Ski the Farm!

Well that title is not quite accurate, but the deal is we are not local and for MLK weekend we were considering a ski trip or a trip to Tryon Farm.  We managed both by driving from Tryon up to Bittersweet, a ski area about one hour north in Michigan.  Our mostly novice crew had a fine time.  The ski hill is not large but neither is the lift ticket price, and you end up as invigorated, and fatigued as you do in Colorado.  Stopped at Timothy's at the Gordon Beach Inn on the way home, where they offer ten different entrees at $10 each on Sunday nights to pull folks out of their homes on cold nights. Skiing generates a powerful appetite, which Timothy's sated.  We retreated to 31 TFL where the radiant heat from the floor and the radiating heat from the wood stove lulled us in to that deep apres-ski sleep. (2/19/2014, Noonans at the farm, 10)

Barn Hill

Barn Hill has been made over and things are swell. In is the new swimming pond.  Out are the gravel drive, and the housekeeping areas--that means the trash and recycling. New grass is in the front, and the field out back is kept trim. When the barn doors swing open and the strings of lights are on, it is alfresco dining perfection, particularly when the pizza truck pulls up.  I recommend the purple pig--yes that is a pizza--some local microbrew, and a little green salad.  Now tip back and look at the stars.  (10/13, Noonans at the farm: 8)

The second Tryon Farm Run took place on May 18th, and attracted about 260 runners, including yours truly, who cooked pork, tended trail and ran 5K.  There was a bit of chaos at the start, or rather before the start, so my brother suggested I start out on the trail to see if I could follow it.  I made it about 2K of 10K before the first 50K runners blazed past led by my brother, and I can report that all was not entirely clear, but I soldiered on marking things and then perched at a particularly confusing spot to guide people.  Not being experienced in these matters, I did not realize that getting off the trail is part of the deal.  I soon learned that the standard answer to most lost runners is some variant of "You weren't going to win anyway"  or "Your time can be adjusted" or "Speak to my brother".  Some part of the confusion is the trail, and some part is human lemming behavior as they all follow someone who decides to ignore a directional arrow.

After deciding that the first 50K runners now had been through the course once, or were hopelessly lost, I headed up to the barn in time for the 5/10K start, which had its own issues as part of the crowd is cutting off half the loop to get the lesser distance, and a significant subset of both groups of runners has headphones or ear buds in so they hear nothing.  As the crowd thins out and we enter the woods where the trail narrows, we run like Indians, through mud, over logs, ducking limbs.  The finish is through the prairie back to the farm, where beer, water, and pork sandwiches provide fuel, and a horse trough provides cooling.

Respect and admiration to the 50K people, a sturdy and good-humored lot of all ages and sizes,  rather than  the Nike-clad gazelle-robots I expected.  Kudos to my brother for making the race happen.  (Noonans at the farm for the race: ten, including me and all my siblings, a fivesome that is not complete so often.)

Running Wild

If the pinnacle of running boredom is the treadmill, then the polar opposite is trail running.  You get the beauty all around you, but also the focus required by a natural landscape that will trip you up if you do not pay attention.  Mindless trudging is not permitted.  I do not run often, but I run the trails at Tryon.  I focus on the footing that changes from prairie to woods to dune.  I spot the occasional creature--box turtle, snake, deer.  There is something primal about it that is pure, and the primal setting is a lot easier on the joints than pavement.

Want to take a lap?  The Tryon Farm 5/10/50K is May 18th.  More information is available on the Tryon Farm website. (Noonans at the Farm: three now, but lots more for the run.)

Take nothing for granted

I have been looking at Tryon Farm for 15 years.  It was my great joy to look at it last weekend with two couples who were seeing it for the first time. None of the flaws I see were visible to them; instead, they were overwhelmed by the land, the architecture, the setting. the barn, and perhaps the Noonans.  It was a good lesson in vision--do not lose perspective, do not get too close, the farm is a special place. (Noonans at the farm for the weekend: ten)

Rising Waters

Here in the Northeast we are contemplating waterfront property with a different perspective post-Sandy.  The waves breaking in front of the house are nice, while the waves breaking the house are not. Interestingly, some of the new thoughts on shoreline protection look a lot like the pond at Tryon--wetland areas with vegetation,  controlled slopes below the waterline, and a careful consideration of how the water will flow rather than trying to stop it from flowing.  So the lesson is, in small things like the pond and in large things like how we build our cities, that we must adapt to natural forces as our world changes, and give up patterns of living that no longer work.  (11/4/12;  Noonans at the Farm: 2)

Natural Swimming Area (cont'd)

We did not swim before Labor Day.  Perhaps I meant the next Labor Day.  In any event, the work has commenced.  There is a large hole (Olympic-size, Mr. Lochte) and a large liner within it that some skilled craftsperson is seaming, if that is the word, or sealing the seam, if that is the phrase.  In any event, the goal is that the water stay where it is put, except for some splashing and circulation over plant life.  We are making steady progress, subject to delays for two weddings in the barn, which I am told will proceed on separate weekends despite the unscheduled descent of the barn chandelier.  (What, your barn has no chandelier?)  I won't say never a dull moment, but I will point out that our dull moments are enlivened by the croaking of frogs, the chatter of chickadees, and the leaping of the deer through the prairie grass, and soon the splashes of swimmers.

Nature makes nature better!

So it was determined that in the summer in Indiana it is hot, and that water cools a person, and because the pristine waters of Lake Michigan are very close but not on Tryon Farm,  the people of Tryon (some of them) decided to build a natural swimming area so they might cool themselves.  Think not of lanes, lifeguards, and chlorine.  Think instead of a pond, minus creatures, bottom muck and algae, with the water filtered and purified by plants so that nature makes nature better. (Okay there is a pump involved.)  Having trouble visualizing it?  Come visit and plunge in--the construction is in progress and we will swim before Labor Day.

The Road

I understand that the pitch is all about nature--but what about asphalt?  Coming into Tryon Farm you follow a conventional road with a little veer to the left and then a right turn after a straight at which point as you proceed you could go right again to 31 Tryon Farm Lane. Do not go right.  Stay straight.  The road is black and dead flat.  There are no curbs.  The road snakes through the trees.   The trees are fifty feet tall and are inches from the edge of the road which has been laid out to preserve them.  This road is part Hansel and Gretel and part Audi commercial.

Now try it on a moonless night on foot or in the vehicle of your choice.  Put your video games down--the world is a magical place.

Tryon Farm Cures NDD

There was an op-ed piece in the New York Times recently suggesting that many current health problems stem from NDD or Nature Deficit Disorder.  While only half-serious, the author notes the benefits of walking, sunshine, and exposure to dirt as opposed to the sort of thing I am engaged in right now.  Or as a spoof in the New Yorker put it, the outdoors is actually the outdoors not a virtual simulation of the outdoors--it is all real.  Fortunately there is a cure; Tryon Farm cures NDD in minutes.  (4/5/12, Noonans at the farm: 3)

House for Breakfast

What happens at your breakfast table?  A discussion of last night, a plan for the day, a review of the headlines, commiseration about the failures of the local team, the weather--okay we touched on those briefly, but the big topic was "house".  What is the perfect house for the meadow?  Well, we are not sure but our thoughts are a traditional exterior form with a modern interior, two or three bedrooms, some outdoor area and screened porch that connect you from the house to the outdoors, a loft-like kitchen/living/dining area that is all in one space, and bedrooms and bathrooms that are cabin-cozy.  A house that builds on what we love about what is already at the farm,  but is even better.  Look for it this spring, or come tell us about your perfect house.  (Noonans at the farm:  3)

Back to Nature

So the upcoming farm event of note is a 10K or 50K run followed by a pig roast.  This run/roast, like Tryon Farm,  takes us back to nature except this event skips farming and goes back 10,000 years to our glory days on the savanna chasing down animals, lacking speed but winning with large lungs and sweat glands.  Omitted is the bit where the runners finally catch the pig, as there is no pig on the trail, but the symbolism is clear to me. Kudos to my brother Will for  arranging the event, and to the volunteers who have cleared the trail.  Respect to the pig for what he gives us.  (Noonans at the farm:  Sophie, Gabe, Sarah.)

Where is winter?

I am told that Russians suffer from depression during mild winters--like soldiers they are ready for a battle that does not start.  I understand.  Manhattan is mild.  The calendar indicates February, but the temperature could be April.  I want snow, perhaps a foot, and I want it at Tryon, the white blanket around the white barn, and I want to be in it.
  Sorry about the arrow.  A more technologically savvy blogger could photoshop it out.
(Noonans at the farm:  Sophie, Gabe and Sarah, and Sam arrives soon)

Sophie Howard: "Waking up to Paradise"

Tryon Farm inspires many fine things, including now a second blog called "Waking up to Paradise" by my niece, Sophie Howard.  Here is the link:  http://wakinguptoparadise.blogspot.com/2012/01/all-my-friends-back-in-maryland-ask-me.html.  While yours truly is the senior blogger by a few days, my new rival has chosen a wonderful title and currently resides at Tryon Farm, a massive advantage.  Blog on, Sophie--the farm is big enough for both of us.

The Bonfire

What I like best about Tryon Farm isn't the homes or the people--both of which are excellent and some of which I'm related to--but the land that encompasses its 177 acres. When I'm visiting from New York with my wife and son, I take every chance I get to head outside and do something, anything. I can always find a project to do. There's tractors to start and chicken eggs to collect and trails to run. Sometimes I just head into the woods to clear my mind and see how many animals I can spot before they spot me.

Last fall my family hosted the Crescent Moon Festival at Tryon, and there was lots to do in preparation. Lucky for me, the job I most wanted to do was the one nobody else wanted: Build the bonfire. I quickly gathered my team in the late morning, and we all piled into the orange Kubota tractor. With my 4 year old son Cliff on my lap, and his young cousins Sophie and Gabe beside us, we rode into the forest to gather enough dry wood to make a giant bonfire.  The crew worked efficiently and soon the old wagon we towed behind the tractor was full of excellent long poles and sticks of all sizes that would insure a bonfire to live up to its name. Lucy the Dog joined us at this juncture and barked approvingly at our efforts. Not for nothing the woods around my sister Polly's house were now just that much neater.

With our wagon full and midday approaching, I knew our best course of action was lunch. The Tryon Farm Army definitely marches on its stomach, and we could not have been happier to find upon arriving at 31 Tryon Farm Lane that our noses were greeted by the intoxicating scent of grilled cheese. Grilled ham and cheese with avocado to be exact.  Served with cream of potato soup. Have I mentioned that my wife is a genius?!  Just a dozen or so minutes later, I was lingering over my soup and enjoying every last sip of its magic potato-ness, when Cliff walked back into the dining room wearing his work gloves.

"C'mon Dad! Let's get after it!" he said.

Perhaps I've taught him too well.

(Will, 1/20/12, Noonans at the farm: 3, goats not counted)

Why Do We Come to Tryon Farm?

I was on the beach last August chatting with a friend.  She remarked that she was leaving town shortly for Switzerland to join her husband, a professional  musician who was playing at a jazz festival.  There would be parties, music, special events, some international flair--the sort of thing you might see  pictures of in the Times' travel section.  "Wow.  Sounds great,"  was my response.  "Actually," she said, "I'd rather be right here."  "Here" for my friend was a little strip of bay beach, smaller than a decent suburban lawn, stuck at the end of the road in a little Long Island town you have never heard of.

For my family--my wife and three daughters, my parents, my brother and sisters and their children--the "here",  the special place, the place that pulls us to it is Tryon Farm in Michigan City, Indiana where my parents have a house at 31 Tryon Farm Lane.  Why do we come?  We come for the beauty of the farm, and to live in nature in a way that you cannot in the city or suburbs.  We come for the fields, the dunes, the woods, the wetlands,  and for Lake Michigan a bike ride away.  We come for a striking modern house filled with light, covered by a green roof. We come for a community of interesting neighbors who live at the farm. And, of course, we come for family, because my parents envisioned this farm becoming a community twenty years ago,  and nothing ties you to a place like building it.

David  (1/16/12, Noonans at the farm: Sarah, Gabe and Sophie)