The year 1992 was dubbed by The Queen of England to be her Annus Horribilis – a common Latin term for horrible year – after parts of Windsor castle burned down along with some of its priceless historical artifacts.
This year is farmer Jake Fairbairn’s Annus Hay-ribilis, an extraordinarily bad hay season, the worst in his entire decades-long career on the farm, due to this summer’s incessant rain. Nobody’s going to get that reference, Jake told me, but I just couldn’t think of another hay pun.
I didn’t think the reference was that well-known until along came The Crown on Netflix, which I stopped watching after Season 2. Being a Londoner, I had watched the real thing play out in British newspapers growing up and that was enough for me. No Brit who was old enough in 1992 can forget the images of the sour-faced Queen picking through the castle wreckage in her Welly boots and headscarf, tutting over charred objects that had been once admired by the likes of Henry VIII.
The very first post on Upstate Dispatch on September 9th, 2014, which you can find here, was a post on my first watercolor completed under the tutelage of Alix Travis. After ten years, this watercolor is up for sale at the Andes Academy of Art on 506 Main Street, Andes, NY 13731.
The opening of the show is on July 15th, 2023 from 2pm to 6pm and curated by Peter Mayer.
It’s been a while since I wrote with any regularity here, and I need to get back to my roots as a writer, so I started a new project: documenting the history and workings of this 93-year-old working farm to which I moved exactly two years ago: Lazy Crazy Acres Farm and its resident farmer Jake Fairbairn who makes hay and maple syrup on 100 acres. It’s a collaboration between Lazy Crazy Acres Farm and Upstate Dispatch. The farm is in need of some serious TLC. The house needs renovating and the farm equipment needs constant repair. Will we be able to fix up the house in time for the farm’s centenary? Who knows? But we have started by fixing the back porch, which was falling down.
Farming is a hugely risky endeavor. The weather is boss and this has been an extraordinary year in that this is the first year that Jake has not been able to make hay in June. In May 2023 we had a month of drought conditions: browned grass and hay growth that was only about 60% of last year’s mass. In June we have had near-constant rain. At time of writing, July 4th, Jake is fixing the steering wheel on one of the farm’s 50-year-old tractors, because it is still raining.
Furthermore, it’s not only good practice for me as a writer, but I also feel the need to publish my own authentic story. To this end, my next post will be a piece of my memoir that was published two years ago in Farmerish.net, which I am publishing for the first time here on Upstate Dispatch.
No sooner did I stop posting Daily Catskills on 5/31/23, than along came a swirling dark cloud of wildfire smoke that choked the Catskills, and much of the North East of the US, in a thick, dirty shroud unlike we’ve seen before in this area in living memory.
Historically, June has always been a bit boring for pictures, but not this year. Ordinarily, by the month of June, the Catskills has filled in with its multifarious greens, and daily shots during the summer all seem the same, so I suspend the Daily Catskills genre until autumn when the real colors start to pop. But this year in June, one hundred burning wildfires in Canada traveled on prevailing winds – looking much like a tornado from satellite images – blowing a layer of orange, sooty, ashy smoke for two days from Monday night (June 5th) until Thursday morning (June 8th). The sky became shades of orange, blue and grey – and blazing red around our bloodshot eyes. Everybody looked like they’d been up all night partying, coughing like they’d just smoked 20 cigarettes.
Moreover, it all got a little unnervingly chilly under that massive cloud of wildfire like we were in a Cormac McCarthy novel, I wondered, should we get the cart and starting walking??
But it all blew over.
The moral of the story is that we are all connected. It’s never been more obvious that the struggles of our neighbors are also our concern. Huge fires that burn thousands of miles away send smoke signals around the world, heralding the alert of climate change.
To compound the issue, we have had an unseasonably dry spring here in the Catskills and still have the big beige patches of crunchy brown grass to prove it. Hay season will bring roughly 60% of the yields of previous years in the Dry Brook Valley. The Catskills used to be a veritable rain forest, but not this spring. Our rivers are running low and the infamous Kaatskills waters are evaporating. Locally, we’ve received reports that springs are drying up, and that the water levels are at 50%.
We’ve had some rain in June thus far, but it’s been a mediocre mist at best. The first half of June has thus far been a drought.
“Are you coming to the drawing tonight?” Gary Mayer asks me. I’m honored to be part of a Catskills figure drawing group with local artists such as Steve Burnett, Gary, Peter Mayer, and Sandy Finkenberg.
“No,” I say. “I’m going to a potluck dinner”.
“Well, you won’t find potluck in here,” he says as he steps up into his studio. “More like shit out of luck,” he laughs, highlighting a disparity between the lightness of his personality and the intensity of his work. He’s quick to laugh, good company and chatty, but this magnanimity belies the intensity of his imagery. “I have a wild imagination,” he frowns, nodding gravely. “I didn’t sleep a lot as a kid”. We have something in common. “Me, too,” I say. It’s a little exhausting. But I’m keen to keep him laughing because all the profile pictures I see of him make him look flummoxed, for want of a better word.
His general demeanor is nonchalance, however, like his image: hey, look at this shit I did. I don’t get it either. *Shrugs* The ad for his new gallery in Margaretville named Art Up is photo of a handwritten note, for example. I get the sense that his reward comes from expressing himself, while painting, rather than the final work being appreciated.
Sunny and warm with a high of 64F and a cooling breeze. Drought conditions. Browning grass begging for some rain. Sunny sunset down by the dwindling river.
A moody day: some sun breaking through the cloud in the morning, then humid with showers in the afternoon, and a mist over the landscape making it look covered in a veil of thin whitewash. A high of 74F.
A still and humid day with sprinkles of rain, and overcast with heavy mist. A high of 71F. The Catskills have filled in with green, and the dandelions are taking their leave.
A moody day with giant clouds and a strong breeze, but humid with a high of 67F. The sun sank slowly into the dusk like an ember fizzling into the sea.
Baking in the sun with a high of 78F and an empty sky, save for the odd wisp of stray cloud, and throngs of dandelions taking flight in the light breeze like the tutus of tiny ballet dancers. The sky becoming more crowded late afternoon. A pre-summer scorcher.
At upper elevations in the middle of the Catskills, the foliage has yet to fill in completely, and there is still no lilac. A waxy layer of cloud and a high of 63F with a warm breeze.
A sunny morning, at last, becoming overcast after lunch, but still bright with a high of 57F. Late afternoon sprinkles, combined with the sun’s rays bursting through gaps in the enormous clouds. A true mess of weather.
“Empty your mind. Be formless, be shapeless, be water. You put water in the cup. It becomes the cup. Put water in the teapot. It becomes the teapot. Water can flow, drip creep or crash. Be like water, my friend.” Bruce Lee (who never labelled Tree Juice Maple Syrup). Yet more water falling from the sky causing impatience, and a high of 55F.
Rainy, overcast and chilly for most of the day with a high of 54F, but you would hardly believe that on the peaks at sunset, under a shining sky layered with milky blue whipped cloud. A glorious end to an unremarkable day.
More gloom with brief flashes of sunshine, and a chilly breeze for a high of 57F. Late afternoon, a giant, gray, spaceship-sized cloud moves in that sprinkles very little rain, and moves on quickly leaving a few scattered remnants of itself behind to bask in a blazing, fiery sunset. A remarkable evening.
A little gloomy and chilly, until mid-afternoon when the sun emerged amidst a mist of milky blue. Then late afternoon rain, which continued into the evening, but moved on, chased east towards the horizon by a glorious sunset. A high of 56F.
Cold, with a high of 48F and a chilly wind. A mostly gloomy day with the sun emerging late afternoon like it had spent all day a work. A beautiful evening.
A little dull and boring with a high of 51F and some light rain. Giant rain clouds separate briefly late afternoon to reveal the sun. Hail storms reported in the southern Catskills.
Overnight rain continues throughout the day. Mostly overcast with a blanket of cloud and a high of 54F. A little gloomy, with the dullness casting a pall over the alternate stripes of green and bare brush.
A blazing sunny day. A high of 66F, but seemed much hotter, with fine cloud like a shroud until after 4pm when a thick pack of wadding rolled in and brought rain that got heavier in the evening, thunder, lightning, and a surprise tornado. Rain for the rest of the evening.
A scorcher: boiling hot, sunburnt arms, some interesting scanty cloud mid-afternoon that made the sky look like it’s going bald, and a high of 81F. Feels like summer, but the foliage is saying early spring. Daytime photo shoots for work, and soccer in Fleischmanns Park until sunset. (Dinner at Sam’s).
Overcast with shimmering cloud, periods of sunshine and a bitter breeze. A high of 45F. The peaks are beginning to fill in with the vivid greens. Suddenly clear skies late afternoon for a clear sunset.
Early morning snow, and an overcast day with clouds like a jumble of cotton wool. Late afternoon rain, turning to evening snow. A gloomy day with a high of 46F. The green buds keep budding.
Early morning rain continued throughout the day until late afternoon. Humid and overcast with a high of 61F. The green shoots, having overtaken the red ones, appear to have begun to unfurl suddenly overnight. The landscape is filling in.
A bright, dewy morning with last night’s rain steaming into the sun. A warm, muggy day, with partial cloud cover and a high of 72F. A mass of clouds appeared just before sunset like a circus troupe had rolled into town for the evening, and tumbled around in the sky until sunset.
A steamy morning rising to 78F by noon. Overcast with all the cloud, like its a cloud convention and everybody showed up. Afternoon storms with hail and rain. Very tropical.
A high of 88F and humid with a gentle breeze. A steamy day, with the green buds emerging amidst the red, and the setting sun drawing a length of cloudy curtain across the sky at sunset.
A balmy, summer-like day: clear skies, strong breeze with a glorious high of 77F. No global warming here, no sir! Lavender sunset highlights spring colors.
