R. M. True

The Kentucky Steward LLC Visits Payne Hollow

In October 2024, The Kentucky Steward LLC was welcomed by Payne Hollow on the Ohio to visit Payne Hollow—the homestead established by famed writer and painter Harland Hubbard and his lovely wife, Anna—to investigate some groundwater issues which has caused soil erosion and instability to select structures and drainage media.

What follows is a brief reflection of The Kentucky Steward’s visit.

A Place Remembered

Although my visit was foremost professional, I could not stir my irregular heartbeat. I had not visited Payne Hollow since Spring of 2011, my sophomore year at Trimble County High School. Then, it was cared for by the Hubbards’ good friend and fellow artist Paul Hassfurder as Harlan and Anna had passed in 1986 and 1988, respectively.

I could still taste the buttered toast Paul offered me fresh from the Hubbard’s wood stove. This gesture, mixed with the unspoiled allure of Payne Hollow, had welcomingly haunted my dreams since.

Payne Hollow, now under the care of Payne Hollow on the Ohio, a non-profit organization whose primary mission is to preserve, protect, and promote the legacy of the Hubbards and the life they built, lay vacant. Its wood stove cool as the Kentucky Fall breeze. But, amidst good-hearted conversation with new friends David Wicks and Joe Wolek—mostly discussing our admiration of Harlan’s resourceful, deliberate woodwork and multi-faceted use of every object in the home—I could have sworn I heard an ember crack.

David and Joe, having been acquainted with myself for under an hour, treated me with the respect one offers to year-long companions. More aptly, they offered their welcome in the same manner the Hubbards might have; the same welcome Paul had offered so many years ago.

“What do you think of it all?” I remember Joe asking.

“A great deal,” I hope I had said.

An observable warmth had entered the holler re-settling my heart at last.

How could such a cold, empty place built on the fringe of society, feel like home?

I thumbed through several dusty polaroids of Harlan and Anna, most of which were candids around the homestead, and euphoria rushed over me. But my euphoria was soon diluted with embarrassment. In my hands were two stewards of the land close to the earth with an unyielding respect for the river and soil and each other. The only machines in their lives, the camera that had snapped these photos, and the small motor on their johnboat always resting in wait at the riverbank.

I, further from this lifestyle than I had realized, felt strange as a modernistic sinner in some holy place.

Strange or judged? If judged, then by whom? Harlan and Anna were not there.

My wife and I had just purchased our farm in May just prior to our son being born in July and had already devised countless plans, as most do, to live deliberately and to “sustain ourselves directly by our own labor, hand to mouth” as Harlan and Anna had done. In standing in the Hubbard’s home, looking out toward the river as they had all those mornings and evenings and the in-between, I felt I had made next to little progress in this pursuit.

As Rome wasn’t built in a day, I tried to reassure myself, neither had Payne Hollow.

Though this felt like an excuse, a general deferment of the effort I realized was required to attain the lifestyle the Hubbards so clearly lived.

The sun setting and its color deepening, the new friendships, and the unseen hands of Harlan and Anna extended out to greet me had finally lowered my guard. With every drawer I had opened, every window gazed through, I began to understand the nature of this place.

Payne Hollow is a world unto itself, a testament to the deliberate rhythms of life carved from the overlooked and unattended margins of society. Here, Harlan and Anna Hubbard lived in quiet harmony with the land, embracing the seasons and the bounty they offered. Fires were stoked throughout the night and again at dawn to warm the home and prepare simple meals—from small ground game, their seasonal gardens, and milk from their “kids”, their beloved goats.

Their days unfolded with unhurried purpose: Harlan painting landscapes and carving woodcuts, Anna tickling the ivories on her grand piano—that had been shipped by boat across the river and hoisted through their bay window—both working together seemingly as one to strengthen their homestead, ever innovating and improving the structures that sheltered their ideal lifestyle.

Evenings brought the reflection of the river and the solace of a meal—perhaps a groundhog caught nearby—followed by Harlan’s journal entries, written by lamplight, which one day would yield Payne Hollow: Life on the Fringe of Society. In such manners, the Hubbards revealed the art of living simply but richly, a life open to discovery at the pace the world offered, neither hurried nor forced. And yet, the inspiration drawn from Payne Hollow is not a summons to mimic their lives exactly, rather an invitation to consider the ideals they embodied. To live hand to mouth—and if the transfer of goods is necessary, bartering rather than the exchange of monies—as they did perhaps is not the only way.

Rather, their universal influence is revealed to me: live deliberately with intention, gratitude, and respect for the land; especially in light of the falling world inwrought with capitalistic materialism and consumerism and environmental destruction, and to approach our loved ones—and neighbors should they come down the pass—with equal intentionality, respect, and delicacy as one paints a picture, writes poetry, plays Brahms or the like.

Like my daughter and son, I have learned to approach many aspects of life with baby steps. I will approach this universal truth in the same manner.

“Let me show you what we’re dealing with,” David said. “I know we could just as well sit and chat all day.”

Having just finished Shantyboat, I recalled humorously Harlan’s observation of Trimble County soon after first tying up on Payne Hollow’s riverbank in 1944: “Visiting is serious business in these parts.”

David and Joe then led me out of the Hubbard’s home to investigate in-situ groundwater issues upslope of Harlan’s workshop a stone-throw away.

All things in this world—our lives and the legacies we build—are ultimately on loan from Nature. Standing before Harlan’s workshop, I saw the undeniable marks of time, a reminder that even the most deliberate creations have an expiration date.

During intense rainfall, when groundwater cannot infiltrate the soil, groundwater runoff directly upslope of Harlan’s workshop rushes down the hillside and erodes the topsoil exacerbating existing flow channels and small animal burrows which clearly had jeopardized the structural integrity of the subfloor retaining wall and perpetuates integral damage to Harlan’s greater studio.

David and Joe led me through Harlan’s workshop and studio and out its front entrance to introduce their other concern. The influence of the hillside groundwater runoff could be seen on the front side of Harlan’s studio as it had eroded soil surrounding the eastern and southern walls terminating into a wide natural drainage ditch. Vegetation and natural root support within the ditch was limited, therefore the erosion rate compounded with every storm that would follow. It was perhaps out of respect for Harlan and Anna—and Paul in the interim—that Nature held off its reclamation of the studio.

I think Nature sees our intentions and whether or whether not they are honorable, stewardly. Had Payne Hollow on the Ohio not attained Payne Hollow with an impassioned respect for the Hubbards and their way of life, surely the studio and the Hubbard’s home would have flown downslope, into the Ohio, and made way to New Orleans to follow in the Hubbards’ 80-year old wake.

I recalled Harlan’s indecision regarding how he might end his novel—and likewise their plight at—Payne Hollow:

 “Perhaps I shall not write a definitive ending, either of the book or our occupancy of Payne Hollow. It may be written by a bulldozer swooping down to wipe out this remnant of wilderness in the name of progress, or we might simply drift away with the ever passing river, leaving Payne Hollow to work out its future destiny without us. Some memory of our stay here will possibly remain and we may become a legend of Payne hollow, distorted by time and repetition.”

Their memory grows in potency and breadth to countless folk thanks to Payne Hollow on the Ohio and its welcomed travelers.

I, like David and Joe, knew that these groundwater and soil issues could not continue any longer. We discussed in detail our collective observations and spoke briefly on potential remedies, though I deferred my official recommendations in the form of a report I would provide within the week.

Engineers seldom rush recommendations by word of mouth, preferring pencil and paper, and besides; I felt an intoxicating mix of youthful joy and the humbling weight of inadequacy—awed by witnessing a legacy, and the ideals it fosters, far greater than myself or that of any traveler that may trek down the pass.

I stood in Harlan’s studio for a few moments, though they rendered as hours.

The studio, an intricate mosaic of the practical and profound, was a place where Harlan’s ingenuity was made manifest in every corner. Discarded canvases leaned against the walls like abandoned windows into other worlds, their surfaces whispering half-formed ideas. Coffee cans brimmed with nails and woodworking stains and other tools—simple yet vital implements of a life crafted deliberately. Nothing labeled, though everything in order down to the inch. Their remained everyplace the markings of an artist and craftsman who sought in his work not perfection but purpose; and if not purpose, perhaps mere conversation with his subject matter.

I see you, Harlan, Payne Hollow might’ve spoke to him.

I see you, Harlan might’ve whispered back through each brushstroke and hammer blow.

I checked my wristwatch and discovered had I not make way up the hill to Hollowpanyo to my car I would fail to see my children before their bedtimes. I reiterated to David and Joe that I understood their concerns and would offer to the best of my abilities recommendations for remedying the groundwater and soil issues at present.

We then trekked merrily up the hill to Hollowpanyo, the air fresh in my lungs in part from the Kentucky Fall breeze, but more so from the attainment of new friends, stewards at that, and from the spiritual cleansing Payne Hollow had provided. I felt like a paintbrush, once stiff with dried pigment, now cleansed in the clear spring waters of Payne Hollow—ready to leave my mark anew.

I left Payne Hollow as one parts ways with a fleeting sunset, knowing its singular beauty would linger in memory, though never return. The climb to my car, once daunting, now felt lighter. Each step, once uneven, seemed to smooth beneath my feet, as though Payne Hollow itself guided me onward. After arriving to my farm, I heard the not the sounds of vehicles, or alike and unlike machines, but the sound of birdsong and clean, rushing water from the creek in the dark wood and the thudding of little hands on my home’s front window, I felt I had changed in some way.

An excited inner voice had told me I would approach tomorrow and tomorrow’s tomorrow with a refined sensibility of living deliberately, intentionally, as stewardly as I could at this place and time.

Clearly, there remained a long road ahead—one I had hoped might lead me back to Payne Hollow time and time again—no doubt rich and forever yielding with lessons to be learned.

Payne Hollow’s New Stewards and New Friend of The Kentucky Steward

It should be stated that The Kentucky Steward could not be more excited to witness the mission of Payne Hollow on the Ohio. As I have shared with David and Joe, and the collective’s other board members, Ted and Susan, The Kentucky Steward offers its hand of support in limitless capacity in perpetuity.

After attending an open house in December 2024 where Payne Hollow on the Ohio presented its Strategic Plan for 2025-2027, The Kentucky Steward can think of no greater ally in our collective plight to ethically steward our fine state of Kentucky.

This January maintains Harlan’s 125^th birthday. In celebration of Harlan and Anna, I encourage all stewards, and visitors alike, to visit https://www.paynehollowontheohio.org/about-us to research in detail Payne Hollow on the Ohio’s greater mission to steward Payne Hollow and promote the life of stewardship its builders lived.

The Kentucky Steward’s Engineering Recommendations to Payne Hollow on the Ohio

If fellow stewards are interested, I have embedded below the official, brief report encapsulating The Kentucky Steward’s engineering recommendations for the groundwater and soil issues stated herein. I hope you find them well and see too that they are offered in good faith with the primary intent at play to be stewardly and remedying in a way Harlan and Anna might respect. It is my understanding that Payne Hollow on the Ohio has already put many of these recommendations, including tangential ones, into action.

steward the state!