Thanks, Dave and Jane Hilty.
Fall 2016 newsletter
October is underway–into double digits. But since that first digit isn’t a “2”, there are still almost three months to jump right onto the trails of The Quarry Farm before winter’s publication.
Start your journey by catching up with the fresh-off-the-camera-and-keyboard Fall 2016 newsletter. Just click on the cover to the left and read on.
See you on the trails
apple butter peel peals
First 5K
This time last year, Erin Seitz, newly Erin Fitch, bounced the idea of organizing a fundraising 5K run/walk on behalf of The Quarry Farm.
“People can run or walk it virtually and then we can have an actual race for people who want to come,” she said. “Everyone gets a t-shirt and a medal for supporting.”
I didn’t get why–or how–anyone would or could participate in a 5K virtually. Fifty other people from around the United States did. They began participating last June, pledging to run or walk 3.1 miles in their hometown at their own time of day or night. Anyone who wants to join in still can until 11:59 p.m. on December 31, 2016.
This morning around 10 a.m., the onsite 5K began for the 30 more individuals who elected to pound the pavement here on Roads 7L and M7. Yesterday the skies opened up and more was promised for today, but the forecast cleared, the sun shown in blue sky and a mature bald eagle crossed the historic Road M6 bridge just as the runners and walkers came down the first hill on their way to the second. Thanks to Ted’s Market, water and Gatorade waited for them at the halfway point.
David Fryling crossed the finish line first with a time of 23:59. April Dorman, first woman through, clocked in at 27:34. There was more water, Gatorade and hot coffee in the Seitz Family Pavilion as well as granola bars, bananas and clementines courtesy of Kohl’s Market. As the first male and female finishers, David and April took home $50 gift certificates from Dick’s Sporting Goods and $15 gift certificates from RoadID.
Hours before today’s run/walk whistle was blown, the Seitz Apple Butter Fest copper kettle was situated over the fire at the race’s turnaround point. The canning jars are now filled and light rain is just beginning to mist. I’ll wear my race shirt tomorrow, right after I fulfill my virtual run pledge.
I get it now. Thanks to everyone who beat me to the starting line. See you October 7, 2017, for the Second Annual Quarry Farm 5K.
up the hill and down the hill
Yes, there is one hill! Stick around afterward for the Seitz Family Applebutter Fest.
cookies with Jam
In 363 days, the 2017 Quarry Farm Jam is happening under the red roof of the Seitz Pavilion. Two days after the 2016 musical gathering, my toes are still tapping and I wonder at the videos and photos that keep popping up on Facebook, including this compilation from Dave Frick:
A few years back, Steve brought up the idea of inviting musicians to this place, this “whole different world” as Betty Wannemacher says. No program, said Steve, just ask people to come on over and play their favorite musical instrument…or not. Listeners could pack a lawn chair. We’d supply the cookies, per tradition.
Four years ago, the first Quarry Farm Acoustic Night included guitar players and kazoos. The next year, fiddles and a saxophone showed up, too. The third year, scheduled for late October, was renamed a Jam as the pavilion was wired with electric outlets and lights. The weather didn’t care, however, as the Jam was snowed out (yes, snow.) The next day, we circled the second Saturday in 2016 as the fourth music night, plugged or unplugged.
Saturday’s instruments included guitars of various scale, a ukulele, autoharps, fiddles, harmonicas, and I believe that a mandolin made an appearance, too. There was a good gathering of music lovers to listen alongside and in the peaceable kingdom next door.
Oh so many thanks to Doug, Mike, Ralph, Gus, Dondi, Lynn, Bob, David and Michelle. And Erin, who has joined us every time with her roadie/soundman dad Bruce and musician mom Beth. Did you notice that great blue heron skimming low over the cabin on its way to sunset? That was your great-grandpa, Erin, and boy, is he proud.
Jam tonight
We’ll be jammin’ at 6 under the red roof. Bring a chair and jam, too. At least tap your toe and sing along.
The rain is moving through now and will leave us with cooler air, and there are cookies; always.
meanwhile, across the run
In between cookie batches for Saturday’s annual music Jam, the call of the nature preserve was answered. So were Lolly and Cady, both of whom stared out toward the tree line, rolling their big brown eyes soulfully and wagging their tails each time someone with opposable thumbs walked in the direction of the front door.
Sunday, the door was opened. Summer drought and temperatures in the upper 80s laid mosquitoes to rest; no repellent was pocketed along the way.
I always forget what late summer does to the natives. Minnows, small bass and other fishes circle in the pools that are Cranberry Run during much of the year. This year there are clots of decaying algae to suck the oxygen from their gills. The bed has been dry for so long that purple ironweed grows below the waterline. The old quarry is diminished to a green duckweed center.
I pulled a muskrat trap from the bed of the stream. Its wire frame lifted with a strong coating of fertilized creekbed. Neither traps nor fertilizer are welcome in this waterway. One is easily removed, though, and went the way of garbage pick-up.
Leaves hang dull green and brown-edged from the trees. Twigs–whole limbs, sometimes–drop with the hot wind that puffs down the bluff into the floodplain. A willow that, even though it died some years back still hosted ichneumon wasps and other helpful predators, leaned its last before our arrival. A chunk of trunk crumbles over the path. A new bracket grows on what still stands.
The back field is golden under heated air open to sunshine but little current. Few insects sift through the artichokes and bullthistles. There should be so many this time of year. Their absence is sobering. It’s a relief to see a bumblebee and sulphur butterfly. I tried to take the bees photo, but all but his back legs and a bit of yellow fluff are caught in the frame to the left of a cluster of yellow flowers.
Flattened grasses indicate that somethings do rest and feed here. We get a whiff of proof when both dogs roll in scat and carry it with them back through the upper woods toward home and baths.
Get off my yawn
Much as I tried, I couldn’t leave this photo to its own devices. Buddy was indeed yawning, not braying the classic “hee haw.” Donkeys don’t, at least the two here, don’t. They “hee-hee-hee” and “ho-o-o-o-nk” and blow raspberries, but declare nothing for Buck and Roy to play along with.
Sunday morning, as I filled the water pans, Buddy followed me to make sure no carrots lurked in my pockets. I saw his lower lip begin to tremble and readied the camera just in case a toothy grin was on its way..
