The year that she turned six, my youngest daughter put a pig on her birthday list. The pig was part of a list that also included sparkly gel pens, a new purple backpack for first grade, and a pink leotard for her just-enrolled dance class. But the pig was at the top. Since Lina was so young, I figured that she could not be serious. After all this practical little girl with long braids and steady eyes—the kid who never begged for anything--surely didn’t really want a pig. I tried to talk her into a Barbie instead. It would be so much easier, I pointed out, since we wouldn’t have to feed it. No deal. Lina looked at me with earnest eyes and explained that any girl could have a Barbie—but that she wanted a pig. We had a farm so we needed a pig, she reasoned, and a pig would be “way, way better than a Barbie.”
Walton and I both feel that being on the farm is magical--especially in the summer when the sky is as blue as a robin's egg and a light breeze flutters through the trees and sings in the grass. We can't imagine living anywhere else. In keeping with the magical atmosphere of the farm, I have spent some lovely afternoons constructing special little places for the tiniest and most elusive visitors to the farm--the fairies. Can you find all of the fairy gardens on the farm? Click and hover over the photos to get a clue as to where each can be found....
We are thrilled to host The Mountain Minor filming on the farm. We appreciate their passion for our Appalachian region--and for the very authentic and sincere story that the movie relates. Our farm dog Heidi (aka the dog star!) adored being the center of attention, and our family loved the sound of fiddle music filling up the holler and elevating everyday farm life into a concert. We are looking so forward to having everyone back in July. For more information on the film, check out The Mountain Minor website.
Spring continues to unfold around us in greens and golds. We are reminded of the Robert Frost poem :
Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Wishing all of you happy planting and beautiful beginnings ...
A real mountain woman is supposed to be tough enough to wring the head off of a chicken and serve the bird up to a whole passel of younguns. She has to know how to use a shotgun, an ax, and an outhouse even as she sings old ballads and tells enchanting tales by the fire at night. In short she’s supposed to be more comfortable with the world the way it was a hundred years ago than the way it is now.