Notes from Cottage Hill Farm

March 2006 continues....

It is "threatening" to show signs of the upcoming spring. I won't get my hopes up, but the crocus are just starting to poke their heads up. I'm sure they are hesitant as well.

Today I thought I would start a little "Spring" cleaning. You know, pull furniture from against the walls and clean the baseboards,etc. Having a woodburning stove and exposed wooden beams lends itself to constant vacuuming and dusting. But, that's living in a two hundred year old house. I decide to go to the attic first and sweep.

Cottage Hill Farm, as I have mentioned, is old. The original structure was just "two over two" with a center hall way, that is 2 rooms down and 2 rooms up. The attic runs the entire length of the house, with chimneys at both ends. The two oldest in the house. The bricks are now crumbling. The spine of the chimineys'are crooked. They look like old women leaning upon their canes. They notice me. But,barely. Their wise eyes have seen generations of children playing under their gaze. Laughter filled this space. Remnants of card games are stuck in between their bricks. News papers heralding "One small step for man", poke from one chimneys feet. The skeleton of the house: Old hand hewn beams and buttresses marked years and years ago by a long forgotton artisan. Roman numerals mark where one limb is joined to another with wooden pegs. Not a nail in sight. The attic breathes. It has to or perish. The constant creaking is evidence of that. Noisy, but reassuring at the same time.
Ancient tool marks. This art form extinct. Never to be resurrected.

The slate shingles on the roof hide the bats during the summer season. At sunset, they fly erratically looking for the 1,000 insects that each bat will devour each night. During the "cold" season, they over winter in local caves that are hidden in the Green Mountains. They are an important part of the ecosystem and are "somewhat" protected. The common brown bat. This leads me to our first encounter with "Buzz" our bat.

George and I have matching sofas' that face the television. We love laying on them, with the woodburning stove crackling softly in the background. This particular evening, we were watching "Idol", one of our favorite shows. All of a sudden, this brown, very fast "very large" insect is flying in circles and doing an amazing job of not hitting anything. I scream, while diving over the couch: "A BAT!!!!!". George, being very level headed, (most of the time), was screaming louder than I was. So, I suggested we "come down", and figure out what to do. George, now armed with leather gloves, a heavy coat and a very large fishing net, (and did I mention the goggles?) Was primed to fight. "Buzz" was located hanging upside down, next to the hearth. Fearing George would be bitten or worse, me. We decided to call the Country Gentleman, Baird. Within five minutes he was at the front door. Wearing just a winter coat,(Where was his camo? and death ray?). He calmly opens the sliding glass door and gently escorts "Buzz" outside with a gentle push of his hand. We felt riduculous, of course. Baird mentions this happens every spring. They are adolescents and get a little confused. You'll get used to them.

Another day in the life of a city girl in the country. The animals of Cottage Hill Farm talk about me. I am sure of it. I'm sure they laugh while sitting around their camp fire. I can imagine them standing in front of the windows during the long winters night shaking their heads, wondering what am I thinking? and when is she leaving? I vow to stand my ground. I will not leave. I am here for good. Kinda, like a marriage:"for better or worse".