Pigs

 

Agathe has photographed these two strapping specimens, Bacon and Ham.

They have grown from sweet little piglets into handsome sows, who charge to the fence when we call to them “Here, Pig Pig Pig Pig Pig Pig!”

They're primary purpose is to root out a garden bed from the rocky, root-filled ridge top.

Of course beyond that we hope they will live up to their names.

And for the warm days of summer, we want them to enjoy their lives here with us.

Selwyn and Lillia both love to pass them greens through the fence.

 

I've come to look forward to the twice daily visits to their pen to feed and water them.

 

They like to be scratched where the mosquitoes have bitten their thick skin, and they are generally quite affectionate with us.

 

 

 

 

 

Agathe

This is Agathe, she has come from Paris to stay with us for the rest of the summer. She is able to watch our girls so that I can go to work on our property.

Her presence here and work with us has given me the freedom to really work steadily as I haven't much for the six years since Selwyn was born. Together Berwyn and I can do so much in a day. We have a long list of things to work away at before the winter comes and with Agathe's help we will cross a lot off of that list.

 

 

She has been making a testament of her adventure here. I am surprised at how able she is to capture tender moments without us even noticing that we are being photographed.

 

 

We are grateful to have such a kind and patient helper. And we are grateful for her beautiful photos.  

 

The Final Nail

I do love my life mostly out of doors.

That said, we humans are vulnerable in so many ways.

In winter we freeze and in the summer the mosquitoes torment us.

To protect ourselves we've built two fully enclosed shelters here at our place.

The second is a workshop which we started last fall.

We closed it up from the weather in October.

The 16' x 24' space became a cozy place to spend winter days,

just a crisp walk a from our mini family home to the other edge of the property.

 

Even unfinished, it's had a rich and varied life.

Besides a workshop it's been schoolhouse, guest house, camp kitchen and general purpose clubhouse.

 

This week the girls helped us painting the final trim and nailing up the siding.

Now she's finished and we can move on to the next project.

If all goes well, we will have built our wash house for the coming winter.

Hit the Ground Running

 

Each year, we expect the Birches' sap to run any time around Mid April. When it didn't, we were held here, as though our camp was an ice bound vessel - all together in this remote place with limited resources, no way out and lots of time.

Our general happiness depended on what we did while we waited.

 

Berwyn warms his feet in the secret warmsprings a days snowshoe from our house.

 

 

Naomi paints the birds in the bushes

 

 

Rennee shovels in wishful attire

 

Ed Sara and Selwyn share a tale

 

Lillia and I learn to play Banjo

 

 

Ed constructs Bee Hives

 

And not only did we play a lot of games, but we built the boards for at least two intricate games.

When she came, she wasn't really Spring at all, but Summer. The trees ran hard and fast, and the  season was only 15 days of collecting sap. Even so, we weren't out of camp until the 1^st of June.

Summer was immediately upon us and we've had to hit the ground running.

The syrup is all in bottles now, ready to move out. 

 

Thanks to a staunch crew for sticking it out and making us proud. Even the waiting was ok with this all star crew.

Waiting for Godot

Our faith has been tested.

And then Spring finally, feebly crept in

with her enormous flocks of Sparrows.

 

The river broke up

the few crocuses whose buds were not frozen by the late frosts finally blossomed

and at long last the birch sap ran.

We were more ready for it than we have ever been.

But the White Witch returns

and returns and returns again.

She buries the flowers.

And she shuts it all down.

 

The sapsicles hang heavy from the tapped trees.

We pass the time, waiting for Godot.

And the sparrows, in a cold and hungry stooper, fly low and erratic.

Their songs are desperate cries:

“I am still here; I am a survivor against all odds."

 

They mix with the songs of my daughter Selwyn,

who is pleading with Spring to come for her birthday next week.

 

 

Waiting For Spring

Spring is coming on slow this year, if she is coming at all.

The trail is still solid, skiing is still good, and the snow is deeper than it has been all season.

Haven't even smelled that earthy scent on the wind yet.

The only signs are the swirling flocks of snow-buntings along the highway

and the birches from a distance have taken on the deep pink as they do with the thaw.

 It was warm enough to search for chocolate eggs in the snow and feast around the campfire.

 

 

We had our Easter fire, the final bonfire of the season.

 

 

 

Since then it has dropped once more. The syruping crew has arrived, we are ready and waiting and biding our time, trying not to burn all the firewood while we wait.

Handsome Furs

This little fellow found the caribou hides we had stretched out in front.

He has been gnawing bits off

hiss-growling and tik-tiking at us

 before scampering off when we get too near.

I hadn't before realized how varied Pine Marten vocalizations can be.

 

His coat is extra glossy, perhaps because of the bones he's found in our yard.

Such a handsome fur would've brought in a few hundred dollars this year I imagine,

 but it couldn't be worth more to anyone other than him.

 

Here is someone else who can't help herself and is inspired to dress beautifully every day.

 

And here's her footwear of which I too am proud.