Pasture Walk

When we came to Paradise in 1976, the pasture was nothing but brome grass. An ambitious Dunkard lady had cut a worn-out, eroded farm into building sites from three to five acres. The people who built our house bought two lots, so we have almost ten acres. The high part is pasture. The low part is woods. Chicken Creek runs at the bottom of the woods.

One of my first priorities was to restore the pasture to native grasses and flowers. It was slow going at first, but we're almost there. The Indian grass and turkey-foot (big bluestem) are taller than I am and a wide variety of flowers bloom from spring through fall.

Today I found lots of partridge pea and lobelia in bloom.

In part of the pasture we planted fruit trees and made a vegetable garden. We abandoned the vegetable garden when rheumatoid arthritis attacked me, but some of the orchard remains.

One tree - a Victory apple - died, but the next spring it sprouted again from its root. It produces fruit that no one would recognize as an apple. This is how the fruit looked today.

These apples are about an inch in diameter and have a bitter taste. After a hard freeze, though, they turn to nectar of unbelievable sweetness. They are too small to eat, but made into cider they would be divine.

Another planting made many years ago has turned into a huge bush, and it is the source of the contest mystery object. Here are some of its fruits in situ:

On my way back to the house I found this elegant creature on the door step. She seems to be thinking, "If I sit very still on this stone, no one will notice me."

Now a cold front is moving through. Tree tops are wildly tossing and leaves are flying. The temperature is falling. It seems like fall. Let's eat soup!