Bumper Crop

 

We’ve had a bumper crop of pecans this year.  Some years are lean, some years are a bust, but this year the nuts keep dropping.  It’s a wonderful thing.  We’ve been gathering them in since early November.   The first couple of baskets we toted back to Farmville and commenced to cracking using my dad’s tried and true nutcracker.  It’s one of those cylinder types that you adjust to the nut size and then pull the handle down to make the connection.  It works great.  That connection cracks the nut and sends shell fragments to all corners of the room.  Then the real work begins where each nut has to be separated (their two lobes are attached) and gently scraped of any shell debris.  This is serious work because  random shell pieces make for a  bitter bite.  It’s tedious, if not mindless work.  So you can imagine how delighted we were to discover the “Crackin’ Man.”   This fella over in Tyner has this thingamajig that cracks pecans.  It goes twenty-four-seven this time of year.   It’s a wonder to behold.  After weighing your nuts (he charges per lb. before hulling) he dumps the bucket into the hopper and the mechanized chain driven action begins.   Each nut is pulled through the press and just the right amount of pressure is applied.  They come out the bottom and drop into a paper bag all ready to go.  You still have to do the cleaning up and picking out, but that goes pretty fast.  We had our 10 pounds cleaned, roasted and packaged up for gift giving in no time.  It’s a pure wonder.   Let ‘um keep dropping.

Christmas Season

 

Christmases creep up on me and go in a flash.  I was just easing into the season a week or so ago when our local arts center, AOA, put on its annual “Christmas on Main.”  Our band, Go Figure? opened with a blast of Sweet Home Chicago, followed by our own Mike Goodman (city editor) ragging out Midnight Hour (and playing the drums at the same time) and straight into Jingle Bell Rock.  We played to a sold-out auditorium for two performances and a good time was had by all.  Local folks were out for a taste of Christmas and the dancing Santas filled the bill two-fold.  Who doesn’t feel the earth move with 30 identical Santas jingling their bells and tapping their beards off in perfect synchronization?  They were awesome.  There were elves and fairies and a gospel choir.  It was pure small town local talent and a pure delight from start to finish.  Even the mayor got into the fun playing the most important role of all…..Santa Claus.  I have to say it surely pumped me up and got me into the spirit of the holiday.  All that clapping, singing and Ho-Ho-Ho’s will do it every time.  It’s just all over too fast. 

Christmas Tree Time

It’s time to get our Christmas tree.   It’s a custom in the Jackson household to find our tree….not among the dozens that line the grocery store sidewalks or even among the beautiful trees available at the nursery. That’s not what I’m talking about.  That would be just too easy.  Almost like cheating. 

No, we Jacksons take this tree stuff serious.   George’s job is to scout one out.  This process takes the better part of the year.  He’ll have one or two that he’s “watching” and keeping them in mind for the year they are ready.

Mind you, we don’t own any Christmas tree farm.  We prefer to poach.  That’s kin to stealing.  I tell you, it’s something to behold.  Once the tree has been spotted….often by boat sliding up some remote creek, we fortify ourselves with boots, gloves and chainsaw.  This “sting” has to be fast and as nonchalant as one can possibly pull off.  Very inconspicuous.  It’s not that easy dragging an 8 foot cedar tree down a ditch embankment on the Camden Causeway.  Most everybody headed to town for the day rides by….some folks wave.  I swear.

And we’ve brought home some real winners.  One year the sap “let down” after the tree was trimmed and the presents were under the tree with care.  Oh my.  Talk about a sticky mess. Then there was the time that thousands of baby spiders hatched out during the night while we were “all snuggled in our beds,” and we came down stairs to find webs crisscrossing the living room.  

 Some trees are huge (they didn’t look that tall in nature) some are small, sparse and pitiful, but once they get hauled in and gusseted up….they’re all perfect. 

A disclaimer:  All of our trees have been on public easements or buried in a vast woodland and are in danger of some kind or another….clinging to a ditch bank, fledging under another massive tree or something like that.  George says that Aldo Leopold would say, “George left the site better than he found it.”  I’m just saying.

The Eyes Have It

Make no mistake; I am very grateful for my eyesight.  As bad as it is, I can’t fathom life without it.  Having said that....here goes. 

 It really all started several weeks ago…maybe months (some things are insidious and just creep up on you).  I realized I couldn’t see very well.  I’m a well-seasoned contact lens wearer.  Been wearing them since I was 12 or so…all kinds, hard, soft, semi-soft, 30 day, 90 day, daily, clear, duel lenses, navy blue (now they were something to behold) so I feel like I’m kinda of an expert on the subject.  All the while, I had glasses to switch to…single lens, sunglasses, driving glasses, swimming glasses, bifocals, and on and on.  In a nutshell, I have experience.

I’ve been thinking for a while that I just couldn't see -  something wasn’t working anymore.  (lots of things fall into this category these day)  So I’m at the college gym trying to blend in.  That’s really difficult since no-one in there is over 22.  I’m lifting free weights facing the mirror, concentrating on my form.  (you get the picture)  That’s when I notice that my shirt’s on inside out.  Not only that, but also backwards…tag dead center under my neck. 

It just continues to unravel.  I resorted to wearing glasses for a few days.  That got old.  I finally went to see my eye doctor and took his advice.  Stop wearing the dual lenses.  Go back to the regular old distance kind...the kind that requires you to habitually have a pair of readers on your head. 

I did and I’m happy again.  I can see – most of the time.  Last night I tore a contact in half while trying to get it out.  Spent the entire night with part of it floating around in there somewhere. 

It’s a pure tribute to Farmville, that when I called a yellow pages number this morning at 8:30 to Dr. Charlie Wilson’s office, his receptionist told me to come right on over.  Took me straight away and got that stuck remnant out.  He did call for the forceps. (honest)  “Forceps,  good grief."

Glasses are looking better and better.

 

Suits Me Just Fine

Folks are always asking me how I spend my time in Farmville.  If they have ever visited Farmville, they are well aware of Greenfront and its massive footprint on Main Street.  And if you’ve never been to Farmville, its dot on the map and population of 5000 would prompt one to think….not much.   Once you’ve combed Greenfront’s aisles and checked out all the bargains at the Boneyard a few times….what’s next?  I’m here to witness – plenty!

There’s a brand spanking new pottery shop on Main Street that’s a splendid space for artists and novices alike to create and just play with clay.  I’ve signed up and I’m having a good time making everyone’s Christmas presents.  I’m sure my pieces will bring pure delight to my dear family and friends.  On Thursdays I knit with the “KnitWits”  ladies at the Methodist Church.  We’re charged to be making lap robes for veterans, but most of us are working on scarves, hats and sweaters.  I’ve never knitted anything in my life, but I’m getting the hang of it and I have one hell-of-a scarf coming along.  Another great Christmas gift! 

There are two great libraries in town, public and university and I have an official card for both.  I’ve been doing research for the book I’m working on.  It won’t be ready for Christmas…..this year.  I’ve been invited to join a Book Club and we have a meeting coming up this week.  I really look forward to getting to know these ladies and being a part of this group.  I plan on keeping my mouth shut this time….unfortunately I read the wrong book.  I hate it when that happens.  I just joined FAR – Friends of the Appomattox River.  We’re have a meeting and Christmas party in a couple of weeks.  The University has concerts, shows and openings.  Thursdays are $1.85 margarita night at El Patrons.  Wednesday night has local live music at Charley’s where “everybody knows your name”, and Friday afternoon finds half of the Business School faculty gathered at Charley’s for a beer. 

Whew! It’s a good thing I’m making all of my gifts this year.  I don’t have time to Christmas shop.

 

First Visitors

Our girls were here for the weekend.  Jenny’s new sidekick is a beagle named Dixie, who joyfully jumped in her car and took her first road trip.  Woody was awfully glad to see old friends and just plain giddy with delight to hook up with Dixie again.  They go way back.  

 The weather was splendid, couldn’t have cooperated any better, so we took full advantage of being outside.  We showed off Farmville and explored the neighborhoods up one sidewalk and down another letting the dogs lead the way.  Bright yellow and orange leaves crunched beneath our feet and Woody took pure delight in charging into every carefully raked pile.   A few antique shops, Greenfront (one must take it on) and dinner at Charley’s completed Saturday with more adventure promised for Sunday.   A lazy morning at home was followed by an afternoon touring Appomattox.  Of course everyone is aware of the historical significance of Appomattox, but I must say I find it simply charming.   An old train station serving as the tourist information   anchors the downtown with active rails humming right alongside.  Antique shops, restaurants and B&Bs fan out to make the 3 block historic district lively.  I’ve been three times and will certainly return.  On the return to Farmville, we drove through Pamplin City (current pop. 219) that was a sad reminder of more prosperous days.  Then on to Spring Creek Wine Cellar, a local vineyard and winery where we partook in a 12 sample wine tasting.  Now that’s a wine tasting!  We packed it in and headed back to High Street to check on our canine friends and the condition of 806.  All was well.  More walks, more food, more wine….some high quality TV viewing and we called it a night.   Jenny and Dixie left at the crack of dawn on Monday.  Two nights of camping on the daybed with two dogs has its tipping point.  It didn’t help any when George crept down the stairs in the semi-dark and tumbled into the dog gate we had fashioned at the bottom.  All hell broke loose….you can only imagine.

Pamplin City - a bygone era

Confounded

I figured out why I walked Woody in dark yesterday morning.  I was bemoaning in my post about losing daylight savings time and the sad fact that we are robbed of early morning sun.  I went on, showing more and more ignorance the deeper I got, ranting on  that it was dark at 7:15.  Honestly, I didn’t THINK that was right…surely I would have remembered that it was NOT dark at 7:15, but I rambled on.  It dawned on me this morning (no pun intended) that dawn is indeed at 6:15.  We wake up most mornings at 6:15.  The dark outside our window is giving way to gray when the alarm goes off.  This morning was a repeat of yesterday.  The alarm went off, George got up and rambled around while I burrowed deeper under the quilt.  After several minutes I heard him exclaim with some confused amazement “damn, it’s only 5:20.”  Not a hint of predawn gray.  It took us an entire day to figure out we truly added an extra hour yesterday.  Got up and got about our day never realizing we were an hour to the good.  Who says there aren’t enough hours in the day?  Not me, I wondered why I ate four meals instead of three.  Not a bad gig.