Unexpected Pleasures

I like to think that I have some degree of control over this little piece of earth I live on. I like to think that I know what plants grow here and what animals live here. I know what grows in the domesticated areas where I plant flowers, fruit, and vegetables. I know what goes on down in the barn and in the pig pen. I know what wild things live here too – the plants, fungi, insects, and animals – be they welcome like songbirds, wild flowers, bees, and butterflies, or pests like weeds, woodchucks, deer, and Japanese beetles. I’ve tried to catalog them all. I have my lists. I have my field guides full of check marks and notes. Then just when I’m feeling a bit smug in the scope of my knowledge, Nature reminds me that I’m flattering myself. She surprises me with some new weed or pest to contend with or a wildflower or bird sighting to delight me. Or sometimes creatures appear that I did not expect to see.

Mice, no matter how often we have to deal with them, are always unexpected. There’s something startling about seeing one scurry away. I jump every time. When our farmer neighbors grow corn in the fields above us and harvest it, the mice tend to migrate down to our house and we have to wage a rodent war for a while. Sometimes we even get a rat or two.

A few times over the years we’ve had big snakes show up in summer. I always jump when I see a snake slide through the garden. We don’t see snakes very often here. I wish we did. They are always Eastern Garter Snakes (Thamnophis sirtalis sirtalis) or Rat Snakes (Pantherophis alleghaniensis), which are harmless. The venomous Northern Copperheads (Agkistrodon contortrix mokasen) and Timber Rattlesnakes (Crotalus horridus) only inhabit the more southerly parts of the county and I am glad about that.

Garter Snake, Rat Snake, Copperhead, Timber Rattlesnake (not my photos).

The compost pile is often a source of unexpected and happy discoveries. The largest and prettiest pumpkins always grow out of the compost pile. And this year we also have compost potatoes, sunflowers, and buckwheat – all of them volunteers and a welcome surprise.

I had another happy and unexpected encounter with Nature last week. We have lots of toads in the garden, but while wrapping up the garden hose on several occasions, a little frog has hopped out from a hole under the faucet pipe. That area is always damp and the frog seems to have moved in. There are lots of frogs in the beaver pond across the road, but seldom do they come up into my garden. I think it is a Pickerel Frog (Lithobates palustris). I wanted a picture of it, so one afternoon I sat for half an hour with my camera poised to get a shot. It never appeared. Later that afternoon as I was filling water buckets to take to the pigs, the frog was there. I ran to get my camera, but it was gone when I returned. I’ve tried to photograph it several times since then, but it seems to know and doesn’t want me to succeed.

Pickerel Frog (not my photo - I wish it was).

That same corner where the faucet is also bears another surprise. It’s happened for several years now, so it really shouldn’t surprise me, but it always does. A few years ago I planted trailing petunias in my flower boxes on the back porch steps. I didn’t know they’d gone to seed and even if I had known, I’ve always thought petunia seeds were not hardy enough to persist through our winters. For several years now, all on their own, petunias spring up and bloom in that corner. They are lovely and they delight me even more because I did not expect to see them.

The corner where the frog and the petunias are.

On Wednesday in the evening, Stacey and I drove back up to Steuben County, New York, to pick up our cuckoo clock from the Amish man who repaired it. Driving home again, we came over a hill and found another of those unexpected pleasures – a pretty little church sitting in a perfect little valley. It was so perfect we had to stop to look and take a picture. It’s nice to have the cuckoo clock working again. Its ticking is like the heartbeat of the house to me. The house seemed too quiet without its music.

Driving through Steuben County.

The church at East Troupsburg.

Driving through Steuben County.

School started on Wednesday and Miriam and I were there all three days. Our schools closed in March because of COVID-19 so it’s been a long time since we were there, but even so, it seemed too soon to be back in school again. I was anticipating all sorts of trouble with all the new rules about masks, sanitation, room capacity limits, etc., but it went pretty smoothly. We are both already scheduled to be in school all this coming week too, which is nice, but it seems like summer is over once school begins and that makes me sad.

Miriam and me on the first day of school.

We finally got some rain last week. We had an intense storm blow through on Thursday. It blew down branches and it poured rain. But it only lasted about fifteen minutes and only dropped a tenth of an inch of rain, which was a disappointment. We’ve had a little more rain since then, drizzle really, so things are still pretty dry.

Sunset after the storm.

I’ve been cleaning out the garden, pulling up spent plants and weeds. It’s early. I usually wait until frost comes in September to clear things out, but so many plants have already expired because of the dry weather, that I decided to get an early start. There are still things growing. The harvest is still going. We’re getting lots of tomatoes now – not enough at one time to can, but plenty to eat fresh (if you like that, which I don’t). The tomato vines are showing signs of blight now, so I don’t know how much longer they will last. I pulled up all the green beans. We got a good harvest this year. I find the occasional zucchini still, but they have slowed down. I found a carrot growing among the beets and when I pulled it up, I was surprised by how big it is. All the carrots growing where I planted them are normal and slender. We are eating it for lunch today in a carrot-raisin salad.

Tomatoes.

Surprise carrot.

On Saturday I bagged and froze eight quarts of sauerkraut. I was going to start another batch, but eight quarts is enough to last us a year since not many here like it. I love it. There were lots of complaints about the smell as I was bagging it. It does have a strong aroma (Stacey says it’s a stench, not an aroma), but it sure tastes good. I love to eat it with bratwurst or cooked with a pork roast or on a Reuben sandwich.

Bagging kraut.

On Saturday afternoon, just as I’d finished my garden work and had put my tools away, another storm blew through. The wind rose, rain poured. It lasted all of five minutes. But it refreshed the world and it smelled wonderful.

It’s cooler today. It feels a little autumnal. One of the big maples in the front yard even has a few leaves turning orange. I’m not ready for any of that, but looking at the forecast for the days ahead, this seems to be the trend. I have to turn a light on now when I’m dressing in the morning. We’ve reached that point in the year. But it is a pretty day. Driving to and from church I was struck again by how beautiful the world is. Encountering beauty always bring me pleasure. I hope it always will.