Author Archives: Sandy Stott

by Deborah Bier

“If one advances confidently in the direction of one’s dreams, and endeavors to live the life which one has imagined, one will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.” Henry Thoreau

On a sunny Saturday in April, at Thoreau Farm, we advanced confidently toward the garden with a new fence in mind, and we were successful beyond our wildest expectations! We built our fence thoughtfully, using as many recycled materials as possible, leaving a small carbon footprint; we wanted our fence to be natural and aesthetically pleasing. And we did not want to use any toxic chemicals.

At Thoreau Farm, we have been fortunate to have very little animal predation other than some small rodents (chipmunks, mice, squirrels). So our fence was mostly to keep young human animals out of the garden where their curious feet might bring them when their parents looked away.

We live a little more than a mile from Thoreau Farm, and last summer my husband, Rich, had felled some trees in our yard – a white oak, a spruce, and some self-sowed crab apples. We also had a number of large sycamore branches downed in storms. So, we had a huge pile of brush, and, instead of an enormous spring burn (Rich’s preference), I realized we could find most of our fence materials in this lovely wood.

Happily, we were able to cut all our posts and vertical fence members from this backyard wood, and as we did this, we grouped each type of wood (or at least tried to) to a single length of fence, our thinking being that each type of wood would rot at a different speed. When replacement time arrived, we would then replace an entire section of fence at the same time, rather than single pieces here and there.

To hold together these vertical slats, we used modern milled pine strapping. We knew that, at first, this fresh wood would stick out visibly, but that it would also age pleasantly in about a year, especially if we kept it outdoors over the winter. Though this aging would shorten the lifespan of the fence, it would be more aesthetically pleasing when seen in relation to the house’s circa-1878 exterior.

We built the fence over two weekends, using enthusiastic volunteers from our kitchen garden committee, their spouses, and other friends of Thoreau Farm. Our fence-building was like a barn-raising, only much, much more manageable. Still, the effect of neighbors working together with our hands to create something useful and beautiful was a pleasure and delight.

Yes, we used modern fasteners and tools — some human powered, others electric. But one must recall that our kitchen garden is not an historic re-enactment, but rather a working experiment in combining heirloom seeds with cutting edge organic and bio-intensive gardening methods.

As the fence went up that fresh wood just bugged me: it was so raw, and yet I hated to reduce the lifespan of the fence just to weather it. And then I recalled that I knew something about how to make new wood appear old, without using toxic chemicals or esoteric ingredients. I had learned of this process on Pinterest, of all places. Using this info, I created a brown stain by soaking steel wool in white vinegar for 5 days. The resulting solution was surprisingly light, at first, showing as just slightly more brown than the color of the wood. Within 30 seconds, however, it was considerably darker. After another minute, it was very dark. We could not believe how amazingly well it worked — we kept looking and exclaiming about it!

Afterward, we agreed that it was actually a bit comical how surprised we were, because it’s likely a process folks knew and took for granted back in Thoreau’s day, part of the every-day “how to do things” knowledge acquired by people here for centuries. Now, this knowledge had become rare again, exotic even.

Then it struck us: why should we all be so surprised? Don’t we recount on the Thoreau Farmhouse tour how the backs of houses used to be painted red using pigments made with inexpensive iron oxide? Which is just another way of saying “rust”! I don’t know why, but it took us all this time to put that together. Now, I recall that I read somewhere they had used iron nails instead of steel wool for stain, but hadn’t understood it until now. But what a great use for too bent or broken nails.

I also learned from Pinterest that you can use pennies and vinegar to create a blue stain. According to this article, you have to find pennies with a 1962 or earlier date, since there is so little copper in them now.
We can’t wait to try it!

By Corinne H. Smith

“Spring.” What an appropriate word! Over the past few weeks, all sorts of unexpected plants have begun to spring up in our yard. Unfortunately, some of them pose more questions than they answer.

When we moved to this property in December, the landscape was brown. All of the plants had been cleared out or trimmed close before our arrival. Now a few colorful hyacinths and daffodils dot our borders. Obviously somebody planted them on the west side of the house and along the back edge of the yard. But why are a few also blooming in the two-foot-by-two-foot plot between the two equipment sheds? Who will ever see them, besides the next-door neighbors and the skunk who trots through here every night? I may need to move them when the petals are gone.

All winter long, I stared out of the living room window at an empty dirt patch that lay under a tree in the front yard. I couldn’t wait for the chance to sprinkle grass seed there. But before I could get to the hardware store, fresh shoots of hostas began to emerge from the soil. I was both annoyed and overjoyed at the sight. Annoyed, because I had hoped to “make the earth say grass” at that spot, to paraphrase Mr. Thoreau. But since I had also planned to line the front edge of the house with a row of hostas, I was grateful. I didn’t need to buy any new ones at all. I just dug these up and transplanted them. They already seem happier in their new locations.

In the meantime, still more greenery has followed the hostas into what I thought had been a barren space. I don’t recognize them yet. But I’ve decided not to mow them.

Two parallel rows of peony bushes have made themselves known in the back yard. Whether they’ll end up showing us pink or white blossoms is anybody’s guess. That’s another section that I’ll have to pay attention to, whenever I’m mowing. I’m not exactly sure what I’ll do with the burgeoning carpet of the lily of the valley plants that have spilled over from their original bed. They may get cut.

My Midwestern friends should be pleased to know that I have diligently pulled out – with their roots intact – every sprig of garlic mustard that I’ve seen on the property. People in the Northeast don’t seem to be as concerned about this invasive species as residents in the Midwest are, I’ve learned. But I can’t escape my prairieland training. Out they’ve come.

Thoreau once wrote in his journal, “The humblest weed is indescribably beautiful.” (January 11, 1854) Well then, Henry would deem our lawn to be unbelievably stunning. It’s full of all kinds of tiny flowering plants. Grass is a threatened minority, and the overall color is more purple-blue than green. We’ve got violets and creeping Charlie galore, along with the occasional stray sprays of grape hyacinth. Then there are small anonymous white buds and yellow buttercups that add more botanical frosting to the cake. Fortunately, none of them seems to mind very much when the mower passes over. I transplanted some, but I can’t catch them all.

Backyard Surprises

It’s difficult to remember the drab grays and browns of winter, now that there’s so much color surrounding us. Yes, Henry, I agree with you that the weeds are beautiful. But I’m daily reminded of the words of another sage: TV’s Gomer Pyle, as played by Jim Nabors. It never took too much prompting for ol’ Gome to shriek, “Surprise, Surprise, Surprise!” I mimic him almost every day.

Amid all the recent tumult and speculation, it seems a good week to risk some contemplative thought, a quiet entry really. I’m brought to it by a passage from Thoreau’s Journal in April, 1854. Amid all the observations of pollinating plants, returning birds and first flowers (which reminds me of the current exhibition, (Early Spring: Henry Thoreau and Climate Change,) at The Concord Museum (see link below and more about this exhibit after I’ve visited), Thoreau is watching himself closely too. Not long before this date, he received the proofs for Walden, which will be published that summer, and here and there, we get glimpses of his passage through its pages.

Here’s one from April 8th: “I find that I can criticize my composition best when I stand at a little distance from it, — when I do not see it, for instance. I make a little chapter of contents which enables me to recall it page by page to my mind, and judge it more impartially when my manuscript is out of the way. The distraction of surveying enables me to take new points of view. A day or two surveying is equal to a journey.”

Ah, I say to myself, there’s the doublemeaning man of whom I’m so fond – the “distraction of surveying” is a wonderful phrase. Yes, he is away from the pages of Walden, and surveying’s measurements are surely distracting from the line-by-line review of what he has written. But only a mind as alive as Thoreau’s could see distraction in the exact angles of divvying land and imagining immaculate lines upon it. After a long day of snapping lines across the landscape, Thoreau seems freshly able to see his own lines of prose amid his book’s geography. To be distracted and so refreshed by close observation seems actually to be Thoreau’s method…of discovery…of living.

Here, from a day earlier is this observation: On the Cliff I find, after long and careful search, one sedge above the rocks, low amid the withered blades of last year, out, its little yellow beard amid the dry blades and a few green ones – the first herbaceous flowering I have detected.

Sedge in Sun

A day or two of such surveying “at a little distance,” yielding, among other sights, “the little yellow beard amid the dry blades,” surely is “equal to a journey.” Are we not fresh-eyed when we return from our journey, having examined, say, the rough corrugation of a white pine or the torpid pose of a water snake waiting for the sun’s crawl to reach him? Do we not see more when we bend to survey our everyday words and work?

May we all “survey” and “journey” so.

The Concord Museum Exhibition Link:http://www.concordmuseum.org/concord-museum-early-spring-exhibition.php