Today has not been a great one here at RiverCliff Cottage.

Mike and I got home last night at 10:00 pm and the North Fork was lapping at the banks like a hungry fox. It was scary, and I was so thankful that we actually made it home. I’d tucked some clothes away in case we had to camp with my sister, Pat, or go to a hotel. We’d heard that water was on the roads, and while it was, it wasn’t yet on our road.

I got up this morning and in my pjs, I drove up the road to check out the river conditions. Just past the swinging bridge, the river was in the road on one side and water had filled a ditch on the other so the road was covered. I was undecided, but “Don’t Drown…Turn Around” played in my head.      I came back in the house, and thought that since I was uncertain if the river was cresting or still rising, I would take a shower and then I’d go back and check it again and if it went down a few inches, I’d head on to work.

So…I reach in the shower and turn on the water. And there is no water.   There is not a drop of water. Oh.No.   If you know me, you know that I’m always prepared for stuff, but it’s hard to prepare for not having water.   (Although in full disclosure,  I did have a case of bottled water and ten jugs of water stashed away.   Let me tell you…just having those jugs of water is so handy.  I emptied each one in the commodes, put some in the teapot, etc and then refilled them at my sister’s house.  Yay!!!)

We called friend and plumber, Darrell Statzer, and he was in Kingsport on a job. He said he’d come by after he got through–if water did not prevent him from doing so.  Darrell is aware of our well, and he’s like me — he thinks we’ll need a new well pump. You become expert at these types of things when you live in the country. It’s why I never make the casual statement that because we live in the country and we have a well, we get our water free. It’s a little more complicated than that!

So Darrell is going to come save the day–maybe if he can get through the water.    Except this started.

Snow is not so bad, but this was more than snow. We had ice and sleet mixed in, and the roads became as slick as glass. Even going outside on the steps was dangerous.    Darrell barely got home himself so we all agreed the well could wait another day (and maybe it’ll be a little warmer).

With dirty hair, a flooding river, sleet and no water, I nixed any idea of going to work today.   However, about 4:00, Mike saw me getting ready to walk to my sister’s and shower so I could go to work tomorrow. I didn’t think the truck would make it down the hill without sliding in the river which was much closer to our gate  than it was a few days ago.

Mike, however, said he would put the truck in four wheel drive and keep a tire on the edge of the grass so that we’d have more traction than just going down the paved driveway, so we both went to my sisters and took showers and refilled the water jugs. Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to live next to my sister.   It was the best shower.

So on the way home, while I had wet hair, I asked Mike to drive me around to see what the river was doing. It was going down! Yay!!  It had went down quite a bit!    Here’s the “lake” that is behind Gordon Barker’s house. I know the road crew that worked out here last year read this blog and they should be pleased to know that their giant culvert did help with the flooding on Barnrock.  The river had really went down in this picture.   See where the grass and snow meet?   That is where it had been earlier in the day.

Here’s another…this is the Nordyke Bridge. Can you believe that in 2002 water ran over that bridge?

Water also ran over this swinging bridge in 2002. While a little scary to walk out with the fast moving water just a few feet down, it was nothing like 2002 when the bridge was washed out.

I’m going to put another picture of that swinging bridge in here because I felt really brave walking out there.  Showing off a little.

The river was making a rushing sound part of the day…I’m used to the lazy North Fork looking like this and hearing laughter…not rushing!

But everyone has to have a day where they speak up and demand a little respect..maybe a little fear…

And the North Fork did today!

Hello!! I’ve missed you!! I hope you’ve missed me!!!

I have not been posting often because we’re working on the last minute details before we make our “pitch” at the Washington County Entrepreneurs Challenge. We’re attempting to win $5K for Adventure Mendota. If we don’t win, we’ve had a tremendously positive experience, but hey…I still am in it to win it. With working, keeping things done around the house, and attending one class each week, I haven’t been blogging. Plus…let’s face it. The subject in Mendota, Virginia has been focused on one thing! SNOW! This picture was taken last Saturday morning, and it snowed for many hours after the picture was taken.

I didn’t have to work that day and it was so pretty. I really enjoyed it. There’s the shop at the base of the hill. I thought of it way too late but we should have blown up some of the Adventure Mendota tubes and went snow tubing. Oh well.

We drove over to Asheville today to meet Mike’s son and family for our annual late Christmas get together, and I noticed how little snow pack was in the NC mountains compared to Washington County, Virginia. Even today, we have quite a bit left. As my sister Pat said, farmers are licking their lips thinking about how sweet the hay will be in Mendota this spring. I can just smell it now.

So what about those honeybees? My bees have been outside under all this snow and bad weather with temperatures far below zero. They’ve been wrapped in bubble wrap and tarped–loosely tarped–so that ventilation could still get into the small upper vent hole. Still…confession…I’ve been worried about that tarp being too close to the ventilation hole. Very worried.

But today, I got some good news. Mike went out to put wood in the woodboiler, and about 100 bees were drinking water from melting snow. He did not tell me in time to get any pictures, but I knew where those bees came from — my hives!! Happy dance!! I’d pulled the tarp back early today, because I knew warm sunshine beating down on the hives would be welcome. I went back out this evening. Here’s one of the hives. Do you see that little black dot in the snow just outside the hive? That is a dead bee. This is actually a good sign. There were about 20 dead bees outside of each hive. These bees were not there this morning, but the worker bees are moving about inside the hives, and they are removing the dead bees.

It will be a miracle if all three hives survived. I am hoping. I can’t wait to see if Gerald has seen any bee activity as well. He did not get to tarp his, and that is actually a helpful thing. We can see if I’m wasting my time or if it has made the difference in temperature inside the hive–just a little higher–so that the hive could survive.

If it continues to warm up, I’m going to give these guys a little treat of sugar water and Honey Bee Healthy in about two weeks–just a little sip to tide them over in case they are getting low on honey.

In a recent post, I mentioned that Mike and I had been “guest hosting” a feral cat that we’d named Muffin.

The cat showed up for a day or two and then was gone.   It then appeared again about 10 days ago, and that’s when the weather started getting colder.   It hung out on our porch cleaning up the leftovers from my three fat cats.  Mike thought it was going to the barn at night.   Then, as the weather got extremely cold, I made it a little box home of sorts. Hey I never claimed to be an architect.

At first, it was just the box with a blanket on top of it for insulation and a blanket inside for warmth. I then added a robe. Mike’s robe. He doesn’t wear it. Much. I tried leaving food in the garage to transition the cat to a warmer place but that didn’t work. Temperatures kept dropping. I’m worried about the bees..I’m worried about this cat. I added our grill cover to the box to give it extra protection. (The grill is stainless and has a good warranty so really…it made sense.) Soon, I drug out heating pads. I know you’re not supposed to use heating pads with pets but I was desperate and thought it would not hurt for a day or two, and it was sheltered on the porch so the cords wouldn’t get wet. And then…NO!! I came home and saw that snow had blown all over my kitty shanty town…snow had blown everywhere…even near the cords!!!! (Yes…that’s plural cords. I actually put two heating pads in the box.)

Mike said the heating pads had to go. We made a change from this…

To this…

For $69 you can get a pet heating pad. For $20 you can get a people heating pad. Go figure that out.

But that is not the interesting part of this story. When Shannon Vickers Eldreth saw my post talking about Muffin, she said…”that looks like Jacob, but you’d know if it was Jacob because he has a clipped ear where he was spayed.” Apparently Shannon and Jeff had been caring for this feral cat for years, and in appreciation for all they’ve done for him, he ran away.

“And you’d notice that ear…you would know it was him.” Shannon concluded. “Would I”… I wondered? I told her this kitty had a curly ear. I sent her this picture.

So the story unfolds. Muffin is doing the Bruce Jenner thing. Dressing like a girl, allowing us to call him “Miss Muffin” and sitting so we could not see the small amount of junk in his trunk left over from being spayed. Muffin is a MAN!!! He’s 7 years old!! If one cat year is 7 people years, Muffin is 49 and has entered a midlife crisis! He’s ran away from home and now protraying himself as a young lady.

We are going to leave Jacob/Muffin/Bruce alone and see where he wants to live. He’s obviously at an age where he knows what he wants. He may go back to Shannon and Jeff’s house, or he may stay here. We’re all fine with him doing what he feels is best for him. We are just like the Kardashians. We are accepting and will only offer love during this transition.

Update: we had to remake Jacob/Muffin/Bruce’s house to put in the new kitty heating pad. It is inflated, and he was not certain it was something he wanted to deal with. However, it’s 0 degrees out, and he made a decision to at least try it for a night or two.

In 1999, we built our house and near Thanksgiving of that year, we got two Golden Retrievers. In the summer that followed, another little dog showed up. I was walking by the river, and a skinny little black and tan dog touched the back of my calf with her nose. When I turned around, she skittered back. She was afraid.

She got brave enough to come up on RiverCliff hill, and I sat out some food. Mike flew in from Massachusetts that evening, and when he saw the little dog, he suggested we feed her and get her spayed so that we could find her a home.

On Monday, I took her to Bristol Animal Clinic and she met Emily and Dr. John Stone. I explained what we were going to do, and Dr. Stone asked if the little dog had a name.  As he asked, he rubbed her ear and made a comment..”this is a good dog.” I told him that I was calling her Penny because her eyes were the color of copper pennies. He said, “I’d call this dog Lucky because she is one lucky little dog.”

Lucky found her home but it was not with anyone else. She settled in here, changed her name to Luckie with an “ie” and soon nudged her way into our house and into our hearts. We ended up with three large dogs living inside the house.

She became Mike’s constant companion. He portrayed her as a service dog and she got to go into Walmart. I know. It’s awful. She was just such a good dog and so smart.  She and he got away with that for a long time.

When Mike’s truck moved, Luckie was right there. On the job. She was a healthy dog–although she had trouble with her ACL’s, but with good vet care from Dr. Steve Dotson of Bristol Animal Hospital and the UT Vet School, we had both ACL’s replaced and Luckie continued to run and leap for many additional years.

But time marches on and Luckie was approaching 16 years of age.  About a year ago, she could no longer get in her beloved truck. We lifted her in and out. More recently, however, the normal daily things became difficult for her.   Last week, she went outside to use the restroom and she fell. She could not get back up. I went out and lifted her up “righting” her, and she walked back in the house, but she was very frightened, and I knew our time together was short.

 In church Sunday, our pastor talked about making decisions, and I prayed for guidance. Although I never had that “aha” moment,  I became more peaceful with letting her go. If you are a believer, and I am, you know that animals will be in heaven for we are told in Isaiah that “the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together; and a little child shall lead them.”

Another comforting verse is “All flesh shall see the salvation of God.”    She was flesh.

But I am going to miss her.  Mike is going to miss her worse.   We are sad.   She was our special little pal.   She and I sat on the floor of Dr. Dotson’s office and I snuggled her and whispered how much I loved her.   She relaxed and relaxed…gently falling asleep.    I stayed with her and held her until she was in a place where her legs will never hurt again.

Luckie Beaule…given to us by God sometime in the year 2000.  Returned to God on February 4, 2015.

It’s Super Bowl Sunday, and I’m sitting here mesmerized with the reality show Southern Justice. How about those police dogs? They really earn their keep and talk about liking your job!!!

It is gray outside and supposed to be a wintry mix tonight and tomorrow. I’ve got potato soup in the crockpot for dinner. Having one of those quiet days where I look at my beloved dog and try and be thankful for the almost 16 years we’ve shared with her. It’s coming to an end, and my heart is breaking. However, that’s not what this post is about. Yesterday, Mother Nature gave us some sunshine. Much needed sunshine.

It was a good day to go looking for another chicken house. I blogged about two others in the past few weeks. See here and here. I didn’t have to go far for today’s chicken house…just up the road a piece. I went to Ricky and Trina Vickers. They are my neighbors, and Ricky is a distant cousin. I’ve known him since he was a squirt in a diaper. Here’s his mama…our families are intertwined by blood, love and friendship. The red thread that time does not break. Our parents were lifelong, best friends. They understood that true riches are in the people you love. Hello Cousin Susan.

Gosh…she looks good!! Susan is a survivor. She has faced down some tremendous health challenges in the past five years, and she always lives with the grief of having her oldest son taken in his prime. Mark Vickers will never be forgotten by this family. However, I see her returning to good health, and I am grateful.

Back to chickens…here we are!!

The small farm trend today is to have chicken tractors where the chicken house can be moved about on the property. We have those in Mendota, but we also believe in using what we have.  Ricky and Trina had this building, and it’s perfect for their hens and roosters. These two will take on any farming challenge. They’ve raised piggies, ducks, chickens and they want to get into bees! They love honey. I know. I sell or barter them my honey!

If there can be a crapamongous picture, I can take it. Sorry! If this was a good picture, you’d see a hen “dusting” which basically is cleaning herself by rolling in dirt. Dusting gives her healthy skin and feathers and removes parasites. It must feel awfully good, too, because she would stand up and then just flop back over. I want to dust, too!!

Ricky and Trina’s chickens are well adjusted. They’re very friendly and not the least afraid. They mingle with us.

They make soothing sounds. Forget meditation music…someone needs to put a recorder in their henhouse and make a million dollars. People in the city may never hear these sounds. Trina talks about having chickens and, besides healthy eggs, she said they provide hours of entertainment. They’re restful, but fun, creatures.

They have a few roosters and will be trying to get rid of some of them, but they won’t be getting rid of Thomas Jefferson. Yes, I said Thomas Jefferson. Trina thinks that her rooster looks like Thomas Jefferson. Here’s a picture of one of our most famous presidents…

And here’s Thomas Jefferson, the Rooster.

Trina, are ya sure? Ricky…her eyes are funny…maybe you shouldn’t let her drive. This rooster, however, does have a very high-sounding name for his breed. Salmon faverolle. This breed originated in France and has five toes, really fuzzy feet, and is known to be a great rooster to have near children because of its good nature. In Ricky and Trina’s case, Thomas Jefferson is a pet. Do you know what a rooster does besides fertilize the eggs? You can have eggs without a rooster, but you have to have a rooster to have chicks. He has different crows to alert the hens of danger, food, etc. Some roosters will even catch insects and give them to the hens. I don’t think Thomas Jefferson has given much of his food away. He is huge.

Fat rooster..

Back to the henhouse. Here is an ingenious way to provide water without carrying it every day. We’ve had plenty of rain in southwest Virginia for the past few years. The rain collects in the gutter and goes into the barrel which goes into the the chicken house or into the overflow barrel. Very smart.

The chickens have a promenade of sorts to exit the henhouse. The white piece of wood is pulled back exposing an opening and out come the hens.

They have a series of runs made from recycled pallet boards. Free. Ingenious.

And another shot…

And another shot…

If you are thinking about getting chickens and you cannot afford one of the chicken tractors that you see at Tractor Supply or online, Ricky’s demonstrates that it doesn’t have to be extremely fancy. The chickens need shelter. They need good food. They need 8 hours of sunshine. And I think in the case of the Mendota chickens, you’d be told they need love.