death | Apothecary Shed

Groundhogs Must Die

October 15, 2025

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I mean the poor innocent groundhog was only sunning himself BY THE GARDEN. Good dog.

All groundhogs must die.

Obituary: James Romine Michael

August 1, 2025

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This corrected obituary was published in the Morgan Messenger.

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James Romine Michael

1935-2025

James Romine Michael, age 89, of Berkeley Springs, W.Va., passed away on Thursday, June 19, 2025 at his home surrounded by his family and while under the care of Hospice of the Panhandle.

Born October 10, 1935 in Martinsburg, W.Va., he was the son of the late Gladstone Michael and Reba Unger Michael Myers.

Jim was a 1953 graduate of Berkeley Springs High School and a 1957 graduate of West Virginia University with a Bachelor of Science in Agriculture Education.

After graduating from WVU he joined the Air National Guard in Martinsburg, W.Va. After his service at the Air Guard, he started working at the United States Department of Agriculture Soil Conservation Service where he held several positions across the state of West Virginia and finally retired in the state of Virginia after 36 years of service.

After retirement Jim returned to Berkeley Springs where he took over his family’s multi-generational farm.

In addition to farming Jim’s passion for conservation and community continued. He was actively involved with the Eastern Panhandle Conservation District serving as District Supervisor. Jim was also the President of Cacapon State Park Foundation and the West Virginia State Parks Foundation for approximately 30 years. He was also a member of Sleepy Creek Watershed Association, People’s Mutual Insurance Board, Morgan County Farmland Protection Board and WV Farm Bureau.

Jim was an active member of Mount Olivet United Methodist Church where he served on numerous committees and leadership roles.

Jim held many roles in life but his greatest role was being a loving and devoted husband, father, grandfather and great-grandfather.

Jim is survived by his wife of 66 years, Jacqueline Lee Hewett Michael, at home, three children, Christopher Paul Michael of Beaverdam, Va., Romey Michael McGraw (Gary) of Berryville, Va. and Brad Allen Michael (Beth) of Berkeley Springs, W.Va., one sister, Judith Baisden (Ernest) of Shanks, W.Va., five grandchildren, Brianna (Matthew), Odessa, Grant, Ava and Lily, two great-grandchildren, Iulieana and Leiden Romine and two nephews.

In addition to his parent, he was preceded in death by his stepfather, Paul Myers.

Funeral services will be conducted at 11 a.m. on Saturday, June 28, 2025 at Cacapon Resort State Park Lodge, 818 Cacapon Lodge Drive, Berkeley Springs, W.Va. Private burial will be in Mt. Olivet Church Cemetery. The family will receive friends from 1-3 p.m. & 5-7 p.m. on Friday, June 27, 2025 at Helsley-Johnson Funeral Home & Cremation Center, 95 Union Street, Berkeley Springs, W.Va.

In lieu of flowers, contributions in Jim’s name may be made to the Cacapon Resort State Park Foundation, 818 Lodge Drive, Berkeley Springs, WV 25411, Hospice of the Panhandle, 330 Hospice Lane, Kearneysville, WV 25430 or to Sleepy Creek Watershed Association, PO Box 991, Berkeley Springs, WV.

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Jim’s last few days (around 36 hours of steady decline) were peaceful and thankfully quick. The Hospice of the Panhandle people were excellent. The family was present and Jim felt loved right to his last seconds. This is the kind of death that everyone deserves to experience.

These pictures were taken the day before Jim died.

Get Off My Lawn: Death in the Afternoon

June 21, 2024

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We got home after two weeks out.

Tibia killed one of the porch pooping nuthatches (as a warning to the other six).

Moonshine killed one of the groundhogs eating the garden (as a warning to the other twenty-seven)

On Death with Dignity

November 30, 2023

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I just put my horse Willie down today. Actually, calling him my horse is a bit of an exaggeration. He was Rhine and April’s horse, and Amy’s horse, and Romey’s horse, and also my horse. I rode him for about five years before he was retired from the saddle eight or so years ago. He lived in the field with Donkey Hodie after that, just being a horse. He had a great life.

I want to tell you about Willie’s death.

First, a story. My mother died of Leukemia in 2003. Her death was a typical upper middle class American death—in a hospital bed, surrounded by her children and her husband of many years (my dad). Mom had only suffered through cancer treatment for a year or so. Having been stricken during a Thanksgiving drive north, she then briefly beat the cancer into remission with a bone marrow transfusion. But in the end, the leukemia came raging back and killed her in a couple of weeks.

The last week was bad. Basically, mom was gone and was being kept alive by vigilant hospital care—hydrated, fed through an IV, medicated, and drugged out of her mind. We had a DNR order in place. We tried “administering her drugs all at once.” Basically every euphemism for euthanasia was obtusely explored. But she hung in there for two or three days as we all kept vigil. Finally her kidneys were overwhelmed by the morphine, I guess, and she started to balloon up as she went septic. We all knew she was going to die, and there was absolutely no point in pretending otherwise.

So finally we had an idea. “Lets hook her up with a self-administering morphine drip,” I said. This for a woman who had not moved or said a word in three days. The staff made it happen. So “she,” meaning I, pressed the button for several hours until my mother finally died. It was all very absurd and not at all easy. I remember the death rattle and the weird intakes of air every 2 minutes near the very end.

Fast forward to twenty years later. Willie was 32. He only had 2 teeth left on each side of his mouth, and he could no longer chew grass. He could eat grain, but not with any efficiency. It took him hours to eat a couple of scoops. Basically, Willie was slowly starving to death. In consultation with the horse dentist, I decided he would suffer too much during the winter. It was his time.

So I called the vet who has known willie for years. He and his partner came out this morning. Willie was in the paddock with Hodie having a last meal of grain. He spent a couple of hours before that in the sun in the field, grazing without actually getting any grass chewed. We walked him down to the spot where he will be buried, fed him some more grain, sedated him, and injected him all in about ten minutes. Willie was calm when he died. He died fast. And he died easy. He did not suffer a pointless winter, half starved. In fact, he did not suffer at all.

When it comes time for me to die, I would rather die like Willie, with some dignity, than like my mother.

Goodbye Willie. Thanks for being a good horse. Good boy he was.

Twitter? Facebook?

April 1, 2023

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On Machines and Mortality: Life and Death in the Country

March 12, 2016

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Guthrie lived with us for so long, that I really can’t recall when he first showed up. One day there were just a couple of ponies, and he was one of them. Guthrie was mostly harmless, though his escape artist tendencies were a pain in the ass. He always made a beeline to the chicken feed or the grain bin.

Guthrie was 42 or 44, which is pretty old for a pony. He did not have many teeth, so we fed him soft hay and grain every day, or rather Amy did. He seemed pretty solid this winter, but last week took an unexpected dive, kind of controlled flight into terrain.

So we had a pony to bury, and out here that calls for a machine.