J A N U A R Y
January is always a quiet reprieve after the crush of social obligations of December. I can see why people sometimes do a ‘dry’ January. It’d be pretty easy when you’re basically partied-out. But…there’s also something deeply soul satisfying about a small dram of single malt scotch in front of the fire on a chilly January evening that I’m not quite ready to give up. This year even more so, because we actually set up the library to do just that. Keith was dead set against the idea of moving my books out of the garage and into the unfinished library. To him that’s just an indication that we’ll never get this house finished and that we’re doomed to a make-shift life forever. But, as I tried mightily to explain, it IS a step forward. We’re cleaning out the garage to fix the old garage doors and set up for our new car. And the books have to go somewhere. “Why not…oh, I don’t know…store them in a “library?” At any rate, I think the books were done with being stored in a dirty mouse-frequented garage, and I was certainly done with not having them handy. So, I began the laborious process of cleaning off spiderwebs and grime (and the occasional mouse dropping) from the entire 1,832 volumes in my library. I did it by the box full, and once I had emptied one bookcase, I took it down and scrubbed it within an inch of its life, and hauled it into the house. I did that ten times. It’s surprising that these nearly 40 year old cheap “Billy” bookcases from Ikea inherited from a friend (thanks Tom Palmer!) were still in one piece. Barely, though – some of them are kinda rickety. But I got them all assembled and installed in their new temporary (as I reassured Keith) home and filled them up with all my books. And you know what? It’s a really, really cozy room. I mean, it’s pretty basic right now, but if you squint hard enough you can imagine what it will be like eventually with the proper built-in bookshelves and moldings and a fireplace surround. We have a cardboard box coffee table, an old sofa in desperate need of re-upholstering, and a few other misfit pieces, but it somehow works. I guess because, you know, books are awfully decorative. As the sun slowly fades and the snow falls, and the fire crackles, and the scotch warms, it’s a very lovely place to be. Now when Keith needs to find me to berate me for some short-coming or another, it’s the first place he looks. I’m always there. In fact, I’m writing these very words from the ratty old sofa right now.
When not in the library this month, I was outside watching our newly dug pond slowly fill. I’ve been dreaming about this pond and the views it would have for the past 28 years, so needless to say I was pretty excited. The excavators had warned that it would take at least a year to fill, but I was amazed at how quickly the inflow from the stream, the springs, and the snow made it look pretty respectable within a few weeks.
Towards the middle of the month I took a road trip to Louisville, KY for the Grand National Pigeon Show. I hadn’t gone to this event nearly 35 years, but I’d been asked to judge the Lahore pigeons. Also a long-time Lahore breeder was heading to an assisted living facility where (surprise!) they don’t allow you to keep pigeons. He’d asked that I take some of his stock, and I was honored to do so. The show was a lot of fun. Not only did I get to see a lot of people that I hadn’t seen in years, but I also got to meet up with folks I’d only corresponded with in the past. It was a great time and I think I even did a pretty good job of judging the birds.
F E B R U A R Y
February was one of those golidilocks moments that life occasionally delivers. I knew it wouldn’t last – I mean, it never does. But everything was pretty much ‘just right’ for a little while and I savored it. So what if the house was unfinished? I had my books in my (unfinished) library and I could sit and read on a cold winter’s afternoon in front of a cheery fire. I was quite content. And who cared if I had a second scotch on the rocks while doing so? I certainly didn’t.
My livestock gave me no complaints either. Since medieval times, February 14th was considered the birds’ wedding day, and over the years I’ve kind of used it as a marker for the year’s breeding season. Ideally my hens should be laying in full force by then and the incubator is full of the next generation of chickens. Meanwhile I plot out the various pair combinations of my pigeons to see who’s going to give me the best offspring there. I have a notecard for each bird listing its genotype and phenotype and breeding history. Keith will catch me totally absorbed in shuffling these cards around to find the perfect breeding combinations and will shake his head and mutter something about ‘Nazi genetic experiments’ but it’s something I enjoy immensely.
My contentment was pervasive. Real estate kept chugging along, I got updates that the car I had ordered was reaching final configuration (more on that soon), and that, together with nice cozy dinners with friends, kept me in a great mood. At the end of the month we decamped for a long weekend in Palm Springs to visit friends and celebrate Michael Golder’s milestone birthday. My perfect mood continued when we landed at LAX. The car rental place decided I was just the guy who deserved a free upgrade from the Subaru I had reserved to a Mercedes sports car. Just because. I was well pleased!
We started our adventure in Keith’s old stomping grounds in Huntington Beach with his best friend from high school Kayce and her husband James. We love them to pieces, and they always put on the dog when we visit. They certainly didn’t disappoint this time either. Kaycee made an incredible Mexican feast which Keith decided was the perfect event to show off his recipe for high octane Mezcalritas. Unfortunately they were a bit strong for the Californians, so Keith and I had to finish their drinks (the things one’s forced to do!). This led to a very festive karaoke performance after dinner. My husband is a rock star.
P A L M S P R I N G S
After a groggy start the next day it was off to Palm Springs in our fancy roadster. First, a little aside on Palm Springs. I’m sure you’ve all heard of the place. When I was a little kid it was still a place of movie stars, but the glamour was already fading. By the time I finally went there in the 1980s, it seemed pretty tired and seedy. I didn’t see the appeal. Frankly, if I’m honest, I still don’t. I’m a creature of green gardens and lush pastures, and winter walks through the woods, and cozy evenings by the fireplace (see above) in houses that have staircases. Palms Springs offers none of that. But Keith loves the place, and he constantly tells me that when he finally poisons me and collects the life insurance, that’s where he’s retiring. Adding to that, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, we know on the East Coast, Midwest, South and West Coast seems to have bought a place there! What is going on? I mean it’s not just the usual suspects, but even high school friends and at least three of our neighbors in good ol’ Rappahannock have homes there too! So, to find out if I’m really missing something I went with an open mind. I also emailed everyone I knew who had a place in PS, but wasn’t attending the weekend’s festivities, to meet me for lunch at Spencer’s and convince me that this was the place to be. About 20 of them said they’d show up and were happy to try and ‘convert’ me. So the stage was set for me to see Palm Springs through the eyes of others. Our hosts for the weekend, Dave and Brad, took this mission to heart as well. When not dodging golf balls, they’re renovating a cool mid-century modern house on golf course in the heart of Palm Springs and are very au courant with how one navigates the scene. From the moment we arrived the sales pitch was unrelenting. They took one look at my buttoned-down east coast garb and sighed. Within minutes I was plied with cocktails and taken shopping for new togs. (hot tip: don’t let your friends choose your wardrobe when you’re somewhat incapacitated). After a few hours and minus a few hundred, Wil Stiles had me ready to experience desert living at its finest.
The first stop was our Rappahannock neighbors Jane and Sal’s condo for a wine-filled wonderful lunch (can you see a developing theme here?). Jane never disappoints when it comes to putting out a spread. But in this case it was also a full-court press on the virtues of a nice little condo in the desert for the winter. She’s also president of the condo board and clearly doing great things. We toured a few available units and were surprised at how affordable some of them could be. But I can’t stand having neighbors within a half mile of me, so a mere 50 ft away is probably a non-starter, I think.
The next day’s lunch with people I hadn’t seen in a while (some for well more than a decade!) was a lot of fun and I had a great time catching up with them. And everybody certainly sang for their supper. Their enthusiasm for desert living, at least in the winter (pro tip: don’t touch your car door handle with bare hands in the summer), was almost contagious. But I couldn’t help noticing that all of them continue to have homes in other parts of the country as well. So that’s gotta tell you something too, yes?
The main event for the weekend was Michael’s 60th birthday weekend. Every decade it’s someplace fabulous (30th = umm, somewhere I can’t remember, 40th = Sardi’s, 50th = top floor of 1 Columbus Circle, 60th = Palm Beach Nightclub). I love having rich friends and especially rich friends that know how to put on a party. It was non-stop deluxe all the way. A welcome cocktail party on Friday night at Drew & Michael’s sleek new modernist house in Indian Canyons set the tone nicely. It seems that half of our old NY-DC crowd has permanently decamped to LA, and all of those now seem to have a place in PS too. So the evening was spent telling each other how fabulous we looked and discussing everyone else’s real estate.
The next day was a morning hike in Palm Canyon. You know, as much as I enjoy seeing all my friends, this was the highlight of the trip for me. Being away from the crowd for a few hours and communing with desert nature was pretty damned awesome. It made me appreciate the beauty of the place. The actual birthday party at a venerable nightclub in Palm Springs (Hollywood rat pack themed) was awesome fun too – in an entirely different way. And the morning after brunch (well, afternoon after) at Jerry Bloom’s soaking up the stunning views was a great way to round out a party weekend.
I have to say, it was a really fun escape and a lovely way to spend a long winter weekend. But at the end of the day, I think that’s all it will ever be for me – a brief mid-winter break to see old and dear friends. Keith will have to wait until I’m gone to before he can hold court there each winter.
M A R C H
Glad to be back home in Virginia, I was already counting my chickens as they hatched, but I did pretty well, considering. Almost 100! Weather was meh – typical March, but we got the pond banks seeded and it continued to fill, so all happy there. Keith was constantly pestering me to stop enjoying the house so damned much and get the damned thing finished! So I agreed to get estimates on finishing the bedrooms. Simple right? Some crown moulding, a bit of wainscoting, door and window trim, and we’re done! Easy. The quote came back from the builder at $50K. Pricey, I thought, but hey we’ve got three pretty large bedrooms. Maybe we could cut a few corners and get the price down? Not so fast. The quote was $50K per room! So that shut up Keith for a little while at least (it also kinda knocked the wind out of my sails too – will we ever be able to afford to finish this place?).
In the meantime, little things continued to happen. We may not be able to finish the rooms, but maybe we could furnish them? I finally tracked down a set of 12 matching Hepplewhite dining chairs. This is more difficult than you might imagine. Finding them at a cost that wouldn’t break the bank is an impossibility. Still, the auction gods were smiling on me one morning when my bid was the winning one. Now how to get them down to VA from NYC? The auction house recommended a few shippers and I signed up with one. A few weeks later they arrived at my doorstep – damaged! Sigh. Luckily the shippers took full responsibility and said they’d pay for damages if I got a quote for repairs. But how much would it cost to repair, and who to do it? Meanwhile a painting arrived from auction in Ohio – damaged! What is it with people? I was heartsick. This painting had been carefully preserved for over 125 years through five different owners, and some jackass at UPS knocks it off its frame and scratches it. What’s it worth now? Certainly not what I paid for it. UPS also agreed to pay for damages, but where to find an art restoration service?
Now unbeknownst to me, we have excellent art and furniture restoration services right here in Virginia. Some of the very best, in fact. It’s just that they’re old men on the cusp of retiring, and there’s no one to replace them. So if you’re going damage your furniture, do it now while they’re still there to fix it. The chairs and painting were dispatched and all came back a few weeks later in fantastic shape. I remain in awe of skilled craftsmen. If only there were some talented lads that wanted to follow in their footsteps.
The main excitement in March was the impending delivery of my new car. I don’t know about you, but we’re like most people, we never used our garage for vehicles. For the past 26 years it’s been a dining room/library, gym, storage room, workshop, etc. The library had been cleaned out in January (see above) to make way for the new car charger. Once the car charger was installed that meant we were truly committed to actually parking the car in the garage overnight. One big problem. The garage doors were rotted away, and my feeble attempts to patch them with plywood weren’t cutting it anymore. They would simply fall apart if we dared open them. So there was nothing for but to get new ones. This is actually a simple procedure. You call a garage door place and they come out and take measurements and then install a new craptastically flimsy and cheap looking piece of tinfoil to make your garage look like all the other cheap plastic-fanatastic tract home garages from one end of the country to the other. Well! You can imagine the garage door people got an earful from me when I saw their offerings.
I just wanted a plain garage door that wouldn’t rot and that would look ‘nice.’ Is that too much to ask for? I did not want a piece of cheap aluminum with ‘simulated wood grain’ that dinged up in a matter of days. I did not want the ‘upgraded’ ye olde faux carriage doors with extra handles and straps and other doodads (and simulated wood grain). Nor did I want the sleek modernist blank wall of metal either, even if it didn’t have simulated wood grain. I wanted a garage door that wouldn’t look too too out of place next to my very traditional Georgian home. I went to dozens of installers and got the same answer everywhere – they simply don’t make those anymore! Everything comes in ‘wood grain’ stamped aluminum and steel. To avoid the ‘wood grain’ I had to pay more than double the price for – you guessed it – REAL wood so that it could be painted so as to not have a “wood grain” finish. Not only was it more than double the price – it could only be ordered unpainted. And of course they wouldn’t install the doors until they were painted. So…there I was during the month of March priming and painting 6 garage door panels and waiting for them to dry so I could paint them on the other side as well. At the end of the month I called the garage door company back and they assembled the doors. I had my high maintenance garage doors that will require way more work than their steel counterparts. But at least they don’t have a “wood grain” finish.
Of course the reason for all this activity was the arrival of my new vehicle. As most of you know, I’m not a car guy. In fact, I’m notorious for my lack of interest in maintaining any vehicle (car, tractor, gator, mower, etc) and it shows every time I have someone come and service any of those. The other thing is that I view cars as pretty utilitarian ‘things.’ They get you and your stuff from point A to point B. I mean, who cares about horsepower or acceleration speeds as long you get where you’re going in one piece? I didn’t get my first car until I was 30 – and that was a hand-me-down from my little sister. Since then I have had a grand total of 3 cars – including my current 2012 Ford Escape with nearly 300,000 miles on it. So this time I wanted a vehicle that would do several things:
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- Be cheap to operate – I do a lot of driving, well over 20K miles a year;
- Little to no maintenance. I’m very bad at oil changes, filter changes, fluids, belts and other things;
- Be big enough to haul stuff around for farm and house (bags of poultry feed, new furniture, etc);
- Be fancy enough that my fancy clients don’t turn up their noses at my crappy broken-down vehicle (which, unfortunately, they’ve done all too often); and finally,
- Be all-terrain enough to climb up mountainsides and barrel through tall grasses in pastures and ford streams while showing larger farms and estates to the above mentioned fancy clients.
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I know it’s a tall order, but I did find a vehicle that would do all of the above (at least on paper). So I ordered one and waited. Nearly two years, as it turned out. But on March 30, 2024 it finally arrived.
R I V I A N
Despite the whole “yuppie millennial white people who go camping” kind of vibe that Rivian exudes, it fit the bill for me perfectly (see list above). The marketing and corporate verbiage is all very cringe, however. It’s so insufferably smug that I can see why a Fox-news-watching-anti-electric-car-cretin would bristle at the sight of one. So I was kind of embarrassed to own one in advance. And also a little nervous. Would the luddites vandalize it? What would it cost to insure? What about running out of power on long trips? Range anxiety was real.
So when I picked up the car, I have to say there was a bit of a letdown. At the end of the day, it’s just a car. Nobody gave me dirty looks. It gets you from point A to point B just like any other. I’ve been in fancy cars before and they’re okay, I guess, but how many butt warmers or butt coolers do you need? Sure it has a built-in air compressor. And the frunk doubles as a beverage cooler. There’s also removable speaker under the center console. The doors have removable flash lights. It goes from zero to 60 in 3.4 seconds. Big deal.
Any yet… after a week of driving it, I was totally in love with my lil’ Rivvy. It kinda does everything – and seamlessly. It’s so easy. I can go anywhere off road. Put it in sand mode, snow mode, raise it up 6 inches, lower it down a foot, make it go zoom to pass all the other slowpokes. It just does it. It can even almost drive itself (but I don’t let it). And the best thing (for me at least) was how maintenance free it is. Just pull into the garage and plug it in at night and then unplug it the next morning and leave. The only maintenance I have to worry about is the windshield washer fluid. It’s so smooth. It just…goes. And fast (did I mention zero to 60 in 3.4 seconds?). And the best part is that it raised my electric bill by only $50 a month. Compared to $50 a pop to fill my old Ford Escape hybrid at least once a week, that is a huge cost savings. It will be even less once I get the solar panels and battery set up in the garage. I never have to go to a gas station again in my life – much less a Jiffy Lube or an auto parts store.
You know how I love to complain about everything (which, of course, is why you read these letters), but this is one thing I can’t complain about. I’m totally in love. With a car! And it’s all American made – every bit of it – right in good ol’ Normal, IL. How could you not love it? (hot tip: buy RIVN stock and you will be amply rewarded in years to come).
A P R I L
So April was yet another one of those goldilocks months where everything seemed just about perfect. Life was good. I felt great, I think I even looked great. True thought – perhaps age 64 is the prime of my life? Not to get all vain n’ stuff, but I kinda think I look better now than I ever did when I was young. Or better put, for the first time in my life I think my outward appearance really matches my inward sense of myself. I mean, just like you, I still get those moments when I look in the mirror and say, “hey, wait a minute, yesterday I was 29 and now look at me – what happened?” But at the same time, there are other days when I look in the mirror and say to myself, “Hey you know, you’re looking pretty sharp for 64 – and nice beard, you old curmudgeon!”
The other thing I like about my age is that I can refuse to do things (lifting heavy objects mostly) and I get a pass while the younger guys shoulder the burden. I used to always pitch in to prove I’m not some wimp, but now I don’t mind at all. But the best things is I can provide my usual goofball cynical commentary in situations and generally get a grunt of laughter instead of a wary side eye from younger folks. Before I suppose they thought I was some ornery asshole. Now I get to be the caustic funny old guy. So all in all, it’s not a bad place to be.
Getting older has its downsides, I suppose. Your ability to stay on top of things starts to slip. A case in point was our rather spur-of-the-moment decision to surprise our friend James (see Palms Springs earlier in this letter) in the OC by showing up at his 60th birthday bash. James and his wife Kayce go all out in their parties. They literally move all the furniture out of their house and set up elaborate stage sets for the event. We’ve been to a couple of memorable birthday parties for Kayce, but never one for James. So, we decided to cash in some miles and use them for flights and hotels. Then we decided against renting a car and used public transport to get to and from the airport. Super cheap trip, right? Well….., it was a fun one. Travelling with Keith is ALWAYS an exercise in sticker shock when it comes to restaurant bills. Even in the cheapest dive place, he manages to find the one bottle of wine that they’ve lovingly overpriced by hundreds…..but that’s beside the point. We had a nice ($$$) dinner in downtown LA on our arrival. Mileage points got us a sweet little boutique hotel (Hotel Figueroa) Then some museum hopping (The Broad {pronounced BRODE, doncha know}). And then train and Uber to Huntington Beach. The party was amazing. They’d turned the backyard into Carnaby Street circa 1964 (year of James’s birth, get it?) You entered via a mock-up of a tube station and – BAM! There you were – motor scooters and mod boutiques, newsstands, and pubs! It was unreal! James was duly surprised that we showed up, and we were duly impressed by the effort. We dressed as Mods and Rockers and Keith danced the night away. The next day was a fun one in Newport Beach with a long ($$$$) brunch, a brief visit with a wiped out Kayce and James, and then a high school theater kids performance of “Clue.” The day after we trained it up to LA and wandered around Little Tokyo and downtown before hopping on a shuttle bus to the airport. A perfect short trip till we got to the airport and found out we did not have tickets for our return flight. Somehow (and to this day I’m still not certain how, though Keith is convinced it’s my Alzheimer’s), our return flights were booked for Monday MAY 20th and not Monday APRIL 22nd. Since these were non-refundable, non-exchangeable reward tickets, there was nothing for it but to pony up major cash for 2 last minute one-way tickets to DC! Luckily we got the last two spots on a later flight, but we had to pay fully double the price we would have had to pay if we had bought actual round-trip tickets just a few weeks earlier! So much for a cheap weekend trip! So, maybe old age is not 100% great.
Also, as fun as it was visiting friends, I am just completely and utterly over commercial airline flights, trains, ubers, airport buses, metros, etc. I’m also over cities in general. Everything is too expensive, there are just TOO MANY PEOPLE everywhere, and everything is kinda ugly and dirty. I know I’m spoiled by living in my own private paradise and as an old ‘un I’m entitled to be a bit cranky. But the reality is, I no longer want to travel anywhere. I’ve seen everything I need to see in this world. I don’t care about the latest hip restaurant or club. And friends and family, I love you all very much, and would really enjoy seeing you, but unless forced to (wedding or funeral), I’m no longer travelling to see you – you can come see me!
M A Y
May was super busy. Steady Spring rain meant the pond kept filling – not all the way to the top (still about 2 meters below the ultimate level), but I was well pleased. Little did I know that it would not reach that level again for the rest of the year. Thanks to nephew Luka’s help, I was able to plant duck island with a weeping cherry tree and 52 azaelas. The cherry tree took a bit of effort rowing it across the pond and then hoisting it up the steep bank of the island to get it to the top (would have been much easier if the island wasn’t still sticking out of the water like some volcano). But Luka is young and strong, so I made him do most of the work. He’s a great young man that willingly tolerates his uncles for some reason. He had been hiking the Appalachian Trail as a college graduation present to himself, and we lured him off the trail for a break with the promise of hot food and a hot shower and a bed to sleep in.
Real estate started to slow down a bit (rising interest rates) and perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing, as farm work beckoned. The plentiful rain meant that I had pastures and gardens that needed constant weeding and mowing, and I spent a good deal of time expanding the spring garden with hellebores and tulip magnolias. The pond was full enough, and the weather warm enough, that I took a flyer and ordered some baby koi to stock it. I was all excited to see how they’d do, but moments after they were released, they disappeared into the depths and that was that.
Another pond critter experiment was a pair of white call ducks. The bathtub rubber ducky was modeled after this breed. They’re small, short, round, and cute as a button. They’re also quite loud and fearless for their tiny size. Picture the Jack Russell terrier of the duck world. The experiment was to see if they’d survive before we invested in anything more exotic. If a hawk, eagle, owl, or fox was going to have a duck dinner, these bright white quackers would be the first to go. But the pond still wasn’t completely full and duck island was still not completely predator proof. So we knew it was a risk. The trouble is, Keith was immediately so smitten with his ducks that I dread to face his wrath if anything happens to them. Luckily the swan and geese took them under their wings and they settled in quite nicely.
It was not all work and no play, however. There were non-stop parties all month. This forced me to actually take a shower and scrub the garden dirt under my nails and get dressed up almost daily. The highlight, at the end of the month, was the wedding of the century hosted by our friends Lyn and Malcolm for their daughter Carter. It was over the top in the best possible way with the most enormous marquee tent imaginable and dance floors, hot air balloons, and you name it. The whole neighborhood was invited and we had the best time.
May 2024 was a great time to be alive. I felt very lucky to live where and how I do.
Note: Photos below load very slowly. Sorry!
J U N E
June was hot and humid with not enough rain, but we always seem to escape the extremes that the rest of the world experiences. So I suppose we should be grateful. Sitting on the back porch and watching the weather go by is heavenly and is now our post-dinner twilight tradition. It’s magical.
Wedding season continued with Joe & Ryan’s awesome nuptials. We’ve known both of these characters separately for years, and always thought they were the best of the best people. So when they started dating a few years ago, it just gave me the warm fuzzies all over. To see them seal the deal was just, well, perfect.
Real estate slowed down dramatically, and the lack of business was really making me nervous. Nothing in the pipeline. I was once again named to the top 1.5% of agents nationwide and the top 0.00001% in Virginia by Real Trends, https://www.realtrends.com/agent-rankings/ but that was an award for last year’s sales. This year I doubt there’s going to be any awards (for me, at least).
Since there wasn’t that much to do real-estate wise, it made sense to focus on the farm. But with no money coming in, it also didn’t make sense to spend it either. It’s very frustrating as I only have so many years left on this planet, and I’d really like to have a finished house and gardens before I die. So we hired a handy Hungarian to demo the kitchen and bath in the guest house (after living there for 26 years, it was kinda overdue for a reno). We figured it would be a quick fix, but as of this letter writing six months later, we’re still not quite done. Frustrating.
Equally frustrating was the heat and dryness. Our pond filling stopped and actually started to reverse itself. You could see the water levels recede daily. This was not good! Nevertheless, we ordered another shipment of koi to see if we could get them established. We hadn’t see a trace of the earlier shipment, so who knew? At least the ducks were thriving and we really enjoyed their ducky antics.
On the subject of critters, a good deal of my life is dealing with entropy, and the rest of it is pretty much fending off the relentless attacks of mother nature. While I rail constantly at Keith’s all to frequent “Oops! Clean up on aisle 3!” indoor disasters (Dammit Keith, this is why we can’t have nice things!), honestly, he’s small potatoes compared to what I have to put up with from rabbits, groundhogs, squirrels, and deer. They’re relentless! The hydrangeas, impatiens, pears, and pretty much every veggie in the kitchen garden has been destroyed this year and it’s only June! The most outrageous was the two small planters on our front stoop. They were filled with impatiens and were putting on a very nice summer display – until two rabbits decided to dig them up. Right in front of our front door! What’s worse is that they were so brazen. Showing absolutely no fear! After they destroyed everything, I’d had enough and got out the rifle. I’m a notoriously bad shot, and even at point blank I missed. But the damned rabbits didn’t even flinch, so I finally got lucky and dispatched them to rabbit heaven. Now to get the other critters gone as well. There’s just too many of them and they breed like, well, like rabbits! Keith now follows me around and sings in an Elmer Fudd voice “Kill da wabbit! I’m goin’ to kill da wabbit!” But I’m on a mission.
J U L Y
July was not only hot, but it was very very dry. A normal Virginia piedmont summer has hot and steamy weather in July and August that is frequently punctuated by an afternoon thunderstorm. This normal weather pattern keeps everything lush and green and looking fresh. While it’s great for the garden and fields and forests, it’s never all that great for the local vineyards. This year, however, the weather gods sent us California weather instead. Hot, dry, and dusty. At least the local wine industry was happy.
I spent the 4th with my next-door neighbors Eric and Tiffanny Gates and a few of their friends while Keith road the rails for Amtrak. They’ve installed a pretty fancy stone seating area on the top of the hill paddock where you can watch the fireworks at Ben Venue through the woods. It was a great way to watch the show without having to pay $50 per carload of people. Though once the fireworks started, I hopped on my gator and drove back to my side of the farm to see if I could see them from hammock hill as well. I could, and the view was just as good, if not perhaps a bit better, as the fireworks were reflected over the pond too. I was thrilled by this, as until we had dug the pond this past winter, the streambed had been completely wooded and the tall trees blocked the view. Now it’s a wide open vista with the pond in the middle. You can come watch the show with me next year and I’ll only charge you $25 a carload.
The rest of the month the drought conditions gradually worsened. The pond lost about a meter or so from its May peak. The pastures all started to look rather dry and forlorn. My garden was a disaster as I still don’t have the irrigation system connected. The one bright spot was that the three peachicks I had purchased had been adopted by one of my broody hens. They were all installed in the orchard pavilion which is destined to be their new home. This is another one of my ‘experiments.’ The older peafowl live in the barn with the chickens. Years ago they free ranged all over the farm and I missed seeing them in the fields and on the garden walls. But they wouldn’t come inside at night and instead would roost in the trees. This made them a perfect target for the great horned owls. After losing most of the flock, I penned the rest of them up and they’ve lived inside ever since. They’re doing well, but I don’t really get to enjoy them wandering around. So the new chicks were destined to live with a foster mother chicken hen who would teach them to come inside each night. My hope is that once they’ve outgrown sleeping under their mother’s wings, they’ll still come inside to bed down for the night and all will be well. At least, that’s the plan. What sounds good on paper, rarely pans out as well in real life, but we’ll see. Check back in next year’s letter to see if it works.
The big news this month, if not the entire year, was Keith’s triumph in the wine world. It’s a bit lengthy, but well worth the read. You can read it by clicking here.
A U G U S T
The thing about August in Virginia is that it never really varies much from year to year. It’s always hot and steamy, and it’s also when summer wears out its welcome and everything looks a little tired. It’s also when I usually feel a bit tired too. The one thing about this August was that it was drier than most and our pond continued to recede until it was a full 10 feet below May’s peak. Will it ever fill up?
Real estate continued its downward spiral and the new laws that took effect mid-month made things even worse. So, with no income on the horizon and dried up pastures that didn’t need any mowing, I had some unexpected time on my hands. And as your granny probably once warned you, ‘idle hands are the devil’s playground.’ So I pulled out the old tarnished silver and started polishing. After about two days of this I decided needed a bit of motivation to continue this project and thus announced to Keith that we were having a dinner party in honor of his recent ascension to advanced sommelier (see last month’s entry). This was a strategic move on my part. Keith has been dead set against anyone seeing our unfinished house on the completely erroneous supposition that this ban would somehow goad me into finishing the house sooner. I keep telling him, if we only had the money, we’d finish it immediately! He doesn’t seem to understand the commission based income equation: no business = no money. But, no matter, the gambit worked, and he relented. But how could he not, as the guest of honor?
So, who to invite as our first guinea pigs? Well, the obvious choice was a group of nearby great friends who regularly produce prodigious feasts of good food and wine and always invite us despite our lack of reciprocation. They immediately agreed (probably muttering under their breath “it’s about time!”), so the pressure was on. As luck would have it that meant exactly 12 for dinner. Now in case you didn’t know this, I’ve had a secret life-long goal of hosting dinner for 12. Doesn’t every kid? I’m not exactly sure why this is, but it always seemed to me that you can only really put on the dog with 12 guests not 8. Does that make sense at all? Probably not, but if I’m being perfectly honest, the whole point of the farm, and certainly the house we just built, was to have this kind of dinner party. It’s the reason we made the builders reframe the dining room and push the fireplace back several feet to make the room bigger. It’s the reason we scoured the country for a table with enough leaves to seat 12, and then an even longer search to find 12 matching dining chairs. It’s also the reason (well, the excuse actually) to have several china patterns with service for 12 right down to the salt cellars. You get the point. I’ve been obsessed with this goal for a long time. And so what if the dining room was still a basic shell of unfinished drywall? We were finally having 12 for dinner!
You’d probably think the hard part would be coming up with a menu and cooking it all. You’d be wrong. We simply called up Chef Brian and said, “make us a fabulous dinner for 12 and serve it.” He just asked, “what day and what time?” and that was it. No, the hard part was the table itself. You see, during all the years that I’d been quietly obsessing over dinner for 12, dinner for 12 dinner for 12, the rest of the world had long ago left that concept far behind. I should have been clued into this cultural change when I ran out of sliver polish. “No problem,” I thought, “I’ll just pop over to Walmart and get some more.” Not so fast. Walmart, Target, the grocery store – you name it – no longer stocks Wright’s Silver Polish! Who knew? Apparently polishing sliver doesn’t fit the ‘modern lifestyle.’ So I had to order a case of it through Amazon and wait a few days for it to arrive. First world problems, I know, but still….. Well, the same dynamic is also at work in the world of tablecloths. Clearly no one has had dinner for 12 at one table since 1928. Such larger tablecloths are no longer sold. Not even in the fanciest shops. Online wasn’t any better. I’ve had great luck getting Irish linen dinner napkins and smaller cloths for super cheap on eBay (because I guess nobody wants to iron any more either), but no one had vintage tablecloths large enough for our table. Eventually I found a shop in Ireland that sold Irish linen tablecloths in the right size but it costs hundreds and hundreds and would take too long to ship. What to do? Well, the only solution was to order a bolt or two of extra wide fabric in the right length and see which one would arrive in time for the dinner party. I figured that if I kept the light dim enough, nobody would see that the tablecloth was rough cut and unhemmed. Of course the plainest cloth arrived first, so that’s what we used.
I gotta confess, once the tablecloth arrived, the best part of the whole event was just setting the table. Who knew a 64 year old man could get such a charge from putting the forks in the right order? It was deeply satisfying figuring out which China to use with what stemware and then hauling it all out and placing it ‘just so.’ Keith rolled his eyes, but indulged me. But the evening was everything I’d hoped for and I can’t wait for the next one.
Towards the end of the month I took a quick 24 hour trip to NYC to see my old fraternity brothers from Germany and their wives. They had sailed over on the Queen Mary from Hamburg and were spending a week seeing the sights. My German’s gotten a bit rusty in the intervening 45 years, but we had an excellent time catching up, seeing photos of grandchildren, and complaining about how old we all are! I’m incredibly grateful to have friends that can remember the ‘good old days.’ There’s a bond there that will never break. That evening Uli took us to a fantastic steak dinner at Keen’s, and then touring the Morgan Library the next morning, and then I trained it back to DC that afternoon. It was lovely to see them, but I could do without the crowds, the smells, and the noise of the city in the August heat. It made me so, so grateful to get back home to my private sanctuary without a soul in sight. Heaven.
S E P T E M B E R
I don’t think we really did much of anything in September.
The drought persisted and it started to look distinctly Californian around here. I pretty much gave up on the pond filling anytime this year. The real estate doldrums continued as well. Everyone seemed to think that lower interest rates might be around the corner, or a new administration might change things after the election, so no one wanted to commit to buying anything, much less looking. I thus got a taste of what it’d be like to be retired – no phones ringing, no emails demanding answers, and no appointments. Quite honestly it would be pretty much my idea of heaven if you removed the financial anxiety that went with it.
We had a couple more dinner parties, which were tremendous fun. Part of the fun is finally getting to pay back friends for their generosity over the years, and the other part is boring them to tears with my house tours (so, this is over here is going to be the living room. You see these sofas? Well, we got them at auction and…..). We’ve got a backlog of at least 2 years worth of people we need to have over for dinner. So be patient. You’ll get your turn to suffer through the house tour eventually.
Getting up at 4 a.m. after one such dinner party wasn’t a lot of fun, but it allowed me to drive up to Harrisonburg, PA in time for the Pennsylvania Aviculture Society’s annual swap meet. The goal was to get some more ducks for the pond. Our call duck experiment seemed to be going just fine. So why not add to the collection? And I certainly did – wood ducks, mandarin ducks, ringed teals, and some more call ducks. Oh, and a couple of blue eared pheasants, just because.
Of course, I was all prepared for the ducks and had created a temporary pen on duck island to get them all acclimated before releasing them on open water. This went very well. For the first 24 hours, at least. A day after the ducks got here, the remnants of Hurricane Helene dropped the first steady rain we’ve had in months. It was extremely welcome, but it raised the pond levels by about a foot or so at exactly the time I was counting on the water levels to stay where they were. Isn’t that always the case? My thrown together duck pen had given the birds a nice bit of dry land to get out and grab a snack and get a sense of their new island home. Of course now it was completely underwater. The only thing for it was to open up the pen several days earlier than scheduled. Luckily the ducks were fully on board with this idea and behaved beautifully on their new pond. They settled in right away and soon it was as though they’d always been there. So far, so good, but the big test (winter ice) is still to come.
Despite our precarious financial situation, I finalized plans for work to begin on the moulding and trim on the upstairs bedrooms. Keith was well pleased with this. But no sooner than I committed to spending the funds, we got a notice from the IRS saying that we’d made a mistake on our 2022 taxes and now owed them $20K plus interest! Well, so much for any progress on the house! An angry panicked call to our accountant showed that we were very much in the right and the IRS was wrong, but it’s still unclear whether the IRS or the carpenters are getting our money. One thing’s for certain – it’s going to disappear one way or the other.
O C T O B E R
My favorite month went by waaay to quickly. The good news was that we finally found an excellent finish carpentry team and they were soon to be available. What’s more, they were within striking range of what I would consider ‘reasonable’ (i.e. only double what I expected to spend). We struck a deal for them to start in early November. So for the rest of the month a good portion of my time was spent playing with various molding combinations in hopes of finding the ‘right’ crown moulding for the three bedrooms in the main house. This was harder than you’d think. Then again, as you well know, I specialize in making decision-making more complicated than it needs to be. I’m a very visual person and have pretty good spatial awareness. But it’s very hard to look at a webpage or a product catalogue and see a moulding profile and then imagine it in 3D in combination with several other pieces and mentally put it on the ceiling in the rooms where it should go.
At least with the fireplace mantel and surround, I was able to cut out with cardboard a full-sized mock-up of what I wanted and was reasonably happy with the results. It was easy to say, ‘build this.’ But the crown moulding was really throwing me for a loop. What’s immensely frustrating to me is that you just can’t buy a few scraps of the stuff to put together a small mock-up. None of the suppliers would sell me anything less than a 16 foot length of the stuff. I was stymied. Finally, I was able to request a set of sample pieces (six inches long) from one specialty molding manufacturer (smart company that got our business!) and for a couple of weeks I was like a little kid with building blocks and putting them together in various combinations and holding them up and asking Keith “whaddya think?” He’s absolutely hopeless in this regard, because he likes everything. I, however, am the most critical and insecure about these things (the main reason I drive contractors crazy). I need to see it in place and ponder it for a day or two before I can say yes or no, and even if I say ‘yyeeess…’ it’s not definitive. It’s a ‘yes, I guess so, but let’s see if there are any better options.’ That’s the way it’s been throughout the entire house construction process. Still, by the end of the month, sheer exhaustion and workmens’ schedules forced me to make a decision, so I ordered thousands of dollars worth of moulding (delivered on Halloween) and hoped I made the right choice.
The farm brightened up with cooler temps. I think our autumn color was excellent this year, perhaps one of the best, peaking around the 25th. The sugar maple allee was spectacular. What was once (for the first few years) an insipid yellow, has, ove the years, gradually gained depth of orange, and now this year even veering towards red. The trees looked great. Weather was great too – too great – no rain! The slight gains we made on our pond filling in September stopped. We almost back-tracked a bit. But the waterfowl still were having a great time and we got new oars for the rowboat. I also got an automatic weatherproof feeder for duck island that holds about a week of feed, so I don’t have to row out there every day to feed them. But you know what? I still do, just cause it’s fun, good exercise, and the most relaxing part of my day. Plus I get to commune with the little duckies (you wouldn’t believe the number of duck photos I had to delete from this month’s photo gallery. I’m kinda obsessed with them).
A great surprise was feeding the ducks early one evening and seeing something race by underwater. What could it be? The next day I was feeding Hans the swan at his own private buffet on duck island. He’s very fussy about having his own food and having it right near the water’s edge so he can moisten it in the water. Of course, in the process he spills a good deal of it into the water as well. Well, lo and behold, under Hans were three huge koi fish waiting for the crumbs he’d drop. My koi had not only survived, but clearly thrived! When purchased earlier in the summer they were 3-4 inches long. Now these monsters were easily a foot long. Where had they been hiding all summer? It’s a big 3 acre pond that’s about 20 ft. deep in most places, so they have plenty of space to hide (and to grow). I’ve no idea how many of the original 35 are still there. They’re extremely elusive, but I’ve sighted them several times since then.
A highlight of the month was a quick 36 hour trip to Greenville, SC for niece Meg’s wedding. We didn’t want to miss it, but Keith’s work schedule was such that if we stayed the whole weekend, he’d miss a week of work. So we did a quick in-and-out. We drove down on Friday, got stuck in massive traffic in Charlotte, NC (I tell you, there’s just too many people in this world!) and got in late to brother Geoff and sister-in-law Sandy’s welcome barbeque feast. We wolfed down a few morsels as the caterers were packing up. Luckily the bartenders were on late duty so we were all set there. Really fun evening catching up with family, meeting Ryan the groom (we approved!) and other new folks. We stayed up into the wee hours of the morning playing pool on my grandfather’s old pool table with the nephews and other young folk. Good times. The next day was a fun lunch in Greenville with brother Wayne and sister-in-law Audrey, and then a quick change at the hotel and off to the ceremony and reception. Beautiful wedding (aren’t they all?). The reception was a blast, but we had to leave just as nephews Will and Sam started tearing up the dance floor. We drove home all night and got in at 5 a.m. in time for Keith to take a quick nap before he had to catch his train to work. It was great fun, and I’m so glad we did it, but I think we’re too old for those kind of marathon road trips (9 hours down, and 9 hours back and 24 hours of fun in between). The saving grace was that the Rivian practically drives itself and the back seats fold down into a full-sized bed, so Keith could sleep comfortably on the way home.
I always find the subdued nature of November appealing. The farm is more or less put to bed for the year, there’s a chill in the air, and I can putter about inside without feeling guilty about neglecting outside projects. This year, not so much. Unseasonably mild weather meant that the pond continued to lose rather than gain water. And it was warm enough that I felt obligated to get ahead on several neglected outdoor chores, but really, my heart wasn’t in it. I would much rather be spending late afternoons in the library in front of the fire watching the sun slowly set. I guess that will have to wait for future me to enjoy. Instead, I built a pheasant run to allow the peafowl and blue eared pheasants a chance to slowly transition to being free range full time. I also cleared the stream bed feeding the pond, planted 500 more daffodil bulbs on daffodil hill, and cleared three brush piles worth of branches and debris in the pastures. In short, I was productive. Part of that productivity was to mask/take advantage of a serious lull in real estate. I couldn’t shake a gnawing sense of dread that lean times are ahead. I hope I’m wrong, but having been poor before, I’ve gotten very nervous about spending money finishing the house when there’s no income coming in. So while the carpenters sawed and hammered, and the green bedroom was slowly taking shape, the sense of satisfaction that it gave was very much tempered by the knowledge that money spent on crown molding is not going to pay the mortgage.
However, I did earn some income from a rather unexpected source this month: the farm. For years (decades really), running the farm has cost me money. Sure, we’d sell lamb and sheep for breeding stock and offset some of the expenses, but the cost of feeding all those chickens and pigeons would would eat up those profits. This year was no different, but for the first time I decided to sell off my surplus stock at a poultry auction. I sent them off figuring that at least they’d find a new home, as they were really nice quality show birds too good for the stew pot. I was pleasantly surprised by bids of nearly $60 per bird! I eventually sold off 23 birds this way and made a nice little tidy sum. It’s a drop in the bucket, but it’s nice to be acknowledged for the bloodlines I’ve created.
The middle of the month brought the first intimation that I might be living in fool’s paradise with my free-range duck flock. I always knew the real test of this experiment would be in January and February when the pond could freeze over and duck island would no longer be an island. Then the late winter migration of hawks and eagles would make them a tasty target for a quick snack en route. So I wasn’t prepared when I found some non-duck poop on the island. What was it from and how did it get there? I couldn’t figure it out. There was nothing on the island……or was there? As I got back into the boat I peered into the two duck houses on the island. From inside one of them, a pair of eyes peered back. It turns out that a raccoon had been spying on the daily feast I’d lay out on the island for the water fowl and decided to swim for his supper. The swim must have been fairly taxing and the duck house accomodations nice enough that he just decided to stay. It looked like he’d been there for a couple of days. Luckily he hadn’t eaten any of the ducks, but still! So I laid a trap for him with some tasty cookies and soon he was dispatched to a new home. The episode taught me that my battle with mother nature is never won.
D E C E M B E R
Can I just brag about the place I live for a moment? I’ve met plenty of people who like to describe their community as “like living in a Hallmark Christmas movie!” What they mean is not the cheap sentiment and tacky settings of these films, but the sense of small-town community that these films strive to embody. There’s no question such folks treasure their neighbors and fellow citizens – and that’s exactly as it should be in the world in which I wished we all lived. But when I smile and say, “how fortunate for you to live in such a place,” I also secretly tell myself, “they don’t know it, but I’ve got the real deal.”
Where I live is not like a Hallmark Christmas movie, it’s a Richard Scarry book. Everyone waves, everyone knows everyone. Aaron is the UPS guy that brings you your stuff, Gary the FedEx delivery man brings you your other stuff, but you can also hire him as a driver if you need go someplace and don’t have a car. Everyone knows the rather rough looking guys that work for Surja at the Amissville dump will aways greet you with a smile and ask “How’re doing?” and proceed to help unload your trash unbidden. And you’re in for a fun visit with Willie at the Flatwoods Recycling Center (he even had his own float in the Christmas parade). The local food pantry has way more volunteers and goods than it has customers.
This tiny little county in Virginia has a total population of just 7,000 people and not a single traffic light. Our biggest town is 500 souls. Locking the front door is something only recent expats from “real America” do around here and they soon realize it is unnecessary. Sheriff Connie makes sure our non-existent crime rate stays non-existent.
It’s kind of ridiculous how small we can be, and how much off the beaten track we are, and yet how world-class wonderful it truly is. It’s a foodie paradise. I mean we not only have arguably the best restaurant in the whole country (consistently 3 Michelin stars) but the New York Times even rated one of our local food trucks – a food truck – as one of the top 50 new restaurants in the United States! We punch way above our weight in a lot of things. One of those things is definitely the caliber of the people who settle here. It may be the scenic beauty of the place that draws them in first (I know that was the case for me), but it’s the people that make them never want to leave. It’s hard to put a finger on it, but there’s an ineffable ‘something’ that just creates the warmest sense of community I’ve ever known. And at no time of the year is that more in evidence than in the lead up to Christmas. The big kick-off every year is the Christmas Parade in the town of Washington. It’s very much a home-made affair that is just perfect in every way. While it attracts a fair share of outside tourists with the food stalls and Christmas market, it’s also the chance to wave at your neighbors in the parade and hang out with your other neighbors that invite you in for some good cheer along the parade route. You can feel the Christmas spirit just bubbling up inside you and priming you for the rest of the holiday season. And then – voom! Party, party, party. Whether a small dinner or a big blow-out, people around here love to get together and ‘tak’ a cup of kindness’ with each other.
In between all the holiday events, back home work continued on the green bedroom. I’ve gotten so used to being awakened by hammering and sawing at 7:00 a.m. that I’ve slowly become a morning person. But as of this writing the carpenters are pretty much done. Now it’s my turn to get to work caulking, sealing, sanding, and painting of all the trim work before the wallpaper goes up. It may take a while, but we’ll then have one fully completed room. Only 10 more to go!
It was not too many days into the month when my worst fears were realized and we started losing ducks. When one duck disappeared, I thought it might have wandered off. But when five days later another vanished without a trace, I knew we had a problem. It could have been any number of predators. The ducks (especially the call ducks) are ridiculously trusting, and I’m sure a passing coyote or fox could have easily picked one off as they sat on the bank sleeping. But my money is on the family of bald eagles that passed through here a couple of weeks ago. After losing six ducks in three weeks, I decided it was time to bring the rest of them into the barn for the winter. I hated doing it, because it kinda meant my experiment in free ranging failed. But, as I explained to the ducks as I trapped them, “you may not like being trapped in a barn all winter, but you’ll like being duck confit even less!” However, the mandarin ducks were savvy/wary enough to avoid my trapping and in the end I decided to let them stay outside and use their smarts to outwit the predators. So far they’ve done an outstanding job of it, despite nearly daily eagle fly-overs. My hope (wishful thinking??) is that they’ll survive the February hawk and eagle migration and in the springtime teach their indoor compatriots how to be a bit more predator-savvy. Or maybe not. Time will tell.
After all the Christmas parties and duck drama, Christmas itself was rather anti-climactic. Our families were all out of town and Keith actually had to work Christmas day. So, after a nice Christmas Eve dinner with friends at the Blue Door, we called it a night. Christmas morning Keith caught the train for Boston and I toddled off to the library with a cup of tea in hand to light the fire and start writing this letter. Around mid-day I went out to take care of the birds and sheep and stood outside enjoying the silence. Not a plane in the sky, no far away car engine. Just complete stillness on a bright December day. It was very peaceful and I felt lucky to be alive.
E N D N O T E
Writing this letter each year reminds me that while the passage of time is measured in steady increments, its relentless march sometimes happens in fits and starts. One moves through the world sometimes not noticing the changes and then abruptly they’re there and you have to cope with a new paradigm. What was once acceptable is now frowned upon. It can be disconcerting. Getting older only intensifies this confusion, and that, I think, sometimes breeds fear.
When I was a younger man I used to shake my head at older people complaining about how the world is falling apart. “You frightened old coots,” I’d think, “obviously the world gets better by the day.” Now I find myself joining their ranks. Is that an age thing, or has the world really gone off the rails?
The world changes. And we must adapt. I was born into a country that had a population of 180,000 million. Today that number is nearly double at 345,000. Back then we worried about over-population, and now we worry about below replacement fertility rates. Then China was a backwards poverty-stricken peasant country. Now they’re cleaning our clock in all of the technologies that will matter in the 21st century, while we’re in the thrall of ignorant morons bent on destroying the very institutions that made our country so great. Then again, back then I would be classified as a mentally ill criminal, and today I’m just another conventionally married man.
Is the world still getting better? It’s hard to know what is progress and what is a step backwards. I mean, there’s plenty to look forward to. Especially with advances in science (A.I., GLPs, robotics, battery storage, nuclear fusion, medicine) that can help us transition into a world of untold knowledge and plenty. I probably won’t live long enough to see it all come to pass, but some of it is happening right now before our eyes and it’s pretty amazing.
On the other hand, when I see the general state of the Western world and our complete acquiescence to cultural suicide, I despair that my Fukuyamaist hopes will ever come to pass. I long for the center to hold, but I see it collapsing before my eyes. I can’t decide who I detest more – the woke idiots who want to want to police my every thought, or the MAGA morons who want a total kakistocracy. A pox on both their houses!
As much as I want there to be, there is no constant in this world. One can’t hold on to a moment of time, much less a way of life. Just as I can’t force Walmart to stock Wright’s silver polish just because I’m the only one who polishes silver today, I can’t force a return to the bipartisan civility of the past to our political discourse. Nothing lasts forever.
But that’s not entirely true. There is one thing that endures, despite all the nonsense of this deeply polarized moment in time and our disposable click-bait culture. And that is the deep bonds of friendship and love that hold people together. I am so grateful that there are still people like you that make this world not only bearable, but a joy to experience each day. In these crazy times I find solace in your presence. I look forward to seeing more of you in 2025. Until then,
So, for old lang syne, my dear,
Alan
Utterly beautiful photos. Old Rag endures. Happy New Year!
Alan. Each year I look forward to your Christmas letter. …this one no exception. I can feel your love of home and countryside. And now on to 2025! Happy New Year.
Loved reading your letter!
Hope you have tried Oban scotch to sip in the Library!
Happy 2025. Susan
A great read as always ! HNY Matt/Chad
Thanks for including me. Loved this. Your home is spectacular. Happy New Year.
Numbers 6:24-26
24) The Lord bless you and keep you;
25) the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you;
26) the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.
Alan,
I’m mostly know you through our mutual friends, T&T, but so enjoy your cheery and cranky observations alike! Your stories are rich with detail and love. Thank you for your openness and your eloquence. 2024 was a great read!
Thank you for sharing 2024 Alan. I love the walk through Alans mind – the deep insights, smiles and belly laughs while reading. 🙂 May the pond continue to rise. Wishing you and Keith all good things in 2025!
Alan I loved reading this — it’s brilliant! We miss you and Keith. You have built a paradise and I love the photos! Walter and I have gone through our entire library of books too and renovated here in Old Town — well worth it. Please stop by in 2025.
Again, Alan an incredible journey throughout the year of your and Keith’s adventures…a raconteur extraordinary! You cheer me w your pictures and progress…I look forward to this journal every January…many thanks for continuing to share w me…
Happiest of new years wishes to you, the farm and your rivian! ♥️
Lovely recap and sentiments! I guess you can be glad that you got the crown molding before the tarrifs kick in! And that I am not the only one that makes travel errors…
Nessa