All is calm, all is bright...just about

Field on the Knob with Mennonite Tractors

This week has been interesting here on the ridge, and beyond it. Last Friday we lost our dog in a violent thunderstorm (and found her again, two days later, thanks to some neighbors we had just met while searching for her). That day I had been transplanting tomato seedlings at a friends' greenhouse, Hillside Greenhouse at Sunny Valley Foods (in Casey County--formerly Nolt's--one of these days I'll stop saying that!) and had left our dog Lucy out when I left that morning. She hates storms and I had not anticipated one. Well, didn't we have "a humdinger" mid-afternoon as my father used to say--complete with a tornado warning.


Ida's barn and red buds

Aside from the scare and anguish of almost loosing Lucy, we have been watching the glorious pageant of redbud unfold on the land. That has been some comfort amidst the worry.


Red bud and Green River Knob

I was glad to get a photo of Green River Knob, the highest point in Casey County, with a lovely redbud in bloom in front of it. Redbuds seem to like semi-open spaces and are most common along fields and roadsides. The wild dogwood is just beginning to bloom and I was pleased to see lilacs beginning to open in northern Tennessee.

Yesterday we stopped in Bugtussle, Kentucky, right on the Tennessee line, on our way to visit my uncle and his wife (of course, brought camera, forgot recharged battery pack--more about this destination, too, after we return there next week). We also saw a fair bit of damage from the tornado that hit Lafayette, Tennessee in early February and hopped along a track up towards where we live, approximately 2 hours northeast in Kentucky. It was humbling to see what these storms can do.

This evening a neighbor brought me an intriguing gift: a mason jar partially filled with a clear liquid with a piquant odor. Let's just say it is a good "recipe" in the old tradition, something I've never tasted. I'll write more about that another day, too.

All is calm, all is bright now on the ridge as evening slips in. The cooler night air is coming in the window after a warm afternoon, but it is 8:45pm and still not quite dark (who knew how I would benefit from being on the very western edge of the Eastern time zone?). The night sounds like summer with birds nesting and that not-quite-crickety sound, but no longer are there peepers. Our neighbor to the north is having his nightly holler to the elements (can't quite explain that ritual but he's harmless enough). There, he is done now (well, not quite, a few more hollers at nothing in particular).


Tornado watch on Carter Ridge

Tomorrow the boys and my husband are going squirrel hunting with a neighbor. Temple has had squirrel and dumplings in the past. I'm willing to try just about anything but they'd better not bring them to me to skin! No doubt our boys will find this to be the highlight of their spring vacation--and I'll bet they'll taste great with cornbread (squirrel, that is, not boys!).