Sherry Chandler » Pocahontas County
Pocahontas County
Speaking of Pocahantas County Fare, Rebecca has been planting peonies and talking about her heirloom peonies. I was reminded of her on the weekend when I was cleaning the winter’s debris from our big peonie bed against the south wall of the house. I don’t know whether they’re heirlooms — they’ve been there for the 35 years I’ve known the house and the bed is huge.
Here is the state of our peonies in Bourbon County (Pocahantas is such a nice county name); the greenery is from “magic lilies,” which I also didn’t plant:
Rebecca also reported that she found trout lilies blooming on Saturday. She’s a little ahead of us, probably a good bit to the south and maybe not as exposed to weather there in the mountains as we are here on the open plateau. She posted a couple of really nice photos that I suggest you click through to see.
Our trout lilies have made a sudden appearance with the 70 degree days we’ve been having. Here’s what they look like here with a couple of twinleaf buds:
And also in the big patch with a struggling little patch of Dutchmen’s britches:
But while I can’t compete with flowers, perhaps I can with fauna. Though so far we haven’t had any wildlife in the kitchen, unless you count our superannuated cats, I’d say we’ve been providing the good life for a possum as well as a raccoon this winter. This one showed up this morning to nibble seed under our bird feeder. He didn’t seem too nervous about it, either.
All these photos were taken in early morning or evening light, so they’re a little dim. The possum photo was taken through the window so it’s also a little screen-blurred.
The greenery there in front of the possum are the Virginia bluebells coming up.
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4 Comments
1. Rebecca Clayton replies at 28th March 2007, 8:37 pm :
Wow–I’m flattered by all the attention. I think my trout lily patch (much sparser than yours) is anomalous–your peonies, Dutchmen’s britches, and Virginia bluebells are all ahead of us here on Droop Mountain. Last year, I photographed trout lilies at the end of April. I think Bourbon County is an enviable name–do Kentuckians identify their origins by town, or by county? West Virginians seem to locate one another by county.
2. sherry replies at 29th March 2007, 10:31 am :
Oh well, Rebecca, you struck a couple of chords with me. I loved the thing about the knots. As for the trout lilies, well, we seem to have been struck with instant spring here — a couple of extraordinarily warm days and suddenly everything is in full bloom.
I have no idea where all those trout lilies came from. Many of the wildflowers we have around the place were collected by my mother-in-law in Red River Gorge. For several years there, Red River was to be dammed and folk were permitted to go in and “salvage” the wild flowers. Fortunately, the dam project was stopped by public protest. Our Red River Gorge is a lovely and unique geological area.
But the trout lilies seem to have sprouted spontaneously. We didn’t know what they were at first, just these lovely brown-speckled leaves that were appearing around the place. Because we’re like that, we didn’t mow them down and after several years they rewared us with a single bloom. Then we were able to identify them. Each year we get a bigger patch and a few more blooms. Land here is very rich but very shallow — just a few inches down to clay and a few more down to limestone bedrock. I’ve read that it takes trout lilies several years to bloom.
And Kentuckians traditionally identify themselves by county, though I think that may be changing as we have new generations and more incomers.
3. Poetry replies at 12th June 2007, 8:32 pm :
12 JUne 2007
A silver sky
ripe for the mirror.
you can not see yourself in this mirror
you can only see others
moreover, you can only see what others choose to expose.
Their houses, their boats, their sea-doos.
Birds skimming low over the water could
like as not
see them selves if they were to look down
as they skim low over the water
but they never do.
Rather they allow their reflections to chase them
quick and sharp over the still, glistening waters
while the bird’s mind remains ever fixed on
food, or other birds, or escaping those damn noisy humans.
A dense forest impenetrable as a gaze.
4. sherry replies at 13th June 2007, 2:37 pm :
Rather they allow their reflections to chase them
quick and sharp over the still, glistening waters
Thank you, poetryman. A brilliant image. And, coincidentally enough, the last sonnet we wrote for Molly Peacock was supposed to be about “looking” at some one else or at a reflection of ourselves.
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