Is known as the Cold Moon. Which was appropriate as it coincided with a cold spell that left the frost unmelted on the North side of the house for two days straight.

It was a preview for the aurora spectacle, which I am so distressed to have missed! If I were still taking Tuck out for his late walk like before I got his invisible fence installed, I would have seen it!

If you’re into aurora photos, check this out. Did any of you see the light show?

The first weekend of October was devoted to installing the new forest. The purpose of this mass planting is to create screening between my neighbor’s house and mine and to also block the view of the back of my house from people coming down the road. To give you a sense of scale, the installation is about 200 feet long and 30 feet deep.

I had bought 44 trees and shrubs, and it took two long weekend days of nonstop work to install 27 of them. I am grateful for my tree planting partner father, as well as his backhoe and tractor and skid steer that made it possible to pick these trees up. Some were quite large and must have weighed several hundred pounds. And even with the heavy equipment we both did a lot of shoveling. And we’re still not done…

My vision for this part of the landscape is of a multilayered hedge with mixed tall evergreens forming an all-seasons background screen and shorter deciduous trees in front to provide seasonal interest with their flowers and fall color. It looks a little sparse now as I positioned the trees with a mind to their mature sizes but already it’s having the effect of drawing attention away from undesirable views and toward the trees. It is a major change for what used to be perfectly pretty pasture, and I hope it works out! Below is the view from my neighbor’s fence line back toward my compound.

I spent all last Sunday watering the trees and staking them. I am torn about staking: all the recent research suggests that it can do more harm than good to young trees. Stress and movement of the tree in the wind actually encourage the tree to develop a stronger root system and stockier trunk. However, I also know that this field is incredibly windy in the winter, and I fear that without some support these top-heavy evergreens will be lifted right out of the ground. So each tree got one stake, to be removed as soon as the roots show signs of having knit themselves to the earth. I found this publication by the University of Minnesota to be incredibly helpful.

I also loosely wrapped the trunks of the deciduous trees in balled up deer netting and tied it on. The theory is that deer don’t like the feeling of the netting and refrain from scratching their antlers against the trunks—a rather rude act that can kill a young tree.

Now I just need to order a couple of truckloads of mulch from my mulch guy and tuck these babies in for the winter!

This weekend I have plans to plant 44 trees and shrubs.

Last weekend I went looking for trees to create the living screen I wanted between my house and my neighbor’s. I hit pay dirt at a nursery over the mountain. All their material was 50 percent off, and they were willing to deliver. So I bought trees. Lots of trees. And some shrubs too.

The plants arrived early this week, and I spent some time yesterday moving the smaller material into the field. Tomorrow reinforcements—and heavy machinery—are arriving for the Big Dig.

As an antidote to a bit of a downer blog week, yesterday morning was magical here on the farm. A thick fog surrounded the house as a weak sun tried to fight its way through. It made for a gorgeous scene in every direction, and while out with the dog early I found the hayfield full of magnificent spider webs all pearled up with dew.

Of course no sooner had I snapped this picture than a morning-exuberant puppy—yes, that’s him in the background—tore through the hay, rendering that masterpiece into this:

But it was beautiful while it lasted.

Which calls my attention to one of the most unanticipated benefits I’ve received from raising a dog here on the farm. He’s forced me outside during times when I wouldn’t normally have left the house. I remember last winter, when he was a brand-new puppy getting me out of bed for a middle of the night pee break, we stood in the middle of a snowy, frosty-crunchy field as shooting stars whizzed overhead. And even now, each morning we walk the property after his breakfast, checking on this tree and that flower and making note of all the changes that happened over night. It keeps both of us grounded and deeply in tune with the land we live on. It’s one of the best parts of my day, and a totally unexpected joy.

I took a birthday journey last weekend and turned 32 on Friday in a boat on a misty mountain lake with good beer, a good friend, and my fantastically good dog.

It was the first I’d been away from the farm for more than a night since this chapter of my life began two and a half years ago. Although it was wonderful to be on the road, camping and exploring through beautiful Southwestern Virginia, coming home to the farm was a sweet new pleasure. Never before have I lived in a place in which I was so invested—physically, spiritually, emotionally and creatively. These investments return a feeling of rootedness and connection to this very particular patch of earth, which is exactly what I was seeking when I left my transient life of roosting in anonymous apartments around the country.

In fact, I like the feeling of returning so much that I am going to start traveling more, just so I can come home.

And while we’re celebrating comings and goings and getting older and moving deeper instead of faster or more often, I’ve made it to my 200th blog post!