From My Farmhouse Kitchen

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FROM MY FARMHOUSE KITCHEN By Renae B. Vander Schaaf

Forty years ago this month of April, my it. The few remaining trees needed to be farmer and I moved to our farm home. It removed. was our third move since we had exchanged matrimonial vows less than a year prior. We had also planted a windbreak around two sides of the farm. They were a fast-growing tree which did exactly

This farm acreage was a beautiful well- what we wanted. They blocked the north kept farm. A large lawn with a few trees and west winds very well. We were surrounded the old farmhouse which had thankful to have it. been built in 1935. The small grove of mature trees was more interesting than most — with a slope that added interest and character. This windbreak was becoming more of problem. As it aged, branches and twigs would litter the ground after any wind. The youngest children coined it the MWP

A very tiny creek (actually the word trees — Make Work Project. They were creek is almost too generous to describe not happy with this chore they deemed the trickle of water) occasionally runs through the unnecessary. farm stead. There is a little larger one that goes through the pasture. Well, they grew up and left. Just as the dairy cows often were sold when the youngest child left, so

Normally in a snowy year, the melting snow these trees had to be removed when it was just my makes the tiny creek a point of interest. The melt- farmer and me to do the cleanup. ing snow can cause a turbulent mini waterfall with quite a bit of power as it flows through the narrow gorge. Sometimes the rushing water disappeared under a remaining snow bank before it emptied into a swampy area.

By summer, there is little trace of this stream which earlier announced spring had arrived.

Yes, this acreage was and still is my ‘dream’ farm.

The grove was a favorite place for me to be. There were trees to climb. Who cares if I was supposed to be mature married woman? The shady canopy was a favorite destination for a Sunday afternoon walk. The birds would fly from tree to tree singing their songs. Patches of violets grew naturally in open areas. Once the dastardly deed of taking trees was done,

Chokecherries and elderberries would spring up the farm has a new look. Surprisingly in a way we in the most surprising places. Mulberry trees grew liked it. This isn’t a level piece of land so the natualong the east edge. It was a paradise. ral hills and valleys on this eleven acres have Did you notice the verb “was?” When we moved here, the trees were already mature. Through the always suggested beauty. It is a bit easier to imagine a treeless prairie. years many had come down during storms. It was The wind of this winter reminded us why the time to bite the bullet as much as we dreaded doing early settlers soon planted trees upon their arrival. Also, with the disappearance of windbreak, the woodpeckers packed up and left. Not a single one appeared at the suet feeder this winter. Only a handful or two of the original trees remain on this place. Three pines are at least 90 years old. I know because the man we purchased the farm from said he had to water those trees when he was a young boy. If he were alive, he would be over 100 years old. He and his wife planted four maples around the house. One green ash remains in the grove. Then there is this landmark maple tree that is huge along our road. It is a majestic looking tree. The kind that inspires one to plant a tree in hopes it too will grow into a tree that says ‘This is my home, and I like it here.’

Thankfully we have been planting trees over the past 40 years — wherever we could find an open spot. The lawn was and remains an obstacle course for the person who does the mowing. Fruit trees, such as apple, cherries, plums, and pear trees do well. I still keep trying to have good apricots.

We like different varieties of trees, so have planted Burr oaks, butternuts, green ashes, maples and more evergreen trees, a black cherry, elm, walnut, sycamore and of course, a cottonwood.

I’m realizing now that butternut trees needed more room than was allowed. There is definitely more to this project than purchasing a couple of trees, digging a hole and carrying buckets of water. Not every tree we have planted has survived for one reason or another. In one location the trees were doing well until several real wet years occurred. The normally dry land remained wet too long. Apparently the soggy soil didn’t let enough oxygen reach the roots. This cold, snowless, windy winter has taken its toll on many of the pine trees. They desperately need water and less wind. Other trees haven’t made it because of rodent and deer problems. In years past voles especially have made tracks under the snow to chew on the bark. Deer have marked this place as the hobos once did. Somewhere they have posted a sign which says “Young tender trees just right for nibbling or rubbing antlers against.” As my MWP of picking up sticks disappears, a new MWP of choosing and planting more trees and shrubs begins. This really seems more fun of a project. But also a bit scary. One almost feels like an artist with an almost blank canvas to begin the process of planting trees.

When I drive through the countryside, there are many farm homes I have admired for their trees, shrubbery and landscaping. Sometimes I wish signs were posted by an unusual tree or shrub to let me know what the plant is.

My farmer and I are thankful this place has had many wonderful trees for all these years. Now it’s up to us to make this place beautiful once again. It will be a never-ending MWP. It sounds absolutely delightful because this is our home, and we like it here.

Renae B. Vander Schaaf is an independent writer, author and speaker. Contact her at (605) 530-0017 or agripen@live.com. v