Early Spring at the Homestead
Homesteading the Hollows is often betwixt and between rest and productivity. On Samhain we planted garlic bulbs in two garden beds, wished the garlic and perennial artichokes well, then left for our home in the mountains. We came back for a quick trip to bring a tractor to our homestead. All winter, the rain poured and poured in the hollows. We wondered what would happen in our absence and could only give spiritual rather than physical care.
After being gone four months, we drove the two-mile dirt road to our home in the hollows with trepidation. Last year, the road fell ten feet, but our neighbors bulldozed the hillside to make it passable. The new construction held this winter, though more work is needed on this treacherous switchback since drop to the left of the road is about a 100-foot fall. This year a large oak fell across the road, but again neighbors came by and cut it up so we could pass.
The rose geranium, which I planted next to our home from a single branch, is as happy as can be, as full as a bush. The chamomile and oregano will be moved to the garlic beds, The rosemary is fighting on despite me planting it in the shade (I didn’t know the sun would sink so low in winter) in a way that feels nothing less than valiant and honorable.
Our first day was sunny so I weeded the garden beds around the now two-foot-tall garlic stalks and the robust artichoke, the heart of this new farm, which are awe-inspiring and promising. We’re hoping the plants will produce some tasty artichokes this year, its second year, but we shall see. With the help of Hank the Backhoe (our tractor), Joey hauled a 40-foot fallen Douglas fir trunk from the forest floor to create the next garden bed. My man is making me a garden in front of our cozy house, built from scratch and with love. I never knew I would find Tonka truck operator so sexy.
It's raining for the next few days, so we’re settled in. We stocked up on groceries, as if a blizzard is coming since both make the roads impassable. Driving on the muddy slop compromises the integrity of the road. Once the weather clears and the mud dries, Joey and Hank will create French drains, water bars, and culverts to divert the water off of the road, in order to make it sage for me to drive down the two-mile dirt road, as I would get stuck right now and so parked halfway down. In between teh rains we ventured out found this Ganoderma mushroom, douglas iris, and a flower called the Fairy Slipper on the walk through the Redwood, fir and oak forest to see the rushing headwaters of the Big River.
While rain splatters on the roof, Joey is teaching me five card stud and draw because the main character of my novel (set in Alta California in 1846) will be surprisingly good at poker. Two days of being cloistered by rain could help my game: if I listen.
We’ve divided the seeds that we’ll sow in the ground (corn, pumpkin, watermelon, sunflowers, and wildflowers) when the rain is over and those seeds (lavender, cilantro, calendula, cherry tomatoes, bush beans) that we will nurture in small trays in our bathroom window in Mammoth. In a few weeks when the seedlings are strong, we’ll bring them back to hollows to plant in the earth.
This hollows is a wonder of rain and sunshine.
