Tuesday morning it rained harder than I’ve heard it rain in a long time. By midday, though, the skies were clear. So I headed out to walk up a mountain at Mint Springs Valley Park. I figured I owed Tucker an outing as he’d been inside all day Monday while I attended my master gardener class.

The rain was still pouring down the mountain, turning the trails into creeks. It made for beautiful but very muddy hiking. I have many times swum in the lake at Mint Springs, which has a nice sandy beach and is ringed by mountain ranges. But this was my first time on the trails at the park.

There were a couple of old homestead chimneys along the path.

And the lime green evidence of spring just starting to appear.

I was hiking along the ridgetop and was clobbered by a fragrance memory as I entered a grove of pines. For a minute I was zapped more than a decade back to college and hiking in the pine forests of Mount Lemmon near Tucson, Arizona.

Looking southwest over Greenwood toward Nelson County.

First tick of the season, crawling in the waistband of my jeans. It hadn’t bitten me yet, but definitely signaled the insect misery of the summer to come.

Super happy flying trail dog

The upper lake at the end of the hike. In all we did a few miles up, and then down, the Little Yellow Mountain. The trails aren’t extensive at Mint Springs, but they travel through a nice variety of topography and best of all, I was the only person on them.

As I was leaving the park I saw this blazing barn in an old apple orchard. I ditched the car, jumped out,

scrambled across a creek on this handy fallen tree,

and got a few photos right before the sun ducked behind the mountain and the whole scene went dead.

of the season. Up before sunrise yesterday for a very cold walk. It was six degrees here at 6:30 a.m. the previous morning. Winter has finally arrived, and I am straying from the wood stove only to fill the bird feeders and defrost the chicken water.

The neatest thing was seeing all the fox tracks in the snow. I haven’t seen a fox in ages and thought they’d ceded the yard to Tucker in their canine turf war. However, they left tons of evidence that they are very much still in residence. Here’s where they went under the chicken coop.

And poked around the clean out door, no doubt sniffing the delicious dinner sleepily roosting just out of reach.

And failing to gain entry, they hopped into the little run behind the coop to try their luck with that side!

But I have the nicest, tightest coop in the East, thanks to my dad and a heatwave construction blitz, so the fox had to look elsewhere for its meal.

It’s eighteen degrees and snowing again now, and looking downright wintery outside. It’s hard to believe that just a few days ago Tucker and I were enjoying 72-degree days and the sunrise at the beach!

Last weekend’s unseasonably warm temperatures (almost 70 degrees!) begged for an adventure. I found one in a canoe picnic on the Beaver Creek reservoir near Crozet, Va.

I hadn’t been on the water since kayaking two summers ago. It was wonderful to spend hours poking about, exploring the shoreline. Only a few fishermen were on the water, so it felt like having a private lake.

I enjoyed seeing all the beaver-gnawed trees at the water’s edge, but I didn’t find their dam. The best discovery of the day was a bale of turtles in shallow water at the far end of the reservoir. And we also found scads of huge mussel shells in one area. They were big—the size of the mussels you usually eat in restaurants. I have yet to determine if the mussels live in the lake or if someone dumped their dinner shells…unlikely as the reservoir is surrounded by cow pasture.

Watching the mountains change from blue to gold from the middle of the water was lovely treat. And a fantastic Timbercreek Organics beef hamburger at the always-entertaining Fardowner’s in Crozet capped off a wonderful day!

To me the winter solstice is all about light.

After days of clouds and rain and a wild, windy night, the dawn sun blasted over Buck Mountain with streaming golden light.

Wherever you are, I hope you let the light in today.

Happy Solstice from Bonafide Farm.

Have been a whirlwind of productivity and enjoyment best relayed in photographs.

Pervy Tuck

First raid of the compost pile several years in the making.

I know I am an unusual girl to take such pleasure in this handful of homemade worm-happy, vital compost. It is beautiful, and I am proud.

Well house renovation begins with an insulation/drywall blitzkrieg.

And a right-under-the-4:00 p.m.-closing-wire Saturday dump run. Good riddance to this stink bug, ladybug, mouse poo pile!

Lots of wonderful meals prepared, including salmon and sweet potato stew, goat cheese and caramelized onion focaccia, and a roasted beet salad with balsamic dressing. The eating’s been good around here lately!

Vintage gas pumps resurrected from my woods and hauled away to be transformed in to art.

Thanksgiving mushroom walk!

Chicken sculpture

Discovered under my OSB front sidewalk: a whole clutch of snake eggs!

I am still cringing that Mama Snake (probably Mama Black Snake) managed to sneak her brood so close to the house. And yet I saw not a single black snake last year, when they were incubating right on my doorstep! That’s irony for you.

Thrifty new front walk under construction, using stones dug from the property. It’s rustic, but it’s better than rotting, snake-incubating  OSB and sure beats the $9,000-$18,000 quotes I got from the pros for hardscaping this area…

And finally, lots of woodstove sitting, reading, and spending time with this handsome lad, who is relishing his increased responsibility on the farm and every day grows more accomplished. Official presented kill tally: two wood rats and one mole. Way to go, Farmdog!

After a day’s worth of thunderstorms finally tracked away, I stood outside while the fog crept up from the foothills and over my back field. By the time the light had totally faded, I was enfolded in a cloud.

Rising over Buck Mountain. This was the first full moon, in early August, not the blue moon of last week.

Far away in the field, during a downpour last Sunday. The rain and distance and window screen between us made for very lovely images. They were perfectly posed.

This guy in the middle is shaking off the rain. I’ve never seen a wet deer shake before. First time for everything. Reminded me of this Scientific American video that was making the online rounds last week. Totally worth watching if just to see a sheep dance.