No half measures this summer—everything has hit with ferocity. A normality-ending disease, human wrecking hammers smashing every aspect of our system of government, life-sucking heat and drought, and new garden pests have all been wreaking havoc. Even George has created a little havoc with massive tree clearing. It’s exhausting.
All summer, it has felt as if we are existing on two levels. On the one hand, we have been enormously productive, working on things we love, which brings deeply satisfying contentment.
On the other hand, there is an underlying current of tension, anger, and disbelief over the state of the world that never really leaves. I have never felt so powerless in my life.
So, we do what we can to improve the world where we do have some power—our little hillside domain.
Staying home, with no visitors, has given us ample time to really dig in and do things right. In previous years, I had so many things going on in the summer, that I was always playing catch up in the gardens.
Flax in July
This year, with George’s help, I finally managed to get enough mulch in the walkways to keep the weeds under control.
Most everything has been thriving, despite the crazy weather.
June started with weeks of wet, dripping fog, leaving things feeling sticky and smelling moldy. When the fog lifted, the heat settled in.
My experimental peanuts like the heat
The peanuts grow underground off of these pegs extending down from the stems
Week after week of brutally hot sun and high humidity.
It is not weather we are used to in Maine. We soldiered on, working outside through the heat, dripping sweat and fending off black flies and deer flies.
It finally got so bad that the heat was making me feel slightly sick and I ended up retreating inside in the air-conditioned sanctuary of our garage loft. The dogs were uncomfortable, too, parking themselves in front of their personal fans.
We were not the only ones to notice that the gardens are thriving.
The chipmunks and mice discovered them, too, this year.
Tunneling their way under everything, they decimated my brassica seedlings, ate bean plants down to nubs, and nibbled and gnawed their way down every bed.
Tunnels everywhere
They aren’t picky eaters—peas, strawberries, melons, flax seeds, carrots, beets—I even found a wee mouse with huge feet nesting among the potatoes when I dug them up.
Fortunately, they can’t climb up the corn and we now have a small solar electric fence to keep the raccoons out. So far, so good.
Aside from the rodent mayhem, insects have created some havoc, as well. Seemingly overnight, plum curculios descended on my cherry trees, leaving not one cherry unmolested. I had never had a problem with them before, so wasn’t prepared. I will be next year. Since I only have a few fruit trees that are mature enough to bear fruit, I decided to bag some of the fruit against pests this year as experiment.
Plastic bags on the apples, cloth on the peaches.
It looks weird but seems to be working. While it has been a record year for Japanese beetles, we only saw one monarch butterfly all summer.
Japanese beetles made lace of the soybeans
We had so many last year, I don’t know how this year’s migration got waylaid, but something must have happened. I miss them.
Our birds and bees have been thriving, though.
Every year we have more birds nesting on the property. They seem to like it here.
House finch hatchlings in the hanging basket
The robin that had been nesting in the sauna wood box, moved her subsequent nests to under our deck, much safer from predators, and raised two broods there.
Baby robin under our deck, ready to take the leap
I harvested my first honey this year.
Tastes like home.
Birds aren’t the only creatures who like it here.
All sorts of animals have discovered our trails—deer,
We are hoping the coyotes don’t get this fawn
coyotes,
Coyotes (sometimes called coywolves) appear on the camera day and night
domestic cats, a bobcat,
porcupines, raccoons, foxes, skunks,
Young skunks
rabbits—all right behind our house.
Young porcupines jousting
We rarely see the larger animals—only their tracks—but the game camera gives us a glimpse into what is going on when we aren’t around.
George has been a whirlwind all summer, mostly clearing out highly overgrown areas,
to give space and light to our screens of evergreens, wild apples, the new orchard trees we are planting, and to maintain our view and that of our neighbors.
When our neighbor moved into his house in the early 70s, the hillside was almost entirely cleared, with blueberry fields and pasture.
In the years since, trees have grown up at an amazing rate and much of the hillside now is heavily wooded. The growth rings on this large maple show that it is about 45 years old.
George hasn’t just been taking down trees, he put in a welcoming light and new sign at the head of our driveway,
built me a grape trellis, stacked and split four years’ worth of firewood, and created what we’ve named our “industrial drive” along one of our trails, where he processes wood and parks equipment.
It feels good to be getting so organized.
Aside from the gardens, I have continued to focus on my flax and spinning two fleeces for natural dyeing.
Drying flax
I processed most of last year’s flax and will finish it and this year’s harvest in September.
Flax tub retting
I should have enough to actually weave some fabric this year.
Some of last year’s crop, ready to spin
My dye gardens are thriving
Harvesting Japanese indigo
and I’ve had two dyeing days,
one with weld and indigo and one with madder.
Yellow from weld, blue from Japanese indigo and green overdyeing weld with indigo
Because this was the first year the madder bed was old enough to harvest,
I wasn’t sure what to expect for color. It wasn’t exactly what I was aiming at, but I love it.
We have not stayed home all the time. I’ve picked up a couple of spinning wheels,
we socialize with neighbors,
I’ve been kayaking and swimming,
and George and I went to the coast for our wedding anniversary, enjoying a walk on the beach and some fried clams.
We’ve been fortunate to have very few Covid-19 cases here in Maine, so far. Let’s hope it doesn’t escalate too much in the fall.
Figs in the greenhouse
I’m looking forward to cooler fall weather and inside weaving time but dreading the upcoming months until the election. It is going to be ugly.
I will try to focus on the beauty here and hope we make it out the other side with our sanity, health, and government intact.
Sweet Alice
