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Dick
and Cole Burrell and I are very proud that our book on
hellebores won the AHS Book of the Year. Click on the Amazon link
below for information.
The second link is to a great new book
by our daughter Helen Kraus and Ann
Spafford.
Gruesome threesome at work
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What's Missing at Pine Knot?
If
you have come to Pine Knot before you may remember we are
particularly fond of our dogs and cats. We are sad to say we lost
four members of our furry family. Three were 18 year old cats, two
were born here and the third found us when he was a starving
stray. A pitiful orange
and white tom cat came one day in August when the Eupatorium
purpureum was blooming along our roadsides. Although we already had
four cats we could not turn this fellow down, so Mr. Joe Pye Weed
joined our family. Joe designated himself nursery greet cat and he
took his duties seriously, frequently accompanying customers around
the whole nursery. He would go out with the potting crew and settle
into a flat to supervise or help with the transplanting by walking
down each flat of seedlings watching for mice. Joe had the
kindest, most friendly nature we have met in a cat, he liked
everyone. From the first this stray wasn't afraid of our dogs, of
small children or strangers as is the case with many cats. His purr
rumbled in his chest from the day he came until he died in my arms.
Joe Pye
Weed
White Socks and Baby Shirt were born at the
farm. Our daughter Helen and her house mates adopted two kittens
while they were at N.C.S.U. When Helen brought the two sisters home
on Spring Break. As sometimes happens during Spring Break both girls
met an intriguing country tom and the Girls Went Wild. When they
came back to the farm for Summer Break both were heavily pregnant.
Not too many days later they had kittens. The litters were combined
and the new mothers shared their duties, each nursing all the
kittens in her turn. After a few days it was impossible to tell
which kitten went with which mother. Three of the young
ones became our cats. Popsicle, and orange and white tom,
White Socks a gray and white female and Baby Shirt a tabby male.
White Socks enjoyed her
kitten-hood outside and for a couple of years was known as a
Butterfly Destroyer. She would leap four feet into the air to
capture a butterfly innocently feeding on a Buddliea bloom. She
would come in with wings sticking out of each side of her mouth.
After several years Socks decided she preferred indoor living and
usually stayed inside unless we were late coming in from work.
Then she would come out to the end of the walk in her White Socks
and howl at us. If no one responded in the proper amount of time she
would come out to the shipping house and most indignantly,
remind us it was way past time to come inside and give the
kitties their after work snack.(Chick on image at left to see a
larger photo of Dick and our 6 cats at snack time.) Socks spent the
last few years of her life in a basket on our kitchen counter where
she could supervise the preparation of any food stuff that might be
acceptable to cats. Socks died peacefully in her sleep, a gentle old
lady. White Socks in a Tree
Baby Shirt chose me (Judith) to be his
person when he was just a few days old. He would stumble out of the
kitten nest at the sound of my voice even before his eyes were open.
His name, Baby Shirt and Pants, was derived from the fact that when
he was a kitten his fur was darker on his hind end than on the front
end. This gave his the appearance of wearing a shirt and a pair of
pants. He was a small cat, never more than 5 or 6 pounds, but in his
heart he was a lion.
For 18 years he would greet me each morning, and accompany me
through my day. He would ride on my shoulder, with his front paws
hanging on to my back and his hind end cupped in my hand. sit on my
computer, in my chair, help me with whatever I was doing and sleep
beside me each night. Baby sat with me patiently every hour as I
wrote and came running when I called his name at bedtime. His fur
smelled of sunshine and moss and his purr warmed my soul. I loved
him unreservedly and I see his shadow everywhere I go. Baby Shirt in my
chair
Tristan was one of the
sweetest Labs we have ever had the honour to share our lives with.
Like all of us, he had a few problems. One of the most
noticeable being his obsession with sticks of any kind. When he was
a puppy we spent time tossing sticks for him. He loved it above all
else and began to want any and every stick he saw. If we threw a
stick out of the garden he would charge through the border to
retrieve the stick. He was a Labrador Retriever
after all. It didn't matter to him if an old lady happened to
be using that stick to walk, "Hey, she has two!" he thought, as he
ripped one of the canes from her hand. A friend who was assisted by
a beautiful carved African walking stick visited one day and Tris
came barreling up behind him and grabbed the stick in his teeth,
almost upending our friend. It became apparent even to us, perhaps
the dullest of parents, that our puppy had outgrown his cute stick
play. We were forced to limit, then restrict, then totally eliminate
his stick play. We bought soft toys. We bought hard toys, none were
as good as just plain old sticks. Visitors to the gardens,
especially those with children would see this adorable dog come
running up to them with a stick in his mouth. When he dropped the
stick at their feet they understood his request and tossed the stick
for him. A couple of times he almost up ended a baby or two to get a
stick. We put a sign in the parking area which read "Please do
not toss sticks for dogs" hoping this would help prevent visitors
from supporting his habit. Tris had other ideas though. He
would greet visitors with a stick in his mouth and when they opened
the door to their car he would drop it in their laps, hoping they
hadn't seen the sign. We never understood why such a
number of people ignored the sign. Finally his stick chasing slowed
down, not by anything his sapless humans did, but by his bad hips.
As the years went by he became more and more infirm. Our wonderful
veterinarian Dr Alan Dahl who has assisted so many of our
animals (and saved Rosie's life!) did all he could to ease Tris's
pain. Clarksville Vet. Clinic We were even
to the state of beginning to discuss the Awful Option but couldn't
bring ourselves to have a friend put down as long as his tail
thumped with such joy when we entered the room. While we were
at PPA in the summer of 2007 we received the telephone call telling
us that Tris had died. Tris
2009 was a tough year at Pine Knot
in many ways, the economy has put many stresses on us as well as
most other small businesses, but we lost two old friends as well.
Our Ivy dog died on the second Hellebores Festival Weekend. This
was the dog Dick found on the side of the road who appeared
dead on the trip into town but had changed his position on
Dick's return. Dick stopped the van, walked over to the dog who
looked up at him and thumped his tail. The dog had been beaten,
starved and was so infested with fleas, ticks and internal parasites
that we couldn't even bring him into the house until he'd been
treated by our vet. Ivy also had heartworms when Dick found him
and after treatment his congenital heart disease left him with
lifelong breathing problems. Even with all his
problems Ivy was one of the sweetest, most devoted
natured animals we've ever known. He "fattened up" nicely
and for the rest of his life he was a happy dog. The last
three years of his life he was blind, but this did not seem to
bother him very much, he followed us every step and enjoyed every
bit of attention given to him. Ivy
Along with Ivy we lost Popsicle,
the last of our "Hand Raised Kittens", brother of Socks and Baby
Shirt. Pops, Mr. Ickle, Poppie, Ickley Bits, Icky Poo,
or Poppie C. Ickle, he had many names, was the Top Cat in our
house for over 21 years. He was in such good health that when we
took him in for a checkup our vet's new assistant couldn't believe
that he was 20 years old. He lived his life as we should all live
ours, to the fullest, never doing anything he did not want to do and
enjoying everything he did. He was Dick's special cat as Baby Shirt
was mine. The last year or so of his life when Dick would come into
the house Pops would hear him and come running, then he'd stand and
yowl till Dick sat down and "Made Lap". As far as Popsie was
concerned, Dick was around for two things, opening cans and making
lap. He died in his sleep, on his sofa
loved by all his family. Who could
ask for more? Pops
Pine
Knot Farms 681
Rockchurch Road Clarksville
Virginia, 23927
phone
434-252-1990 fax
434-252-0768
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