When we finally sat down on the freshly mowed grass by the chicken coop late Sunday afternoon, I realized what a blessedly wonderful weekend it had been. Watching Matilda grinning as she alternated between pulling up grass and pulling out Otto's back hair, watching Clyde and Chet the Rooster do battle, enjoying a beer with my wife underneath a Carolina blue sky; it was about as good as it gets. We laid back and watched clouds like a pulled apart cotton ball drift by overhead, hearing the distant, happy chirps of the newly arrived baby chicks from the house and talked about how many hundreds of apartment dwellers would fit in that space were we still in San Francisco.
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| Gazing up at pulled cotton and Carolina blue |
Friday night. We had been jonesing for pizza all week long, coming dangerously close to making midnight runs to Domino's on two occasions since they don't deliver to our hollow. We considered our options. It can be really tough to get some decent pizza and a beer around here. April had been talking up a spot in Hickory called
Bistro 127 ever since she went there for her office Christmas party last year. One thing I really enjoy is the drive on our secret backroads shortcut into the "city"; especially on a warm spring evening. Bistro 127 does tapas & gourmet pizza, home brewed beer as Loe's Brewing Co. and in the mornings they make fresh doughnuts and sell them under the nom de beignet, Daylight Doughnuts. We got an outside table, plugged the Matilda Beast into a high chair, ordered a house salad with orange champagne
vinaigrette and two beers. A porter for April and a stein beer for me, made by throwing hot rocks in the brew to caramelize the sugars in the beer creating a deep red color and smooth finish. The pizza options were mind boggling, we went with two small pizzas in an attempt to taste the rainbow. I went for the pizza rustica with olive oil, spinach, caramelized onion, kalamata olives, mozzarella, & Ripshin Dairy goat cheese. My wife opted for the black and blue with tenderloin, dijon cream sauce, mushrooms, blue cheese, & mozzarella. Both were awesome with that thin crispy crust that you only get in wood oven and just enough cheese to bind the toppings to that crust without getting puddles of grease. A perfect meal to kick off a perfect weekend.
Saturday morning. Waking up late is something that seemed like a God given right from college straight thru our half decade of hedonism in San Francisco. Now waking up late means whoever gets to lay in bed for 5 extra minutes while the other person mixes up a bottle and fetches Matilda from her crib. This Saturday morning was more like a gift from God because it was so unexpected. Matilda slept through the night and when we brought her into our bed for her morning bottle, she fell back asleep and so did we until after 10 o'clock. It was frickin sweet. When I did finally roll out of bed and trudged out to the coop to free the captive chickens (who were clucking like, "does that fool have any idea what time it is!?!") the air was warm and pleasant; every plant in sight was vibrant and beautiful. From the highlighter yellow dragon flowers in the barrel beside our front door to the rose bushes approaching Shaq-like heights, the heavy rains and hot sun have shifted everything containing chlorophyll into overdrive.
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| fluorescent yellow dragon flowers |
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| our friendliest hen in the rose garden in front of the garage |
Once I had pants on, Clyde & I took a truckload of garbage and recycling to the dump, filled the jerry can with gas for the mower and picked up a Sundrop and
Dr. Enuf to give our day a caffeinated jump start. The Sundrop was for April; Clyde, our Blue Heeler, is more of a Marlboro and moonshine kind of guy. When I got home mowed our front pasture down from knee high to the #1 setting on my Craftsman riding mower. It took 2 hours to mow 3 acres because I had to make two passes to get the grass to kneel before Zod. I think it looked pretty close to a putting green when I saw the view off our front porch after I finished.
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| front pasture - par 3 |
I had to call it early on farm work Saturday because we were going to a farewell party for the the good doctor my wife has been working with since we moved here in 2009. We drove out Highway 18 towards Wilkesboro til we got halfway to the middle of nowhere and made a right, then followed the state road til it became dirt and arrived at our destination. We added our folding chairs to a growing horseshoe of them next to a cozy cabin and a meandering, crystalline creek that you could see clear through to it's butterscotch sandy bottom.
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| hayride |
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the horseshoe |
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| Miss Matilda & Jamie |
It was paradise. Chicken was on the grill, children were playing in the grass and the adults were making small talk before embarking on a hayride. Yes, a hayride. I had never been on one before and was way more excited than the children. The tractor pulled us along behind in a wooden cart that creaked and groaned up every hill and around every turn. We crept past a man-made lake, an old family graveyard, a covered bridge and waist-high seas of grass. Matilda was passed around the cart to be fawned over and chattered happily as she took in the scenery and affection. Upon returning to the cabin and BBQ, we partook of a potluck dinner to which April had contributed deviled eggs from our chickens with jalapenos, cilantro and sun dried tomatoes. We feasted on chicken, baked potatoes, fresh salad and I even saved room for a brownie and whoopie pie. After dinner, our host broke out his guitar and sang a few tradtional folk songs like "If my nose ran money, I'd blow it all on you;" before he led us in a couple of hymns "Amazing Grace" & "Victory in Jesus." It was everything I had dreamt North Carolina would be before we moved here. A mid summer night's dream in the middle of May.
Sunday morning. We slept in, not as late as Saturday, but late enough to feel rested and ready to get to work. After a bowl of Raisin Bran, I mounted my cherry red Craftsman steed and got to mowing the highest, most overgrown grass of all in the back peach orchard. April came out to check on me after an hour and a half and was shocked at how little progress I had made. It was taking three passes to get the stubborn grass to lay down and I was feeling the tingling beginnings of a sunburn on my knees and face. I asked April to take over the riding mower while I walked back to the garage to fetch the weedwacker to cut in around the trees where the mower couldn't get. While I wacked weeds, she managed to mow down a 4 inch tall fuji apple seedling hidden in the tall grass but she successfully avoided the obstacle course of groundhog holes, peach tree stumps and large rocks I use to mark them. Mowing the back orchard can be a pretty mental exercise in recalling a mental map of these dangers, usually seconds before I wreck the mower's blades on them. April got a big patch mowed down before she had to relinquish control of the mower to go back and check on Matilda. I finished up mowing until I had the grass about as even as it was gonna get back there.
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| just after I gave the grass a tight fade |
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Wang, the Sumatran fighting cock
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| the blue heeler from banner elk |
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I parked the mower in the carport and walked in the house to the smell of something delicious cooking for lunch. April had asiago chicken burgers with carmelized onions sizzling in a lodge pan on the stove. As we sat down to eat, I checked my phone and saw I had missed a call from a weird number. I listened to the voicemail informing me that our baby chicks had arrived in Hickory after leaving Iowa at 5am that morning, it said I could pick them up after 2pm or wait until they arrived in Lenoir the next day. I still hadn't even started getting the second kitchen prepared for the lil biddies, so after lunch April and I lugged a huge stainless steel feed trough from the chicken coop to the driveway and hosed it clean. We scrubbed dirt and dust off feeders and waterers and the heat lamp, misted the heat and sweat off our bodies, grabbed Matilda and hopped into April's car to head for Hickory. We made a pit stop at the Tractor Supply to grab some chick feed & wood shavings (and some treats for Otto with glucosamine for his aching joints) and finally got to the postal sorting facility in Newton to pick up our chicks. I was so excited to show Matilda her new friends, I cracked the box open and selected one to show her, stretching to reach into the back seat. Her reaction was amazing, she reached out a tiny finger and gently stroked the fuzzy chick's head. I was filled with a father's pride at my little farm girl, taking to her flock so naturally and easily. Of course, her next move was to clamp her little fist around the bird's neck until I could pry her death grip open. So no more lil fuzzies visited Matilda in the backseat until we got home and I could properly supervise. After unloading the car, we sat on the floor of our second kitchen with Matilda and the birds. The look on her face was priceless.
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| CHICKS! |
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| happy to be free of the box they shipped in |
We made a point of handling each baby chick, gently stroking them until their eyes closed and they seemed content to sit in our palms. Then showed Matilda how to touch them like E.T. phoning home and even let Clyde kiss them. I think I saw him licking his lips once or twice, but even though he is a rude redneck from Banner Elk, he is extraordinarily gentle with babies of the human or avian extraction. After we had their new home setup with food, water and heat lamp; we left them to chill out and settle in. I cleaned out the big chickens coop, scraping the poo off the perches and laying down a fresh layer of sawdust, refilling their feeders with cracked corn and making sure their waterers were full of the clean, clear stuff. I collected 4 dozen or so eggs and brought them inside to the fridge, the sight of our last two beers inspired me to call it a day. April had no arguments against a little family time on the freshly mowed lawn by the chicken coop and we trekked back there with Matilda on my shoulders and the dogs bringing up the rear. We talked of what we had accomplished the weekend, our life in San Francisco and watched the dogs watching the chickens. Otto settled by Matilda and let her grab fistfuls of his fur without complaint, Clyde and Chet the rooster did battle repeatedly and life was good. The sun sunk low behind the oak trees and our perfect weekend drew to a close.
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| rub me human |
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| family time |
