I’m not eating fruit yet, not even enjoying the shade from a big pear tree but I feel like a success. The trees are in. Pears, peaches, and apple trees for my area and they look wonderful. The peach trees already have little peaches!
Here’s a few pictures. 
Tiny peaches.
More peaches.
Young pear trees.
Soon we will get the ground ready for grapes. I have Muscadines starting. They do well in this area of Florida.
When I first started the orchard all I could think of is eating peaches and pears until my stomach burst. I knew I had to cut down a few trees and thought clearing tree stumps would be a quick get-er-done. Not so. I was able to get a few stumps out but I still had about 30 more that needed clearing. I finally gave in and hired a stump grinder. He was out this morning and ground out the 30 or so stumps in one day, something that would have taken me a month of Sundays to clear with the backhoe. But at least it is done.
Each ground stump left a four foot mound of sawdust. My good buddy came over with his tractor and leveled it out. Looks pretty good now. While he was doing the leveling I thought I would take a trip to the lumber yard and get some wood for a deck I am building. I got a little down the road when I heard a vaguely familiar thump-thump-thump, the trailer tire blew. I drove back to the house with that tire flopping as I drove down the road. So much for getting a head start on the lumber. Took me 4 hours to get that **** tire off the trailer.
Hopefully tomorrow will go better. The trees are blossoming and look beautiful….and need to go in the ground as soon as possible. I still have to make wrap for the trees to protect them from the deer. They will eat those tender green leaves in a heartbeat. There is an end in sight, though. I can almost taste the peaches now.
Living in the woods means helping your neighbors when you can. For me, it means whenever a friend has a problem I drop what I am doing to help. It also means whatever I am working on takes three times as long as it should and my honey-do list rarely gets done. Aggravates the wife a little bit so I try to do that stuff when she’s working (not that I help others but the honey-do list never seems to get shorter). When she’s off I’m all business on my own stuff. Looks good.
Papa is an old friend who lives up the road from me. Nice man but won’t ask for anything or a bit of help no matter what. His grandson got in a little bit of trouble a while back and had to move in with him. When he did he found Papa’s didn’t have indoor plumbing. He was using a thunder bucket that his girlfriend would dump every day. I was pretty upset that he didn’t have the plumbing and told my wife I would help him. When I told my wife about it she didn’t seem too surprised. Not about Pap’s not having plumbing or me wanting to help.
Now you might think “Aw, poor old man living alone in the woods without a toilet.” Not so. Papa has his girlfriend living with him. There is an unwritten law in this world that says a man might not have looks or smarts but can win a woman if he has a few bucks. His girlfriend is 35 years younger than him, young enough to help him spend his money and give him bragging rights. Ask him about her and he just gets the biggest shit-eating grin you ever saw. Nuff said.
Well, anyway, the plumbing was for Papa. He’s got water again and still has his bragging rights.
While I am at it, here’s a couple of things I did get done from the honey-do list.
Vintage Mint Green Display Shelf
Post by Dan Patterson of MetalWoodsnWater.etsy and MetalWoodsnWater.artfire
This morning I watched this guy talking and showing how to find suitable gifts for Valentine’s Day. He went to a store, had some pictures made, then the candy store for chocolates, and even found a restaurant for champagne and good food. Good ideas if you live near those stores and have the money to buy all those things. Not everyone does. Now, living in the country means celebrating V-day a bit different than our city friends. I love my wife but I’m not too good with a camera, she can’t eat chocolate, and the closest restaurant is Hardees. I love their chicken sandwiches but a fast food place isn’t high on the list of romantic get-aways. Back in the woods a person has to be creative and really put meaning to the phrase “It is the thought that counts.”
When we first got together we would have a picnic lunch by the river. It’s a pretty place with picnic tables where you can watch the river go by and sometimes see an egret or two, maybe even see fish jump. Another favorite place is the beach. A walk on the beach is one of the most romantic places in the world, no matter where the beach is. Even if it is cold there is still something about it that stokes those fires. Cap the walk on the beach with a hot cup of chocolate or coffee and you have a romantic moment she will treasure.
Something I like to do is cook so I made a Valentine biscuit for the wife. Not fancy cooking but romantic and that’s what Valentine’s Day is about, romance. It’s not hard to do so even the guy who doesn’t know his way around the kitchen can do it. I used Bisquick mix for the biscuits. Just follow the instructions. Once you make the dough, shape one into a heart and place it in the center of the pan. Use the rest of the dough for drop biscuits.
Bake the biscuits according to the directions.
This is how they come out. The heart is in the center, the other biscuits are around it. After all, she is the center of your universe, especially on V-day.
Put it on a plate with strawberry or raspberry jam and present your handmade Valentine to your sweetheart. Kind of makes you want to say “Aww,” don’t it?
Sometimes I feel like no matter how hard I work at something the work is under appreciated or not appreciated at all. I try to be a positive guy and get excited about what I do but not everyone shares my excitement. I tell my wife (my biggest fan) and she cheers a little then gets back to her work. Know the feeling?
I find my “pats on the back” in nature. Being a hunter carries responsibilities. I get angry and disheartened when I see a carcass on the road, a magnificent animal killed for antlers and backstrap then discarded like trash. My responsibility includes killing for food, not shooting spots, knowing and respecting the law, and providing for the deer that go through my land during the year.
Last year we tried to have a winter garden but the winter was so harsh for the deer they ate our garden to nothing as they foraged for food. My wife was upset. “We need to feed them,” she said. “Let’s buy hay and set it out in the back away from the garden.” I bought a square bale and it was devoured in one day. The next day I bought a round bale and built a lean-to to keep it dry. Luckily it lasted until the grass started coming up again.
This year I planted winter grass along the trails on my land. Long before I moved here and long before my neighbor put a fence up there was a trail that the deer would walk. They would forage then bed down up front in the woods. My neighbor has a horse and put up fence disrupting the trail and limiting the feed area. My answer to that was to provide an alternative place for the deer to feed, especially the fawns that couldn’t jump the fences yet.
Today I was rewarded with a wonderful sight when I went out for my morning walk in the garden. On the trail that leads to the garden five deer were eating the grass I planted a couple of months ago. Does and their fawn were eating the feed I planted and the Lord provided with the bountiful rain we received. I feel so blessed. I guess I did something right!
Well, I didn’t get a hog yesterday. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I saw some in the woods but they were moving 90 miles an hour so I couldn’t get a good shot off. That’s all right, we’ll eat venison instead of pork chops. I did get to visit an old friend, though, something I’ve been needing to do for a while.
My friend, Greg, died last year of brain cancer. Nobody expected it. He hadn’t been sick for a long time. He just started having bad headaches and went to a doctor. When the cancer was found it was pretty big and inoperable. He tried radiation which slowed it a little but not much.
Greg lived life to the fullest. He went to the Gator games and was a Green Bay Packer fan, a cheese head. One of the pictures I have of him was him wearing a cheese head hat. When I went to visit his wife, Lisa, she gave me something to wear while I watched the game for Greg. No, it wasn’t the hat (my wife had the same thought). It was a Packers’ watch.
I am not much of a football fan. I’ll watch the game but I’m not a fanatic. To be honest, if there were cars and tires involved I’d watch every game. This year, however, I’ll be watching the game with a watch on my wrist and cheering for the Packers in Greg’s memory. I might even eat a piece of cheese or two.
Enjoy the game no matter who you cheer for! Or, sorry, Go Packers! Guess I need to start practicing now.
I love to hunt. I love going into the woods and being one with nature. Whether or not I bring something home isn’t the point, although I go with the intent of bringing something home. I am picky about what I hunt for, too. I don’t hunt to maim or for the thrill. I hunt to put food in the freezer or to help out friends.
Well, my freezer is about out of pork so when my son called and asked if I wanted to go hunting for the weekend I thought about it. Sounded like a good time to me. My wife encouraged me to go. “Have fun” she said. She even sounded like she meant it, too. “Go spend some time with your son. You’ll enjoy yourself” she told me so I called my son and told him I would join him.
Hogs in Florida are considered nuisance animals with an open season on private property. They destroy vegetation by rooting up the land making it hard for other wildlife, like deer, to feed. They also breed often and have large litters out-populating other animals. A doe might have one or two fawns a year but a sow can have 2 litters a year with 5 or 6 pigs in the litter. The hogs are wild, feral hogs with long, coarse, black hair and tusks. There are some that have bred with domestic hogs but the ones with black hair are called Piney Woods Rooters. They are smart and strong animals that can hurt a man or a dog, a common way to hunt hog.
I left early and headed south. No traffic. We got into the woods and he just about walked me to death. Now remember, we were Still-hunting. Still-hunting means you find a good place to watch from and stay still, not walk 5 miles looking for animals. You make noise when you walk. You are also moving. Hogs are very intelligent. They can pick up movement and noise. Not good when you are hunting. Needless to say we didn’t get anything today.
Well, I will keep you posted. Hopefully I will get a nice hog tomorrow, a nice Piney Woods Rooter.
I knew there was a lot of trees to come down but it feels like the number continues to grow no matter how many we put down. Two chain saws running constantly and we barely made a dent in it. The rabbit shelter is gone, though. With that out of the way it feels like there is something done, even if we still have a gazillion more trees to cut.
Got a little scary before, though. One of the guys helping out cut the tree in the wrong direction. The tree would have come down on the fence around the house the way it was cut. My wife noticed it and stood transfixed watching us. When I noticed her standing there all I could think of is it could come down on her. Wouldn’t be good. Told her to move and she did. Good thing, too, because the tree came down close to were she was standing.
Outside of that, the tree cutting is going fairly well. We have firewood, some for sale, some for the cooker, and some for a few friends to keep them warm this winter. We have wood for lumber so I can build and save a few bucks. And the best part, we’ll have a place to raise some fruit trees.
I guess a lot of you don’t think much of getting a haircut. It’s just something you do because if you don’t you’ll have your hair down to your ass like my good friend Larry. Good for him but just not my style.
This time my hair got shaggy. My problem isn’t getting to the barber or stylist for the cut. My problem is getting my wife to fit me in her schedule to cut it. Yes, you got that right, my wife cuts my hair. I trust her with a sharp instrument that close to my throat even if she did cut my ear…once. She does a good job, too.
Oh, the ear. Well, early on in our relationship I needed a haircut and talked her into cutting mine. After all, my mom cut my dad’s hair and if it was good enough for my dad it’s OK with me. My wife was pretty worried, though. “What if it comes out bad?” she asked to which I answered “I’ll wear a hat.” Then I told her the rule I grew up with….”What’s the difference between a good haircut and a bad haircut?” Three days. At that point I knew I had her. So she got her scissors and I got a chair and she commenced to cutting. Only problem with her cutting my hair was her scissors she had to use were sewing shears. I tried to tell her “My ear, you got my ear.” By the time she realized I wasn’t kidding she drew blood. We bought hair cutting scissors the next day.
Not a big cut, no scar but I remind her of it every time she cuts my hair. Makes us both laugh, but I do check and see what scissors she is using.
Post by Dan the Man and written by Eileen.
I knew there was a lot of trees to come down but it feels like the number continues to grow no matter how many we put down. Two chain saws running constantly and we barely made a dent in it. The rabbit shelter is gone, though. With that out of the way it feels like there is something done, even if we still have a gazillion more trees to cut.
Got a little scary before, though. One of the guys helping out cut the tree in the wrong direction. The tree would have come down on the fence around the house the way it was cut. My wife noticed it and stood transfixed watching us. When I noticed her standing there all I could think of is it could come down on her. Wouldn’t be good. Told her to move and she did. Good thing, too, because the tree came down close to were she was standing.
Outside of that, the tree cutting is going fairly well. We have firewood, some for sale, some for the cooker, and some for a few friends to keep them warm this winter. We have wood for lumber so I can build and save a few bucks. And the best part, we’ll have a place to raise some fruit trees.
Living in the woods is sort of like living anywhere else, except for a lot more trees and a lifestyle tied to nature and the seasons. Just like anyone else’s home, my home is a work in progress. This work in progress includes the creation of a fruit orchard.
Not too long ago the wife and I were visiting a friend’s place. They have beautiful fruit trees, productive grape vines, and a beautiful yard. Shouldn’t have taken the wife. When we returned home she announced, “This place looks like a dump! Why can’t we have fruit trees, too?” Well, looking around at the trees around our place told me the reason and I was about to share it with her but I knew better. She had that “We can do anything with a bit of hard work” look on her face. I just called some friends to line up help.
It would be nice to just go to the store, buy a few fruit trees, plant them, water them, and eat but my life is never so easy. Like I said before, my home is a little different than most because of the trees. The same trees that give shade in the summer and keep the frost off in the winter are in the way when fruit trees are concerned. The trees have to come down as much as I hate to admit it. These trees aren’t the magnificent, graceful live oak trees that last for 100 years or so; these trees are water oaks with a life span of about 20 years. Some grow older but many don’t. They grow very tall then die. Since it is about 20 years, or maybe a little more since the trees first came up, they are near their harvest time. Besides, they don’t have pears growing on them.
Proposed Orchard Site
First, limb the tree.
What am I going to do with the trees? Some of the wood is firewood for friends in need. We might not be in Minot, North Dakota at 40 below, but it has been a cold winter and 20 degrees is cold no matter where you live. The other wood, especially the long, straight parts, are being lumbered out. The wood will then go to the barn for drying then will be used for building and projects.
Wood to be lumbered out.
Today is move the rabbit hutch day. We haven’t had rabbits in a long time so why keep the cage? A good buddy is getting that. The rest of it, the poles and roof, will be a place to store lawn mowers and keep them out of the weather. Nothing will get wasted if possible.
Old Rabbit Shelter
We’ve already taken down fence and cut a few trees. Can’t even think about picking out the trees yet though I sure want to. I’ll keep y’all posted on our progress.
Post by Dan Patterson of MetalWoodsnWater etsy.
Like so many others I have become a fan of that TV show “American Pickers.” You’ll might have seen the show where a couple of good ole boys drive around the country looking for people with lots of junk to sell and look for treasures. They find some cool stuff like old gas station signs and carnival rides. Those boys are a trip to watch not to mention just a little bit inspirational so when my wife said there was an estate sale she was interested in going to I thought I might try a little pickin’ myself. Besides, it is too darned cold to get out on the river or climb a tree so off to town we went. I even cleared out the van so we could have room for the bargains.
Having a estate sale in the middle of the week and during a cold snap turned out good for us. There wasn’t as many people as if the weather was good but there was still quite a few. Lots of out buildings at this sale and stuff in the house so the little woman went inside and I checked out the outside.
What a sight! My shop just isn’t big enough for all the stuff I wanted. The old boy was a wood worker because he had every kind of wood working tool imaginable. The lumber was incredible. Cedar, oak, pecky cypress, just to name a few kinds, piled up and heading out. Big lathes, drills, hammers and mallets of every size, and tool boxes every where. The old boy was a fisherman, too, who kept his old fishing lures in a special place in one of the out buildings. There was old wooden ones in excellent condition. What caught my eye was an aerator. Not the kind for the fish tank, the kind you pull behind a tractor to aerate the soil, hence the name (had to explain it to my wife. She thought I was buying another fish tank). Also found some things I need for welding.
Then the wife came out to the out buildings. “Baby, what’d you find?” she asked and before I could tell her she started snooping through the buildings herself. Found a couple of bird house gourds,
old jars of nails (I think she just wanted the jars)
fishing lures, and a beer mug made from a Schaeffer beer can. Looks like an advertising thing.
The funny thing is she doesn’t drink!
Then she spied an old lamp with the coolest base. The base is cast iron, no rust just sawdust.
“The old organizer would be great for a jeweler’s tools” she said when she piled it in my arms.
She piled me full of stuff, then she went back to the house to get her treasures. Dolls, sewing patterns, antique bottles, and a raccoon cookie jar were just a few things she found.
In all, I think I did pretty good. Might not be the caliber of those boys on American Pickers but then I new at this. Give me a little time and I’ll give them a run for their money. I might even arm wrestle once or twice.
Post by Dan Patterson of MetalWoodsnWater
When you live in the woods you have to develop or learn skills. Lots of skills. You need to know a little bit about plumbing, building, welding, and carpentering. If you don’t, you just won’t get anything done and you’ll have an unhappy wife. Nothing makes a wife unhappy as having to use a thunder bucket because the plumbing to the toilet don’t work. We have a plumber or two out this way but if you don’t have the money to spend on the plumber you better know how to fix things.
Well, I weld. Been a certified welder for years. I repair things with my welding, make a little art, stuff like that. My wife, who can’t weld, does what most wives do, finds things for me to do. I could be perfectly happy working on a boat or truck (I just love the smell of grease in the morning) when she’ll come out and say, Hon, can you make this? then bats her eyes a little bit. Appeals to my masculine side. You think I’d be on to it by now but she catches me off guard sometimes. Sometimes, though, I just nod and try to let it drop, like most men I know do.
Well, we were driving somewhere and passed an armory. Don’t even remember where it was. “Wow, look at that!” my wife said. “Turn around.” I thought she saw a yard sale (she is forever having me stop at yard sales) but this time is was a cannon. “Yeah, it’s a cannon” I said. “You could build that,” she answered. I thought, I probably could but what would I do with a cannon. It’s not like I can use it to hunt. She won’t let me shoot it in the back yard. I just let it go.
Well she didn’t. She grabbed on to that cannon idea like a dog with a bone. “That would be so cool. The DAV would love that. They could pull it behind the truck during parades.” This went on for days. I just nodded my head, would say a few things and thought that would be the end of it. It was until my buddy came over. We were scrapping some junk metal when he looked a something and said “There it is, the base for the cannon.” She’d be talking to him, too. “Go see if she can get a picture of a cannon off the internet.” The wife was on the computer, always is, pulled up several pictures. I wanted a military looking one, the kind from World War II or Korea. Well, that gave us a start. I had the scraps in the yard, the pipe for the barrel, the ignition, everything to make it work. We even painted it OD green with white stars on the side.
The best thing about the cannon was it worked. I loaded it up sort of like a big potato gun and fired her off. Made me a bit proud.
Well, the time came to dedicate the cannon to the local DAV chapter so they could show it off in parades. I loaded it up and brought it to town. The sheriff arranged for an escort with lights flashing. It was a sight. And it finally made it to the parade.
Can’t wait to see what my wife finds for me to do next.
Here’s a picture of the cannon. Not too bad.
Post by Dan Patterson of MetalWoodsnWater.etsy.com
There’s a lot said and written about nowadays about recycling. It is the fashionable thing-to-do in the world. Here in the woods we’ve been recycling as long as I can remember. Nothing gets thrown out after just one use. Doesn’t work the first use, fix it. Doesn’t work the 2nd use, repurpose it. The repurpose doesn’t work, it goes to the scrapper. It isn’t because recycling is the thing to do now, it’s because it’s the thing to do all the time.
I am always amazed when I drive through a town and see stuff set out on the curb for the trash man. There is enough stuff in the dump without adding perfectly good stuff that someone could use. My wife is totally into this. A few years ago she bought a little red truck and would drive through a town on her way to and from work and load up the truck while roadside shopping. That girl had to keep ropes in the truck to keep the stuff from flying out as she drove. The only difference between her and the Beverly Hillbillies was Granny wasn’t sitting up top and she didn’t have a road kill bucket hanging on the side. She once came down from up north with a load on the truck precariously tied down. She said she got blowed at by drivers all the way down the interstate. She just waved back, thought they were being friendly. When I saw the load all I could do was shake my head. She was lucky not to have an unsympathetic lawman stop her.
Well, that’s her. I don’t roadside shop like she does and I am a bit better about loading my trailer for a run. Recycling to me is a paycheck and getting parts I need at a reasonable price. Finding an old vehicle that has parts I can use then turning that vehicle into a BMW next week means cha-ching in my pocket. I have a few vehicles and boats around the garage waiting for the parts to roll in by way of a junk vehicle. A hunting truck needs a transmission, another needs an engine, still another needs, well you get the idea. Finding the parts I need off an old scrapper is exciting and hearing the engine come to life is a thrill.
Ah, the smell of grease in the morning. Almost as good as the smell of coffee.
