myself. It started with a plot 1/12 of the original size garden in a spot that really isn’t fit to grow much more than autumn turnips and mustard greens, but the spot makes for good photos so here we are. Three short rows were tilled and readied. Now anyone with any gardening knowledge at all, or with a bit of Martha Stewart 1990s research, will know rows should be planted north to south to maximize sun exposure, but this is a garden that is over 100 years old, and it runs east to west. 

Throw in a clay based soil and it’ll be a modern miracle if this garden produces much more than ragweed and crab grass. But here we are with three rows out behind the clothes line next to the blueberry bushes. I went to the greenhouse and procured a three pack of every garden plant they had and enough tomatoes to put up a few mason jars for winter….no I don’t know how to properly can, but thank you for asking. 

Beautiful little garden. The plants were watered daily and the tomatoes were staked with tobacco sticks and twine. Three rows suddenly felt small. I craved six. I wanted Kentucky pole beans to grow high up in the sky. I wanted cane polls tied together in cute trellises, but that will come next year. This year will have my Kentucky pole beans growing on the tallest variety of sweet corn I could find. The photos will be beautiful, exactly how I intended. Another row of tomatoes was added so I could have variety from pale pink to deep purple in color. Herbs were added to fill in spaces since my herb garden was taken over by grass, and a row of wildflowers has yet to be added along a fence I will make out of tobacco sticks. Those will be next week’s projects. Space was also added for twenty or so lavender plants so that we can have a cut your own area at our markets and popups in the coming years. Watermelons and gourds still need to be planted. The space will be filled with wildflower seed to hopefully cover area that would otherwise be an inviting home to weeds and grass. 

Next year I will start my garden early, I will hopefully also have a greenhouse, but for now the baby steps are in place to have a garden that will provide enough for a few recipes, endless photos, a few meals around this dining table I currently sit at. One day I will even perhaps have a garden the size of what it once was, but there is much to do before then. 

These photos are my garden coming together. I will share more as the season progresses on. I will hopefully start sharing at least one post a week from life here on the farm and from my travels. Life is best lived slow and steady, and here we have both.