If I had a hammer,
I’d hammer in the mornin’,
I’d hammer in the evenin’,
All over this land!
-American Folk Song

The deep echoes of Bill hammering orchard clips to the new trellises mixed in the air with the tap-tap of John and Melissa removing nails that held insulation board in the barn’s northern addition. These familiar sounds were like the voices of these friends, reminding you that they too were working toward a new year – setting up shop for new trees to be planted and barns to be re-purposed. Meanwhile Brint and I were deconstructing the eastern wing of the old pony shed to make it into a more fitting garden shed. We found bridles and horse mats, Legos and filled half a bucket of nails and screws from years of horse-related additions to this old chicken coop.

The hammer – that one tool which reaches across all boundaries; sneaking into even a grandmother’s house with a purple flower handle and filling the corners of our workshops as sledges and rubber mallets. My earliest memories of working with hand tools were trying to pound old roofing nails into firewood in our living room. My girls love to find the smallest hammers available and “help” me in the shop. They most often find scraps of wood and create high chairs and tables for their baby dolls, with lots of help from Mama of course! Last winter I bought Josh a new hammer and as I opened the gift from him we were both laughing – he bought me one too! We joke that it was the year we got “hammered” at Christmas!

As a farmer, many tools fill our sheds and benches. Over the past few years I’ve found that there are several I can’t live without. I love the scuffle hoe, the hand cultivator, the seeder, and the wheel hoe. But at this time of year all of these have been washed and put away. Out come the hammers and the sanders, the screw guns and the circular saws. During the summer these tools make an occasional appearance, but the work of growing food fills most of the day and they are merely for fixing garden tools or greenhouses. In these winter months there is more time for creative projects and demolition too.

We enjoy working with our hands in a different way, building new structures and as we disassemble others we think of those gone before and the kind of farming they lived by. In a book entitled Winter Poems I came across this one, it paints a perfect picture of what winter looks like for those of us who live in the soil:

Oregon Winter
The rains begin. This is no summer rain.
Dropping the blotches of wet on the dusty road:
This rain is slow, without thunder or hurry:
There is plenty of time – there will be months of raink
Lost in the hills, the old gray farmhouses
Hump their backs against it, and the smoke from their chimneys
Struggles through the weighted air. The sky is sodden with water,
It sags against the hills, and the wild geese,
Wedge flying, brush the heaviest cloud with their wings.
The farmers move unhurried. The wood is in,
The hay has long been in, the barn lofts piled
Up to the high windows, dripping yellow straws.
There will be plenty of time now, time that will smell of fires,
And drying leather, and catalogs, and apple cores.
The farmers clean their boots, and whittle, and drowse.

-Jeanne McGahey

After a long walk on a chilly day, I came inside to visit a friend who responded, “Mmmmm. You smell like cold!” She is an avid skier and loves a good snowy hike. If you know the smell I’m talking about, chances are you too love the outdoors and are as anxious as I am for a good snow. I can’t believe after the unexpected snow in October we haven’t had more than just a few flurries!

Last Thursday I had the privilege to weed the greenhouse. “Privilege?” you say. To which I respond, “YES!” I love weeding and it was truly a joy to work in the soil for a few hours after more than a month without it. No matter if it’s snowy or warm, rainy or dry, this time of year the soil outdoors is always moist. These past few weeks it has a nice frozen crust from the cold nights, but by afternoon it is a living sponge – moist and as soft as a pillow! It is near impossible to weed such wet soil and so we’ve left the garden to do as it will for these next few months. But in the greenhouse I pulled a wheelbarrow of chickweed and ground ivy, grass and yellow rocket, and it was GREAT! The smell of the soil and the earthy winter annuals were enough to make me hungry – yes, I occasionally enjoy “eating my weedies”. Chickweed is my favorite, it has a very earthy and yet fresh crunch. I probably couldn’t eat a whole bowl full, but a few nibbles is always a pleasure.

The greenhouse was cold in the early morning, but as the sun came up I was quickly shedding hats and sweaters. Outside it was still chilly and later that afternoon, when I was in the farmhouse finalizing the garden plan for 2012, Sophie (the dog) came inside, and she smelled like cold. I looked out the window to see flurries! I was elated to watch the sidewalk and then the grass turn white and was hoping it wouldn’t stop. Maybe in the morning I could get out the skis?

Wouldn’t you know it, but Friday morning it was warm and sunny again and the distinct smell of earthworms was in the air. It seems so early to smell something I directly link to spring, but of course worms don’t migrate to warmer climates. They are doing their job all through the year – turning a mix of partially decomposed organic matter and all of the bits of soil into a wonderful environment for growing things. Thank you worms (and all soil organisms) for all the hard work! You take last year’s bits and pieces and recycle them into the perfect nursery for the following year’s seeds and transplants.

And finally, the smell of smoke permeates each of my winter days. We heat our home with wood, and sometimes a smoldering log or a drafty day will have us opening doors to vent out the smoke. As I am outside playing with the girls or carrying lumber to the shop, a breeze will blow smoke my way. It is a comforting, warming smell that reminds me that it really is winter – even if it is 50 degrees outside!

But soon enough the smell of smoke and cold will be on the air less frequently, and instead the faint scent of worms will become a regular part of each day. This will give way to the fragrance of apple blossoms and lettuce, which in turn will make room for carrots and cucumbers, and on and on…