The steward of Patterdale Hall, Chris Wyatt, proudly shows off a stately zucchini. (Photo by Reilly Dixon)
The Patterdale Hall Diaries | Truly an entangled life
- Published: December 7, 2024
Sept. 25, 2024
Fall has arrived with a thump. The weather broke and we have cloudy skies, rain and temperatures in the 60s.
Work is currently kicking my ass, but I will make time to clear the vegetable beds and prepare them for winter. Cleared of weeds, covered in manure and mulched with cardboard, they can sleep for four months before I need to do anything else with them.
I guess I can start dreaming about what to grow next season. I only grew a few crops, but they were extremely successful, and I will definitely grow squash again as well as sungold tomatoes. I was going to grow green beans but didn’t get around to it; I think that will be my focus in 2025.
Sept. 28, 2024
We got smashed with weather again, but no trees are down out at the Hall. Something has come down, though, because there is no power. This means I’ll need to take the ice out of the freezer before it floods everywhere. We did lose a big tree limb at home, but it missed the garage and the house, and instead fell on the firepit. Kismet.
Power is back, so all is well. It’s going to rain for days. I haven’t mowed since we pressed apples, which was weeks ago; it got very dry.
Still, the rain is manageable unlike what happened in Asheville and the surrounding areas. They were hit by Hurricane Helene and have lost roads. My friend Peggy lives on Black Mountain, and they are trapped there for the time being, shooting rabbits and squirrels to feed their dogs.
I don’t think I have ever known summer to have ended so abruptly. Last Thursday was glorious and then by Friday, it was fall. Temperatures fell by 30 degrees and the heavens opened. I enjoyed summer this year; usually it is too hot, but this year I was OK with that. It helps that I do not work in the summer and can dedicate time to myself and the family.
Today’s rainy-day chore is to help Morris complete the Common App for university, which absolutely will be a chore but has to be done. He will likely go to Wright State and study business, but he may sneak in applications to other places and see what scholarships he can get.
I will need to do something methodical and fun to balance this onerous chore, and so I think I’ll make a big pot of chili for Morris. Cooking is never a chore; I love it.
I’m currently listening to the album “Takk,” by Sigur Ros. The last time I listened to this in its entirety, I was leaving The Kingdom of Fife forever. I was going to meet up with Karen and Bob and we were going to fly to America to live. The song “Hoppipolla” came on as I was crossing the Forth Road bridge and I cried. Living in Scotland had been such a wonderful experience, and I had no idea what would happen in America. Bob was 2 years old, and Karen was six months pregnant with Morris. They were uncertain times. We have now lived in Yellow Springs for 17 years and it has been terrific — for the most part.
Raising children is hard and rewarding, and both Bob and Morris seem to be thriving. I’m glad we now have Patterdale Hall. I’m very tired and I need to rest. The Hall is the place where I will rest.
Oct. 5, 2024
My father was a biochemical toxicologist for 40 years.
He worked almost exclusively on paraquat toxicity. Paraquat — gramoxone — is an herbicide still used in the U.S. but banned in most other places. It’s a mitochondrial poison and can be deadly.
Karen and I opted not to use herbicides at Patterdale Hall out of respect for Jim Prether and the way he farmed out there. We — well, mostly Karen — wiped out most of the invasive honeysuckle with loppers and a chainsaw, and pretty much everyone I spoke to told us to paint the stumps with Tordon or some other herbicide to make sure it didn’t grow back.
Well, it turns out that if you cut a big honeysuckle tree down only a few little shoots grow back, and you can lop those off with secateurs every time you saunter through your lovely clear woodland glades. Eventually, the plant seems to run out of energy and three years in, the stumps begin to rot.
We are lucky in that we only have two acres and can manage the honeysuckle in this manner. I’m not sure we could do 10 acres, but maybe we could.
In addition to honoring Jim’s organic farming legacy, I had a concern that putting herbicide on a tree stump wouldn’t confine the herbicide to that plant alone. I was aware that there is a fungal network that connects trees in forests, as Dr. Suzanne Simard had coined the term “wood-wide web” back in the early 1990s. Dr. Merlin Sheldrake’s “Entangled Life” also talked about this.
However, I am an amateur forest dweller and haven’t read the actual scientific literature. I am about to do just that. I wonder about honeysuckle though; it’s a weird tree, nothing seems to nest in it, and it smothers other trees and plants. I’m really glad that we have managed to knock it back in the Patterdale woodland, and we will continue to work at preventing its return.
What we really need to start doing, though, is to begin to plant native trees. Exciting times. I have no idea what spicebush is, but lots of folks have mentioned it and so, yet again, I’ll do some reading.
*Originally from Manchester, England, Chris Wyatt is an associate professor of neuroscience, cell biology and physiology at Wright State University. He has lived in Yellow Springs for 17 years, is married and has two children and an insane Patterdale terrier.
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