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Farm
Journals
Bridge over the Cumberland River
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Butterfly Hollow Farm ____ The Path Leading Us Here ____ How The Farm Got Its Name ____ Restoring the Old Farmhouse ____ Where The Beefalo Roam ____ Saddle Up The Horses ____ Saving Wilderness and Farm Land ____ Farm Journals ____ Sharing The Farm ____ Guest Book ____ Site Map ____ |
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Ahh! It's another cool morning that greets me as I crawl out of bed feeling my way to the on-switch of the coffee pot. I splash my face with warm water, brush my teeth, slip on my jeans and t-shirt, and time it just about perfect for the last drips of java to come to a rest. I enjoy my first cup sitting on the steps of the wrap around porch, listening to the birds wake up and the purrs of my faithful friend Coleman as he rubs back and forth on my legs. I stroked his head praising him for the scattered fur and headless remains of the two field rats he dined on in the middle of the night. I pour another cup of coffee for myself and make a cup for Sharon, who is still floating somewhere in dream land. She slowly fades back to earth with the drifts of the fresh brew sitting on her nightstand. She smiles and then laughs as my soft, gentle morning massage turns into a tickle. It isn't long before she cranks up her morning stretch and workout tape and I head out to the garden for a little harvesting and "morning worship".  What a wonderful way to start a day. My smile radiates with appreciation for the sunshine, the crisp morning air, and the 5 gallon bucket now half filled with sweet butter beans. Everywhere I look there is a beautiful butterfly sipping a Zinnia or a bumblebee licking the Yellow squash flowers. I'm awakened from this uplifting and inspirational state of mind to the sounds of the dinner triangle ringing from the porch. Boy, that gal can make some of the best biscuits and gravy. After chasing the last piece of bacon with the remaining drops of java , we cleaned up the kitchen and morning dishes and began preparing for an afternoon of canning, hulling and shucking. Together we canned 16 more pints of salsa and some awesome cucumber/onion relish. We took a break from the mators', sat on the porch and hulled the bucket of purple butter beans and shucked a few ears of corn to have with dinner. And what a dinner it was…. Homegrown!! Golden potatoes, sweet mouthwatering yellow corn, baked crooked neck squash, green onions, and sliced tomatoes covered in herbs and our lemonbalm vinigrette dressing. My mouth felt like a festival! After dinner we took a short drive over the river to the beautiful little lakeside community called Defeated Creek. Every now and then the locals get together at Powell's Store for a little pickin and grinnin' and we had heard that tonight was the night. Now the ol' timers in the area don't call the community by its proper name, but instead call it Hogg Town, which goes way back. The store sits right across the road from the shore of Cordell Hull lake and was the perfect picture as we pulled in. The sun was setting and the full moon was already rising and two or three dozen folks were sitting in lawn chairs around the porch of the store. Four fellows were tuning up their banjo, guitars, fiddles and bass, while we walked over saying our greetings and looking for a familiar smile. 
They cranked up the bluegrass and it wasn't long before our friend, "the unofficial Mayor of Hogg Town", came a cloggin over. Junior is a dancin' legend in these parts and can be seen jiggin to just about every song at every Ho-Down, jamboree, or full moon jam. He swooped in on my lovely bride and had her two stepping, buckdancing and having a time of her life.  Sharon tired out way before Junior did and came back to rest a few while I was talking with Smith County's oldest citizen - Pa (Cordell) Kemp. It was such a hoot watching Pa dance. Everyone knows him and cheers his good spirit on as he walks towards the folks dancing and then out in front of the pickers. His arms slowly started moving and then his hips would sway a little and then like a bolt of lightning he would explode into hundreds of moving parts all working in perfect unison. It amazed me how he kept perfect rhythm and then just as quick as he started, his dance turned back into a walk and he drifted back to his chair. Pa's also known for his banjo playing and picked a few tunes while the other musicians took a break.  My Mom showed up in time to spin one or two with the "Mayor of Hogg Town", and we closed the evening sitting around talking and swapping our canning stories. I slowed down on the old bridge as I was driving back over the Cumberland River towards home and looked down stream at the reflections of the Moon and faint lights of Carthage and felt goose bumps. This has been an exceptional day, filled to the top and overflowing with the simple, pure and good.
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info@butterflyhollow.com
Butterfly
Hollow
Gordonsville,
TN 38563