I'll be heading out soon. I suspect it's still a bit wet (and too early) to mow, but i will be lopping down Autumn Olive (until the end of my days). I don't have documentary proof, but the evidence of stripped soil suggests to me that much of this area was farmed to an extreme. I don't expect i'd find native plants like pawpaw or persimmon on the property because i think any source plants would be too far away for seeds to have been carried here by critters since the farming ended. Bird carried plants abound. Dogwood and poison ivy would be natives (sigh), the autumn olive and honeysuckle are not. So if i could use the forestry service's seedling program to get persimmons and crab apples going, develop my own paw paw plan, bring in chinquapins and hazelnuts, perhaps critters could then begin to plant and seed those and replace the autumn olive.
We drove through a nearby outrageous subdivision last night, brick and wrought iron entrance gates, massive houses.... I realized that the other houses near us are also rather large. Our modest place is indeed a cottage in comparison. I wonder about twenty years from now: will these acres be a natural oasis? Will the family that holds the land to our east for hunting keep it (and all their cursed autumn olive)?
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I am close enough to Charlotte that i could be there. Other Quakers i know have stood in accompaniment in other protests about race: too far for me, i excuse myself. Now i'm not. I keep listening, dreading a bit the time i'd have to spend if i was called to go there. I still think i am called to this place and to the work i'll be doing outside today and time with family later today.
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I did win a blue ribbon for my photography at the county fair -- it's kind of an odd feeling though, given the absence of competition. Two rows of shelves contained all the fair items. I think the greatest competition was in okra: six entries there. There were a lot of canning jars but they all seemed to be holding different things (and many ribbons) so i don't think there was much competition there either. I'll hope that i can enter pawpaws and persimmons, apples and figs some day.
I'm not sure whether to encourage my sister and her kids to come this year and compete next year.
The best thing that happened was watching the camel (named Cash, there to give rides) make eye contact with Christine and come give her a kiss. Christine, who always has a warm heart for critters, met the long lashed deep brown eyes of that camel and made a connection. I didn't fumble my camera up for a photo in time to catch an image -- i had sticky fingers from my cotton candy.