Pay dirt

"A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it teaches entire trust."

Gertrude Jekyll

AUBURN — I spent the afternoon playing in dirt like a child enjoying himself being caked in mud.

Dirt is cool stuff. Life comes from it, and as General Electric used to say in its commercials, they bring good things to life.

So don't I!

Carefully cultivated soil is life. During the winter, I have fed my loyal worms and hungry soil orange, potato and banana skins, along with wood ash. In the summer, I am like mole, digging potholes throughout my garden to bury scraps like egg shells and coffee grinds.

We are just a few weeks away from the growing season in New England. Nothing like fresh summer vegetables, and I grow the best stuff right here in my community. My tomatoes taste like sweet pares with little acidity that you get in the store-bought stuff

But if it wasn't for this beautiful dirt, I would have to rely on a grocery store to purchase vegetables from distant states.

No thanks. That's like buying fish from China. Really!

Right about now, some knucklehead is saying to himself, "Who has got the frigging time for this crap."

Hence the word — knucklehead.

Shut the frigging TV off and go outside and look what Mother Nature handed you in your own backyard. Start gardening and I guarantee you will loose weight and feel better, as well getting in touch with the Neanderthal side of your origins.

What do you mean you don't have time. Stay off Facebook and ignore Twitter and you will have time to get your damn hands dirty and get a good dose of vitamin D. The end result will be produce that is not tainted by pesticides.

The warm days that have finally arrived draw me to my yard and garden that is in dire need of tilling.

Terri and I teamed up to plant fresh lettuce in pots and decided to grow it inside our back porch, which faces the sun and often acts like a plant nursery. We laughed and discussed Anthony's night out at the prom as we plunged our hands into a fresh bag of potting soil. We also purchased Swiss chard and sun flower seeds and planted them as well in small trays. The sun flowers are Russian giants that grow to 10 feet tall.

We also spent some money on buying three new raspberry plants, which I immediately planted next to my blueberry bushes. 

In the next few days, I will knock on my next-door neighbor's door and ask to him use his industrial tiller. This beast tears apart everything in its path, aerating the soil and turning weeds into fertilizer. My lawn needs mowing every five days thanks to May's monsoons, but the grass, which offers nitrogen, is bagged and dumped the garden to smother weeds on the soil floor.

But it all comes back to good dirt that can nurtured a productive garden.

Thanks to a cold and relentless winter, the ground is still cold, but after the last weekend in May, the time will be right to plant a garden.

That's when I get down and dirty.

Meeting on the mountain

Climb every mountain!

Imagine having this for view while enjoying your morning coffee

Some where out there lies Ichabod Ricker. 

It is not easy to walk alone in the country without musing upon something.  ~ Charles Dickens

BROWNFIELD - Terry Blake's homestead sits on the side of a ben that puts Waltons' Mountain to shame.

John Boy and the rest of the Walton clan from Virginia would feel right at home at a landscape that would make any tired soul bow to nature. An outdoors photographer might be tempted to pay good money to turn his camera loose on this place.

We took a long drive through winding roads that are sprinkled with amazing views of lush green mountains and pristine lakes to visit the quiet New England town of Brownfield - population of about 1,300.

The Blake Reunion was being held at Terry's home, which is located in Maine's version of the Swiss Alps, and with free food and drink on the menu, well, it was worth the hour-long ride through Casco, Mechanic Falls, Poland, Naples, Bridgton and Denmark on a bright and warm August day.

Long rides through the backroads of Maine are simply delightful. I not only find the drive restful, but the sharp turns and bone-jarring bumps make me feel like I am competing in the Baja 500. And with the entire family on board, there was good conversation and music during our trip through central Maine.

There are no TVs or portable DVD players to kill time in our family vehicle. The cell phone is off and technology takes a backseat to our journey through the Pine Tree State.

I will never understand why some parents install a TV screen in a van. Is it just another way to ignore their children? I would rather hear what is on my son's mind. And I am afraid I am going to miss something on our short journeys.

We drove up the long rode to Terry's ranch when we were stopped by a pair of dogs that wouldn't budge. It was interesting standoff for a few moments.

Those Blakes are good people. They are from Terri's mother's side of the family. And it was certainly kind of Terri to open his home to all of us.

As we roamed around Terry Blake's vast property, which includes about 400 acres of open meadows nestled in between large, rolling hills, we caught a glimpse of his three majestic horses. These are well-fed and kept animals. Watching them prance around makes anyone appreciate their beauty.

Anthony and I went out on the back porch to enjoy the view when Anthony noticed a lone tombstone sitting in the middle of a manicured meadow about 150 yards away. 

Imagine having an entire meadow all to yourself for all of eternity. 

My son spotted the lone grave. Anthony's discovery sparked insatiable curiosity. We were compelled to inquire about the gravesite' occupant. Terry was happy to reveal that Ichabod Ricker has been resting in peace since his death in the 1880s.

Well, we had our fill of good food and rich conversation before we said our goodbyes.

I enjoy sitting around and chewing the fat with relatives. No texting, chatting online or emails - just face-to-face conversation with real, live people.

Look, reunions are a great way to stay in touch and trade old memories with relatives, but they also remind us of  loved ones who can no longer attend these get-togethers for the living.

I am sure old Ichabod Ricker would agree, although he is not saying much these days.