Hi-Ho Cherry-O

When the cherries ripen at Bramble Creek Farm, one must call on friends, relatives, and strangers to come help bring in the harvest. As in the game, the dog gets a few, the birds get a few, and if we don't spill the bucket, the humans get a bunch.

Tom and Huck Together Again

To hear these two talk you'd thing Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn had been reunited again after 100 years. Actually, the man having breakfast with us is Wayne. He came into our lives last years and we consider him a "God Sent." He has helped Sanford get things running and fixed up around the farm just in time to find new owners for this 11 acres. While eating hash browns, bacon, and eggs washed down with lots of coffee, these two talked about plans to float down the Mississippi in a pontoon boat and to go ultralight flying, fishing in the bayous, and sailing up the gulf coast. This will all be financed with the gold they pan in Northeast Oregon. If they have their way, Tom and Huck will be turning with envy in their graves while San and Wayne show them how adventures are meant to be.

Call of the Wippoorwill

There are few sounds that can transport me back to a lazy summer day of my childhood more than the sound of quail calling out from the field and orchard. This beautiful bird sat all morning on top of the gasoline tank and called out to me while I finished brushing paint on the east side of the house, preparing it for the new farmer family who is buying the farm. As I listened to it sing its familiar tune I couldn't help but be filled with overwhelming gratitude to my family for the happy memories of growing up in this beautiful place. I am also grateful to my dear husband for returning here for the past 9 years, allowing me to experience farm life as an adult with all the joys and frustrations that come with it. I also couldn't help but think how I am going to miss this place that has been home to my family for 45 years. There is something sweet but a little bit sad in the call of the Whippoorwill. It's what leaving the farm sounds like.

The fairest of seasons

If there were ever a time to sell the farm it would be June. The farm is at its best during this fairest of all months. The entire 11 acres if still lush and green. We have just had a solid week of thunderstorms with rain everyday. The red climbing roses are looking their best. The early cherries are ripening. The birds are fluttering everywhere. Today I saw a yellow oriole and yesterday I saw a yellow finch, or some such bird. The hummingbirds have been drinking the feeder dry every week. And wouldn't you know it, that sweet, young, organic farming couple who looked at the farm, and showed an interest in buying, offered us a price we felt we could accept.

Jail Birds

The chickens had been flying the coop. Toby tried his hardest to keep them in their pen. He chewed on them and pulled them and chased them, but they still flew over the four foot fence like it was nothing. I was complaining to San. Well, okay, I was ranting and raving about how aggravating those chikens can be and how I should just get rid of them when he told me the obvious solution. Clip their wings. It is so easy and doesn't hurt them. The first project of the day Saturday morning was trimming the tips of the flight feathers off. The girls have stayed behind wire bars ever since. One still hops over the two foot fence dividing Toby's run from theirs. She lays an egg every day either in Toby's doghouse or just in front of his door.

Having the right gear

Sanford told me the roof on the big barn needed to be fixed. He was going to ask Justin to go up there and fix it.

I about blew a gasket! What!! You're going to ask my son to risk his life and limb by crawling over loose tin sheeting 60 to 70 feet in the air!!! All I could picture was Justin floundering about with a rope tied around his middle and the other end around Sanford.


Well, thanks to some friends, Justin borrowed Peter's tree scaling equipment. I wasn't there for the occasion but our neighbor, Poppie, snapped some shots of the event so I could see how it is done. Justin looks pretty relaxed. He had no problem securing the loose roofing.

Thank you Peter.
Thank you Poppie.
Thank you Sanford.
Most of all, thank you Justin for helping your Ma and Pa do a potentially dangerous job with such grace and ease. Next time I'll keep in mind the fact that any job is possible with the right gear and the right friends.

The Blossoms of Spring

I predict it is going to be a good cherry year.
The cherry trees are in full bloom and the the weather is 90 degrees.

Standing under the canopy of white cherry blossoms,
I can hear a distinct hum from the hundreds of bee wings buzzing around my head.

The bees are flying from blossom to blossom,
around and around creating a constant cloud of movement and sound.

Looking through the lilac bush,
I can see the pear blossoms in the orchard next to our farm.

It seems the whole valley is in bloom.
I think it might be a good year for pears, also.


There is a sweet fragrance in the air.
I comes from the millions of crab apple blossoms.

Easter Joy

Celebrating with friends - Easter 2009

With delicious food,

The day was bright.

In the company of friends,
No greater delight

A baby goat, Zoli and Ari, and curious llamas.

Oh, oh, there's llama poop in this egg. Toby's been up to his usual tricks.

Year of the Canadian Geese

For a month or more there has been a flock of Canadian Geese in or around the pond.
One day I counted 21 geese and 5 wild ducks.
That is the most wild geese I have ever seen at the pond.
I have felt honored when I have seen two geese on the pond, but 21 swells my heart
to near bursting with long for everything wild and free.
Every year I hear the wild, woodland sound of the geese as they honk to each other.
Every year a send telepathic messages to the geese.
"Stay here! Come back! You are welcome."
But every year I am disappointed when a few touch down for an evening
and are gone the next day.
For several years we have had
a goose couple hatch out young, but I never believed they survived the summer.
One summer, Jasmine hunted them. Chasing the mother and babies into the orchard.
The babies were too young to fly and so I thought they must have perished,
but now I think perhaps the goslings did grow to adulthood and have now
returned to their place of birth.
What an honor!
Bramble Creek Farm - home to a tribe of wild Canadian Geese
And to think,
they heard my messages all along.

Apple Blossoms

These are blossoms from the Gravenstein Apple Tree. They blossom early and produce fruit earlier than the Red and Golden Delicious.

Below is a picture of one of the original Golden Delicious apple trees that grew in our garden when I was a girl. San had cut the branches back severly a couple of years ago. The tree then grew scores of new sprouts. It looked like a hairy bush. I was able to take a fruit tree pruning workshop at the Extension Service this March. I reluctantly took on the task of restoring this old friend to a respectable condition. This is the first time I have pruned the apple trees with a small idea of what I was doing. I hope it turns out to be a job well done.

New Flock of Beauties

I had convinced myself that I didn't want to bother with chickens anymore, but, Victor Wiggington came driving up the driveway one Saturday with a couple of hens in the back of his pickup. The minute I saw them, I wanted them. I cleaned out the little hen house in the dog run and put them in there. I got two eggs the next day. I was in love.
The next day I told my friend at school about getting the chickens. She said she was thinking about getting rid of hers. Long story short, I now am the proud of owner of 5 beautiful hens. Two are black, one is red, one is golden and one is variegated gold to black. I get between 2 and 4 eggs a day. I hope I will get a more consistent ratio of eggs to hens when they are finally settled in.
The hens share the dog run with Toby. Toby uses it in the morning when I am at work. When I get home, I let Toby out and open the hen house door so the girls can scratch around. It works out nicely so far.

Baby Goat

Of all the farm animal babies I've seen over the years,
I think a baby goat is the cutest and sweetest baby of all.

The mother goat was born last spring.
She is is still not very big herself,
but has been a good mama.

You can see the baby goat looking at Toby.
The mother goat is always trying to keep Toby
away from her baby.
Toby is always trying to play with the baby.
If I can't find the baby goat
I take Toby along. He always sniffs her out and finds her for me.

Black Beauty

Black Beauty at 1475 pounds

Our 3 year old Black Angus heifer returned home Monday. She has been standing at Poppie's fence bawling ever since she got back. She misses her friends at Mike Ziemba's farm. We hope we is pregnant with a offspring of "On Focus", one of the top Black Angus Bulls in the business. Mike has a young bull who is the offspring of this prestigious bull. Mike only charged us $130 to pick up Black Beauty and let her have room and board with his bulls for a month. She seems to have enjoyed herself in spite of a severe case of lice she picked up from the close encounters with her kind. The first day back she had rubbed off all the hair on top of her back. I purchased lice spray the next day but have yet to douse her with it. It sounds like a real farm again. The lowing of a lonesome heifer can be heard from morning to night. Thankfully, she stops when it gets dark.

This is Black Beauty as a calf.

Preserving Some of the Raspberries

Pa Ingalls, in the Little House on the Praire series, was fond of quoting, "There is no great loss without some small gain." I remember him saying this after the crows wiped out their entire corn crop for the year. He shot dozens of the crows and they had them for dinner that night. Well, my u-pick raspberry patch may be history, but today I salvaged some of the canes and replanted them in the garden spot. Sanford came along when I have half way through and finished digging the holes, giving me the encouragement to complete the job. I relocated 22 canes and Tom Rosette took home another 10 or 15 canes. It is a good start to fulfilling Charles Ingal's folk wisdom by preserving some good from the loss of my dream.

Grandma Goat, Rest in Peace

Monday evening I put the goats away in the goat pen for the night. Grandma goat came trotting in as usual when I poured the grain into the feeding pan. She seemed fine. San found her the next morning under the barn where she likes to sleep. I am happy to report she did not die at the hands of predators, as so many of our other goats have. She apparently died in her sleep.

Putting to rest a dream

10 Years ago I convinced Sanford that we could earn income off the farm by growing raspberries. This was a key factor in winning my husband's cooperation in making the farm our home. My dad let us plow up the hay field in preparation of planting a U-pick raspberry patch. Sanford, Justin, Lynnea, and I planted 1000 raspberry starts in the muddy spring before we bought the farm in October of 2000. My dream of having a U-pick raspberry farm has been a thorny experiment ever since.

This past Saturday, we accepted the help of two high schoolers from Ashland First Baptist Church to remove the irrigation lines and fence stakes from the weedy remains of what was once my cherished raspberry patch. The hope of continuing this endeavor actually died two years ago during the time of my father's passing, but I had realized the year before that it had very little chance of surviving as long as I and Sanford both worked other jobs.

I have now accepted the passing away of this dream. Saturday was the burial, the putting to rest of that dream and the turning point to face what lies ahead for Sanford and me. Thank you, Sanford, for risking this experiment and giving me 9 years of living on this 11 acres of rock and thistle I call home. Thank you, Sanford, for trying to help me realize a dream and then helping me put it to rest.

The Tall Hay Barn

This is good picture of the tall barn from the porch of the house. The floor of this barn is all log poles laid side by side with thick, rough cut planks on top. The walls of the barn are made of rough cut planks, thinner than the floor boards, with space between each to allow plenty of air to ventilate the hay. A metal hay clamp/tong still hangs from a track running the length of the barn on the inside of the roof's peak. Barn owls have raised a brood of chicks at the top of the barn for as far back as I can remember. We have more than once brought chicks who have fallen out of the nest to Wild Life Images for care.

Some of my fondest memories of summers on the farm is when we would bring the hay into the barn. The whole family worked together to load and unload the hay, sliding the bales along the smooth floor boards to the growing stack of hay. It made me feel important and capable to be given a hay hook and be expected to do my part to accomplish this task. Smelling the cured grass while the breeze cooled the sweat along my neck and I rocked back and forth on top of the hay bales loaded on the truck redeemed summer vacation for a girl who loved school.

One summer, after San and I came to live here, a young goat went under the barn and for some bizarre reason the goat decide to stick its head up into a crack between one of the floor logs. At dusk I heard it bleating as I put the other goats away for the night, but I couldn't find it. Finally, I located it by crawling underneath the barn. When I tried to free the goat, it yelled as if I was beating it to death. By then it was dark. I called Justin. He came and together, after several unsuccessful attempts to free the goat, we figured out the only way to free the goat was to tear the floor boards up, no small task. It took two tries to find the spot where the goat's head was. Even with the floor boards up we had to hammer a wedge between the logs to separate a space wide enough to release the horns and head of the goat. The floor still bears the wound from that ill fated act by a curious goat.