Penny Writes Home

Dear Humans:

Above is a picture of me and my new best friend Bella. In case you forgot, I am the small, dark one, peaking around the pole. Bella was really glad when I arrived, as she was living all by herself. She used to hang out by the fence so she could talk to the cows in the neighbor's field. All that changed when I came. We made friends right away. I hardly even noticed when you left. I'm not sure I even remember who brought me here. What are your names again?

Things are good here. I haven't seen any of those frightening animals they call "cats." The food is delicious, there is lots of grass, a toasty shelter and people are nice to me. I do miss my cousin Annie and I wish I had some more chickens to watch. You probably haven't noticed it, but I think that big black one is maybe a rooster. It has a strange way of looking at the hens. And two of them might be sick. The poor things are laying blue eggs. Annie wrote recently to tell me that she is doing well and living in Appomattox. She has developed an interest in analytical chemistry and is taking courses on-line. She's hoping to patent a process that produces cheese directly from the cow, skipping all those unpleasant intermediate stages having to do with fungi. I knew you'd be pleased to hear that.

How is everything on the farm? How are Mom and Bessie? Before I left, I heard them whispering about someone named "Son of Fat Louie." I had to put my hooves over my ears. I don't want to worry you, but there is a picture of him hanging in the stalls in the red barn. I also heard the name "AI Tech" and then lots of giggling. It's probably none of my business, but you might want to check your phone bill for long distance calls to Ohio. This just can't be good. And do you think it wise to encourage a relationship with someone who has, at least on the face of it, a genetic predisposition for excessive weight gain? I think Bessie is a really bad influence. When no one is looking, she gets all painted up and then looks for ways to get out of the fence. I think she's headed for trouble.

I hope all the horses are okay. The blind ones in the paddock next to us were nice, especially the really old girl who speaks "cow." I don't miss the "minis," though. They were mean to us and called us names through the fence. I told them that one of these days, I am going to grow up to be twice as big as they are, then I am going to come back over there and butt their little equine behinds so hard they won't land until they reach Mecklenburg. I am cow. Hear me roar. The little creeps.

I have observed some troubling developments in the economy lately. The GDP has declined sharply, the unemployment rate is still rising and we appear to be headed into a protracted recession. This is a good time for you to invest in bonds, buy undervalued stocks, keep your money in interest-bearing money market accounts and diversify your portfolio. Also, I think you should buy lots of molasses cookies and send them over, wrapped in plain brown paper and labelled "For Penny Only."

Well, that's about all I can think of for now. I have to go tidy up my resume in case milk prices continue on their present downward slide. I'm thinking about working in the alcoholic beverage industry, which tends to be relatively recession-proof.

Love,

Penny

My Inauguration Day

(All photos courtesy of Ana Gross, who really was there)

"Where were you when Barack Obama was made President, Great grandad?" We are supposed to always remember where we were at important moments in history. So where was I: when Germany marched on Russia - being born, on VE Day - Portsmouth watching fireworks, on Kennedy's assassination - Sliema Malta listening to news on the radio, on the moon landing - middle of the night in the UK got my eldest son up to watch B&W grainy pictures, and so on. You get the picture. So what about January 20th, 2009?

1am - aroused from sleep by call of nature. Remember when a 1am visit to the restroom was to fix make-up (partner, not me) or get a packet of something for the post-dance activities.

1.05am - sleep elusive so sit down to read Guardian online. Wonder if Barack (he's going to be the people's President, so I feel able to call him by his first name) is up too: wrestling with affairs of state to come, polishing off his speech, or maybe trying to decipher the book of swatches Michelle gave him 3 months ago.

1.30am - finished Guardian, looked at e-mails, still can't sleep. Decide to write erudite post on Inauguration. Unfortunately, wee small hours not best time for erudition and 2 hours of work produces patchy piece at best. Never mind, it was truly felt, which is all that matters.

3.30am - search for suitable photos, as am told blogs without pictures are boring. This was actually quite rewarding and perked me up for the day ahead. So much so that I actually managed an hours sleep before Jorg's alarm routine woke me.
6am - normal day's work for Jorg, well maybe more if the traffic levels turn out to be as expected. Rumors of long lines of coaches stretching down I95 from DC to SC. Dull gray day here in Southside, am relieved to see lovely sunrise in DC, wouldn't want him to start his Presidency in gloomy weather.

7am - lunch box packed and Jorg dispatched to slay dragons, and bring home bacon (love mixed metaphors, don't you!). I look forward to a cosy day in front of TV, pointing at screen and shouting "I've been there, and there". I have a childish delight in seeing places on TV I know! Reality is that there are house pets to feed and water, and a similar task for horses, sheep, and hens, plus the cows to milk. Time to spare a thought for all those hard working people out there for whom today is just "another day, another dollar". Although I suspect that there will be plenty of people in America today who will manage to be in front of a TV screen at Noon. Even now the Mall is choc-a-block with people, many who have been there all night.

8am to 11am - in the cold everything seems to take so much longer. Remembering to remove hoses from standpipes is always a bonus, but draining them as well not always achieved. Having heated troughs is a boon when we get the weeks of low temperatures we are experiencing. Nothing like further North and the mid-west, however, and I wonder what farming there must be like. We get accustomed to working in our own part of the country I guess. Thankfully, milking machine decides not to play up this morning - the cover and heating pad seem to be working. Have been listening to events on NPR, having fixed radios in each barn so that I don't miss anything. It's a little disjointed as I walk between barns but generally I get the gist.
11.30am to 4pm - at last, now I can really sit down and enjoy the moment. Hot chocolate, a cheese sandwich, and a warm house, what more could you ask? Perhaps that is the real message of this Presidency - look around at what you have and be very thankful. For many of us these next months, maybe years, will be hard but, hopefully, not fatal. We will learn not to expect to buy the latest gizmo the second it comes out, and industry will slow down to accommodate slower buying patterns. That is not to dismiss the trauma of losing jobs and houses and savings that people are going through; the hope is that we can come through, stronger and more able to prevent it happening again.
Musings over as President takes the oath and CJ appears to have lost the plot - whatever happened to prompt cards, or notes on the palm of your hand. You, no doubt have your own take on the acceptance speech, so I won't comment except to say I found it stimulating and thought provoking, and am drawn to good oratory, which he undoubtedly has a flare for. The whole inauguration is well crafted with a nice mix of the visual, aural and cerebral for all. Nice to see a little levity in the Benediction, even on such a solemn occasion.
One of the hazards of a combination of losing sleep, and a morning's hard work, is the likelihood of middle of the day snoozing. I am not immune to that ( I blame it on my Navy days as a watchkeeper, when afternoon sleeping was a must when carrying out rotating watches) and as the event slips into lunch, and then the drive from the Capitol to the White House, my post-prandial "dip" takes over. No doubt the many 10's of thousands waiting in the cold didn't have that luxury, and I will forget that part of the day when recounting "what I did on Barack Obama's inauguration" to my Great grandchildren.

4.30pm - all good things must come to an end and, as Jorg and I have not been invited to any of the Inaugural Balls, I will get on with the evening chores as usual, and Jorg will wend her weary way back from Ashland in an hour or so. The radio keeps me informed of world opinion, as well as pundits' assessment of the day's events. I have usual shouting match with radio when in disagreement with opinions expressed, although animals are unimpressed with my oration.
7.30pm - *!@#*! milking machine has decided that tonight is too cold for any self-respecting vacuum pump to work, and why don't we have an enclosed milking parlor like sensible people! Carry out all previous mechanical and electrical engineering tricks that made it work before - cursing, hitting with hammer, pleading - all to no avail. Finally call quits on it and milk by hand. That I can actually milk Bessie by hand without her removing what little hair I have left is a feat in itself. To do so in sub-zero temperatures (well it felt like it!) when I could have been indoors watching well coiffed, bejeweled and elegantly gowned ladies besporting themselves on the ballroom floor, was pretty much a miracle.

But all good things must come to an end, and so I finish the day with a large Irish Whiskey, a toasted egg sandwich and my main squeeze by my side. Mulling over the day and able to say I was there in spirit if not in person. And, yes, it was a day to remember.

My thanks to Ana Gross for permission to use photos from her inauguration day album. Ana, a colleague at my old firm Evans Incorporated, braved the 3am cold and joined the throng on the Mall.

Cometh the hour, cometh the man

(Photo by Alex Brandon courtesy of AP )

If ever the above were true not only the USA, but the world, needs that man. Whether Barack Obama proves to be that man only time will tell, but there is certainly a collective hopefulness that he will prove to be a great President; that he will not only meet and deal with the economic crisis, but also be a world leader to be proud of. Looking at the TV pictures from DC, all over the US, and also from around the world, it is obvious that there is a palpable sense of occasion, of something special happening. The African-American population, rightly, sees his inauguration as historic, but shut your eyes and listen to the speeches and there is a message there for every man, woman and child in this country, and beyond.

He, undoubtedly, has a heavy burden to carry and to have so much hope heaped onto the shoulders of one man is an awesome responsibility. Watching a review of his life on TV last night, and seeing his meteoric rise from community activist to a world leader one can only feel that there is something extraordinary in the man. Jorg and I have also been struck by his ability to take time out (from what must be long hours preparing for office) to do "ordinary" things - like helping at a shelter for teens the day before his inauguration, or writing an open letter to his daughters for Parade magazine.

It does seem that crises bring out the persons with the capabilities to overcome them - Lincoln, Roosevelt, Churchill. But of course those same crises were failures for the men who preceded them - Buchanan, Hoover, Chamberlain. We can only hope that Barack Obama goes down as one of the greats, because these times demand nothing less. On a personal note, I am proud to be living in a country that has elected President Obama as its head of state, and it has spurred me to apply for US citizenship. The final step in my US journey, and one that I have agonized over since becoming a permanent resident.

(Photo by Alex Brandon courtesy of AP)

The origin of the quotation is not really known, but some notable variations and one actual use are as follows:

John 4:23 has ‘But the hour cometh, and now is'.

William Yancey, said about Jefferson Davis, President-elect of the Confederacy in 1861: 'The man and the hour have met'.

It was notably used (about himself) by Cliff Gladwin, the Derbyshire and England cricketer, during the first Test Match against South Africa at Durban (20 December 1948). England were 117 for 8 requiring 128 to win, when Gladwin walked out to bat, remarking to Dudley Nourse, the South Africa captain, as he did so: ‘Cometh the hour, cometh the man!’ The last ball of the match hit Gladwin on the thigh and he and Alec Bedser ran a leg-bye to win the match for England.

The more things change, the mooo they stay the same.

We didn't need another cow. I knew that because Tom, Bessie and Rosebud had all agreed upon a congenial routine of daily greetings, meals, milking and tuckings in at night. The calves have settled happily into their new homes. Life was good. Everyone was happy.

Tom has one thing in common with his cows. He is happiest having a peaceful, predictable daily routine. The difference between them is that the cows have one, while Tom does not. Tom is married to me, and I am less content with this kind of serene existence than one with challenges, change and variety. This is a character flaw that even I get irritated with. But my most patient of husbands often ends up dealing with the interesting consequences of my varied interests. For example, this past year, he has mastered being a dairyman to two cows, though in all fairness, he was a willing partner in this recent exercise in self-sufficiency. But while our two cows had an orderly and routine year, Tom had to acquire a whole new career (though I think this makes about six).

About a month ago, I ran across a sales ad for a Miniature Jersey cow. I see these all the time, being a member of a number of internet lists pertaining to these small cows. But this one just "spoke" to me. Maybe it was the little white socks on her back feet, her small size or her unusual black color (she is part Dexter). But the upshot is that we decided that she would make an excellent, anniversary-Christmas-New Year's-Jorg's Birthday present, and Priscilla came to live with us.

Priscilla was not happy with this arrangement, being the only one not consulted about it. And she compensated for her small size with a large attitude. Her first week was spent doing an impressive Spanish bull impression every time you approached her paddock. But she has gradually come to realize that people here mean food and head scratches and a warm stall on cold nights. Bessie took her small size to mean that she was a calf, and our accomplished nurse cow immediately "adopted" her. Rosebud is frosty.

Priscilla is due to calve or "freshen" in April or early May. When she does, we will learn something new: how to deal with calves born with horns, as this calf will likely have them. In the meantime, we have all setttled in to the new farm routine. Until it changes. Spring is only two months away and it's hard to tell what the new year will bring. We still need to "introduce" Bessie and Rosebud to their mail-order husband. And try some new heirloom vegetables, and raise some new garden beds...we need new fruit trees....

Photo (L-R): Priscilla, Bessie and Rosebud

Say “Cheese”

Christmas Eve had finally arrived. It was time. Tom gathered up his nerve and bravely ventured down into the dark, scary basement to retrieve the item of so much curiosity and discussion during the past few months. We are talking, of course, about the Blue Stilton cheese that we have been aging in the downstairs refrigerator.

An annual tradition in our household during the holidays is to sit down with a wedge of English Stilton and a glass of port. Stilton is not easy to find in this country, and when you do, it is expensive. It’s a rare treat reserved for the holidays. One year, the entire wedge disappeared from its plate on the coffee table, after an unfortunate lapse in household security. That year, we discovered that Stilton is irresistible to dogs, who will cheerfully fight you for it.

It seemed silly to us to have such an abundant supply of fresh cream and milk and still buy Stilton. So, with the kind assistance of our friend, Pamela, we set out to make our own. The entire process is fairly complicated. But once the whey drains from your freshly created raw cheese, it is placed in a cool area to age and the horror begins. There are really no words to adequately describe the aging process, except to suggest that somewhere in the attic there was probably a portrait of a cheese getting younger. The molding object resembled a cheese corpse. In aging Stilton, you know you are on the right track if it smells like garbage. But you can’t be absolutely positive because garbage smells like garbage, too. Cutting into the cheese and actually eating it requires the suppression of several natural instincts that would otherwise cause you to back away, poke it with a stick or replace your entire refrigerator.

But we persevered. Armed with a knife, a box of Triscuits and a moderate amount of alcohol (for courage), we cut into our cheese and inhaled. We were rewarded with the aroma of a landfill on a hot summer’s day. But the taste was beautiful and we have, in fact, managed to produce a true Stilton. We haven’t perfected it, yet. We did not achieve the deep blue veining that a fully mature cheese should have. It probably would have benefited from aging an extra month, or from slightly higher curing temperatures. But this year, we will be sitting down to enjoy a Stilton produced on our farm, using milk from our own cows and a mold species that we actually invited.

We hope you had a Merry Christmas, too.

Looking Back - Looking Forward

Thank you to everyone who sent us cards and greetings for the holiday season. Our cards are still on the dining room table waiting to be written, addressed and sent. Not that we don't think of our family and friends at this time, on Christmas Day more than ever this year we will be toasting "Absent family and friends" and wishing them health and happiness in the New Year.

At this time of the year it is customary to look back at the events and draw conclusions for the future. Well, not much to write about there - financial world went a sleazy trick too far and the world went to hell in a hand basket! But, you can sigh with relief, that is not the theme of this post. Looking back over two Christmas's to when we first bought the farm, and the ups and downs of farm life for two farming novices since then has been a major eye-opener. Sure, we had come from a small farm and a 100 year-old Virginia farmhouse in northern Virginia, with a few horses, two barns and a pond, but that doesn't prepare you for doubling the acreage and number of horses, adding hens, sheep and, finally, bred cows. Not to mention the sundry cats and dogs, both family and inherited with the farm, the run down barns and windows hanging by a thread! Just an everyday story of homesteading, with a horse rescue thrown in for good measure. Ohh, and Jorg was working full time 2 hours away, and I was still being a hot shot consultant occasionally with my old Company (thank you Sue).
Triskelion Farm was born, and we came to appreciate a lot of the grumbles that farmers have, and the time and energy needed just to keep pace with the daily work. However, nothing worth doing, or having, comes easy, and the value in the healthy life style alone is imeasurable. The quiet, and less costly, elements of rural living were key reasons for moving here. But there are many other benefits, and whatever the uncertain future might bring embracing a farming way of life was a good move. Of course that is not what I said on Monday when the thermometer said 19 degrees (F not C!), the milker wouldn't work, and I had neglected to take the hoses off the standpipes and switch on the trough heaters! Nothing brings you down to earth quicker than 18 buckets and five troughs needing the services of a strong right arm and a hammer to break through the ice. That, and the fact that we were supposed to be going to North Carolina to pick up Priscilla the new mini-Jersey. Bad words were said in abundance, but everything was accomplished, albeit later than expected and Priscilla was duly lodged in her new temporary quarters prior to being introduced to Bessie and Rosebud (more of Priscilla in our next post).

Virginia weather is being particularly contrary this Winter, with more rain than we have had in two years (it seems like) and a range of temperatures from unseasonally high to the current lows. But, and it is a big but, we seem to be a pocket of tranquility compared to large parts of the rest of the US, so we have little to complain about really. Of course if I had been better prepared.........

So we see out another year with a range of new skills, and probably a healthier body than for many a year. It's been interesting and rewarding, and we wouldn't have it any other way. We are looking forward to what 2009 might bring with some trepidation, but also with a lot of hope, and we hope that all of you have a happy, healthy and safe New Year.

Congratulations Jon and Rosie - December 12th, 2008

All is not doom and gloom, there are good things to announce as well. On Friday 12th December my eldest son Jon, marries his long time partner Rosie in Mullingar, Westmeath, Ireland. Jorg and I would love to be there and join in with the celebration (and the craic will be awesome) but raising a glass (or two) here will have to suffice.

As I have said before, our children never really get older than teenagers in our minds, and as I have a hard job identifying the old visage I see in the mirror every morning, imagining Jay (as I still think of him from childhood) as a responsible adult is just as difficult! So Rosie gets our special thoughts today in taking on his hopeless pranks - like climbing out of his bedroom window and escaping to the pub (served him well in his rock climbing years, the wall not the pub - OK, maybe the pub as well!); picking up a bale of hay (from a load that had come off a tractor trailer in the road) and shoving it in the back of a friend's car so that Claudia could play horse games in the garden, and I then had to collect them from the local police station; making Claudia climb the 15 foot sea wall at the end of the Coastguard Cottages gardens if she wanted to play with him and Ben; picking him up after he got the sailing boat "Skipper" pushed into Cork Harbour by the tide (possibly the largest natural harbour in Europe!) trying to impress a girl with his sailing prowess. OK, that's probably enough marriage-day humiliation.

So Jonathan, good father and significant other, congratulations on finding a wonderful partner and wife in Rosie; and Rosie, congratulations on selecting my outstanding eldest son for your husband and life partner. May you have a day to remember and a long and loving marriage.

May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rain fall softly on your fields.
And until we meet again, May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.
(Irish Blessing).

All our love to you both, and to Aoife and Alex (and not forgetting Amy) from Jorg and I.