Important Advisory Concerning Attacks on Livestock!

From the Town of Princeton Website:

In the last week there have been two overnight incidents of livestock inside fenced areas being killed by means of wild animal attack. The incidents took place in the Hubbardston Road and Worcester Road areas. Though attacks on livestock are not uncommon in rural areas, Animal Control in consultation with MassWildlife suspect but cannot positively confirm that both these attacks were made by a Black Bear . Residents owning pets and livestock are advised to consider taking additional precautions to secure their animals including keeping them in a secure structure overnight.

Bears?  ARE YOU OUT THERE?? 

Promoting Tourism in Boston After Marathon Bombings

My mom Barbara and cousin-in-law Kim had long-planned to visit The Fahm in early May; our guests were also interested in doing a little touring in Boston. As a Hotwire devotee, I was tasked with finding lodgings for our sojourn in town. I knew of a lovely chain hotel located somewhat outside the city center that offered free parking and reasonable room rates along with a free shuttle to and from the nearest T stop but after the tragic events at the Boston Matrathon finish line and subsequent city shutdown, I decided to look at other options.

The Curve in the Road in Winter

As I think I've mentioned before, The Fahm sits on a curve in the road that folks underestimate and subsequently crash on, during the winter. Here is a note we received recently, after the latest incident which took place in late December 2012. As you can see, we do our best here at The Fahm to be hospitable.

My First Blizzard

We have a house full of guests and animals and food and firewood and are settling in to wait for the wind to wind down enough to go outside and PLAY IN THE SNOW.  The wind is blowing very hard, it is also snowing very hard, and blowing so many directions at once that the snow forms something like herringbone patterns as it flies up, down, sideways and on the diagonal.

The wind roars and the many huge evergreens roar, and once in a while the very comforting roar of the Princeton Highway Department Snow Plow doggedly making the rounds throughout the night and through the worst of the weather. We'll see if the U.S. Mail lives up to their reputation today, and makes it up the road to our place, the last stop on the route.


Right now it is 20 degrees outside and winds are from the NW at 20 mph, with gusts up to 40 mph; that brings the "feels like" number down to 4 degrees F. Good times, people! GOOD TIMES!

Mouse Lips Lolahan Returns!

Before disappearing into The Wild, Schnitty must have schooled Lola in the fine art of bloodless rodential take down.  This was brought home to us last night, beginning about 1:30 a.m. I woke up to go to the bathroom, and got there via the door from our walk-through closet. This door is usually closed at night when we have guests, as we did last night; when I opened it, both cats crowded into the bathroom, Lola milling about in the tub, Tricksy folding herself into the sink.  


When I left the bathroom they followed, elbowing one another in the rush for the food bowls; honestly, you might think we hadn't fed them in days, the way they rushed that kibble. Shaking my head, I left the closet door to the bathroom open, hoping they would leave after the feeding frenzy. Shortly after that, I found myself wide awake so I turned on the bedside light and picked up my library book.


I read only a sentence or two before I heard Lola, in the little upstairs landing office next to the bathroom, meowing really, really loudly. I was afraid her yowling would wake Raj and our guests, it was that loud.  "Lola!" I hisspered new word, combination of hiss and whisper which is exactly what I was doing, trying to get her attention without disturbing Raj, slumbering innocently next to me; "LOLA!" I hissed again as I sat up in bed. Tricksy appeared in the closet doorway looking excited. She stepped aside as Lola strode into the room, Lola still making her loud sounds before popping up on the bed next to me, with a small mouse clamped in her tiny jaws.


"GAH!" I shouted, jumping in alarm, whereupon Raj, sound asleep, sat bolt upright in bed, half-shouting himself, "What? What is it?" as Tricksy bounded onto the foot of the bed and Lola dropped the mouse, exactly in my spot, on my 100% cotton, 250 thread count, creamy white fitted sheet, with a resounding PLOP.  Raj, waking up a little, said with great feeling, "YUCK!" I pushed Lola off the bed with one hand, Tricksy off the bed with a foot, and we all took a moment to breathe deeply and regain our composure. Except the mouse. "Is it alive?" Raj inquired delicately; "Nope. This one's dead," remembering with a shudder the sad little PLOP when it hit the sheets. 


Raj sighed resignedly, and muttering bitterly to himself, pulled on his pajamas, and left the room to get something to wrangle to body with. Tricksy eyed the corpse with some interest from the foot of the bed, Lola from the side; both poking their heads up from where I had just flung them to the floor. Lola gave a sidelong glance at Tricksy, looked at me with irritation, looked at the mouse, and reached out a paw in a blatant attempt to swipe the body. "NO!" I bellowed, both word and tone of which my cats know very well. They reluctantly subsided to their haunches, and resolved into two pairs of shifty green eyes peering over the edge of the bed like a pair of crocodiles hiding in a pond.


Raj returned, using toilet paper to grab the poor thing by the tail.  Lola and Tricksy milled about excitedly when he dropped it on the way out the door; a few sharp words from me and they returned to nosing about the spot on the bed formerly occupied by the mouse. Raj returned several minutes later at which point both Kittehs were installed in their customary foot-of-our-bed positions pretending to be asleep, and I had returned to my library book.


Raj crawled back into bed, turned off his bedside lamp, and fell soundly asleep almost instantly.  I continued reading, and for a few blessed moments all was right with our little world.


...


Our domestic bliss was interrupted again, when more very, very loud cat sounds erupted at full volume, from the vicinity of the the little office on the landing, disturbing my momentary appreciation of the "Now." "Lola!" I hisspered, "COME HERE!" I assumed she was protesting the mouse confiscation and various other indignities suffered at our hands; "LOLA!" Tricksy finally sidled into the room, again ahead of Lola, looking back over her shoulder. Lola followed, sliding out of the closet and looking at me warily, another dead mouse, gripped firmly in her little Kitteh teeth. 


"Gawd, Raj, she's got another one!" I groaned, as I struggled upright, and gave him an elbow; "AAnnnggghhhh" was his agonized response, "Is it dead?" "Yup," I said, "It certainly is." He was heard whispering "AAnnnggghhhh" to himself as he got out of bed. He repeated the Night Time Mouse Corpse Removal Ritual as I herded Kittehs through the closet, out of the bedroom, and out of the bathroom, before shutting the door firmly behind them.  I was determined to put an end to The Fahm's Mousenanigans another new word! for the rest of the night. As I say, I draw the line at rodents, dead or alive, in my bed.

Fiske Pond

Yesterday, in a fit of ambition, Joe, Benjamin and I baked two loaves of zucchini bread and fried up a mess 'o' zucchini cutlets before heading over to meet our friends in Wendell, Dean, Kristen, Marley, and Astha, for an outing to a nearby swimming hole.  I did not grow up visiting local swimming holes unless you count the vastly concreted and chlorinated waters of the Burbank City Pools - which I do not - so visiting a pond is clearly a rural activity not to be missed.

So late in yesterday's summer afternoon we drove just a couple miles up the road from Dean and Kristen's place to Fiske Pond:

Fiske Pond is in the North Quabbin Woods and was established as a cooperative project:

"...by the Town of Wendell Conservation Commission, the people of Wendell, and the Massachusetts Division of Conservation Services, the 125-acre Fiske Pond Conservation Area offers interconnecting trails for hiking, cross-country skiing, and bird watching. Visitors also enjoy unsupervised swimming and non-motorized boating at this lovely, tranquil retreat. Outdoor education groups are especially welcome to explore the field and the forest, the pond and the park."

We were a large and noisy group as we descended the wooded path toward the pond,

and the aforementioned "tranquility" of the area was badly disturbed for several hours, as more people joined us, and then a dog, and then more people. It was sunny but not too hot, the water was practically bathtub warm and very clear, with a gravel beach, and silty bottom. Good times people, GOOD TIMES! (Click on the images below to see larger versions).

On our way...

Joe got right in.

Benjamin took a little longer...

...but he couldn't resist.

No snakes!  We promise!

Hmm...that is warm.

I'm Soaking In It!

Spoof ad courtesy of pzrservices.typepad.com

 

Raj and I have both had serious bouts with the local poison plants here at The Fahm; we've got poison oak and poison ivy pretty much everywhere. Raj had it on his arms while I've had it on my arms and my legs (because I'm special) and me being me, I have had a massive allergic reaction.  This is my first brush (pun entirely intended) with what our young guest Astha calls "The Tree of Poison," and it has pretty much been itchy and nasty and horrid, not to mention that my legs now look as if they've come out on the losing end of an encounter with the flesh-eating bacteria.

*sigh*

On a more positive note, among other wild and/or horribly neglected flora here, we have orange day lilies, black-eyed Susan, tiny pink climbing roses, wild blueberries, sweet raspberries, concord grapes, spearmint, and what will be a bumper crop of crab apples, regular apples, and pears. There will be hickory, chestnut, and walnuts, not to mention the abundance of fiddlehead ferns, should one wish to try that New England delicacy.

This is in addition to the romaine and butter lettuce, lettuce mix, swiss and rainbow chard, habanero and jalapeno peppers, oregano, cilantro, basil, dozen tomato and 3 tomatillo plants, green onions, chives, garlic, broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, potatoes, arugula, beets, red beans, string beans, pumpkin, corn, cucumber, and cabbage we planted in the garden...

Hmm. Perhaps I should look into learning how to can. Or open a roadside stand!

Mary Susan Parker, nee Ocie Mae Brown, Celebrates 99th Birthday!

My paternal grandmother, Mary Susan Parker, nee Osie Mae Brown, born May 1911, has just celebrated her 99th birthday.  Grandma Parker, as she was known in my house growing up, lives in Heber Springs, Arkansas now, after many years in Little Rock, and before that, Scottsdale, AZ. Before moving west to Scottsdale, Grandma lived in Conway, AR, after moving into town from Maynard, AR after she and my Grandfather, Bob Parker, finally decided to quit their farm.

My Aunt Mary Sue and Uncle Larry also live in Heber Springs, while my cousin Susan lives in Little Rock. My Aunt Vicki is from New Mexico and therefore has a little further to go to attend, but attend she does. Uncle Larry, Susan's Husband, and Vicki's Partner, round out the guest list, while party horns and tiaras with sparkles up the festivity quotient.

These are my PEOPLE, and I see my face in Grandma Parker's, Mary Sue's, Susan's and Vicki's, reflected back through the twin prisms of DNA and time.

In honor of this milestone, Raj and I planted "Black-Eyed Susan"

in the corner of our back yard; "Black-eyed Susan" was my grandfather's nickname for his much-younger bride...

 Stay tuned for more once they've bloomed...

Visit to The Fahm Proves Inspirational for Guest

Cheryl Herr Arrives Tomorrow

...and in answer to my query as to her dietary and beverage needs/restrictions, she responded as follows:

"Don't go to any trouble.  If I get really hungry, I can eat snakes.  Or ladybugs.  Or snow."

Clearly Cheryl will fit right in here at Brimstone Manor, She of the leaky chimney, flooding basement, bathroom snakes, attic wildlife, wasps, ladybugs, & etc....(The Fahm, not Cheryl - Cheryl doesn't leak).

The Curve

The Fahm lies right in the middle of a fairly significant curve in The Road. The curve does not look as sharp as it is, which makes it rather stealthy.

Legend has it that some years ago in wintertime, a group of Reckless Youths drove their car right off The Road due to The Curve, and after that The Curve became somewhat notorious.  I was a describing where we live to someone, a Native New Englander, and she identified The Fahm correctly, saying, "You mean that old blue place on The Curve?  With the barn? You know that's a bad curve there, especially in wintah!" 

Truer words were never spoken.  Since Snow has become a regular Guest, two pick-up trucks have skidded out enough to drive two wheels up on Our Lawn as they belatedly practiced weather-appropriate driving and tried to brake when they saw what they were dealing with.  And a third incident took place the other night when a hapless teenage driver, a boy, drove the family car right off the road and up into the drifts piled next to Our Driveway.

The kid spun his wheels trying to get out of our front yard, the car quite naturally became stuck as is their wont in these inclement times, so Raj went out to help.  He reported back that the kid was on his way to pick up pizza for the family supper when said incident took place;  after a short while, the kid's Dad arrived in another car, checked in with the kid, then headed off himself into town to get the pizza, after instructing his son to call a tow truck.  After a while Raj came in, shivering; after another little while, the tow truck arrived to remove the car and the kid.

If We are ever bored, We can just look out the front window and watch cars and trucks run right off the rails, right in front of The Fahm! In all seriousness, it is a serious and sneaky curve: it just lies in wait for distracted drivers...

Michele Has Arrived

...and has already helped immensely with my/our 'Sanity Management Project'...she cooks, shops, advises, entertains, and is entertained by our messy & chaotic situation - in short, she is the perfect guest for The Fahm and is restoring our spirits.

In addition to above, Michele also validated my sneaking suspicion/dawning understanding that living in a 250+ year old 5,000 square foot drafty wood stove-heated (for the moment) Fahm is a helluva lot of W.O.R.K.

Wednesday morning Raj went to Hartford to see his mom Nancy; I was wrestling a migraine and Michele and I opted to stay here for the day.  I went upstairs to lie down, while Michele entertained herself by minding the fire in The Gift Stove and thumbing through Joanna's cookbooks and cooking magazines. After a while I roused myself enough to stumble downstairs only to have Michele announce that she wanted to cook up the chili and corn bread recipes she'd discovered in a 10 year old Bon Appetit Thanksgiving issue.

This led to a conversation as to how to simplify some of the daily chores we're doing that are taking a toll on our bandwidth so far as everything else is concerned.  Cooking and shopping for cooking are two chores that, while enjoyable for me, are also harder here at The Fahm than at home.

The nearest grocery store, The Big Y (American owned since 1936!) is 6 miles away.  One cannot buy booze in a grocery store here in Massachusetts - one must go to a special store, The Package Store, for such things.  Farm fresh (!) peaches, apples, tomatoes, flowers, and pumpkins can be had at any one of the several honor system roadside stands.  Lovely, but still - any 'complete' shopping trip for groceries requires a minimum of two stops.  Oh big deal, right?

Anyfreezetodeathonyourway,  Michele suggested simple things, like buying pinto beans, potatoes and onions in bulk and keeping a pot of them on the stove all the time for cheap hot meals.  We made an elaborate shopping list and since Migraine was still lurking in the back of my skull waiting to reemerge, Michele decided that she would have a little adventure by going to the store herself. When I suggested she allow me to program the GPS navigation system we have in the car ("reCALCulating!"):

...she declined, saying offhandedly that she was pretty sure she could figure it out.  I drew a crude map (well & truly the blind leading the blind) and off she went though not before warning me very sternly that it was MY job to keep the kitchen fire going while she was gone: the Kitchen Fire must be kept burning NO MATTER WHAT.

After carefully building up the fire (not wanting to get in trouble if I failed to KEEP THE KITCHEN FIRE BURNING NO MATTER WHAT) I decided to start the brown rice and pinto beans and shred the chicken for burrito night (Michele's idea).  After cleaning up the kitchen (and tending the fire), I realized that Michele had been gone for a very long time.  I went upstairs with the kittehs trailing along and got on the Internets, taking my cell phone and the land line with me. 

Hm hm hm...

Finally, a phone call. Michele was at The Package Store in the Princeton Post Office Plaza and had been driving around and around, lost.  The turn on to Ball Hill Road from Worcester St./31 is very, very easy to miss and miss it she had, apparently several times.  In trying to get reoriented, she named a couple landmarks that she had driven by - none of which were familiar to me - not surprising since I don't get out much here. She hadn't actually made it to the market just yet but was using her time well nevertheless, having a lovely scenic New England Fall afternoon drive.

I told her that if she didn't use the GPS system I wasn't going to be able to help her; she turned it on immediately and I walked her through the interface so she could set up her route.  After that, success! Michele eventually returned to The Fahm with a car load of groceries and we continued our burrito night prep.

Last night Michele made turkey and pinto bean chili while baking first corn bread, then brownies.

Look at the speed of that right hand!

Turkey and Pinto Bean Chili

Fresh baked corn bread.

The Magazine.

The Fire Guard.