The Manor is really an old four-room two-story log cabin, built in the early 1800's, and later covered in clapboard, then aluminum siding. One of our volunteers spent many hours this summer caulking and repairing the 177 window panes on the home.
Natural springs burst out from the limestone in many places on the property. Most springs feed one of the small creeks. One of the early owners decided to build a spring house over a convenient spring just downhill from the house. Cool water still bubbles through the small building, ready to preserve milk, fruits and vegetables as it did almost 200 years ago. Last fall, a windstorm blew off its tin roof, and it sat there wounded, while we searched for money to make repairs. Actually, it will be a restoration, because a new cedar shingle roof is going on, much more authentic for a structure of this age.
The builders include the grounds manager, one of the members from the board of directors, and two other volunteers with terrific skills. As I watched them work, I felt the stream of time flowing through the building. When the first construction crew worked here, they had to quarry the stone, mix the mortar and place all the stones. Before putting on a roof, they had to cut the timber, make the nails, and cut the cedar to make the shakes or shingles to put on the roof. I mentioned this to our crew, and they expressed their appreciation for Home Depot which delivered all the material right to the site!
The Manor has four rooms in the original part, including this wonderful dining room. Each room has its own fireplace, since that was the only heat source in the 1800's. The hill above the spring house has been burned off and reseeded with Kentucky native plants, such as Little Bluestem grass. In the spring, the hill glows softly with wildflowers. In the fall, the Bluestem looks almost reddish, despite its name.
At the edge of the meadow, a Red Shouldered Hawk perches in a bare tree, searching for a tasty mouse for breakfast, while warming herself in the bright morning sun.
Since the first frost has not arrived yet, even though it is mid-November, a few brave flowers continue to bloom, including this Black-eyed Susan, some violets, and of course, the ever hardy dandelions.
Goldenrod seeds look like blossoms themselves, nodding in the breeze.
As you enter the main drive, stately maples line the lane. Well, they used to be stately. Now they are home to woodpeckers, insects and shelf fungus on the dead and dying branches. Maples don't give up easily though, and each tree has enough living branches to survive. Smaller trees grow between their elders, so they will be ready to take their place when the final windstorm blows down the larger trees.
When the preserve was established in 1975, there were few trees at all. Since the property was a working farm, mowed pasture for livestock was the common condition, but the donors wanted to create an arboretum, so the USDA was called in for advice. Their recommendation included planting hundreds of Autumn Olives, so that was done. Sigh... It seems that every story I hear about plants now regarded as undesirable includes the government recommendation that it be planted. Now the grounds manager is clearing the Autumn Olive out with a skip loader, simply ripping it up to clear the understory, and cutting large vines, both grape and poison ivy, which are strangling the trees. From the cutback done last year, native plants are making a good recovery already, so everyone is hopeful.
As a volunteer, I get to teach classes about fossils and birds, wander around taking lots of pictures, help plan events, and I redesigned their website. Offering is easy, but it's hard to get folks to let you work on their website, no matter how badly it needs it, so I really appreciate Tavia letting me do this. Also, Tavia Cathcart, the director, is a wonderful expert on plants and wildlife, so I have a built in resource for mystery flowers when I find them!