Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home

Last week, Jim and I traveled east, far from the farm and even farther from the wide-open prairie where often an hour or longer passes between one car rumbling by and the next. We spent a lot of time crowded into subway cars being shuttled from one crowded big-city venue to another. It was a fun trip, but it’s good to be back where quiet calls home.

It is hard to believe November is upon us already; November, the month when winter calls ahead to let us all know she’s coming for an extended stay. By noon, this morning’s brightness gave way to a blanket of grey downy. There is a biting wind now and all of the trees, except the four Cedars, have lost their canopies. There are still several hundred ducks floating in the lake, presumably safe now that the hunters have turned the barrels of their guns toward whitetail deer.

Jim, in his blaze orange vest, has spent the day mowing our vineyard. The grass we laid as seed on Labor Day is plush and as green as Ireland. The trim today should keep snow mold at bay. When he puts the mower away, it will be time for the two of us to take graph paper, pencil and ruler to sketch our trellis plan. Drawing the vineyard plan now will allow us to price out our trellis materials and get our order placed for spring delivery. Once the ground softens come March, we’ll need to make fast work of cutting rows and sinking line posts.

Other late fall projects include stowing the hammock and Adirondack chairs in the barn, running snow fences along the gully near our new row of spruce trees, finishing the chicken coop, installing the chimney for the wood stove, which will heat the stable, winterizing the power equipment, and clearing the frost-bitten flower stalks from the garden. It will be January before we can turn our attention to farmhouse chores such as painting the ceilings and maybe, maybe, redoing the bathroom.

So, dear friends, we’re back at it at Four Cedars, Jim and I. Back from vacation. Busy as usual, but never too busy to give you an update. Thanks for checking in.

Where else...

Where else but in the country can you toss down a pile of charcoal and cook dinner right on the driveway?

Last night, it was pitchfork fondue, albeit with a small-scale fork. The canning pot sitting right on the hot coals holds the oil and the Omaha steaks taste quite yummy once they emerge from the hot bath.

It may not be heart-healthy eating, but it's imaginative -- and darn tasty!

Sunny Saturday in the Valley

When you farm, you never lack for something to do. Some days, our chore list seems as long as the prairie horizon; this is especially true as we prepare to face the harshest of times -- the approaching Minnesota winter.

But when the October sun decides to make a rare weekend appearance, and it brings with it what could be the last seventy-degree day of the year, the temptation to tour our scenic countryside proved greater than the need to store lawn furniture, mow lawn, or split wood. If you missed your chance to enjoy a sunny Saturday excursion, come along with me as I retrace the day we played "hookey" from the farm.

The heavy rains of September and October have pushed water up and over the banks of our area rivers. This is the Le Sueur River, which spills into the Blue Earth River just beyond the Red Jacket Bridge. The valleys where these two waterways converge and then spill into the Minnesota River, offer spectacular views when the trees are showing good color.

The Le Sueur River
Red Jacket Bridge over the Le Sueur River

After stopping to enjoy the fast moving river currents, we moved on to Minneopa Falls, just south of downtown Mankato. Minneopa is a Native American word that means “water that falls twice.” A walkway extends between the upper falls and the lower falls, which drops thirty-nine feet.

The upper and lower Minneopa Falls

Not far from the falls, we picked up scenic highway 68, headed west toward New Ulm. Before reaching the town of Cambria, we turned off the highway in order to visit Morgan Creek Vineyard, one of only a dozen wineries in Minnesota. In the tasting room, three dollars allowed us to sample ten Morgan Creek varieties. When we finished sampling, we purchased two bottles, a semi-sweet La Crescent variety called Zeitgeist, and a dry red called Saint John’s Reserve. After wandering the grounds, we decided a bit of food might be a good idea before climbing behind the wheel. We each ordered a six-inch pizza from the brick-oven on the veranda.

Morgan Creek Vineyards, South of New Ulm, Minnesota

New Ulm offered us another scenic respite – the August Schell Brewery, the state’s oldest brewery perched on the banks of the Cottonwood River. Unlike the Winery, the Brewery was crowded and the tours booked for hours. There was a wedding taking place at the Schell Mansion and Gardens, below. We weren't sure if the peafowl wandering up the path were invited guests, or if they were crashing the festivities.

We wandered briefly then headed into town, looking for an authentic German meal. We found one at the Kaiserhoff. A Schell's Oktoberfest, on tap, went perfectly with the sausage, sauerkraut, pumpernickel bread and German potato salad.

Annie Oakley, I ain't

Yet.

With a 22 caliber rifle perched against my shoulder, a nuisance fur-bearing rodent in my sights, and adrenaline coursing through my system, I squeezed the trigger. This, after struggling for nearly 10 minutes to dislodge a jammed bullet while Jim held the dog at bay and the animal lumbered around the farmyard.

The first shot traveled more than 150 feet; the animal stumbled. My second shot missed but the third put him on his back and by the fifth, it stopped moving.

Jim and I moved toward each other. He took the gun; I took the dog and headed for the house. He dealt with the remains. I set the safety on the gun and turned my attention toward dinner.

Just another afternoon in the country, I suppose.