It’s that time of year again. I am so ready. Spring has finally arrived in Central New York. Did I say that I was ready… that my mood is greatly determined by the temperature this time of year? A chilly day can make me feel down right cranky and completely out of sorts. I wait like a child at the top of the stairs on Christmas morning for those first bulbs to pop up. Sometimes its a challenge being transplanted from a warm climate to a cold one. We won’t go there…

Spring planting. It’s a busy time of year here at the farm. As soon as the ground is dry enough to work the harvesting equipment gets moved out of the way and the planting equipment starts to make an appearance. The plow gets new points, worn out pieces get replaced and the planting depth gets tested and set. When Farmboy and I were dating I often rode around in the tractor with him. Seeing the plow systematically slice through the earth and turn it on its end was quite an experience. I found it mesmerizing… almost hypnotic, artful and lovely. The soothing way that waves roll onto a shoreline, the waves of green sod would turn, roll, fold and come settling down upon itself to expose the dark loamy soil underneath. Powered by an enormous tractor, the plow cuts the earth like butter. Smooth. Clean. Almost effortlessly until an underground stone is snagged sending one of the blades springing up into the air with a loud bang.

I find it interesting- the beauty and simplicity of the process juxtaposed with the forceful way the carpet of the earth is sliced and then exposed. It is harsh yet graceful. From a solid carpet of green comes a textured pattern of umber. Down folds the sod, full of nitrogen to fertilize this year’s crop. Up come the grubs, worms and bugs- a feast for the birds following behind.

I told Farmboy that I wanted to photograph the process and he suggested making a short video which I thought was positively genius since it would show the action. If you look closely you will see the vertical rotating wheels in front of the end blade slicing into the surface leaving a clean path for the crest of the dirt wave. I hope you find it visually interesting. Double click on the image below to start the video.

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Gracie and Oliver swimming at the pond yesterday!

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This little painting is a study from a photo that I took at the farm two summers ago. The farm is laid out in strips to prevent erosion when plowing and fitting the ground. As an artist my eye is drawn to the patterns that are created by alternately planting different crops in these strips. In this image the fields of wheat are starting to turn golden and the oats have a lovely bluish-green haze. The undulating hills create movement. The little barn is perhaps too stark. Maybe I’ll push that back into the tree line a bit and bring more definition to the foreground. We’ll see!

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Oh the trials and tribulations of a woman trying to talk a grown man into chicken ownership.  Unfortunately, Farmboy has particular “attack the egg-gatherer” poultry issues from his childhood. I like chickens, I think. My grandmother had them but I was always too scared to go near the coop because their sharp claws and beaks gave me the willies. But… that was then and this is now and if you haven’t already heard… chickens are all the rage. Conceptually, I LOVE the idea of having chickens! A groovy little hen house near the garden… maybe one of those nifty chicken tractors that we can move around the lawn. Are you feeling the chicken love?  I already have two topiary chickens. Henrietta and Rocco- boxwood topiaries that welcome visitors along our front walkway. They, however, do not lay eggs nor do they contribute to the fertilizer production for my potager.

One sunny day last year after church I convinced Farmboy to drive to a nearby town to check out a “gypsy wagon” that I had been keeping my eye on.  A gypsy wagon, you ask?  Let me explain.  As a child I grew up with a lovely book called “The Knobby Boys to the Rescue” by Wende and Harry Devlin . It told the story of a group of domino-playing, fib-telling friends (a fox, a raccoon and a crow) that found a baby bear who had lost his mother. One day while Crow was out gathering food for the baby he saw a Gypsy wagon with a very sad Mother Bear tethered nearby. Fried Feathers! She had been captured to take to the circus! Needless to say, the Knobby Boys devised a plan to scare the gypsies and save the bear. It worked and Mother Bear was reunited with her baby and finally sang the long, winter-lullaby to him. A happy snow-covered ending.

The wagon from the book

What does this story have to do with chickens you are wondering? For many years Farmboy and I drove back and forth through the Finger Lakes between Skaneateles and Rochester, New York.  Just outside of Auburn, New York there was a little grouping of houses with a rounded wooden wagon parked in a nearby field. It was very plain but it was in the shape of the wagon from the story. Years passed. All the while I kept my eye on that wagon. Years, I tell you. Do you see where I’m heading? Chickens… a cute hen house…. a movable chicken tractor… a strange fondness for gypsy wagons… do you see the beauty? Isn’t it one of the greatest ideas ever! Why didn’t I think of it sooner?

So, that beautiful Sunday morning last year I talked Farmboy into driving out to where the wagon was. He agreed (for some strange reason) that a gypsy wagon would make a cool hen house. Maybe it was because of a church “high”, or perhaps it was a “support your spouse’s “special” ideas even if they sound crazy sermon” that brought him to this chicken openness. Certainly the fact that you can move the gypsy wagon around the farm was a selling point, right?… am I right?  The kids were excited and let me tell you, I was ready to make an offer. I was SO close to having those fancy chickens walking around the yard laying those fancy pastel-colored Easter Eggs that I could TASTE the egg salad!

Would you believe that it was gone? Can you believe it? I still can’t! For all of those years I passed by that quietly decaying wagon thinking that it would always be there. I even mentioned it from time to time. “Michelle, what would make you really over-the-top happy for Mother’s Day? Your Birthday? In general? “Well, a pony and a gypsy wagon, of course”!  Even before I had “THE Great Chicken-coop epiphany” I was drawn to having a gypsy wagon.  Now, here I sit- lamenting the loss of the wagon, hence, my future chickens. What is a future home chicken farmer to do? For some reason Farmboy is open to the idea of chickens if there is a gypsy wagon involved. What is up with that? Maybe he realizes the impossibility of me finding another wagon.  Maybe the supernatural aspect of this is- if God miraculously provides the gypsy wagon, Farmboy would go into such a deep state of spiritual chicken fondness that he will overcome his poultry issues? No counseling required!  I trust that it will all work out and that I will soon be tweeting about having to go feed the chickens, hatch chicks or something all chicken-y like that.

So, if a gypsy wagon happens to fall out of the sky near you-  please call me. I have the perfect place for it. I promise I will not tether any chickens to it nor will I make them perform any ridiculous circus tricks if I can help it.

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Before… a blank canvas.

I love to see before and after pictures of gardens. It’s very inspiring to view the transformation of a space and what a difference plants can make. First, let me say that I am not a garden designer. I am a graphic designer/artist that looks at gardening a lot like painting. I am a plopper of plants… not a planner of plants. Horrors! I know. If a plant doesn’t work in a certain space I dig it up and plop it somewhere else. When I purchase plants I am thinking color, texture, scale, repetition… just like a painting or illustration. It is a very intuitive process. An experimentation of sorts.

In design school I had a Austrian professor who insisted that good design was like an English Garden- full of repetition, contrast, texture, shape and line. He also said “sink” instead of “think”. “I sink good design is like a beautiful English Gaw-den.” Think Schwarzenegger. Perhaps it was his “Terminator- like” accent that struck fear into me- but I’ve never forgotten his comparison of graphic design and gardening.

My gardens have evolved over the years. In the beginning all of my perennials were divisions or  transplants from my mother’s beautiful garden in Rochester, NY. Our home was built in the middle of a hay field with nary a tree within stones throw or shade’s distance. Talk about starting from scratch. I purchased this puny little weeping crab (Red Jade) that had maybe 5 branches on it from a local independent nursery. The owner of the nursery insisted that it would grow laterally- fill the space that I had designated for it. My thought… when eating in the dining room I did not want to look out and see the driveway or our company’s vehicles. As you will see boy did that little crabapple ever do its job! So much so that when the tree leafs out I can barely see the kids playing in the driveway or who just drove up. But… oh the view from inside! Flowers in the spring, a little shady spot in the summer and crabapples in the winter.

On with the pictures!

Skinny little weeping crab (Red Jade). Dining room inside triple window.

Before any hardscaping. Japanese Maple (Bloodgood) in foreground next to Sunset Rock- a boulder dug up during excavation… a perfect seat for watching the sunset.

Perennials filling in.

3 years later.

Small fountain surrounded by hosta and irises with bleeding heart in background and lady’s mantle in the foreground.

Finished fieldstone walkway. Farmboy and I made it from stone pulled from the fields before spring planting… took what seemed like an eternity to finish.

Plantings of lavender, lady’s mantle, boxwood, spirea, lupines and Americana rose on trellis.

Walkway lined with Royal Standard hosta on left and boxwood hedge to right.

View to the barns from the driveway over looking the entrance garden. Japanese Maple to the right. Daisies, lavender and astillbe in the foreground. Sunset Rock behind lavender blooms.

Thank you for taking the tour with me. I hope it provides inspiration!

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Did you know that as the days get longer it triggers the horse’s coat to begin to shed? I had always assumed that it was warmer temps that brought on those full grooming brushes. This is my fuzzy Paley with snowy whiskers that need trimming. She’s a delight. A long time friend.

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