As The Butter Churns

March 27th Show Time

 (Miracle and Edward enjoy the sunny morning)

     In general, I’m not a lay around the house kind of girl, but I’d gotten a lot of flack from Awesomez about never relaxing, and Henry was sort of haranguing me too, so I curled up with a blankie to watch an episode of “Bones”.

 (The cast of Bones)

 (Booth and Bones- I actually shot a few commercials with Emily Deschanel's father - the incredibly talented Caleb Deschanel)
 
  
 

    “You know, I’ve always suspected we’re going to find a dead body some day. It’s always in some rural area where some nut drives out and stashes a body in the middle of the forest,” I said as the theme song twanged.

    “Or that’s where the crime is committed dun-dun-dunnn,” Henry teased.

    We were completely engrossed in this body being soaked in beer to remove soft tissue when I saw a flash in the window. “Did you see that?” I asked.

    “See what?” Henry demanded. “Are you just trying to trick me? Do you just want to go and clean the barn or something?”

    “No, really. I saw something,” I said as I walked toward the front door and out onto the still unpainted porch. What was I doing lying around watching TV anyway when this porch needed sanding and painting? I really had to take stock of my priorities I thought as I looked over the railing, “Henry look! We have company!” I yelled as he came running up behind me. “Do you recognize that guy?”

    “It’s Pablo!”

 (Pablo, Miracle and Edward)

 (Miracle, Edward and Pablo)

 (Miracle and Edward try to stay away from Pablo)

 (Farm frenzy)

 (What the flock?)
 

    “That’s him all right. Hey there buddy! He must have gotten out from Dave’s place and come over here the same way Abe, Andy and Gnatalie went over there. Oh no! He’s trying to mount Miracle.”

    “Edward’s not going to let that happen look!” Henry exclaimed as our former racehorse shed any semblance out to pasture. “He’s ready to take on Pablo!” Henry added as Pablo kicked Edward.

    “I’ve got to separate them before someone gets hurt,” I said.

    “Hurry Mom, he almost trampled the ducks!” Henry urged me as I unwound the purple and white lead rope from the post and marched off.

    What to do, what to do I wondered. Edward, Miracle and Pablo were racing around the yard like they were doing laps at Santa Anita. Miracle was in the lead followed by Edward who was trying to block Pablo from getting any closer. Then it was Pablo coming around and trying to split them up kicking Edward. I was afraid one of them was going to twist an ankle if I didn’t get the situation under control. I thought for a flash about putting him down with the cows when Dave’s words came flying back to me. “Pablo chases cows until they’re in a lather. He won’t leave them alone.” So that was out of the question. Then I thought of the paddock by the barn where I used to put Pancho and Lefty on occasion. It wasn’t that secure, but I didn’t think he’d be aggressive once I got him calmed down.

    Calm he was not. In fact, he was breathing hard and soaked with sweat. He was confused and transfixed with my petite equine beauty with the prominent ears, Miracle. Who I might add was standing on the other side of her bodyguard boyfriend, Sir Edward. I tried talking to him and he looked at me surprised I knew his name.

  (Pablo)
 

    “Now Pablo, you come here so I can put this lead on you,” I instructed firmly in my fifth grade teacher voice. The voice I used when good students went bad. He stood there and let me put the lead on his halter. I had a hold of him. I was quite satisfied things had gone so well. Just then, Miracle took off for safer ground and Pablo flew into a frenzy. I let go of the rope to avoid losing the skin on my palms. I’m not new at this. Anymore.

 (Pablo on the move)

 (Miracle hides behind Edward)
 

    Pablo, Miracle and Edward took another lap by the pasture, around the apple trees, back up by the house and again over by the compost and shavings piles. The goats, sheep and turkeys and ducks huddled together realizing there was safety in numbers. The geese sought shelter under the porch. Again I told him to stay still and let me grab his lead, and again he complied and without hesitation I walked over and put him in the paddock. Filled the red water bucket and threw him some hay. I walked back to the house and had Henry call Tom who tried calling Dave to let him know Pablo was here safe and sound.

    “Mama, you know Pablo looks like Edward and Miracle's baby. Oh, Dadda says Dave’s not home and he couldn’t get him on his cell.” As Henry was relaying this message, I saw a white truck drive by. It had driven by two or three times now and considering we don’t get five cars in a weekend I thought it more than a coincidence. “Do you think that’s Dave or one of his friends out looking for Pablo?”

 (Pablo is met by the oh-so-curious goats)
 

 (Pablo relaxes)

 (Edward and Miracle decide to checkout Pablo now that he is properly confined)

    “It must be, I’ll drive over and see if I can catch up with him and if not, leave a note,” I said climbing in the van. Dave is my closest neighbor so I was turning onto his gravel drive in a blink. Once I did I was surprised to see the white truck heading toward me. Dave’s big metal driveway barricade was down. He’d told me he’d had it put in because of some trouble with drunken hunters. So in order to get to Dave’s house you had to call ahead and he had to drive the mile down to open it. I quickly read the situation to mean, Dave was not home and this person did not know Dave. The truck drove slowly up toward me and stopped. The window slipped down to reveal a man I did not recognize from around here. My heart started to pound as I realized I was off the main road. I tried to stay calm. I had just been watching “Bones” after all.  But the hairs on the back of my neck were sending off all kinds of warning signals. I thought quickly, “Hey there!” I said in my most confident, friendly voice. “Are you looking for Dave’s donkey too?

    “What? Donkey you say?” The bead-eyed dark-haired man in his late forties answered.

    “Yes, a bunch of us were looking for Pablo, Dave’s mule really and well, my husband and I found him. He’s over at our place. I just was coming to see if I you were looking for him too, since you’ve been driving by,” I said relaying I was not alone so leave me be. 

    “Umm no. I’m just lost myself,” he said.

    “Really? Where you headed?” I asked helpfully.

    “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m a bit turned around I was looking for a logging road and I thought this was it, but I guess I’ll just get out of here now,” he said.

    “Huh, well this wouldn’t be a logging road ‘cause there are three mailboxes at the end of it. And you can only go left ‘cause the bridge is out,” I said.

    “Yeah,” he said and drove off. For a moment, I thought of writing a note on Dave’s gate, but I didn’t want to spend another moment off the main road, just in case. So I went back and left a note in Dave’s mailbox. He’d get it eventually and Pablo was safe enough at my house.

    I went back home. Henry and I did some work before we went to finish our “Bones” episode and watch another. Eventually, our canine unit sounded the –somebody’s at the gate- alarm.

    “Mom, I would take that to mean Dave’s here,” Henry said wryly.

    We walked out and greeted Neighbor Dave Brown and met his son, Ryan, who was visiting. We all walked toward Pablo as we talked.

    “I saw your name on the caller id and figured you had him, I bet he heard the cow bells and came running,” Dave laughed.

    “Yep, they seemed to recognize him when he ran up. He’s had dinner. I was sure glad I remembered not to put him in with the cows,” I laughed.

 (Dave, Pablo and Ryan Brown)

 

 (Edward decides Pablo might just be ok)
 

    “Yep, he’d had them tearing down a whole fence line,” Dave said. While Dave hooked up Pablo I relayed the story of the man in the white truck. Dave’s face went white.

    “What?” I asked slowly.

    “Well, my ex-girlfriend’s stayin’ with me because her ex-boyfriend is violent and she’s afraid of him. He stabbed her dog in the chest with a kitchen knife and broke it’s legs,” Dave said.

    “Mom,” Henry pressed his arm into my side, “that’s how serial killers start,” Henry whispered almost inaudibly.

    “He drives a white vehicle,” Dave said. “Do you think you could describe him?”

    “I could only see him through the part of the window he rolled down, dark-hair, receding hairline, late forties. He creeped me out I’ll tell you that,” I admitted.

    “That describes him, but he drives a car not a truck, of course, you can always borrow a vehicle if you want to,” Ryan added. We all nodded and stood there quietly for a moment.

    “He was definitely sitting in your driveway. When I pulled up he started to move his car toward me and he said he was looking for a logging road, but when I pointed out the three mailboxes he just left, anyway I’ll keep an eye out for him,” I promised wishing silently Irish was done with camp.

    We chatted about getting together for a barbecue when Tom was in town, Ryan said he might be able to clean my generator carburetor and we laughed about our animals running to each other for sanctuary. Dave said he’d really like to get Pablo a friend and I told him Lisa had mentioned there was a donkey in need of a home at the Humane Society.

    “I’d really like to look into that,” he said and I promised to follow up. Dave and Ryan didn’t have a trailer with them, so Dave walked home with Pablo while Ryan followed in the truck.

    Gnatalie, Petite, Lucky, Abe and Andy lined up on the fence rail to watch their friend walk home. They mooed loudly and you could hear heehawing across the pasture.

 (Dave and Pablo)

 (Gnatalie, Lucky, Petite, Abe and Andy watch Pablo and Dave)

    “Mom? Do you think that was the guy?” Henry asked concerned.

     “Probably, he was awfully suspicious and he drove back and forth so many times. I didn’t believe him when he said he was lost. I mean honestly, how do you get lost on a seven mile dead-end road?”

    “He stabbed her dog? That’s brutal. I wonder what her name was and if she lived?”

    “Yeah, she did,” I said as we went back to finally finish “Bones”.  The phone rang, it was Awesomez.

    “So did you get a lot done today or did you relax?” She asked.

    “Well, I didn’t get a lot done,” I said, “In fact, Henry and I have been watching TV off and on all day,” I said quite  honestly.

February 23rd The Tail End

 (Christina - the Obberhasli takes a nibble)

 (Carl- the rooster formerly known as Cluck-Cluck)
 
 

Lindsey was determined to take a picture of every animal before she went home. Most of the morning she was busy snapping pictures. She loved Frank. Probably because Lindsey, a born chatterbox, likes to talk and although all the animals patiently listen, Frank talks back. So Lindsey would scream and Franklin would gobble, and Lindsey would scream and Frank would gobble, Lindsey would scream and Frank would gobble and so on and so on and so on.

 (Lindsey and Franklin - chat)

While bustling around the farm, we were surprised to find that despite the chaos, Sir Edward settled down for an afternoon nap. He and Miracle have taken to spending their chilly winter evenings underneath the overgrown apple trees, but I guess with predators prowling about looking for a late night snack, they don’t sleep too soundly. So there they were equine in the sunshine.

  (Edward under the Kubota barn- soaking in the sun)

 (Miracle is sound asleep)

    Edward relaxed and fell into a deep sleep completely ignoring the other animals as they enjoyed their noon meal. Lindsey and I crept around watching him. We giggled as he wiggled and wriggled.

  (Edward is sound asleep in the middle of lunch)

 

    “What do you think horses dream about when they take a little horsie snooze? Look Linds, he’s dreaming of his glory days on the track” And Edward started to kick his legs like he was taking off at Del Mar. Lindsey ran too for her camera. When she got back she caught what must have been the finish line.

 

“Oh, at least I got some of it,” she smiled. "He was so cute, I’ve never seen a horse do that,”

“Neither have I,” I whispered.

 (a groggy Edward is disturbed from his nap)

 (Sir Edward and Carl -the rooster formerly known as Cluck-Cluck)

 (Edward lunching)
 
 
 

December 6th Eddie Rascal

 (Sir Edward and - Miracle - playing the part of Tim's neighbor -Wilson from the show"Home Improvement")
 

My pasture has been entirely too quiet and empty for weeks. Of course, Miracle and Sir Edward have been subleasing the space but it’s not the same. They don’t jingle jangle jingle like Andy or serenade me like Abe and Gnatalie do with their mooo-hooooing

A couple of weeks ago Nick, Henry and I went to Dave’s and tried to get the cows, but to no avail. As we feared the ding dang boys flipped out just like before and Gnatalie had no intention of leaving Peggy. However we didn’t exactly leave empty handed. We got a head of cabbage from Dave’s garden, a jug of fresh cider he'd pressed and we learned a few interesting tid bits. Dave it seems was in the first graduating class at Sehome, where Nick goes to school. And strangely – we found out Dave knows Little Chris Donaldson. In fact, he knows him very well. He dated and lived  for years with Little Chris Donaldson’s mother. Talk about your small world, I couldn't wait to tell my sister.

 (Dave's cabin)

 (Dave in Dave's house)
 (Dave's house- serious county)

 (Nick getting packer pellets)

 (Nick sippin' cider)

That was then, this is now.

Today, together with Dave’s boyhood pal, Eddie, we were going to finally, finally bring the cows home. Eddie has a trailer and is charging Dave and I each fifty bucks for his services He was going to take Dave’s cow Peggy and her calf, Tucker to Dave’s brother’s house to hook up with his bull. In addition,my fifty bucks will get my three bovine from Dave's house to my pasture.

So this morning after a pot of coffee or two, Awesomez, Henry and I drove over to Dave’s to get this round up on the road. Dave had gotten my three in his pipe corral and they were ready to be loaded. Eddie was in the process of backing up the trailer to the entrance of the corral when we drove up.

As I approached pockets full of packer pellets, I could hear Dave yelling in an increasingly frantic tone “Stop! Stop! STOP!! EDDIE!! STOP!” Eddie was not stopping so I ran over to his window and hollered for him to stop. He stopped as his trailer grazed the pipe corral gate.  I’d met Eddie’s type before. I could tell from this little episode what I was up against. It wasn’t a matter of lack of hearing, although I’m sure that's part of it. It’s a matter of being in his own Eddie World. Not caring if he hit the fence or not. He wasn’t even looking for a cue to stop he was just doing his own Eddie thing.

He stepped out of the trailer smiling extremely pleased with his trailer prowess and delighted with his extremely close proximity to the corral.

“Well, let’s load ‘em up!” Eddie instructed as if everyone should snap to attention. The boys and Gnatalie were non-plussed by Eddie’s direction or the trailer. They had no intention of doing anything but eat the hay they’d been bribed with to enter the corral.

 (Gnatalie, Andy and Abe)

“I guess I shouldn’t have fed them,” Dave chided himself.

“We can just move some of the hay into the trailer.” I suggested

“And we brought plenty of packer pellets.” Henry informed him although I’m not sure he fully understood the heroin-like allure the pellets have on the cattle.

We all took up our positions. Henry was to float around and do whatever I needed. Awesomez took the space between one edge of the trailer and  the fence. She was to use her body to block the cows from slipping through this gaping hole. Dave was going to go in the pen with me and Eddie was going to "supervise". I tried luring the boys in with a pellet or two, but Abe nor Andy was ready to work that hard when they had so much premium hay at their disposal. Things didn't go smoothly at first. The cows were obstinate and we were running out of tricks.

“We need a lead rope.” Dave muttered. Without a word I unwrapped my scarf from around my neck and put it around Abe’s neck. He didn't go right away, it took some time, but after some time he let me lead him toward Awesomez I could see the concern on her face. She was to block this fella from going on a hike through the forest. If he got out, we wouldn't get him back today. Nearing her he grazed her with his horns. 

"Are you kidding me? What if he bolts?" She said more to herself than to anyone else. "How did I get here? I'm wrangling cows! The things I do for you Miller!" I thought she might step away at the last moment, but she held her position and he walked in the trailer as nice as you please. Wham! Eddie closed the first compartment behind him and he disappeared.

 (getting these boys going)
 

 (it took some time)
 

 (Abe just before disappearing)

Now for Andy, who didn’t think Abe’s Kris Angel impression was something he wanted to try. Andy had absolutely no intention of following him. So I pulled and prodded and lured and cajoled and begged while Awesomez blocked the escape route again and Henry manned the gate in case I was successful. Eventually, surprisingly, we successful so Dave pulled a rope through the trailer and behind his bum to make him feel penned in. Eddie not taking the time to notice I was standing near the rope pulled it up and tight almost strangling me with it while tying it down. 

 (have fashion accessories will travel)

 (Goldie Hawn's umbrella in "Foul Play" has nothing on my scarf)

 (getting Andy in)

 

 

 (temporarily tying them in)
 

 (Dave and me trying to keep Andy in)
 

Now it was Gnatalie’s turn. The little thing has a will of iron and didn't go quickly. However, she is also love bug and really just wants to be snuggled so she eventually went in too.

The problem facing us now was that the trailer door was open wide. And in order to close it we had to move forward enough to allow the door to squeeze past the corral. A bigger problem than it sounds. In effect, we had to move forward over four feet with three cattle. Two completely unsecured . If the trailer wasn’t so close to the pipe corral we could have simply shut the door.

 A person of sound mind would realize the danger in this maneuver and wait for the person in the trailer to get out. A person concerned about others would move forward slowly and cautiously with regard to animal and human safety. A person with half a brain wouldn't slam on the brakes. The trouble was we had Eddie.

Without warning the trailer lurched forward with a heave. To be fair,  Eddie might have felt he had to gun it because of the weight, but I suspect his truck was accustom to this kind of load. Whatever the reason, the sudden motion was debilitating. Andy stumbled and went down on one side. Gnatalie lurched to the right stapling me against the side of the trailer. As the rig continued forward I bobbed and weaved, bracing myself trying desperately to stay out from underneath a side of beef. I didn’t have time to be scared as Eddie hit the brakes I was so busy trying to keep from becoming a paraplegic. When the movement finally stopped the door slammed shut momentarily closing me in.

 (Henry mans the gate)
 

 (Eddie, Dave the trailer door closed - me and Henry)
  (the sign on the back of the trailer)

 

Emerging unscathed I looked over at Awesomez whose face was racked with fear. She tossed me a knowing look, but seeing I was OK relaxed a bit. I breathed a deep sigh acknowledging how lucky I’d been. "That jerk could have killed you," she muttered under her breath as she gave me a hug. "I can't believe how tough you are. I think Eddie thought you were hot pushing those cows around." I was just glad to be alive.

"I can't believe you've turned into a cow girl! You, Go-Go Gomez, - who would have believed it?"

"I didn't do much, I just blocked giant cows with my body," She said humbly. Although I knew how scary it had been when those cows had come toward her. Courage is doing something you're afraid of in spite of your fear. She had been brave.

"You were Awesome Awesomez!" Henry insisted as we began to walk to the car.

“That’s quite a scarf you’ve got there,” Dave laughed tugging on one end relieving some of my tension.

We said good-bye to a forlorn Peggy and Tucker and followed Eddie back to my house where we unloaded our trio without incident.

 (on the road)

 (Eddie is adept with the trailer)

 (About to unload)

 (the welcoming committee)

 (Pals - Richard and Franklin come for a look)
 

 

 (unloading without any trouble)

 (Home again, home again - jiggity jig)

 (Awesomez, Dave and Richard)

(cookie monsters)  
 
      (Henry brings the tractor)

 (Awesomez, Dave as well as Richard and Franklin)
 
       (Eddie)
 

Henry fetched the tractor so we could put a round bale in Eddie’s trailer for Dave to take home.

It was then that Eddie launched into his “You really from California?”

“Um, yes.” I answered cautiously. There was a familiar smarmy tone to Eddie’s question instantly making me uncomfortable.

“I think you must have gone to Berkley,” he baited.

“Berkley? You think I went to Berkley? Why because I’m so liberal?”  Those were fighting words. Knowing he must be as right wing as they come I didn't want to tell him I’d been a registered Republican, voted for Reagan and Bush senior for fear it might be construed as some sort of GOP aphrodisiac, something akin to listening to Hannity by candlelight. 

“Yup.”

“I did vote for Hilary,” I declared unabashedly hoping to put an end to the flirtatious tone in his voice by playing the staunch feminist Clinton card.

“Now Eddie, I told you not to speak. You always get in trouble when you talk.” Dave cajoled desperately trying to end this conversation.

“Hilary! Now I like that Sarah Palin,” Eddie informed us. “She’s cute.”

“Exactly that's why you like her.” I said with all the disdain I could muster.

“How do you know why I like her?” Eddie asked.

“Because there isn’t any other reason to like her.” I said shoving the bale of hay in the trailer with the trailer bucket for punctuation.

“Eddie, you’re talking again. Don’t talk in front of the people they don’t like it.” Dave tried again.

“She looks a little like Sarah Palin with her hair up don’t you think?” Awesomez slyly interjected her eyes laughing. “You should see her when she puts on her red glasses.” I wanted to smack her, but instead I gave her a smile that said it all. Eddie leaned one arm on the tractor looking at me with his Paul Newman blue eyes. Leering he began launching into a chauvinistic assessment of my appearance, my suspected left-wing activities out here in the county and the virtues of the Republican Party, NRA and Sarah Palin. I smiled politely and threw poison barbs every now and then trying to be cutting but not outright angry. I could see the obvious discomfort on Dave’s face and not surprisingly, Awesomez had quietly slipped away as she can only take so much. Her father had a "W" on his door for years.

“Anyone with a brain is better than 43 was - Eddie. Let’s leave it at that. C’mon you rascal we’ve got to get Peggy to my brother’s. Thanks for the hay Denise.” Dave said trying to hasten their departure.

“No Dave, thank you for taking care of my runaways.” I said taking his cue. “I’m just going to go put the tractor up and get my wallet. I’ll meet you at the gate.”

As they drove away Awesomez said “Sorry about the Palin thing. I can’t take guys like that. You know he asked me if I was Henry’s grandma?” she said completely annoyed.

“You think that’s bad? He thought I was a little girl! A little girl! Are you freaking kidding me? He called me MISS,” Henry complained completely outraged.

“You look great for a grandma,” I said looking at my friend, “but you’re pretty homely for a girl.” I informed Henry.

“Is that right? Well, people tell me I look just like you -  Sarah.” Henry countered sending Awseomez into her signature giggle.

 (and where was teenage Nick - you ask?)
 

 

 

 

September 28th Horse Sense

 (Sir Edward out standing in his field)

    Being parsimonious, German, thrifty, poor or whatever you want to call it, I took Sir Edward onto the farm, not because taking a giant 16 and a half hand high ageing thoroughbred made any real financial sense, logical sense or any other sense, because in fact it didn’t.  I knew with Ferrier visits, the extra hay costs, and fixing up another place for him to sleep, he was going to really cost me, but we had a connection of the heart, he needed me and so I did it anyway.

 (Eddie and his girl)

    However, Sir Edward’s arrival has changed the dynamic on our farm in many ways I couldn’t have predicted. Ed is a relaxed, Henry-proof horse who takes everything in stride. This has led to our hitherto skittish donkey, Miracle going places she never would have dared on her own.

 (Tom snuggles Miracle but has to make room for the big guy)

    Before Edward I couldn’t get Miracle to go down to the cow pasture for love or money. And if Miracle didn’t go down to the cow pasture, then neither would the sheep or goats. If Miracle, the sheep and the goats wouldn’t go down to the cow pasture it meant there often times wasn’t enough food around the house to eat during the day, which meant I had to feed them more hay and treats. Which cost me money.

    Now that Edward’s here, Miracle brazenly goes all the way to the pond kicking up her heels. And if Miracle the Wonder Donkey, the guardian of my flock, goes down to the pond then the sheep and the goats go down to the pond wagging their tales behind them; feeding endlessly on wild grasses. Which means, I save money.

 (Edward leads, Miracle follows)

 (Miracle and Edward hang-out on the hill)

 (I've never seen Miracle happier- sorry Pea)

(Tom says we don't need a pig, we've already got a ham)

    Before Edward, Miracle, the goats and the sheep in addition to being fed, had to be locked in the barn tightly at night for fear of predator attacks. Which meant my schedule was dictated by their food and safety. Which meant more work and less money for me.

    Now the she equine and the he equine are a herd and the doors of the barn remain open in mild temperatures. This means the barn stays aired out which means I have to clean it less, which means I use less shavings. Which means I save money.

 (Sheryl, Apache, Angus and Mildred venture out)

 (It's hard to see, but the turkeys are waiting right at the door, followed by the goats, then the sheep and behind them are the geese - not pictured- everyone knows the routine - except)

    On the other hand, the idea of getting three tiny gentle-looking ducks seemed to make a lot of sense. They eat slugs, mosquitoes and a variety of other bugs we happen to have a plethora of and everyone knows geese and ducks coexist on ponds all over this country, so of course they’d share the goose pen. They weren’t going to cost me a dime and in fact their acquisition being a trade made a lot of sense because I got to get rid of a pair of uppity geese.

 (Benny, Quackless - Harpo- and Lucille)

    How three such small birds, Quackless, Lucille and (Jack) Benny can cause a disproportionate amount of trouble is beyond me. They have to be picked up and carried out to their private swimming hole because they can’t seem get along with the geese and their afraid of the turkeys. The latter not necessarily an irrational fear I’ll admit.  However, this means we have to run around and catch them at the end of the day. Their toe nails are sharp and someone always gets cut by the seemingly innocuous water foul. Which means they require private quarters, which means I have to build them a new place to live. And because they’re not socializing well they need their own place to swim, which means I had to buy them their own baby pool. And will have to dig them their own pond with the backhoe deep enough and wide enough to isolate themelves from the turkeys. Which means this diminutive trio hasn’t gotten out much lately which means they can’t forage for themselves which means I have to buy more food which means they are costing me both time and money.

 (Nick and Henry doing hazardous duck duty)

 (private Cayuga swimming facility)

    I guess all in all I’ve learned that the moment you think you know what is going to happen you make assumptions which means you make a donkey out of yourself. When in truth, you don’t know what the duck is going to happen.

 

 

 

September 13 Nothing Much

 (Ron Johnson's own farmville)

I’d been letting the cows out into the open pasture where there has been plenty to eat all summer, but I’m nervous about Gnatalie roaming around and fall approaching the enclosed pasture is getting thin. The hay for the winter is on order, but Ron Johnson, my supplier has dedicated his trucks to delivering corn for the next couple of weeks. He said if I needed a bale before then I could certainly come down to Clear Lake and get one. One round bale should last at least two weeks, so Amy and I went to retrieve one in her truck. It’s a truck, but just barely. It’s what you might call a girl truck, but “Gunner Obama Carnahan” stood up to the test quite admirably. He’s been getting quite a workout lately what with swerving off the road to avoid deer and smashing through gates.

(Loading up)

(Amy and Gunner proudly haul the hay)

When we got back home the boys were awake. They got the tractor and together we unloaded the 500lb green marshmallow, killed poisonous arachnid hitchhikers and unwrapped our bundle. All the while Abe and Andy mooed relentlessly at the sight of lunch.  Gnatalie was a bit confused by the events, but stood by curious as ever wondering where she fit in. The moment the hay was in place and exposed the big boys went at it. Sadly, each time Gnatalie went up to eat they pushed her away. I know she’ll get her fill because they can’t stand there and guard the food, but we all felt terrible she’s been ostracized. We thought they’d embrace her not just begrudgingly tolerate her.

 (We unload)

 (Andy happily eats -Rachel- momentarily considers a snack)

“She has no friends,” Nick lamented. “She needs a friend, the goats don’t let her hang out with them, the sheep run from her and the boys push her away. Miracle chases her and Edward could care less.” He said commiserating with her as he scratched her forehead and kissed her.

“Yeah Mama, I think she needs a friend.” Henry chimed in. They were preaching to the choir, but I said nothing.

“Of course she needs a friend.” Amy agreed not being at all helpful.

(Gnatalie sniffs)

That task complete we started cleaning the barn. No wonder farmers had so many kids I thought wistfully, until I considered the farm mom position and the exponential amount of laundry required. I picked up a pitchfork and didn’t complain. Cleaning the barn is really fun. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You never want to start, but once you do, there are wonderful talks, laughs and songs. Everyone has his or her task, a shovel, a pitchfork or a tractor. This time, Amy made fun of Nicky-new-guy-on-the-block, taunting him for being “afraid of a little poop.”

 (Nick and Henry working hard)

 (Nick and Gnatalie take a walk)

 (Nick taking a tractor break)

(Mildred, Angus, Sheryl and Apache's hind end)

 (Curious turkeys - Franklin, Silence DoGood and Richard - all alias' for Benjamin)

(My Llloyd loves me again -preening)

 (Just before Gnatalie pinned Luther- poor Lu he just can't get a break)

 (Harpo aka Quackless, Lucille & Benny - the Cayugas)  

 (Bruno pounces through the wood shavings which are used as the bedding for all the barn animals)

We did more than half and broke for lunch. It was another hot day, but we sat in the cool shade of a tree on the lawn and enjoyed our sodas before putting the rest of the wood shavings in the goat section.

Our chores mostly finished, we decided it was time to sex the chickens they’re over two months old now. According to the books a two-month-old male is a broiler then a fryer and frankly a rooster is a male chicken over five-months-old. Roosters can be a vicious lot and we didn’t want another gory chicken attack. Losing Michael was enough. The farm rule of thumb appears to be one rooster to approximately eight hens.

Determining hens from roosters seemed like a simple task on the outset. After all every kindergartner knows what a rooster looks like but then again they’re taught sheep say “baaa” and that’s clearly wrong.

Cluck-Cluck crows and carries on as expected. He is clearly a rooster.  However, there are others that don’t at least not yet. Hens should be the plump ones without the combs and the waddle handing down. Or so we thought. It seems some breeds have a waddle and some breeds don’t get a comb at all. Sometimes females have both combs and waddles.

We began by putting all the chickens in the outside chicken run. Then one by one we assessed, scrutinized, photographed and determined rooster or hen. The boys went inside to boy’s town, not the place you want to end up.

After all was said and done we thought or think we have eleven roosters, but we’re just not sure. We’d like to keep three males, one of each breed so we could have chicks one day. The rest have to be terminated I guess. There isn’t much room in anyone’s barnyard for troublemakers. I’ll never order a straight run again. I’ll only go to the hatcheries that offer a pre-sexed selection, because this whole process is nasty. I wish I didn’t care, but I don’t want to ring their necks, and Tom has informed me he won’t. So now I have to do something to cull the flock. “I know I’ll put them on Craigslist under free stuff. Maybe someone will want them. I’m sure they’re good eatinin,” I said ruefully.

Now who to keep? After much discussion we think we’re getting rid of Cluck-Cluck because he’s so aggressive and keeping Julius Caesar over the other nameless Red Dorking, we’re going to have to see how their combs develop. In the Russian Orloff category we’re thinking of keeping Chestnut over Boris Orloff. In the Golden Hamburg slot we’re pretty clear we want to keep Armstrong over Speedy. We’ll see we want prime specimens and calm gentle birds.

 (Red Dorkings - Julius and No-name)

 (Girl? or Boy?)

 (Amy and some unidentified Golden Hamburgs)

 (Mrs. Cluck-Cluck)

 (Nick and Boris - who is -going to be someone's dinner - gentle with people, but aggressive toward other males)

(they're everywhere)

(Nick, Henry and Chestnut)

The warm sunny day begged for a trip to the pond and another visit with Gnatalie, plus a little chat with Sir Edward and Miracle who were grazing down by the dry creek bed. While we made our way over we realized we were being followed. Some people have a dog who tags a long behind them and some people have four dogs and a nosy-body goat like Rachel. Funny, she never used to leave the goatherd, but I think her daughter, Christina, has usurped her crown. Now the Queen Mum Rachel wanders around a bit by herself.

Suddenly a rock tossing-tossing challenge was issued. The goal was to toss rocks into Poncho and Lefty’s old practice tire the they used to haul around behind them when they were doing oxen stuff. Now it just sits in the pasture as impromptu seating and a mosquito larvae breeding ground. As I hadn’t received my softball throwing lessons from Awesomez yet I bowed out of the competition. Amy, though determined, didn’t have a chance. Henry won easily over Nick. A lazy kind of day, we made our way to the pond and looked at muddy animal tracks.

(Amy and Miracle kiss)

 

(Miracle wants to give a little smooch)

(Miracle mugs for the camera)

 (Amy tossses)

 (Nick tosses)

 (Nick and Henry checking out all the new life in the pond)

 (Henry messing around)

(Swimmy)

(Nick and a froglet)

(Nick takes a stick and tickles Rachel's tail - he's found a way to make her wiggle it.)

 (bear scat?)

 (closer examination of contents)

(Rachel follows)

On the way back, Nick found scat on the rocky path.  Fascinated, we took a good close look trying to determine what animal was traipsing around at night so close to the house.  Primarily made up of apple remnants we’re pretty sure it was a black bear who’d been raiding our trees.

This prompted the idea of picking apples and pressing cider. The cider press was wheeled out of the family room and put into position next to the wine rack in the kitchen. The boys went out and excitedly began gathering baskets full of apples. Henry cut while Nick turned the crank. Then Nick cut while Henry turned the crank. Apple chunks sunk out of sight.  The press was tightened with both boys using a 2 x4 for leverage. As the cloudy golden liquid with the sweet tangy taste filled the bucket, both boys gulped it down until they couldn’t drink another drop.

 (Henry chops apples)

 (Nick pressing cider)

 (Vivian watches)

After that, we did some laundry, the boys shot paintball guns for awhile, we put the animals away and Amy came over for our Sunday night family dinner.

We all sat down for dinner at the dining room table. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do,” I said, as I portioned out a Weight Watcher serving of spicy meatloaf for myself while “Deli is a real problem. Sure she’s sweet and lovable when she’s in the house, but she lures the other dogs off on her jaunts and then I have to hear her killing things in the middle of the night. The other night, she opened the door, let herself out and went out on a run. She was slaughtering some poor animal in the hills behind the barn. She’s like a serial killer, she doesn’t kill to eat, she just kills and kills and kills. Even a cougar will pass when it’s not hungry, but not Deli. When I heard the commotion I went outside and got in the van to see if I could stop it, the screams of the dying animal were horrible, but I didn’t have any effect. I can’t let the turkeys out if she’s on the loose or the ducks. I can’t contain her and I’m at my wits end. I am ready again to give her away.”

“Umm, I promised Andrew I wouldn’t get anymore animals,” Amy said softly, “but how about if I foster her?” Amy unexpectedly suggested. She can’t get out of the dog run by my apartment, and she loves coming over there. I think she still thinks it’s her house. I can take her on walks and.. .”

“Sounds great! What a fabulous idea!” I said cutting her off. I was so happy I couldn’t believe it.  She’d more than redeemed herself from the Gnatalie comment. “I can give you her dog bed, and supply the food. She can leave tonight. She’ll be excellent company and protection for you. It would be such a load off my mind you have no idea.”

I packed up a little package and a wiggly Deli walked over to Amy’s on a leash. Deli though a hound really prefers being an only dog. She’s shy and won’t ask for attention like the other pooches. Irish assaults you with his paw when he feels left out. Vivian bowls you over, Bruno races around leaping in the air and Luther bays, cries, whines or sits on your feet, but Deli sits in the distance patiently waiting. I watched them walk over and thought my father would be pleased.

The boys and I ended our weekend by settling into watch “Desperate Crossing The Untold Story of the Mayflower”.  Nick has American History this year and I’m going to pack in the learning one way or another. We’d just seen a whole segment on European prisons in the 1600s when the phone rang. It was for Nick. I could hear him giving the requisite teenage answers to questions about how he was.

“Fine…Yeah…It’s better…No…This weekend? Uhhh, nothing much,” he said absently.

“Nothing much? Nothing much?” I beat him with a pillow.

 (Emmet disagrees with Nick)

September 9th Caught Red Handed

    The first day of school ran like clockwork. Lunches were made with names properly marked in Sharpie™, clothes were selected, and breakfasts were hot. Everyone was up early and eager, showered and clean. Well almost. Nick and Henry for some reason the night before decided it would be a great idea to mix clay and red food coloring with their hands in order to further their ongoing claymation project.

    “Which of you two chuckleheads thought this was going to be a good idea?” I had asked in one of my more exasperated tones.

    “It said food coloring, we thought it just colored food.” Henry said stupidly standing in the hallway with scarlet fingers.

    “And you thought clay was food?” Awesomez called incredulously from the other room as she did yet another load of my laundry. “So let me get this straight Nicky you’re going to go to your first day at your new high school with red hands?”

    “Yeah,” he said holding up his hands,“ they’re going to say ‘Hey that kid with the red hands is bad ass.” Nick shrugged as he went to go soak his hands. Again.

    The boys scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. They alternated between putting thick greasy hand cream on trying to pull the color out and scrubbing. They used everything from mild soap to Ajax and Soft Scrub™ with bleach.  Eventually, their hands looked rose.

    “I’m not sure it’s an improvement.” I whispered to Awesomez.  Eventually, they did get their hands close to normal, except for their nails; which were a soft petal pink.

    The first day of school went pretty well, Nick liked most of his teachers and only got lost on the way to math. Henry got different teachers than Quinn had last year and therefore had a lot to report. Quinn missed Lauren and Phoebe became an upper grader.

    “A couple of kids said ‘Dude did you paint your nails?” Nick relayed.

    “What did you say?” I asked.

    “Nothing."

    "Nothing?" Quinn repeated.

     I didn’t speak all day except to say ‘Here” Nick said somewhat defeated. “I ate lunch alone.”

    “You’re going to have to put yourself out there son. Remember it’s only the first day. It'll get better.” Awesomez encouraged.

(Quinn trying to avoid the paparazzi)

(Henry, Quinnderella and Nicky - Picky on the first day of school - Phoebe is still in school)

    That night, we all tumbled into bed exhausted knowing the next day would be a repeat of: up at 5:15 AM, showers, coffee, dogs fed, cats fed, barn animals let out and fed, backpacks packed, lunches gathered and out the door by 6:30AM. So when I woke Awesomez up in the middle of the night to venture out into the rain to find my missing donkey, she was less than coherent.

    “Lis, Lis,” I said shaking her out of a sound sleep.

    “What?” She finally responded in a groggy voice.

    “I’m going outside. I don’t see Miracle. She and Sir Edward didn’t go in the barn with the rest of the animals.”

    “So, they’ve done that before and been OK.” She replied without opening her eyes.

    “I know, but she wouldn’t leave Sir Edward. They’re like butter and toast and he’s right by the barn door, but she’s nowhere in sight. I’d hate to have another tragedy so soon after Michael. Didn’t you hear that coyote pack?”

    “No. I was sleeping. Don’t you sleep?” She said looking at me with only one eye open.

    “Yes, I sleep, well, sort of, but I couldn’t when I heard the pack. Deli’s out too, she didn’t come back. I’m going out and I’ll take the van out if I have to go down in the pasture.”

    “You want me to come?” She said as it was dawning on her.

    “No. It’s OK.” I said meekly. “You’re sleeping.”

     “OK. I’m coming. Let me get my shoes on.” She said reluctantly. “Seriously, I think you woke me out of the soundest sleep I’ve ever had and I can’t believe we’re going outside in the rain to look for a donkey while a coyote pack prowls around. What time is it anyway?”

    “It’ll be an adventure?”

    “You’re an adventure. There’s always something.” She muttered.

    “Tom says it keeps things interesting.” I said to keep her moving forward.

    “But he’s sleeping,” she countered.

    “True. Miracle!!! Miracle where are your girl?” I called as I walked out into the cold barnyard. The shadows seemed too close in around us. I could see Sir Edward standing on three legs with his back hind leg resting. I figured he wasn’t nervous or tense, which seemed a good sign to me. Cautiously, we walked closer looking around for both Miracle and predators. “There she is!” I said relieved. “She’s laying down in the shadow of the barn. I guess Edward was standing guard so she could rest.”

(Miracle resting in the shadows)

    “Well good. I wasn’t looking forward to trolling the pasture. Now you can relax. Do you want to put them in so they can both rest since we’re here? It’s drizzling.” Awesomez pointed out.

    “I think that’s a good idea, then I won’t worry,” I agreed grabbing a lead rope and hooking it to Sir Edward’s blue halter. He went easily through the gate and into the barn. Miracle followed.

    Just as we got our equine snug as bugs in the barn, the clouds opened up. “Well, that was lucky” I said happily. “I’m glad they’re in now I can sleep.”

    “I can’t tell you how happy I am you can sleep.” Lisa said dripping with sarcasm as her head turned toward a rustling in the bushes just outside the fence.

    “What was that?” I said frozen.

    “I don’t know, what should we do?” Awesomez said reaching for a shovel.

    “Let’s go in the barn.” I instructed.  Slowly, I began moving toward the door when Deli came loping out of the brush tail a wagging.

    “Deli, you scared us!” Awesomez chided.

    The next morning as the alarm assaulted, I turned it off. When we finally got up, we were late. The kids left without their sweatshirts, grabbed a bowl of cold cereal to eat on the way and we gave them money to buy lunch. School is back in.

August 7th Getting To Know You

(Edward looks out on the yard)

  I didn’t know what to expect having a horse after all these years and with all these other animals. He’s pretty and sweet, but I didn’t know if he would be nervous, and spook or kick or what. I didn’t know how much of a personality he would really have next to my moody debutante of a donkey.

    I started by isolating him. I wanted him to get used to the place but allow him to hold court, meeting and greeting everybody. So I kept him in the paddock behind the barn. He could see over the fence and would whinny every so often at the passersby. The sheep and goats and geese could see him and could decide whether to go up to him or not.

    Miracle was not at all eager to make friends with the big fella. Suddenly she looked small and seemed to feel scruffy next to the towering, shiny Thoroughbred. She’d amble over, head held high but at the last moment stop and peer at him from behind a tree. Cautiously she’d sidle up near the fence where he was standing, bray, and kick her heels and race off, emphasizing his confinement as she demonstrated her freedom.

    The sheep came over one by one sniffing him and stomping their feet as they are prone to do. Perhaps it was no accident, the girls, Mildred and Sheryl usually the most shy, were the first to give him a good sniff followed eventually by the boys. The goats were non-plussed, either he had a treat for them in which case he was very interesting or he did not. He did not. The geese with their sudden and unexplainable bursts of honking and flapping were a curiosity to him at first, but he quickly saw they were harmless and didn’t even twirl an ear when they’d carry on. Apparently he’d grown up with a duck.

    His feet were cracked and dished out in front of him like he was wearing elf shoes. They looked painful and made me wince every time I looked at them.  I started calling farriers in the area and was happy to find one guy readily available. 

(Sir Edward's foot -dished and cracked)

    The morning the farrier came Miracle got more than a little antsy. Her eyes were full of fear. She was appalled I was suggesting she not only wear a halter, but couldn’t believe she was to stand still to be manhandled by some stranger in chaps. She did not feel this fitting a donkey of her caliber and she did not cooperate. In fact, she came just this side of throwing a donkey tantrum. She got a lesson in manners from the farrier, whom she quickly respected and consequently adored.

(Miracle plays hard to get)

(Miracle freaks out!)

(Dave Mehl - the farrier and our girl)

(Miracle makes friends with Dave)

     Over the last couple of years, the two of us have played the “Farrier Game” many times, a derivative of “Veterinarian Game" . It’s a simple game of trust. I put my hand down her leg and practice picking up her tootsies then we snuggle. Everyone’s happy. She loves hugs almost as much as I dislike hugging, but there is something irresistible about her donkieness. I watched proudly holding her lead rope, cooing to her, as Dave commended me on her behavior. She stood calmly and let him give her a pedicure. Afterward I rewarded her with a handful of packer pellets for a job well done.  She’d faced her fear, and was truly a noble steed.

(Miracle gets a pedicure)

    Next, it was Sir Edward’s turn. He’d obviously had his feet done many times, albeit a long time ago from the look of his feet.  Not as comfortable with him and a little leery he might be painful in his feet, I stood holding his lead hoping all was going to go smoothly. The farrier said, “I’m going to take them down as far as I dare”. I nodded in agreement; getting him sound was the first order of business. “He might be a little sore for the next few days, so I’d continue to keep him confined”. Again, I nodded and looked up.

(Edward gets the treatment from Dave)

I could see one eye and one ear, she was peeking from behind the barn watching him. Later in the afternoon she cozied up to the fence and did what equine do when they accept each other. They traded breath. Nose to nose, they stood inhaling each other. 

    It turns out Edward’s a bit of a kook. He likes to cram himself between the barn and the chicken coup and watch Poultry-TV. He stands for hours watching the chicks and turkeys flap around, pecking and strutting. He’s social too, stuffing himself through the tiny door Miracle can barely use, just to get inside with the rest of the troop. He’s also a bit of trouble. He stole hay from the goats and shared it with Miracle. He tears my pickets off my flower garden fence, picks trash out of garbage cans, rips bags apart and he even trounced my vegetable garden fence letting all the animals out into the pasture.The thing is, girls like bad boys. In fact, that night she decided not to go in the barn and spent the summer night in the little valley under the apple trees. With him.

(Mr. Ed - watches the chickens & turkeys)

(the fascinating fowl)

(Bucket looks back)

(Bucket is apparently a boy)

(it seems we did get at least one turkey hen)

(Edward makes himself at home)

(Edward gets comfortable)

(Henry hugs Edward)

(Edward and his new buddies)

(Quinn has fallen in love)

(Eddie Haskel is that you?)

(Edward is a bit destructive - perhaps he needs a toy)

(Edward gets paid a housecall by the same doctor who examined Apache- Dr. Amber Itle from Kulshan Veterinary Hospital in Lynden -she did find a heart murmer on the left side)

(Edward it seems doesn't need his teeth floated just yet - and he does have his racing tatoo)

 (Edward gets his privates looked at and cleaned with - Excalibur - sheath cleaner)

(Miracle's feet are lifting off the ground to kick Abe, who has mistakenly gotten too close to Sir Edward during his exam)

(Miracle is concerned and curious)

(Miracle tends to a sedated Edward)

(Miracle leans in to comfort Edward)

Now she goes wherever he goes and he goes where ever she goes. And when the vet came out and had to work on Edward, Miracle was there breathing in his nose calming him down. They look like the farm girl and the city boy, an equine Romeo and Juliet.

(Sir Edward (20) and Miracle (5) - a May/December romance? Or just friends?)

June 18th A Little Bird Told Me

   

    A thick grey covered the valley, water dripping without any rhythm, like a blanket hanging from a clothesline. It was a dreary morning. I pulled up to the driveway and hopped out, as is now my custom, to open the gate when a small movement in the grass caught my eye. It was a baby bird struggling, soaked. I looked around and saw the parents nearby. Robins.

(All wet - a little robin)

(a mother or a father flies close by)

    I was worried the little fellow didn’t seem to be able to fly, but I hesitate to intervene after all it’s not nice to fool Mother Nature.

    Thinking a moment I walked over to the garbage and pulled out one of Amy’s moving boxes.  I ripped one side off creating a shelter for the little one. I thought he’d at least be able to dry his feathers and rest without worrying about being prey. I thought about calling the Wildlife rescue, but I knew what they’d say: “Do you see the parents? Oh well then leave the bird alone” so I did. I briefly thought of calling Amy, after all she'd worked at the zoo, but I thought she'd think the same thing.

(makeshift shelter)

  (moving on)

(Robin family)

(Robby trying to fly)

    Instead, I watched out the window like a nervous mother. The baby dried off and hopped up the hill to the house, then stopped. Completely exhausted. The mother and father were coaching and encouraging dive-bombing anything near it, but the little thing couldn’t go on. I decided to help again. Taking the box I went over and covered Robby up so he could rest once more. The mom came over and he opened his mouth oh so wide and she fed him.

(Daddy robin guarding Robby)

    “He’s going to be all right I thought, but then the geese came toward him. I saw them from his point of view and suddenly they looked menacing. Quickly, I opened the door ran onto the porch not taking the time to open the gate I flung myself over the railing much to Irish's surprise.

    I shooed the geese away and down the hill only to attract Miracle. I felt like a mother who came home from the hospital and suddenly noticed all the electrical outlets.  Luring Miracle to another area of the yard I took a large stick and imitating Little Bo Peep I herded my gaggle of robin mongers into the backyard where they couldn’t accost a terrified Robby.

(like vultures they descended)

(you'd never know they're herbivores from the looks of them)

(Miracle gives chase - one of her favorite games - although she never hurts anyone- Linda, one of Lloyd's daughters is in the rear)

    I tried to fill out the insurance forms I was supposed to complete, but I could barely concentrate. I kept going back and forth to the window checking to see what was going on. I called Lisa asking her if she thought I should take him in. “Nahh, if the parents are there he’ll be OK” she assured me. “If he’s there in several hours then maybe” she left the door open. My friend Rowan assured me robins spend several days on the ground and she herself had made the mistake of putting them back up in their nests when in fact, they needed to be on the ground to learn to fly. I still felt unsure, but I had to go with the collective wisdom.

    Amy came over with her mother to sign her lease. She needed it as proof of her residence so she could go get her Washington driver’s license. We chatted about my printer. “I have no idea why it says it doesn’t “recognize” my ink cartridges, but it won’t print.” I complained.

    “Well, we’ll make a copy when we’re in town.”

    “Oh you missed the events of the morning.” I said.

    “What happened?” Amy asked intrigued

    “There was a baby bird, a robin, I used one of your boxes as a shelter.”

    “Oh we wondered why the box was up on the lawn.” Amy said. “I thought the wind blew it.”

    “I saw him hop over with his parents by the shop near the fence. I think Robby’s going to be ok,” I said happily as they left.

    I went to the window and didn’t see Robby as I saw them pull out. Relieved he’d gotten to safety, I could finally concentrate on my insurance forms and get some of the lines filled out. I glanced at the clock and realized I had to go get Henry. Pulling up to the gate, I got out to open it, as is my custom, and noticed something in the road. Fear gripped my heart, as I knew, what it was. I walked closer. It was Robby crushed and lifeless. Amy had unwittingly run him over.

    Teary eyed I got in the car and started sobbing. Why didn’t I just put him in the box I berated myself. He’d be ok right now. I thought of how very hard he’d struggled to live, never giving up. I thought of his parents trying to help him. I felt I let him down. I know I can’t save them all but I have to try. It’s my nature.

June 17th A Spoonful of Sugar

  (One sweet ass - Miracle relaxing) 

     Living out on the farm means never knowing what’s going to happen next. Things just happen here you wouldn't expect. Take our newest tenant Amy. She's a little off beat, just the way I like 'em. She drove here from Texas with her mother who was nice enough to come with her and help her settle in. It was wonderful to watch them walking the property collecting flowers and talking. I knew my mother would have loved it here too.

    Amy’s nineteen, and a trained paramedic looking for work. She volunteered at the Dallas zoo for eight years so she says she's completely prepared for life on the farm. She claims the drive won't bother her a bit. Amy doesn’t have a cat or a dog but she does have a couple of huge bunnies and five sugar gliders.

    The “glidies”, as Amy call them, look like flying squirrels. They are in fact, marsupials from Australia. They leap from place to place person to person and can make a myriad of chirping sounds. Sugar gliders eat meal worms, crickets, baby chicks, fruit and have extremely sharp teeth so they can eat bark off trees. The two originals are Gizmo and Cleo, the mother and father of Mia and Sophia who are almost identical twins. Charlie is the baby. Charlie was named after the youtube video “Charlie Bit Me” as Charlie is the biter.

    When Henry and I went into meet them, Amy was wearing a little pouch around her neck. One at a time like a Dr. Seuss book she kept pulling gliders out. Mia and Sophia ran all over Henry, but not Cleo. Every time Amy put Cleo on Henry,  Cleo would leap  more than three feet back to Amy. 

    "So they just stay in the pouch and don't get out?" I asked.

    "Well, they don't usually," Amy's mother laughed, "but if they hear crinkling of potato chip bags or smell food they like, out they pop! And that's just what happened at an AM PM™ on the way here. People were crowded around to see the flying squirrels."

(one of the twins)

(Henry's loving this)

(Hmm Henry needs a haircut- off to the barber?)

(Amy and Cleo - who is about to leap to her cage)

    When they are not in Amy's pouch or eating at the table, they are kept downstairs in the room my father used as an office. The five of them live in a huge cage filled with mirrors, bells, tunnels and little cave type areas. And next to them are Rizzo and Frenchie the bunnies.

    “It’s like your own zoo down here!” Henry exclaimed as he saw the giant cage.

    The big bunnies are sweet. As you might expect, Rizzo is tough and brave, but Frenchie’s not quite as sure he likes the wood floor so he hippity hops around for a while but then vertically leaps right back in his cage. It’s quite impressive.

(Rizzo)

(Henry snuggles Frenchie)

(Brave and independent Rizzo is in the background as Frenchie prefers the safety of Henry's lap)

(Rizzo on the move)

    “Frenchie was out with me on a leash and met the geese. It didn’t go well, Rizzo was fine, but Frenchie squealed and carried on, I thought he was going to have a heart attack” Amy said as she held him. “He’s over it now, but he was a wreck”.

    “That Quackmire! Just wait ‘til Phoebe and Quinn see this” Henry murmured. “When my cousins get here and see these guys there is going to be a lot of high-pitched squealing. ‘Theyyyyyyyyyyy’re sssssssssssweeeeeeeet’” He imitated.

(Cleo -I think)

    “They are sweeties” I had to agree.

    “Mama can I get a sugar glider?”

    "You could have one if it fit in my colony and then just keep it in my cage" Amy offered.

    “Ahh no. You have five right here.” I said flatly. “You don’t even clean the cat box for heaven’s sake.”

    “I do. When you make me.”

    “Exactly. I’m just grateful Mr. Bubbles found a home before you arrived” I said to Amy.

    “Who is Mr. Bubbles?” Henry wondered.

    “He was my orange rat snake” Amy informed him. “I think I’d like to get another snake. I kinda miss being stared at” she said.

    "He was orange! That's my color!" Henry jumped in encouraging her.  I just shook my head and rolled my eyes.

   

    

May 28th The Great Escape

 

(Emmett Dean and The Rat-Bat-Cat-Dog)

      Toby who was going to spend nine days in Bellingham is still somewhere out in the Pacific North West packing, un-packing or doing Heaven knows what, while Dean remains with me. Together, Dean and I picked up Tom at the airport this afternoon. He arrived just in time for Henry’s track meet; well truthfully, there was enough time to stop for a cup of coffee on the way.

    The sun was shining so brightly; I had to dig out my long-forgotten sunglasses from underneath the passenger seat of the car. A smiling Henry proudly ran and threw the shot put basking in his father’s undivided attention.
(Tom concentrating on his youngest boy)

(Quinn bringing home the relay)

(Tom and Phoebe share a bag of Fritos™)

(Henry sees Daddy in the stands)

    When we got home, Henry was dying to show Tom everything at once. The tree he liked to climb and how high he could climb it, his yo-yo and all the tricks he’s been practicing, the spears he made and how he can make them whiz through the air. He wanted to show the Daddy his burn, his broken glasses and Apache. So led around by the arm Tom ooohed and ahhed at all his son had to offer. Then we walked the perimeter examining the new fence.

    “This is where Irish could get out, but we’ve put things like that old rusted out manure spreader in front of it to dissuade him. So what do you think?” I asked in a similar tone to Henry’s, seeking approval.

    “I like how you’ve marked all the dogs as ours.” He answered with a smile in his eyes. I looked down and realized there were glops and smudges of white paint on each of the dogs.

    “Daddy! Look! Look at Irish and Miracle!” Henry called. Tom turned his head just in time to see Miracle snuggling her nose up to Irish and Irish returning the gesture.

    “Are they new best friends?” Tom said surprised.

    “Since, Miracle has spent time in the front yard they’ve gotten to know each other better. Henry open the gate, I think we can safely let Irish out now.” I called back.

(Miracle checks out Irish's toes)
(Alert to trouble- my guardians)

(porch needing more black paint - Irish with Miracle hanging)

    “OK!” He yelled as he released the hound and Irish came barreling out of his front-porch prison. Strangely similar in size he and Miracle instantly began to romp. She ran from him and he obliged her with a merry chase. Then she turned around, ears pinned back head down she charged him. He took flight and they started going round and round a pine tree. Irish had the distinct advantage with his lean wiry body. He could wrap himself against the tree completely confounding Miracle. The real proof of the pudding was when she let him sniff her feet. Her tail swished a couple of times, but she allowed him to inspect her arsenal.

    It was then Irish saw us standing over in the clearing and loped toward us. His easy, goofy demeanor usually gives people the mistaken impression he’s not too bright. On the contrary, his mind is always working; he just doesn’t necessarily want to do what you want him to do. He walked up toward the vulnerable fence section circumvented the manure spreader and was over the weakened section in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.

    “No!!!” I cried panic stricken my worst fear coming true. “If a motorcycle comes by he could run to the road from that side of the fence.

    “I hear a motorcycle coming.” Tom stated ominously. Due to the echo in the valley you can hear them coming from miles and miles away but if we heard it, so did Irish to be sure. Dean scurried under the fence while Henry went for a hotdog to lure Irish because once out Irish generally likes to play a nice game of chase the big dog.

    “I got him Denise! I got him! I got the big boy!” Dean called who was now invisible in the dense forest growth.

    “Hold onto him Dean with your whole body. Don’t just hold his collar he can slip out of it. Sit down and put your arms around his stomach.” I warned as Henry returned hot dog in hand. “Henry slide under here and go help Dean the motorcycle is getting closer. If Irish gets loose it could be a disaster.” Henry slithered under the fence and pushed the tall brush aside.

    “Dean where are you?” Henry hollered.

    “Right over here! Don’t worry. I got ‘em,” Dean called back.

    “Dean if he gets loose he could die. I’m coming to help you,” Henry explained.

    “I don’t need help.”

    “Dean!” I screamed.

    “OK” Dean complied reluctantly.

    I couldn’t believe I was entrusting the life of that dog and possibly the life of the motorcyclist to those boys. I grabbed the wire fence and pushed it up as far as I could and crawled under it. I didn’t think I could reach them in time, but if they lost hold of Irish I could possibly intercept him. I knew my father’s Notre Dame football talent ran in my genes somewhere and I’d need it if I was going to tackle Irish.
The motorcycle was close now. “Hold on boys! Here comes the motorcycle, Henry feed him the hotdog to distract him.” I called as I tromped through the brush trying to position myself.

    The boys valiantly held the struggling dog and without incident, the motorcyclist whizzed by unaware of how much danger he’d been in. I grabbed Irish by the collar and with Dean leading us through the towering grass we all made our way to the road. We heard a strange sound and looked behind us. About thirty feet away we could see the tops of the six -foot grass moving.

    “What is that?” Dean asked suspiciously.

    “Lu? Is that you?” I called.

    “Rooooooooooo!!” Luther answered as the waving grass began to move faster.

    “Oh Luuuu you can do it!” Henry encouraged as a howling, tail-wagging Luther emerged into view.

    “Let’s go see Daddy,” Henry urged.

May 25th The Best Laid Plans

   

(flowers outside my laundry room door)

    It was just another cup of coffee, coverall, can of paint kind of day. I spent the morning on top of a ladder painstakingly working on the eaves above the front porch. The ones I did not paint last year when I did the entire rest of the house because of my resident bats. A fairly large colony lives in a small crevice between my eaves. When you look up from the porch floor you can usually see their tiny toes hanging out and hear their little chirps. You do not want to put your coffee cup on the table too close to the house as it could end up being sprinkled with bat guano. It’s not a real problem you just have to scoot it forward. They don’t have much range. Bats are sensitive little creatures who keep to themselves and do not care for paint fumes so I try to be accommodating as they are helpful little guys who eat mosquitoes by the thousands.

(one coat of white on the eaves - the black started- temp light)

    Although there is no glory in painting eaves, they've got to be done, and everything was going according to schedule. If I kept up my current pace I would indeed be completely finished by dark. I was systematically going across the deck and working my way around. Of course, my arm was always above my head giving me an entirely new appreciation for the Sistine Chapel. These particular eves would require three coats. The first coat was sort of exciting as I could see a huge and immediate difference, but then as I watched the paint dry I could see it yellow and the color of the wood seep through. The second coat is harder to do emotionally. I put it on thick in hopes it will be enough knowing full well it won’t and ultimately I will have to do the entire ceiling for a third time.

    This was my lot in life as the holiday weekend ticked by. Toby had flown in earlier in the week to close escrow on her farm in Courtenay on Vancouver Island. She said it would take her two days to finish packing and then she thought she might visit for a day or so and we’d still have a week or more to spend together. That was on Wednesday and five days later she is nowhere near done, so I have Dean who is having a grand old time playing with Henry.

(Dean and Henry way, way up in a pine tree)

(Dean and Henry)

(Dean and Henry painting my flower garden fence in their drawers)

(Miracle is getting cozy with Henry)

(Miracle tries one of Dean's Cool Ranch Doritos™- and likes them)

(Miracle's nose on right wondering I suppose what Irish might have to eat)

    Today I told them was a workday because “a girl I know through a couple of my friends, Jackie and Gina, both know Rowan. She moved here from California with her daughter Pearl. They live in Everson a little town near Lynden.”

    “Isn’t that where the Black Forest restaurant is?” Henry asked.

    “Yes it is. I can’t believe you remember that. Anyway, they’re going to be coming by today. You guys can play with Pearl while Rowan and I make margaritas,” I explained as I outlined their chores. So they vacuumed the house, loaded the dishwasher did some laundry and were making themselves a well deserved lunch. Consequently, it was quiet outside while I worked with the exception of the cowbells jingle, jangling. Every once in awhile I’d look up to hear Nutsy, the woodpecker, rat-a-tat-tatting on the metal roof of the Kubota™ barn or to chat with Miracle as she tried to make friends with Irish. The geese were somewhere unseen only to be heard every once in a while as they scolded each other or ganged up on Luther. The goats sought refuge from the heat of the day under the house chewing their cud while the sheep decorated the lawn continuously mowing.

(Sheryl and Mildred grazing)

It was a picturesque day with a blue, blue sky and little white puffy clouds and green green grass. When I looked up I noticed that while all the sheep had their heads down only three of the four were eating. Apache was staring at the grass motionless while the others moved about. I watched him for a time and realized there was something seriously wrong. I called Andrea, the breeder I’d gotten him from and asked her what she thought. She suspected bloat, a gassy condition that can and is fatal much of the time in ruminants such as horses, cows, goats and sheep.

    “Can you see him now?” She asked.

    “No. Hold on a second, I’ll look out the door, I can’t find the cordless phone.” I said hurriedly as I set the phone down and ran out the door where Henry and Dean were keeping an eye on Apache.

    “Henry, where’s Apache?” I asked.

    “He’s right over there around the corner.”

    “How is he, Andrea wants to know if his left side is distended.”

    “Well, I don’t know what distended means, but he’s vomiting green frothy stuff. Look it’s falling out of his mouth,” Henry answered worriedly. I ran back in the house and relayed the information.

    “OK well, it sounds like frothy bloat. Are they on a new pasture?” Andrea wondered.

    “Well, they are, but I did it gradually and the others are all fine.” Hoping I hadn’t made some fatal error in judgment.

    “You can have just one who for whatever reason just bloats. Take a syringe. Do you have a large syringe?”

    “Yes.” I answered meekly.

    “Mix a cup of water, vegetable oil and three tablespoons of baking soda. When you have most of it down him then put a stick in his mouth cross ways like a bridle, so he bites on it. This will help him begin to burp.”

    “Got it,” I said as I obediently began mixing up the concoction. Remembering the syringe was in the barn I grabbed the turkey baster instead and headed out the door. I held Apache as Henry shoved the mixture down our patient’s throat and Dean held the bowl full of “medication”. Successfully getting most of it down his throat I inserted the stick and allowed him to bite down on it several times before releasing him.

    The three of us stood there watching. Apache scooted away from us as quickly as he could. Dazed and confused he was stumbling around trying to get his bearings when green frothy stuff started erupting out of his mouth again this time followed by blood.

    “Mom! He’s vomiting blood!” Henry shrieked.

    “Lots of it!” Dean yelled. Not knowing what else to do I called Andrea back again. She said it probably was frothy bloat and that he was probably not going to make it. I hung up. I knew vomiting blood was never good but I wasn’t giving up.

    “Henry, I’m going to call Kulshan, but I have to tell you, Andrea said it’s a strong possibility Apache’s not going to make it. You have to be prepared." I knew he was upset, near tears, but I turned my back and went into the house to call the vet. I would have to deal with him later. After twelve years of Cancer with my mother I know there is always time to get upset. Now was the time for saving the sheep if I could. I called Kulshan and left a message for the on call large animal doctor. After I hung up I dialed Lisa.

    “Can I call you back? I’m on the phone with Annie.” She asked naively.

    “NO! I’m sorry. You can’t call me back. I’m having a sheep emergency. Apache’s vomiting blood,” I blurted. “I can’t stay on the phone I have Kulshan calling me back."

    “I’ll get my keys and I’ll walk out the door,” She responded without hesitation. I knew she’d come if she could; we were always a team in a crisis.  We’d had a lot of practice.

    Almost immediately Dr. Potts from Kulshan returned my call. He was a kind understanding man who helped me through the entire assessment process. I described the chain of events that had led to my call and then he began asking me questions.

    “Do you have any Rhododendron?’

    “No. I removed all Rhododendron.”

    “Do you have Oleander?”

    “No.” I said remembering Henry being on the heart monitor at one year and ten days of age from putting Oleander in his mouth. “I don’t have any Oleander or Azaleas.”

    “OK, Do you have any dog or cat food he could have gotten into? Are there any rotting weeds or hay?” He asked patiently.

    “Well, I did pull some weeds and they’re in a pile from my flower garden, but they’re only a couple days old and not rotting yet. And no, I feed all the house animals inside.”

    “Good.” he said, “That’s the best and safest way to do it.” I felt twinge of pride. I was doing something right despite this catastrophe that was almost certainly my fault somehow. “I’d like you to go to the barn and check on a few things and call me back. I’d like you to take his rectal. The temperature on a sheep on a hot day like today should, is he shorn?”

    “Yes just last week,” I answered mater-of-factly.

    “Then his temperature should be I’m hoping for below 103 degrees. I want you to use your finger but don’t hurt his eye and determine if he’s blind. Feel just past his last rib before his hip on the left side to determine if it’s bloat.”

    “I’m sorry, but what would it feel like?”

    “Well, if there is normal roughage in there you’ll feel harder clumps. If it’s bloat you’ll feel it to be like a balloon. After you do all that, call me and we’ll see if you need to bring him in.”
Henry, Dean and I herded the sheep in the barn and began our exam on Apache.

    “It doesn’t look big and distended to me.” Henry said using his new word.
“To me either.” I concurred. Using a cotton ball, instead of my finger, and throwing it up in the air as I’d seen my sister do in a neurology class I tried to determine if Apache tracked the movement with his eyes rather than just felt the movement.

    “I can’t tell can you?” I solicited Henry’s opinion.

    “No. I can’t.” He said just as worried as I was. We let him up and watched him walk across the barn. He was stumbling like a drunk, but negotiated the silver hay bucket with out too much trouble as he crossed the barn. So we thought he could see, but then wondered if just knew where it was and could sense it.  I called Dr. Potts.

    “I can’t find my thermometer so my sister is stopping at Walgreens™ and buying one so I don’t know his temperature yet, but he isn’t distended, he feels normal. He acts drunk and spacey.”

    “Well, there is a bacteria they can get from rotting food that causes them to have a condition we call star gazing.”

    “I did see a bad bale of hay in the barn. Truthfully, he could have gotten some of it without me noticing it. I just don’t know. I wouldn’t rule it out.”

    “Hmm. Give him some hay and see if he’ll eat. Call me back when you know his temperature.” Dr. Potts instructed. I went back to the barn and fed the hay. Apache ate immediately while the others did not.

    “They’re probably full because they’ve been grazing.” Henry theorized. “Mom, if Apache dies where will we bury him?” Henry said softly.

    “Near the goslings.” I replied.

    “How will we dig such a big hole?’ He wondered pragmatically.

    “With the tractor.” I answered.He sat silently for a while and then not wanting to dwell on the topic, he and Dean went to the gate to wait for Lisa while I sat and waited with the sheep. Angus immediately sat down and began chewing his cud followed by Sheryl. Mildred stood looking at me wide-eyed wondering I’m sure what I was doing sitting in her stall. Apache sat down struggling to keep his eyes open then just giving in putting his head down on the floor. Moments later the cavalry rode up in the form of my sister and Phoebe. Ponytailed, with her baseball hat on Lisa wore a stethoscope around her neck. Her very presence calmed me. Without wasting time she tore open the thermometer and inserted it while I held Apache.

    “A hundred and one, a hundred and one point five, a hundred and two, a hundred and ooops he’s pooping. We’ll have to go again, but that’s a good sign, no blockage.”

    “Something’s happening in there. He peed too.”  I grasped for the positive.

    “Good. OK a hundred and two a hundred and two point five, six, seven, eight and nine.” The thermometer beeped. “Well, it’s under a hundred and three.” She said hopefully.  “I brought my Pugh sheep book.” She said as she listened to his stomachs, took his heart rate and in general checked all his clinical signs.

(Lisa's tools)

    “I thought you would.”

    “I actually had it in the car just in case.” It occurred to me how thoughtful that was for her to carry around a book about sheep and goats so she’d be prepared if I needed her.

    Lisa called Dr. Potts and they began their discussion using much medical terms he hadn’t used with me. He wanted her to check for any strabismus, which I learned, is a fixation of the pupil. “In Siamese cats it often presents as cross-eyed.” Lisa explained. We checked. She felt his eyesight was sufficient, she agreed there was no bloat and in general thought he was goofy and we were going to have to take him in. Lisa called Chris while I put a tarp and a furniture blanket in the back of the van and loaded up.

(Me and Apache - not our best day)

    “Rowan! I’ve got to call Rowan, she and Pearl are coming over.” I said frantically looking for her phone number to let her know we wouldn’t be here.

    “You had plans?” Lisa said looking at how I was dressed and covered in paint.

    “Yes. Rowan was just going to swing by for a chat and a margarita to mark the day. She lives in Everson.” I said with the mutual understanding that her living in out in the county completely forgave my appearance.

(Phoebe, Apache & Dean en route)

(Kulshan in Lynden - where Irish recovered last July)

    Dr. Potts drove up just as we did. There was another doctor already there. “Hi, I’m Amber” she said smiling. “How are you?”

    “I’ve been better.” I smiled shaking her outstretched hand. I was relived she didn't have a limp fish handshake as I was about to entrust her with my little lamb.

 

(Apache gets check out)

    “Well, let’s see what we can do.” She said and with that, Lisa, Dr. Potts and Amber began discussing, theorizing and talking in medical shorthand. While I listened garnering what I could from the conversation. They’d ask me a question and I’d see sideways glances I knew meant something, but wasn’t sure what.
It turned out he was anemic and the diagnosis was a suspected large parasite burden. “I think Apache here has a belly full of worms. Eighty percent of your parasites will be in twenty percent of your herd.” Amber explained. “I’ll check the fecal sample which will take a while longer, but I’m sure it’s going to come out high. But with some de-worming he should be fine. The good news is we can fix it.” She was the nicest, kindest person, so helpful and considerate, she made the experience a lot easier.

(Me with paint in my hair, Apache, Phoebe, Henry & Dean wait)

    We talked a while longer, and then Lisa and Phoebe headed home. On our way back through Everson I thought of Rowan and Pearl and our dashed plans. I wondered where they lived. It must be near here. Trying to drive as steadily as I could so Apache wouldn’t fall I checked my rear view mirror I and saw flashing lights. Hoping the K9 unit was on its way to an emergency I pulled over. It seems highway 9 drops from 50 miles an hour to 35 for a brief stint and I was doing 45 a steady. I got a ticket. I had no idea how I was going to tell Tom.

    While I was pulled over Amber called. “You got a ticket? No! So many of our veterinarians have gotten tickets there. They just sit and wait. You should fight it. Really. Anyway yep, the fecal came back and it’s way high. I stopped counting. Worm everyone in your barn once but worm Apache three days in a row. Keep them all in so you can clean up all the poop and remove it. In fact, you should pick up all the goat and sheep poop in your yard for the last two weeks.”

    “What? Do you know how much that is? It’s everywhere. In little holes, clumps of grass everywhere.”

    “It would be worth it.” She said before going to a barbecue at Dr. Potts’ house.

    I drove home thinking of how my two hundred dollar vet bill just got a lot more expensive. I’d go to court like she suggested. It’s all I could do now.  We got home and Alexis helped me de-worm everyone before closing up the barn for the night. Tired, I looked at the paint container with the brushes still in it sitting on the ladder. I'd barely gotten started. Grabbing the bucket I went in and began rinsing the brushes. I had one more call to make.

    “Hey Andrea, it’s Denise again. I just wanted to let you know what happened to Apache.” I said as I loosened the stiffened hairs of the brushes and I went on to explain what had happened.

    “Well, I’m so relieved. After I spoke with you I thought that if he died, I’d try and meet you in Ellensburg and give you another lamb. I know how much he means to the kids.”

    “That is so sweet of you. Thankfully, it’s not necessary today was a win.” I said tears coming to my eyes at how thoughtful a gesture that was.

    “Yes it was.”

    “The day didn’t go exactly as planned, but I thought the money I spent on vet bills I was going to have to spend on euthanasia so I consider myself lucky. Everyone’s alive.

    “I think that’s it.” She agreed. “On a farm death is just another part of life and if you think you’re in charge the animals and the elements will let you know otherwise. You do what they tell you to do.”

    “And they’re awfully bossy. Did I tell you the vet wanted me to pick up two weeks of goat and sheep poop?” I said amused

    “You’re kidding!” Andrea laughed uproariously. “She was kidding wasn’t she? She had to be."

    “No. She was completely serious. Can you imagine?” I said incredulously sharing a  conspiratal farm girl laugh releasing the tension of the day.

    “Well, she may treat them, but she never owned ‘em that’s impossible. You’d never be able to find them all.” She laughed again.

    “I know.I know.” I agreed.

April 19th A Small Step

  (Miracle can't believe it - boys working) 

(boys working - Justin and Henry)

    After helping us with the fence, Henry and Justin had the audacity to want to go to the pond in what I consider freezing weather. It's true the sun was shining, but there was a bite in the air as the sun started to slip behind the mountains. I'm not eleven, so if Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer want to swim, who am I to stand in their way? They walked ahead to the pond while Alexis and I pounded in another bit of our now impressive run of fence.

(Henry & Justin walk to the pond with Vivian and Luther)

(Prepared for work)

    Nervous, about water and children, and wondering if they'd listen to my rules when I wasn't there, Alexis and I drove out to the pond sooner than later. Pulling up, I was delighted to see two boys heeding my words. I sat on the shore watching the pair of Canada geese who'd settled in for the spring. Henry would honk at them and they'd honk back. I wondered if they were the parents of the goslings we'd had here two years ago. They return to the same pond every year ala' "Fly Away Home".

(Henry lounges)

(Old friends?)

(Me and Bruno by the pond)

I thought of our goslings and Clara. I'm struggling not to get attached. I try not to handle them knowing I want to sell them, but I can't really sell them without a viable boy. So I'm waiting patiently for Mabel/Ruthie's hatch. Certain at this point they're waiting for me to leave town to birth those babies.

    Sure we have Colt and he's a fighter, but he still has one droopy eye and is a fraction of the size of his big fluffy sisters. He is making progress, when Alexis puts him outside with the others he definitely tries to forage. The girls are constantly eating. Ripping grass, roots and anything their little heart desires goes in their stomach. Colt will run behind them and mimic them but not necessarily eat. Often times, he still has to be put in the water to remind him to drink and Alexis still brings him in every night and puts him under the heat lamp to keep him a snug 90 degrees.

    I watched him in the baby pool the other day. All the other gosling girls went over the edge of the baby pool like track stars, but Colt, well, he had a difficult time jumping out. Time after time he tried hopping and stepping over the edge. Henry and I desperately wanted to help him, but we knew had to do it on his own if he was going to be out here. So we sat back hoping he'd make it. And, after a painful long time, he clumsily stumbled over a rousing applause. A giant leap forward in his chances for survival.

(trying)

(trying)

(success!)

(Colt and his ginormous sisters)

(Little Colt looking at Mama)

    I've been feeling a little sorry for myself lately, and in truth I'm a fairly lazy person at heart, but when I watch the little guy, I wonder how I have the nerve to complain. He was struggled and fought for every breath, drink and morsel. As I see him try so desperately to keep up, it makes me pause and reevaluate my life. Truthfully, the struggles I've endured have brought me tenfold in reward. It sound sappy I know, way more Melanie than my usual Scarlet perspective. I've learned I can tote water for weeks on end if I have to; in true Scarlet fashion. I've realized I can make a myriad of inexpensive refrigerator surprise dinners, I've benefited from the kindness of strangers and found friends in people I never dreamed cared. I discovered a friend I thought I'd lost forever just to find she's really a guardian angel in disguise. I've learned to hold on to hope and put one foot in front of the other.

(Justin snorkles)

April 8th The Miracle Of Life

  (Clara and her girls - one is tucked safely under her wing)

    The thick grey skies seemed to mirror our mood this morning. The death of Clyde has left everyone here a bit somber. We’re not running around crying all the time, but it’s sort of taken the wind out of our sails. Henry has forgiven Vivian for her crime, realizing she had no malintent, but it doesn’t take away the pain.

    We moped about a bit in the morning fixing breakfast. Alexis feeding and carrying around Colter who has yet to fully rejoin his family. Mike came out for a visit since he’s house sitting for Lisa & Chris who cashed in frequent flier miles and flew south for a sunny Cancun vacation with the girls. In an attempt to right the ship Mike Henry and I decided to go out to the barn to candle Ruthie and Mabel’s eggs wondering if there was even a possibility of more goslings. It was amazing how all the animals responded to Mike even Scarlett who harbors Greta-Garbo-ways came out to pay homage to the man who would supply her ham every morning when he lived here.

    To our delight quite a few of the eggs looked dark and filled with the promise of new life. Our spirits soared. “Mama we’re going to have more babies! I think they’ll be here within the week.” My little farm boy predicted.

    “I thin you’re right Babalouie.”  I said, “You know we’re really very lucky. We haven’t lost a lamb or a goat even though we’ve seen plenty of coyote and of course the cougar”

    “Of course we’ve found a lot of scat from bear under the apple trees even though we haven’t seen them. We know they’re there.” Mike added.

    “And bobcat?” Henry reminded me.

    “True there was the bobcat in the pasture, but we’ve only lost one little life in almost two years.”

    “From our own dog.” Henry emphasized.

    “Can you imagine how horrible it would have been if the first life lost was Riley’s?” Mike asked.

    “That would have been horrible, his carcass ripped open.” 

    “Mom!”

    “Well, it could have happened. It’s happened to a lot of people I’ve talked to. The game warden and I discussed it at length. So the loss of Clyde no matter how terrible has to be put in perspective. It’s really quite remarkable and the only reason is Miracle.” I said going over to give her the cookie she was begging for. “She’s turned out to be an amazing guardian.”

    Miracle stood there begging for cookies like an overgrown basset hound absorbing the praise, all the while her ears turning around tuning in every sound always alert.

Introducing: Miracle The Wonder Donkey with Tom accompanied by Grandpa Horn's music.

February 21st Sixth Sense

   

(forest for the trees)

    Just as I was about to walk out the door, the phone rang. I didn’t want to answer it as I had just enough time to get to school to pick up Henry, but as I glanced at the caller id I saw it was the school.

    “Hello?”

    “Hey Mama, do I have to go to gymnastics today?” He asked full of hope. My mind quickly processed the situation. He was going to miss more than half the workout today anyway because I’d let him stay until the end of wrestling and gymnastics started early. He obviously wanted to do something which meant a possible friend.

    “Sure you can miss gymnastics. Why?”

    “Well, my friend Robby wants me to come over and maybe go to the movies.”

    “OK, but call me when you get there and call me before you go to the movies and then I’ll come and pick you up”

    “OK, Mama, thanks!”

    “Have fun!” I called as the phone hung up. I stood there wanting to be happy. It seemed great. He had someone who wanted him to come over. A friend. That’s what I’d hoped for when he started wrestling and yet, I stood in the kitchen filled with uncertainty. I tried to shake the strange, but all too familiar feeling. I hoped it was just an overprotective mother mode kicking in, but I feared it was more of an intuitive feeling.

    Over the years, I’ve learned to trust the nagging little voice tugging at my heart. Very bad things happen when I don’t. One moment lives in infamy.

    I stood looking at the big beautiful home on Orange Grove just off Sunset. My soon to be roommate Dixon looked at me and said, “What are you thinking?”

 “I think this house is going to change our lives” was my response. She said later she had been struck the enormity by my statement. She’d expected me to say something fun or positive and was puzzled by ominous remark. But the truth is I didn’t want to move in to the house, yet I couldn’t come up with one logical reason not to. It was very cheap, my ex-boyfriend, Franz owned the place and was giving us a screaming deal. It was in the area, Dixon and my sister had wanted to live and we’d looked at so many dumps, this was a real opportunity. Still, I knew in my heart it was wrong. Suffice to say we lived there two weeks. And those two weeks changed our lives forever. We were stalked, held at gunpoint and I was raped. Despite the terrible events I learned a lot about myself and have been able to help other women along the way.

    When I moved to Minneapolis, I didn’t have a job. And I didn’t have a place to live so when I was offered a job at an advertising agency, I felt I had to take it. Yet, I hesitated. I didn’t like the feel of the place; I didn’t like anything about it, their clients, the décor anything. It felt sterile and unhappy. But I really needed the money and I knew I should take it. Little did I know the owner of the agency was a convicted sex offender who was only allowed to be on the premises a certain amount of time a month. I’d taken a job working for the devil. Once again, I paid. The details of which I cannot elaborate upon due to a non-disclosure statement, but it did help me learn how to really stand up for myself.

    Conversely, when I “foolishly” defied logic and purchased a little fixer-upper in foreclosure, it turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life, I made money and was deliriously happy with being a homeowner, painting my living room bright yellow with an orange ceiling to go with my purple sofa.

    It’s a funny thing about following your instincts. You don’t get handy dandy print out of all the bad things that could have happened. 1. Didn’t fall victim to freakish street magician by attending party in tawdry neighborhood 2. Didn’t hire bad-tempered untalented, insecure girl who would later cause all sorts of havoc with sundry threats and lawsuits. If we did get these reinforcements of what might have been perhaps we wouldn’t let our guard down. Ever. But alas, we don’t get those validations and so once again the universe must teach us a lesson.

    I waited uneasily for Henry’s call. And as promised he called, but this time he pushed me farther asking me to spend the night. There was a tone in his voice I found unsettling, but he said all the right words and I wanted him to have fun and not to miss out.

    When the mother got on the phone, a tingling went through my body. Every alarm bell I had was ringing loud and clear. Yet, she said all the right things and I didn’t have any reason to say no.

    “Well, I’d like to pick him up around 10:00 so I’ll give you a call in the morning. I hope he’ll behave and be polite for you.” I said, knowing he would.

    “Well, if he isn’t Robby’s big brother will take care of him.” She said laughing. “No. I’m just kidding.” She recanted.

    “People who are kidding don’t need to say they’re just kidding.” I told Tom later.

    Since I had no logic to support me and there was nothing I could do about it I tried to enjoy the evening. I poured a glass of wine and sat on the sofa in front of a roaring fire chatting on the phone intending to watch a documentary on Lincoln’s body but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how to work the darn thing without Henry. I just kept getting a blue screen with the DirecTV logo bouncing around like a game of pong.

    In the morning I called the sleepover three times before my first cup of coffee. No answer. No answer? You have eight boys over for a sleepover and you don't answer the phone? I left messages and my phone number. I didn’t leave the house even to feed the animals because I’ve been having trouble with my call forwarding. Finally, I put on my navy coveralls at 10:30 asked Wayne to answer the phone and went to clean the barn with Alexis.

(me with Apache as I scrape the junk out)

     Surrounded by the animals, I tried to relax. Cleaning the barn is one of the things I dread, but love once I get started. It’s physically exhausting and yet rewarding. I love the smell of the barn and talking to the animals. It’s like going to the gym but better. The cold air in my face and the pitchfork in my hand I let my mind wander. I thought dark thoughts of Henry’s friend Harry going over to the neighbors and dying just afterward. Murder was never proven, but as the police said things don’t work like CSI. Just because someone is your neighbor doesn’t mean they’re a person to be trusted, “some one lived next door to Jeffrey Dahmer”.  Time moved slowly. I didn’t think Henry was going to die, but something wasn’t right. I knew it or at least I was letting my imagination get the better of me. He’d probably call having had a wonderful time and I’d have stewed for nothing.

(Ruthie laid an egg and built an uber nest - while Mabel looks on)

(a pile of poop and urine soaked straw)
  (If only I could whistle while I worked)

  (Alexander on another poop pile)

(A nice cozy clean barn)

(Miracle peeks)

  (Miracle refuses to come in for the night unless she gets a packer pellet)

(Clara sitting pretty)

    I went in the house to check and sure enough there was a message from The Boy. “Hey Mama, heard you called. Call me back.” He sounded fine.

    So I called and got the address. I knew I couldn’t get there for about an hour and it was already noon. I called Lisa. “I’ll get him within ten minutes.” She said reassuringly.

    I finished phase one of the barn with Alexis and headed out to town covered in gunk. When I came into cell range, I called and spoke to Henry.

    “Hey Sweetie! Did you have a great time?” I asked as upbeat as I could muster.

    “No.” He said sullenly. “I’ll tell you later. I’m hanging out with Chris. We’re male bonding. Lisa went to the hospital cause Lauren broke her arm playing soccer.”

    “I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.” I was stunned. I had been right. I wondered what could have happened, but no matter he was safe now.

    On the way home Henry said “Robby just acted completely different when we were at his house. He was mean. He screamed at his mom calling her a crack-head and a pothead. His older brother does drugs and beats their mother. She had to have surgery on her back. She told me she had Robby taken away from her and she worked hard to get him back and then he’s like that to her. There was no respect. I was appalled.”

    “Why didn’t you call me? I would have picked you up.”

    “I don’t know. I should have. They watched horror movies and I knew I just couldn’t do that so I went in another room.”

    “Well, I’m glad you knew how to take care of yourself. You know I had a bad feeling about the place, but I thought you’d have been broken-hearted if I’d have said you couldn’t stay. Next time I feel that way I’m going to follow my instincts.”

    “Sounds good to me. The place smelled funny – and I was scared. His mother told me I shouldn’t upset his brother. It worried me. His brother said he wished his mother would be raped and murdered and that he'd pee and poop on her grave. I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know why I can’t find normal friends like I used to have like Kyle, Sam, Brady and Nick Melvin.”

    “His brother is disgusting. The whole thing sounds like a nightmare. I have to admit, this is harder than I ever thought it would be. Quinn has nice friends like Marnie and Lauren. At least you're in middle school and not elementary.”

    "I'd go back to elementary if I could go Woodland Hills and be with my friends - even if Mrs. Feig was principal again." That was saying something.

    Later Lisa called to see how Henry was, "He's fine. He's having teriyaki chicken on a bed of angel hair with a side of edamame and brownies for desert."

    "Did Wayne cook?" She laughed.

    "Shut-up." She laughed at me.

     We ate in front of the TV snuggled up under a blanket with the dogs catching up on  "Grey's Anatomy". 

    “Henry I’m so tired I’ve got to go to sleep.” I said with my eyes closed on the sofa.

    “OK. Mama, I’m just  going to clear the dishes.”  I lay there for a few more minutes as I heard clanking. I got up and walked into the kitchen where I was surprised to see my boy unloading the dishwasher.

    “What are you doing?”

    “I thought I’d unload and load the dishes so you won't have to do it in the morning”

    “Who are you and what have you done with my son?”

    “Well, I guess that sleepover made an impression on me. Maybe it was good I went. I thought about how Robby treated his mother and while I would never talk to you that way, I thought about how I do treat you and I realize I don’t do very much around here except for myself or if you ask me. I’m going to help out around here more. You do everything for me and I don’t do very much for you.”

    I guess everything happens for a reason.

December 30th Friendship the Perfect Blendship

(Ready for a nice chat)

    Day 16 without water is no longer a desperate situation. We’ve actually started to take it for granted we make trips to the pond, melt snow regularly and have plenty of drinking water on hand. Oh, we walk by the sink lift the handle and say, “ I wish I had a million dollars” like George Bailey does when he tries the cigar lighter in “It’s a Wonderful Life” but we never really expect it to turn on. Sadly, Tom’s even started dreaming of running water. This morning Pea went down to the creek with his new siphon he bought at Loews™ while I was tidying the house for our guests. Lisa’s family lives in Spokane so we’re practically neighbors. Which is close if you consider the eight-hour drive between Los Angeles and San Francisco something you’d do any old weekend. Today she was leaving her husband behind to work in Seattle while she drove up with her eight-year-old twins, Emily and Zach. My sister was also coming with her girls. Lisa and I had a falling out neither of us cared to remember and hadn’t seen each other since Henry was a toddler, before her kids were born and to tell the truth, we were a little nervous about how everyone would get along. I figured Quinn would hang out with the ladies, Henry would be happy to have a boy and Phoebe was simply thrilled to be a month older than somebody. 

    Tom came back cheeks flushed water jugs full. “The siphon works great!” He beamed. “I just put it underwater and it fills the jugs while I fill the big buckets for the animals. As long as it doesn’t come up out off the bottom it just keeps flowing.” It seemed like he had plenty of water, but no sooner did we do some dishes, fill the tanks of the toilets and flush them and then fill them up again so we’d have company-ready-toilets than we were practically out of water again.
(Miracle and Lisa)

    Lisa arrived with lots of smiles, hugs and jugs of water. Once the kids were bundled and happily out sledding, Wayne, Tom, Lisa, and I went out to the pond for another water run after a quick visit to the barn.  Lisa was heartily amused by the scene.
(Zach declines Lisa's efforts to bundle him up)
(Emily and Zach race up Cougar Hill as Wayne and Pea look on with Luther and Abbey)

(Rocky the 9-year-old Chocolate Lovable Lab who couldn't get enough of Luther --he pawed, he licked -he snuggled and he cried when he had to leave Lu)

(Emily, Zach and Henry hitch a ride to the pond)
(Lisa takes a tumble)

(On the way - with Vivian trailing behind)
(Quinn with a few of the dogs: Vivian, Winnifred, Rocky, Luther, Charlie and Bruno - not pictured: Irish, Abbey and Deli)

(Lisa in between hauling jugs of water to the truck - and Vivian by the frozen pond)

    “I guess this 'crik' is a long way from the Calabasas Commons” she giggled as she snapped pictures in her black faux fur trimmed coat creating evidence of my “Green Acres” way of life. Bundled in worn khaki from head to toe, wearing my snow boots standing ankle deep in the creek as I filled the next jug I had to agree. I watched Tom haul water buckets to the truck picturing him hair slicked back ordering oysters on the half shell
(Pea going to the creek)

(Pea gettin' water)

 

    “Do you have Fanny Bay’s or Kumomoto’s?” He’d ask seated in the bar at Kings' Seafood Restaurant.  I can remember Henry running in one time from the fountain outside saying, “Mom! The ring you got me fell off and I couldn’t find it. But Charlie’s mom found it.”

    “Who’s Charlie?” I asked.

    “The kid I was playing with over there.” He said pointing to a sandy-haired kid seated next to his mother wearing a red and white baseball shirt. “She crawled all around the fountain and in the bushes until she found it!” She waved hello as we nodded our thanks to none other than Jodi Foster. I’d been a fan of hers since “The Little Girl Who Lived Down The Lane.” It was true life had changed more than I’d realized, but I’m happier -although it would be nice to be able to talk to her now and show her our plans for Fort Flashback. Sigh.

(Everyone plays "Apples to Apples")
(Phoebe and Quinn with their game on)

(Zach and Lisa)

(Emily and Henry - in uniform)

    The rest of the day was filled with catching up, pizza, playing “Apples to Apples” with the kids and feeding the animals treats. “I guess I’m a sheltered city- kid, I’ve never had my hand near a cow’s lips before.” Lisa reflected wide-eyed after she fed the cows some grain. Zach played mostly with the dogs, taking a shine to Bruno and begging me to use my influence with his mother to get him his own pet. He swore up and down he’d be responsible and take care of it ALWAYS.

(Zach playing with Rocky and Charlie)
(Zach and his new buddy Bruno)

 Emily was more concerned with feeding and taking care of the barn animals and curious about my potential acquisitions. I alluded to the possibility of an American Guinea Hog and my strong desire for a few poultry varieties – chickens, turkeys and if you twisted my arm I could be talked into a duck. (Emily doing barn chores)

    The day was cut short by Henry’s mock competition. He was to be at the gym in full uniform because a visiting judge was coming in to evaluate the boys before Saturday’s competition, the Washington Open. Lisa, Emily and Zach drove down to Burlington to watch a couple of events. They stayed for the pommel and parallel bars before heading back to Seattle. Zach and Emily vowed their return while Lisa made a heartfelt promise of a long weekend soon, very soon. Henry leaned over and suggested quietly, “Mom let the air out of their tires then they’ll have to spend the night.” Looks like they got along.

   

December 15th Clothes Horse?

(our first snowfall this winter - the house in need of the black plank shutters Tom is going to make when he "has time")

    I woke up this morning to find that, due to extreme cold, all Bellingham Schools had been delayed two hours. I looked at the temperature: 7 degrees, much colder than we ever got last year. I began to worry about the animals. Really worry. If it’s 7 degrees now, how cold was it last night? Would they all be alive this morning? I know they’re animals and, except for the geese, none of them go south for the winter, but this was an extreme drop in temperature. I thought of the geese huddled together. Were they like penguins, taking turns being on the outside of the huddle?

    Riley is over a year old now, but would the goats be able to withstand such a drop? They weren’t dressed in wool like the lambs. I wasn’t too worried about the lambs, as their wool has come in nicely since the shearing. And what of Miracle? None of the other animals snuggle with her. True, she has more body mass, but 7 degrees?

    I went to make some coffee and call Lisa. Certainly, she’d have some thoughts on the subject. She’d tell me not to worry – I thought. I turned on the faucet and, after a stutter and hiccup, a tiny trickle came out and then stopped. Our pipes had frozen. My mind reeled. This had so many ramifications. I couldn’t make coffee. No coffee and no shower, when I more than desperately needed a shower yesterday. It’s not often I do my hair for the cows, but I do try to stay within social norms. Good thing it’s hat weather. Frozen pipes? No coffee? We’d turned on the light and even added a heater to the pump house. No coffee? The pipes must be frozen somewhere else. I worried again about who would be alive in the barn when I got there. I didn’t want to go. I stalled, went upstairs and woke Henry, preparing him for what I might find in the barn.
(not much snow, but blue skies and cold, cold, cold)

    Lisa had cautioned me about the importance of the animals'  water. She warned me that the temperature has to be brought up somewhat or they won’t drink enough, even if they can. “After all, who likes to drink ice water when they’re freezing?” she said practically. I’d brought a bucket in last night to heat up some water and take it to the barn to warm up their water. Seeing as the faucets weren’t working, I went to the toilet tank. I took off the lid and started bailing out water with a mason jar. I heated the water on the stove in my cast iron pot, while I rooted around the house until I found a discarded cup of coffee from yesterday. Tossing it in the microwave, I threw on Pea’s red robe with the tattered tie, slipped into my blue duck boots, put on my brown leather rain hat with the chin strap (the one Wayne calls my “Indiana Jones” hat), and made my way out to the barn with my stale, but steaming, cup of coffee in one hand and my bucket of boiling water in the other. I was trudging along just about at the chicken coop when I heard the glorious sound of Miracle braying “Good Morning”. She was alive! Relief went through me and I walked a little quicker.
(Angus, Sheryl and Mildred getting their fleece back)

(Apache wants attention)

    Once inside, I began counting animals and was relieved to find everyone alive, though sluggish from the cold. Their water buckets had more than an inch of ice. I couldn’t imagine how cold it must have been. The geese’s metal water dispenser was a solid ice cube. I shuddered at the night they must have had. Animals might be able to survive like this, but these are my babies, my responsibility. I couldn’t stand it. Money or no money, they weren’t going to spend another night like this.

     Chipping away at the ice layer until it was clear, I poured the boiling water into the water bucket. Then I fed everyone and went down to the pasture to give Abe, Andy and Anna an extra serving of grain. Before we left for school I wrote Alexis a short note explaining the water situation. We were going to have to do something because the animals needed more water and I draw the line for their well-being at Evian. A bucket brigade from the pond was the most obvious solution

(loafing shed for cattle)

    After I dropped Henry off, I met up with Lisa and we headed to the feed store. We were lucky enough to find a water heater for the cows' 200-gallon tank and a smaller one for the barn animals, but I’d have to change their water bucket. We realized I still had the big black tub the goslings used when they lived in Henry’s room. While I was at the register, Lisa started looking for dog collars and I struck up a conversation with the gum-chewing, blue eye-shadowed girl who was ringing me up. I told her how worried I was about the goats, despite what everyone said. She looked up sheepishly, and said, “I just bought my Nubian a coat.”

    “You did!? Where did you get it? I wanted to get coats for my goats last winter, but everyone laughed at me.”

    “Me, too, but I feel better. Mine are pets. I got it here. A lady came in and said she’d bought a dog coat and it fit her goat. So I bought mine and it fit even my Boer. What do you have?”

    “Oberhasli. Nubians are kind of small. My son, Henry, wanted a Nubian. He thought they were dolls.”

    “They are,” she agreed authoritatively.

    “But Boers are big. Which aisle?” I queried. She pointed me in the correct direction and, after her next customer, came over and helped Lisa and me sort through the coats. Once we’d determined the appropriate sizes, there was the matter of color. I simply couldn’t put Alexander in pink; he’s already a wether and I don’t think his ego could take it.

    After purchasing my wares, Lisa and I parted company as she headed off to Costco and I hit two more feed stores looking for a coat for Miracle and something to give the geese water. After finding both items lickety-split at Laurel Feed Supply, I shoehorned in a conversation at the register about possibly piggy-backing an order of Silver Dorking and Black Java chicks and maybe a couple of turkey poults with theirs. The woman said she’d look into it and took my number. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
(Alexis - heaven sent - on water patrol)

    I raced home with my packages, eager to get everything set up. When I got there, Alexis was already bringing pond water to the barn in 5-gallon buckets in his trusty Jeep™. He filled up the new water container for the goats, sheep and Miracle, while I unloaded the feed, set up the water heaters and screwed the hook in place to position the geese’s new, heated bucket snugly between two studs. (the water heater assembled. Gray protective coating around wiring - cage around heating element - so plastic buckets won't melt)

(the transferring of water)
(cows' water trough with new heater)

(cord heats up entire bucket)

    Finally, it was time to dress the goats. I started with Rachel; she’s the queen and, if she does it, the rest are more likely to follow along. Her coat fit pretty well, if a tad tight around the girth. Other than that, she didn’t seem to mind it at all. Next came Christina, then Alexander and finally Riley. Alexander bucked a couple of times, but a few packer pellets calmed him right down.

(Riley in his orange coat to match his collar)

(three goats in coats - Rachel pink, Riley orange and Alexander red)
(Alexander)

(the sheep - Apache, Angus, Mildred and Sheryl - and the geese opt for natural fibers to keep warm)

    Imagine, if you will, trying to get a spooked, stubborn little girl to try on something she doesn’t want to. Now, imagine she can beat you up. At first, Miracle ran from the coat. I put it down on the snow and walked away as if she weren’t there. She came up and sniffed it. I came back. It was a few times around the pen before she let me slide it over her back. Hooking it was going to be another matter entirely. I was nervous. I didn’t want her to launch one of her missiles in my direction. So, I stood there talking to her. “Shhh, Miracle, it’s ok. I’m just going to hook this around your tummy. It’s not going to hurt. It’s going to keep you warm. I’m just going to tighten up your belt so it hangs properly. Purple actually looks very nice on you. You must be a winter because you look stunning in true red. You look lovely. No, it doesn’t make you look fat at all. Don’t be an ass.” I got all the hooks done except the last one. I was supposed to hook it under her tail. Seriously. Under her tail. This is a little like “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”.  Well, if she was longer it would go under her bell, but she isn't, so I slowly and gently pulled her tail up as if I were dealing with nitroglycerin. I moved delicately. All the while, Miracle was holding her hoof ready to kick out if things didn’t feel right. Luckily, she looks swanky in her royal purple blanket and I don’t have any bruises to show for it. (Miracle prancing around with her price tag on like she's Minnie Pearl)

(the challenge)

(Miracle - wondering if she looks like an ass?)

(I 'm alive; I win!)

    When everyone had their jammies on, I went to get Henry to shuttle him to gymnastics and buy 17 gallons of water. My phone rang. It was Mike.

    "Did you get the water taken care of?" he asked, concerned.

    "Yes, and I got the goats some coats and fed the cows some oats," I unwittingly rhymed.

    "What?"

    "I said, I got the goats some coats," I repeated.

    "That's what I thought you said. I couldn't believe my ears. I never imagined you got the goats coats. I thought It sounded like you were reciting a Dr. Seuss." We both laughed. I guess it did.

    When we got home, I microwaved some of the water to wash my face and poured the rest over my head in the sink to wash my hair. I had forgotten that the water had sat for three hours in cold storage in my car. Ruing I hadn’t microwaved more water, I stood in the bathroom wondering how long this was going to last. I eyed the bathtub. We could heat up the kettle and fill the bathtub. The colonists stank up all thirteen colonies since they rarely bathed. Perhaps I'm being historical.

September 29th A Frightening Note

 (the fall pasture)

    Dry hot sun and crackling crunchy leaves. What better time to patch the barn roof? Ready or not the rain will come again. Tom got out the caulking gun and snipped the end of the epoxy. Just as he was about to climb on the metal roof he realized it might not be sturdy enough. Henry and I were called in to finish the job.
  (while we're working, Tom and his girlfriend are fooling around) (more shenanagans)

(Miracle can't resist Tom's beard)

    The roof was wobbly and very slippery so we took off our boots and socks to get a better grip. Tired of the buckets and drips every time it rains we moved seam by seam across the sides of the roof meticulously sealing every one.
( a little of my waning gecko tatto) (farm-boy Henry patching the barn rooff)

    Afterward, Tom and Henry went in the house to clean up as they both had things to do for work and school.  The unemployed freeloader in the family, I stayed to put the animals up for the night. While I was doling out hay, I heard a terrible cry. It sounded like one of the cows was in distress. I rushed outside to see if I could identify which one. I heard it again. It sounded painful. I ran farther worried I was going to see a cow on the ground covered in cougar. As I got to the top of the hill that overlooks the pasture I heard the cry again. This time I could tell it was coming from the house not the field. I stood there shaking with laughter as I realized it was Henry practicing the cornet. (not your grandfather's cornet)

August 24th What Big Ears You Have

   

(Bruno enjoying the sun)

    

I was standing on the porch when I heard the screams. I looked over and realized the shrill sounds of panic were coming from a terrified Bruno. Miracle! Bruno had squeezed into the new part of the pen and Miracle was chasing him down. I could see her stomping with her front feet as I took off screaming. Pleading “Miracle Stop! Miracle Stop! Miracle NO!” I ran, but as I did the screaming and the stomping stopped. I saw her standing still, head down next to a limp and motionless Bruno. I was horrified. I moved closer. Miracle twitched her ear and looked up at me. I realized she had Bruno pinned with her nose against the fence. When I got to the fence, she let him up and he ran to me under the gate. She’d let him live. Diet-shmiet, she got extra packer pellets for being such a good listener.

August 20th Dancing Queen

(Emmett surveys his home)

    Our sunny streak ended and it rained hard most of the day Tuesday. Henry and I put buckets in the barn to catch drips near the hay and in several places inside the goose pen. The drips rhythmic symphony was annoying and stirred up my feathered-friends. I’d have to patch the roof when the sun emerged. Henry tended to the feeding while wired the last sections of fence water dripping in my eyes. Bruno darted in and out while we were working.

    Bruno is no purse dog. He is pure farm dog through and through. Zooming by, darting here and there. You could almost hear the “Mission Impossible” theme song as he squeezed through the gate into the goat pen grabbed some highly coveted goat poop and trotted quickly out before downing it. It's almost impossible to fence him in. He can squeeze through the pickets in the garden. He goes between the gate and the post - I might have to get him a shock collar for some of these places.
(Bruno in the grass)
(Bruno on the run- but not frightened) (Bruno getting to know Miracle - I am worried about him getting in with her- he doesn't get how lethal she is)

    In the morning, I opened all the doors in the barn so all the animals could all enjoy the fresh green grass. Miracle quickly came out to investigate. She began trotting around and nibbling at the grass contentedly, but as soon as any of the others came out she pinned her ears back and ran them out of the area. I watched for a while as they slowly they all tried again. She tolerated them briefly and ran them out again.
(Tolerant Miracle welcoming guests)
(The queen is not receiving visitors)

They continued this dance until we left for football camp. As we drove away Miracle gave us a bray farewell. She’d watched us intently the last couple of days and I guess she thought Tom had built this area just for her.  I think she's right.
(I guess they can all kiss her. . .)

August 10th When It Rains

(Henry goes William Tell on a rotten round bale)

    We had many plans, we didn’t do this weekend. We were going to go to a
Civil war re-enactment at Hovander Park and to a Blues jamboree at the Deming Logging Show grounds, but it rained. Every time I mentioned going somewhere, the kids looked at me incredulously from the sofa wrapped in blankets still in their pajamas as the Olympics blared non-stop from the television. Rain doesn’t generally stop us, but it rained as hard as I’ve ever seen. Loud pounding rain that punished my metal barn roof seams creating drips and drabs all over my hay, which causes all sorts of rot.

(Irish makes sure Bruno doesn't steel his thunder)

   So the kids and I spent most of our time indoors playing Clue™ and Pictionary™ while we made Brown Sugar Peach ice cream (no one liked the chunks of peach) and tried our hand at Banana(Kimona learned pureeing doesn't mean squishing with your hands). None of us liked either as much as the Pumpkin Pie ice cream. Kimona is determined to try the Banana Maple recipe she saw in Hobby Farm™ magazine and she keeps muttering things like “Do you have a vanilla bean? Is heavy cream the same as whipping cream?”
(Sam after target practice)
    We did do a couple of things that marked the weekend. I spoke to my friend Russ who grew up on a farm in Ohio and he gave me tips on sheep and pigs (just in case).

    We mixed the goats, sheep and Miracle together. The goats it turns out are bullies. Rachel was constantly rearing up trying to establish her royalty and the goats, like the children stare blankly back wondering if she realizes they’re sheep. Miracle chased them around, but stopped every time I caught her. I’d yell “What do you think you’re doing?” and she’d come to an abrupt halt, put her head down and peer over at me. Guilty. I know this look. This is the same look I get from Henry when I ask him if he’s cleaned the cat box.
(Kimona covered more in cement than the walkway)

    Wayne came over and worked on the attic, taping seams, mudding and sanding. Kimona and I did some cement in the momentsbetween deluges while Sam practiced shooting and Henry honed his archery skills. We even did some laundry.
(Lloyd once again tries a taste of the cement - I have to once again rinse his mouth out in the baby pool before it hardens)

 

    As I was going to sleep, I noticed I hadn’t seen Alvin and Scarlett in some time. I put food in their dishes and waited. Only Emmett arrived on the scene. I went looking for them, but didn’t see them anywhere. I listened and heard the tiniest faintest mew. I followed the sound up into the attic. I looked around but neither cat was in view. I called their names and stood there listening, wondering where they could be. I heard the mew again. It was coming behind a small attic door that Wayne had screwed shut. They were entombed Indiana Jones style. I went and found a screw gun and opened the door. The noise must have freaked them out because they were nowhere to be seen. I propped the door open and went back to bed. Waiting. Suddenly, there they were on top of my dresser eating hungrily. Safe.
(kitty tomb)

    I tried impossibly to find a place to put my foot, to get comfortable, but it was no use. Henry is sleeping in my bed as Sam is in his. We also have to make room for a disgruntled Vivian a shivering Luther an angry Emmett (seriously annoyed at the arrival of Bruno, the rat-sized dog) and a snuggly Bruno under the covers. Deli is sleeping with Kimona and Irish is the only one currently acting like a dog sleeping on a dog bed. I lay in bed positioned like a pretzel listening to the rain as I thought about the men’s Olympic relay team beating the French. I wondered how that was going over in Paris. "Smash the Americans" huh? Au contraire mon ami.

August 3rd The Eyes Have It

(Wayne working in the attic)

    This morning I woke up and realized I was out of coffee. OUT OF COFFEE. How could something like this happen? I scrounged around and found half a cup left over in the thermos™ from yesterday. I zapped it and went and fed the animals. Everyone was still snug as a bug. Miracle was peering into the sheep pen and gave me a loud bray of good morning. I spent some time trying to get the sheep to eat out of my hand and fed Miracle some extra treats.

    Luckily, Wayne was arriving when I returned. He remembered I was low on coffee and showed up to work on the attic bearing coffee beans and a grinder – just in case. Bless his heart. While I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, I spoke to Phoebe who told me NO NAME PUPPY was now officially, Charlie Donaldson. Full cup of coffee in hand I went about the day.

(Abbey with Vivian's toy)

    The kids and I were going to work on the sheep pen today, but Andrea had shown me how to clip the lamb’s feet yesterday afternoon and I began to worry about my goats. So Kimona, Henry and Sam helped me get Rachel up on the milking station. Sam held her head and fed her treats while Henry and I tried to clip her feet. I was a nervous wreck. I worried about wear to clip and how much to clip. I didn’t want to hurt her, and I yet I knew it had to be done. Frantic, I called Marcia at St. Johns Creamery. I was embarrassed, but I was more concerned about the goat so I swallowed hard and asked if I should take them to a vet, but she just laughed. Marcia explained what to do and said if I wanted to come up for a lesson next week she'd show me on a few of her goats. I thanked her and went back to the barn to try again. One by one we went through the goats, but Henry and I both knew I’d done a poor job.

    I suggested to Henry we should just take the goats to Marcia. He didn’t want to because he was afraid she’d take them away because we were bad goat owners. I told her this when I spoke to her and she said “Throw them in the van and bring them here. We’ll get them fixed up.” She reminded me she killed two of her first four.

(St. John Creamery)

(Marcia has a heard of 125)

    An hour later, the four of us and the four goats were arriving in Everett in my mobile barn. I knew Marcia had heritage chickens, Dominiques- so in the back of my mind, I thought we might end up with another passenger on the way home.

     When we arrived, I remembered how much I envied Marcia’s compound. She has a gate and a fence that surround her property so goats and chickens simply wander about. There are pens as she has different groups of goats, but others roam at will. – Mental note mention to Pea we need a gate at the entrance. As we stood there waiting for Marcia we met a nasty billy goat named Hans that drank our goats urine. So gross. He walked around with his lewd tongue hanging out and curling his lips back. Kimona was traumatized.

(Hans- the billy goat- complete with full beard)
(Christina getting her medication)
(Irish's sister by another mister)

    (Rachel, Christina, Riley and Alexander waiting to go)

I sent Henry to look for Marcia. The moment she came in to view I felt better. She wormed them, gave them their minerals and finished their feet. I felt as though I’d done my taxes. All was well. And then, Henry came up holding one of Marcia’s dogs, a rat terrier. He was three months old. Henry cried and Henry begged and I stood there feeling nothing. I did not want another dog. There was no way in this world I was going to give in and get yet another animal. And then we started talking about our mouse problem in the barn and the constant problem Kristi is facing in the shop and my resolve started waning. (Henry and Bruno)
  (Kimona, Henry, Sam and Bruno pour on the pressure)

Tom had talked of barn cats, but I’m terrified of feral cats and I really don’t want any animal that isn’t socialized. I called Tom, he was indifferent – he said it was up to me, he’s not by any means a small dog person, but he agreed the mouse and rat problem needed a solution. I took a long deep look into Bruno's eyes and then into Henry's and thoughts of Wilma, the puppy my mom bought and returned came flooding back to me - moments later; the chicken with her head cut off was driving away with a Rat Terrier.
(The backseat boys)

August 2nd And Along Came Sheryl

    

(Apache, Angus, Mildred & Sheryl hiding in back)

   

    I got up early, fed the animals packed a lunch and the requisite thermos™ of coffee, woke the sleeping dead and threw them in the back of the van. Grabbed a tarp, programmed my “navi” for the Flying J truck stop in Ellensburg – three and a half hours away and we were off.

    The kids watched “Get Smart” episodes all the way there while I listened to Max and 99 declare their love for the first time before they realized they could escape certain death by trying the “old double door trick”. The time flew by until we were suddenly at the Flying J. Andrea; our sheep breeder was only minutes behind us. She pulled up and quickly transformed the back of my van into a mobile barn. Andrea meets us at the Flying J in Ellensburg)

(transform Honda to barn)
  (lambs about to move from truck to van)

     I pulled my sliding door up to the back of her truck and the two of us hoisted the lambs through the passageway. First we got one full Navajo-Churro, Apache – he’s latte colored. He was a bottle-fed baby and is easily handled. Second went the one full Leicester Longwool wether, Angus. Next hopped the full bred Leicester Longwool ewe, Mildred and a finally the scardy cat or timid one, Sheryl, a 3/4 Leicester/Churro cross. She’s a little nervous about traveling, but she made it. (Apache looking at Henry & Sam) (Apache & Angus watch the boys carefully)

    The ride home was full of discovery. We learned that for hundreds of years, children everywhere have been deceived by a certain nursery rhyme. Sheep do not say, “Baa baa”. Clearly whoever wrote that had a problem with their phonemic awareness. Sheep or in this case lambs say, “Maaa maaa” After three hours we are all completely sure. We talked about our collection of animals. I believe Fort Flashback now has one of the most unique collections of colonial animals this side of Williamsburg. We have the Milking Devon, Oberhasli goats, Cotton Patch geese, Leicester Logwools, a Churro and your basic drama queen donkey. Now all we need are some Silver Dorking chickens and a turkey. OK , Tom's daughter, Laura wants some ducks so we'll have to consider a couple. Twist my arm.

    "You mean they had donkeys in colonial times?" Henry asked.

    "Yes. Donkeys have been around a long time."

    "So I can say kiss my colonial ass?" Henry grinned as Sam howled. Proving once again, the ass jokes never get old.

    Upon arriving home, I backed the van up to the barn doors so the lambs couldn’t go anywhere but in the barn. The kids took unpainted fence boards and created a shoot so the lambs couldn’t go out into the goat/donkey area. Angus hopped out and one by one the others followed until even Sheryl decided she’d rather brave the barn than be alone. You’ve got to love the herd instinct. (Abbey checks out the lambs and lambs check out Abbey)

(Thinking about getting out)

(sheep going into their new digs)

    Just as the lambs were skittering into their part of the barn, Miracle came completely unglued. She started screaming and braying as if I brought four fuzzy coyotes into the barn. She screamed and danced around until I shut their door. I was shocked at her reaction, but I guess she thought this was just about the last straw. First she had to coexist with the pushy pellet-grabbing-goats, next, the noisy neighbors’ honk and carry on all night and now these unidentified fuzzy critters prance in. She turned her back and wouldn’t even look at them after that. Everyone else couldn’t get enough of them. Vivian was riveted, the goats were fascinated and even the geese came to take a gander.
 

(Vivian peeks through the bars)
(Rachel and Christina and Riley our peeping goats)
(Sam works at cleaning up the barn) (Miracle ignores the lambs)

    The kids worked at cleaning up the barn, while I made dinner and called TLC Sheep Shearing. I'd seen them on Craigslist and Andrea told me to not waste time making an appointment to have them sheared. She said spinners will be lining up for their wool. I did as I was told.

    I was called to the barn to check their work and although they did a good job there is certainly more to do tomorrow.

July 25th It's Not Easy Being Green

   

There’s a tree frog in my refridgerator. He’s new here. Well, he’s not in the house, he’s in the barn and he’s not “inside” he’s “in” between the doors. But I think he’s the smartest fella around. I call him the Fridge Fro.. He comes and goes suction cupping up and down to his Hot Point™ hideaway. It’s cool, near the sink we use to water everyone in the barn. It’s up high and predator free. He's really got himself a sweet deal. I’d say he has about as much room as people in Manhattan apartments, maybe more. My friend, Jenny bought a place for more than a quarter of a million dollars that was only little more than 500 square feet. Who’s smarter?
 
(note dark space  - to the side on the left)

    We first met, just the other day. I was at the sink, filling a bucket of water to give to the goats and Miracle when I felt his presence. I turned around slowly not knowing what kind of varmint to expect this time and about jumped out of my skin when I saw him perched on the edge of the door facing me. In fact, he was looking back at me eye-to-eye. After the initial shock, I began scrutinizing him. Was he alive? Could he get out? Was he stuck? Henry reminded me in an undeniably sixth-grade tone he was indeed a “Tree Frog’, and their pretty good climbers. He’s completely fine.” The kid needs to dumb down sometimes. So anyway, I splattered some water on him – just in case?– turned the lights out for the evening and left him there. To my relief, he was gone the next day. But that evening when I went back to feed Miracle and the goats, he was back home.
(Miracle's hungry for an alfalfa "cookie")

  (Riley looks like he has "alien eyes" - he too would like an alfalfa "cookie")

He’s not the only new resident, the geese have moved into the barn and are spending their first night out with Miracle, the goats, about 6 dozen barn swallows and Freddy the Freeloader Fridge Frog.
(Homecoming Parade)

July 19th Getting It Together

(Craig is a one man jungle gym)

Saturday started slowly and out of sorts. Everyone crawled out of bed and padded around the house in different directions with heavy blinks and loud yawns. Coffee wafted through the house and cups followed us around most of the day.

(Deli inspecting her new place of encarceration)

Tom led the way and we all set to work. Gates were built, fence posts painted and wire rolled. The screw gun battery was changed and charged hourly. (Tom and his- rather my new gate)  (other people worked too - except Lu)

    Our friend new friend, Wayne came out with his tool belt and happily joined in. Like the answer to a prayer he spearheaded the drywall in the bathroom, knocking down the header over the bathtub we all agreed looked ridiculous and served no purpose.

We took Miracle out and let her loll around eating grass, flirting with Tom, when suddenly she went berzerk. She started carrying on and running away. It was a doe and buck. She suddenly was at war. She came running back stomping the ground like a flamenco dancer and braying like a bandit. She looked fierce and regal with her fly mask on – a like a Thoroughbred in a jousting match.

About 8:00PM the whistle blew and Wayne took over the grill as he barbecued steaks and salmon loaded with garlic. Many beers and games of darts later Wayne and his trusty companion, Abbey (the golden lab) went home and, most of us went to bed. However, amped on root beer, daddy adrenaline and jonesing for a bit of bro Henry was still wide awake at 4:30AM when he came dancing in our room asking if he could have some more chocolate cake he’d made and use the computer.

“GO TO BED!” we cried in unison.

July 2nd Disney Endings

(July 2007)(July 2008- still needs shutters and paint)

(old kitchen with my stove

)

(kitchen as it was- can't really see mismatch of cabinets- gunk etc))

I woke up to the blazing hot mountain sun shining in my window. As I lay there I took a moment, today marked a year. I was a real Washingtonian. I’d paid taxes, gotten a speeding ticket, fought with city hall, made it through a winter and lived here when “Annie” (who lived in her truck) was relocated to highway 9 for feeding a bear and running tourists away. It was only 7:30 AM and my room was already feeling warm despite the fan churning over my bed. I peeked in Maryruth’s room. The bed was made. I went downstairs. Dean, who’s always been an early riser, was sitting in the kitchen. He said he was trying to be quiet so he wasn’t watching TV.

(kitchen with  new cabinets etc) As I brewed a pot of coffee, he chatted about his mom and how she wanted to take him to Disneyland™. I found this interesting, because Toby and I have never agreed on Disneyland™. She was always full of disdain when she spoke of The Magic Kingdom™. She had undoubtedly seen the error of her ways. Living in Canada had helped obviously improved her perspective. I was happy she’d come around when Dean announced he didn’t want to go. He felt at twelve he was well past Disneyland™. Stunned, I felt this kind this was bordering on child abuse. How could she? How did she transfer her petty Disneyland™ feelings to a child? It couldn’t be genetic as he is adopted. I would speak to her about this. Almost feeling personally insulted I poured a cup of coffee, sat down and calmly explained “Dean, Disneyland™ is for children of all ages. You are not too old.” Just then, as if on cue my brainwashed child walked in the room and said, “Yeah, have you ever been on Space Mountain™ or Indiana Jones™ huh?” Dean didn’t respond. He sat there blinking at us. He knew he was beat. This is a Disneyland™ home. We’ve got a framed “E” ticket on the wall – just like the Donaldsons (of course, Chris had theirs hanging by the toilet for a while, but that’s been remedied) and I have an Enchanted Tiki Room™ ride replica in the game room. I have this because Pea absolutely hates and despises the Tiki Room™, but he goes to demonstrate the depth of his love. He does not do this silently, he mimics the birds and the clacking of their beaks, but he does do it. I’ve not gone four-four times, but not far from it. We try to go every year – until now.

    (note: Enchanted Tiki Room)

I worked for the mouse for a while, I was in charge of the Princesses, you know Cinderella™ Pocahontas™, Snow White™ and Ariel™ and it wasn’t always an easy place to work. There are all sorts of nicknames for it like Mouseshvitz and Duckhow and The Tragic Kingdom- but that’s different.

Disneyland™ to me is a place where the details are thought of. In each of the different lands everything works together. The flowers, the railings, the costumes, the buildings, the names and the appearance of the restaurants and even the trashcans are themed. There are people who pick up trash in very small areas all day long to keep the place immaculate. I appreciate this. While working on Fort Flashback, I learned from one of the men who agreed to be a history consultant for us that several years back, Disney was attempting a similar venture. I think it was going to be named “Disney’s America”, a history-themed park where they would re-create the Boston Tea Party every hour on the hour kind of thing. Their misstep as I saw it, was trying to do it on the East coast on historic land. Why would you go to the Disney version when you could go to the real thing I wondered? I felt great knowing they’d thought so much of an idea and pursued it so far that we were truly on the right track. I sipped my coffee as Henry rattled off all the reasons I should take HIM to Disneyland™.

(The kids pictures done @ Disneyland)

    Mike arrived, had a cup of coffee, gave the geese fresh water and poked through all the trash, and old books he left behind. I guess I’m supposed to get rid of it all. I packed Dean a lunch for the road and Mike graciously took Dean to SeaTac for me. It made the books and trash a little easier but not much.

I poured another cup of coffee and looked out the window. It was dry as Lusk, Wyoming. Evil Evelyn stood in the middle of my dustbowl with her pink bandana flapping.

I stayed in my pink pajamas all day puttering about the house tidying things up and putting things away. There were a million projects to do and things to take care of, but I’d think about that tomorrow. Instead, I spent the day chatting on the phone with Barbara as I cleaned the kitchen. This was a day of rest and reflection. We arrived a year ago – today. So many things didn’t happen this year I thought would happen. But so many others I didn’t expect did. I guess that’s life in a nutshell. The house isn’t done, but it’s come a long way. Henry doesn’t want to go back to Los Angeles unless it’s to Disneyland™. He’s excited about school.

    My father has come and gone and now is living in France. Naturally, he’s landed on his feet and is residing in an entire third floor apartment in a house in Paris with friends. He’s been invited to play with a “hot-hot reed player” at Le Petit Journal St. Michel and seems Notre-Dame-stomping-S.C.-kind-of-happy.

    Mike got a call today after Dean took off. He has a great job opportunity and he’s only lived his new place two days, so he’s excited about the prospects and feels the move was exactly right for him. Maybe he’ll meet a nice woman in Tacoma; there are a lot of women in his apartment complex he can dazzle with all his Jeopardy knowledge. Hmm.

    My mother’s friend, Marie called wanting to know, now that’s been a year did I regret anything. “Are you sorry you moved?” She queried. Still in my pajamas, I sat in the sunroom looking out the window while we talked. I mulled it over. Did I regret anything? Yes. I regretted a few decisions early on, people I hired, people I trusted. Money I might have spent differently-things like that, but did I regret the move? No. Absolutely not. I love the farm, the animals and the work. Do I regret pursuing a dream? No.  My mother used to say physically she wasn’t strong enough she’d never made it as a pioneer – they’d have left her on the side of the Oregon Trail, but it occurs to me now that she assumed she’d go. I guess that’s how I’m wired, I have to try. If things don’t work out that’s OK. But I have to try.

   
(game room then) (game room now To celebrate our anniversary Henry and I decided to watch “The Golden Compass” as we’d finished listening to it a year-ago as we were driving up Mosquito Lake Road. Before we could watch a movie, the animals needed to be taken care of. Henry went out looking for the geese. “Mom! I can’t find them!” he yelled almost frightened. I ran outside as I had a hunch my apron-string geese hadn’t gone too far. Sure enough they were in the shop looking for someone anyone to supervise or talk to. They get a little clingy. We herded them in to their cozy enclosure. As always Quackmire was the last one in. We were just clipping the pen shut when we heard a crash in the barn. “The goats!” We both yelled. We ran to the barn. Pea’s big barn doors he’d made had been left closed all day to keep the heat out and provide a nice cool respite from the sun. Luckily, as I guess I didn’t close one of their gates all the way. We walked in and it was goat pandemonium. Riley was king of the hill on top of the round bale. Goat poop everywhere – Henry noticed this immediately as he was barefoot. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Miracle was braying her head off as if she’d been trying to tell someone all day about these hooligans. She wanted extra pellets for the day she’d had. No harm done as the packer pellet bin was still secure and all they’d done was eat hay.
  

    “Riley, you come down from there this instant.” I commanded in my teacher voice. Riley looked at me with his big brown eyes. Bleated a time or two and jumped down. I opened the gate and told them to get back in their pen. Sheepishly, they complied. They were full and ready for bed.

    “Well, I guess we don’t have to really feed them much.” Henry said looking on the bright side.

    The goats and Miracle closed up for the night, the geese nestled in the garage, Irish asleep on the porch, Emmett snoozing on the back of his chair, Vivian at my feet, Deli lounging in the sunroom, Alvin & Scarlet curled up in the cat tree, the cow bells clanging in the field and Luther snoring at my side, Henry sipping his cookie dough milkshake we were just about to pop the movie in when the phone rang. It was Lisa. “I’m just leaving work and I smelled a smell I haven’t smelled in a year!” She said excitedly.

    “What?”

    “You know that smell, the smell of rain coming down on dry, parched earth.”

    I went out onto the porch. “I smell it too.” Moments later, the sky lit up with lightening, thunder cracked “We have lightening.” Rain began to pour down. “It’s raining!”

    “Maybe your corn will make it after all. Don’t put a way those pumpkin seeds just yet. Maybe there’s still time.”

    “Maybe.” Maybe my friend, Gary did that rain dance I asked for.

    “Happy Anniversary.”

    “You too.”

June 28th For The Love Of Lu

(Barbara & Kaylee)

    For the last several days I’ve been painting Maryruth’s room, trying to spruce it up, because my friend, Barbara and her ten-year-old daughter Kaylee arrive today from Santa Clarita, California. Barbara and I have known each other since college, I pledged AOII and she pledged TriDelt, which means she’s much sweeter than I am. I like her anyway. She is the only person I buy Diet Pepsi™ for- she drinks about 12 a day, probably her only vice.

    I’ve been cleaning like a whirling dervish, teaching Henry the virtues of being German. We’ve cleaned the shower crevices with Q-tips™, stacked papers neatly and threw away things we couldn’t figure out where to put them. I even found my cookbook holder packed away in a box I’d never considered looking in. We swept, vacuumed and mopped dog hair – they don’t have a pet let a lone four dogs and four cats. They wear black. I didn’t want them to be disappointed with their choice of vacations when they arrived at some doggy-smelling-house. Nasty.

    (Vivian in her usual position all snuggled up)

(Scarlett in the Game Room)

    Lisa and Chris planned a surprise barbecue for Barb with smoked salmon appetizers. Unfortunately, Barbara and Kaylee missed their connection because the Alaska flight left early. I didn’t know planes did that, but they did twice. So went to Lisa’s for dinner while Barb dined at SeaTac.

    My cleaning mission re-injured my back, so I self medicated with a glass of cabernet and sank into a chair while we all watched “National Treasure 2”. It reminded me how obsessed my class got with the Lincoln Assassination - Mary Surratt – the first woman executed by the United States and her son Johnny who escaped hanging. I was so relaxed I couldn’t believe it, when I looked down and realized Barbara would be landing in about fifteen minutes. Henry and I flew out of the house and headed for the airport it was around 11:45PM. We thought we’d make it just in time after all Bellingham International isn’t that far. The phone rang. It was Lisa, she’d checked Barbara’s flight and sure enough the flight had left and landed early. I guess they’re trying to improve their on time record.

    We eventually collected them at the airport. Smiling and waving there were hugs and very heavy luggage. Barbara apparently did not realize there is not a lot of fashion that happens on the farm. We drove home chatting all the way.

    Once home, we ate Henry’s too thin rock hard brownies he’d prepared in their honor and introduced Kaylee to Zoo Tycoon™. Fast friends they were busy as we were catching up until at least 2:30AM.

    The next morning was filled with coffee and laughter. I could tell there was a cute girl in the house because Henry brushed his teeth without being asked. Barbara emerged as she did every morning shampooed, blown-dry, immaculate and in full make-up smelling of perfume. (a serious mosquito attractant).

     Henry introduced Kaylee to all the animals and she took a zillion pictures with her new camera. They went to the pond and played while incapable of sitting down Barbara did my dishes and cleaned my kitchen while we discussed life’s ups and downs as well as people we heard about or ran into over years – past boyfriends, louses, spouses and why her friend Sylvia chose TriDelt over AOII when I "prefed” her. I’m still bitter.
(Henry & Abe) (Quinnderella (12) , Stinkerbell (7), Kaylee(10), Irish (11 months) & Henry(11)

    The girls came over and the imaginary games began. Henry spearheaded a trip to my father’s vacant apartment armed with loads of his almost forgotten stuffed animals ranging from sting rays to platypus’ and began playing “Zoo”. They positioned them on the sofa in the bathtub over a lamp and Kaylee took pictures. The dogs were then recruited against their will.  In the first round Deli was relegated to an alligator, Luther was an African Bumblebee and Vivian was somehow transformed into a snow leopard. In the second round Deli was a seal, Luther a duck and Vivian a hippopotamus.  Irish eats stuffed animals so he wasn’t invited to play. Barbara and I took off on a walk and as we walked away, the last we heard was “Henry it’s your turn to be the mother.”

“I don’t’ want to be the mother why do I have to be the mother?”

“No one wants to be the mother.”
(Phoeb & Kaylee wash Rachel) (Denise sneaks a bath for Miracle)

(Kaylee pulls Phoebe down Coyote Hill) (Phoebe & Kaylee scatter the goats as they sled down Coyote Hill)

The next few days were filled with the same, washing of goats, watering the garden, tractor rides, more brownies, air rifle target practice, lunch at the beer shrine, (Phoebe orders a little piece of pizza)

(Snow at Mount Baker)

(Nooksack River)

(Cougar Print by the Nooksack River)
  (Barbara up in Glacier taking a picture of the ski fence)

a drive to the snow at Mount Baker, ice cream, movies, wild flower bouquets and long talks. We didn’t really “do” anything no projects no “activities” but we still didn’t seem to be able to get ourselves to go to bed before 1:00or 2:00 AM. We ate a lot – Barbara says it’s the all the stars and fresh air. I’m going to have to tell my Jenny Craig™ counselor friend Kristy that one. I rested my back as we talked about times past, love and loss, money, divorce, happiness, change, my mother, her mother, our fathers, and wrinkle cream.
  (Luther watches the goats)

  (Luther gets a turn) (Irish cools off under the dock)
    In honor of my mother we analyzed everyone's sun sign, moon and opened Linda Goodman's "Love Signs" to determine everyone's perfect match. Lucky for Tom - she says we're compatible.

    When at last our time was about up, Kaylee was blue. She started her goodbye tour of the animals the night before, but when she was about to leave her eyes were filled with tears, not because of me or Henry the girls or even farm life. It was Lu; he’d captured her heart. He's a cad that way, Henry and I are sure there would be world peace if everyone had a basset hound so we introduced them to www.daphneyland.com in Acton they showed some interest in Buford.

    Naturally Luther went with us to the airport to say goodbye or we’d have heard Luther's agonizing  “death howl” and frankly Kaylee couldn’t have taken that kind basset manipulation. Snuggled up next to Kaylee on the seat with his ears flopped over her legs his head hanging down in a truly un-natural position (just the way he likes it) he wooed her in his own Luther way. Everyone got out and hugged good-bye –except Henry and Kaylee who said that hugging each other was just too weird.

    As I watched our first visitors from home disappear into the airport terminal I noticed they were covered in dog hair.

     

June 14th One Man's Treasure

 

(in honor of flag day)

    An honest to goodness work from morning ‘til night Ingalls-type-family-grab-your-own-food-on-the- run-workday, plus Mike. Cement was poured, gates were built, posts painted, forests of plants tamed.
(Henry begins his task)

(Henry works hard)

  (Henry keeps going)

(Not sure if the posts had more paint)
Henry continued his manhood training as father and son worked side by side. Per usual, the geese supervised while my father poked his head out of his apartment every few hours to see if we needed his opinion. Tired and worn down from the biopsy he was like “Uncle Joe, movin’ kinda slow at the junction, Petticoat Junction”.
    (father and son)  (Not my shining moment)
    My dad is at the point where he’s getting a feeling of impending doom. He’s sure he’s got full-blown bladder cancer and will be stuck here with me for the rest of his pitiful life. Strange that my paradise is someone else’s idea of hell.
(Gander with identity crisis - thinks he's a flamingo)

(Clara stretching her wings)

    I took Miracle on a little outing in her to practice walking on a lead. She did very well and even ventured to step on the scary rock driveway she’s been terrified to cross. But when I looked up I realized she could see Tom and was determined to go visit him. She grazed leisurely on grass near the geese that spooked her a bit, but she was ok. This was the first time she was out with the dogs around. I was nervous they might rush her and we’d have a wild kicking donkey on our hands. But Luther and Vivian stayed a respectful distance away. They greeted her and backed off. Irish tried to do the same, but his overwhelming puppiness got the better of him. Despite my pleas and screams he went and sniffed her hindquarters. I had visions of her cracking his head open. I was frantic, but nothing could be done. I had her lead and I wasn’t going to get in the line of fire. Graciously she allowed this invasion of privacy, but when he decided a donkey leg might be taste like chicken and wrapped his teeth around her, she drew the line. Irish received a swift kick. It was a warning kick; she didn’t finish him off or even greatly injure him. Humbled he limped off to go lick his wounds. Ahh, he learned he there is something bigger and tougher than the giant puppy – he was shocked.

    Being Tom’s last night, we drank leftover sangria and watched a movie. Watching a movie with Tom is a little like being by yourself. Within a few minutes he’s asleep. This comforts me on lonely nights when I pretend he’s there with me. Henry kept an eye on him and woke him up every few minutes. We were watching “Mad Money” with Diane Keaton. I mention this because I kept thinking of trying to get a job. I’ve been unsuccessful at every turn. After two sessions of role-playing, Home Depot™ hasn’t called me back. I thought I did really well when the big question was “What do you do when a disgruntled customer comes in and she’s throwing a party that night and…” I thought I’m in like Flynn. That question was right in my wheelhouse. But no. It’s been two weeks and not a word.

I thought of this when I was watching the movie. The premise is Diane Keaton is a Palisades kind of non-working educated woman who hits hard times and is overqualified, but gets a job as a janitor. As a result she devises a brilliant plan to rip off the Federal Reserve. I kept wondering if this was why I wasn’t getting hired.

After the educational film, Henry begged to sleep with his daddy so I retired to Henry’s room. No dogs, no cats, no snoring, a perfect night sleep for my weary bones.

May 19th Farmer In The Dell

    When Chris came over yesterday, I talked to him about my vegetable garden; telling him about my plans to roto-till the area near the barn.

    “Denise, if you’re not six-feet and two-hundred pounds, you’re going to have a hard time. If you are, its kind of fun.”

    “Really.” I said in my most insightful way.

    “You need to rent something for the tractor.” He said authoritatively. Authoritative is something Chris does well. And in this case he seemed perfectly justified. “Absolutely. There’s no other way.” he added, in case I was at all in doubt.

    Knowing I’ve gotten in over my head countless times, I called Scholten’s in Lynden where I got my tractor. I spoke to a very friendly woman on the phone who told me exactly what I needed. She understood I didn’t know the model number of my tractor off the top of my head. I asked if I could fit the tiller in my truck. She said yes and that she’d reserve it for me if I wanted to come get it this afternoon.

  I took Henry to school in my newly clean car, and my dad to The Woods, a fabulous coffee shop in Boulevard Park, where he had chosen to read a book and wait the morning while his car was being serviced. The Woods is kind of modern looking with huge windows directly over-looking the bay. You can sit up stairs and read or downstairs by the duel fireplace – or even on the other side of the fireplace out on the patio. The only place other that close to the water I can remember was Alice’s Restaurant in Malibu. Oh, how I loved to go there for the view, a bloody, and eggs "benny". Memories. Why, at a time when I’m trying to reduce my food intake (a little too much winter insulation) do I continuously associate food with fun? Not a good sign.

    Anyway, I did some errands, dashed home and got the farm truck, Daisy. Heading back to town, I got stopped at the one-lane bridge. They were doing some safety work and I had no choice but to wait. Seconds later, my trucker friend, Todd, came up behind me. The guy with the “Stop” sign, Todd and I waited in the drizzle as we watched the giant machine check all the supports. We discussed bridges in a global manner, the future of this bridge in particular and how many more loads Todd would have to do today. It was very neighborly.

    I dashed back to town, grabbed Henry, as it was a half-day, and swung by to pick up my father. He told me to scoot over, he’d drive. From the moment he gets in the car, the classical radio station turns on. Henry gave me a sideways glance. It isn’t so much the classical music as it is music. I know this isn’t compliant with most social moray’s, but I don’t’ listen to the radio all that much. Henry and I like to talk without background “noise”. Maybe it’s because we’re musically inept. My friend, Laurie, thinks this is a dark view into my personality. She’s all about music. She won’t date anyone who has my musical deficit. It’s not that I don’t like music. I like everything from Bing Crosby to Ozomatli and many things in between. I have a full jukebox. I just don’t play music in the background all the time like so many, including my sister and Chris, who also think there is something wrong with me. They site many more unrelated examples, however.

    The drive to Lynden was picturesque. The landscape was littered with huge dairies, modest farms, cute little houses and empty fields just waiting for crops to be planted. Screaming red rhododendrons, shy colts and curious calves were everywhere. I could tell my viewpoint was changing as I passed the farms and started examining how straight their crop rows were. I appreciated the dark rich soil free from weeds. It looked beautiful to me, suddenly. I think I’ve gone over the edge into some sort parallel farmer universe.

    We drove through a coffee kiosk on our way, my father grousing about the turning radius of this %#@!$ truck to the smiling woman at the window.

    We finally arrived at the tractor place and I immediately felt as if I was in the shoe department of Nordstrom’s. I wanted everything. I couldn’t believe my intense case of tractor envy. There were all sorts of implements I didn’t even have an idea what they did, but I was sure I could put them to use. Toby and I learned early on, as we struggled through so many home improvement projects, that there is a tool for absolutely everything. There are strange little gadgets that twist and lift and pull and, Lord knows, what else. The trick is you have to know what it is, which at times can be impossible for the nubie, and once you’ve identified what tool it is, you then have to find it.

    Lickety-split, they got the tiller in the truck and we were crawling down the 9 on the way home. The tiller is incredibly heavy and because there are so many curves we didn’t want it to shift our weight too much. We dropped my dad off at Mount Baker Automotive. He gave us a wave that all was well. We turned off the radio and headed for home.

    “Mom, do you think Miracle is lonely?”

    “Maybe. I’m not happy with her enclosure. Your daddy and I want to move her and the goats down with the cows. I think she might like them. She knows Anna from being in the barn.”

    “Maybe we should get another donkey.” Henry suggested thoughtfully.

    “Well, Daddy thought maybe she should have a baby.”

    “How long does it take for donkey’s to have a baby?”

    “I have no idea. Maybe you could do some research on it when we get home.”

    “OK. I can do that.” Good I thought. He can turn his evil ways into something positive. I know he needs to practice researching and this seemed like a great way to start. Practical. I was more than a bit surprised to learn that the answer was 11-14 months. We’d have to get her pregnant now for next summer. Talk about your planned pregnancy.

    When my dad got home a few minutes behind us, he promised to help me get the tiller hooked up when it stopped raining. I think he’s the only person in Washington who waits for the rain to stop. Knowing it wasn’t going to stop, I got changed and braced myself for the “Could it rain any harder.” “Jeez this is comfortable.” “What a great day this turned out to be.” “The sun is shining somewhere.” Barrage.

    First, we tried to shove the tiller out the back. It wouldn’t budge. Next, we got the tractor and tried to pull it out the back. We broke the tailgate on the truck. Wonderful. This project was getting more expensive by the minute. At this point, my dad wanted to hook a cable to the bucket and try to lift it out, but I was terrified of breaking the tractor. The thing is not cheap and he’s not going to pay to fix it if it breaks. He’s been my father a long time. I called the tractor place and, this time knowing my model number, I asked them if it had the capability to lift the thing. They said my dad was right and the tractor could indeed lift it with a cable. We parked the truck downhill of the tractor to give the tractor some extra height. We hooked it up and realized the tractor still wouldn’t be able to lift it high enough, so at his sign, I drove the truck out from underneath the tiller while my dad lifted it with the bucket and the cable.

    Once out, we tried to hook the thing together. I thought I could do it. After all, I’d done the backhoe plenty of times. Not so easy. It didn’t make sense. Something was wrong it looked like a physical impossibility. We looked and looked and studied the thing, but couldn’t figure it out. I called Scholten’s again. They were now closed, but magically a man answered. I told the guy the model number and explained the problem. I felt like girls do when a mechanic is speaking to them like an idiot. “Yes, I did that, yes, I know that’s what is supposed to happen, but we can’t get it close enough to hook it up.” Knowing, men like to talk to men, I put my father on the phone. My father will be the first to admit he’s about as mechanical as a jackrabbit, but men like to talk to men. After chatting up the guy, he handed me the phone.

    “Listen, I’m going to send a guy out there if I can get a hold of him.”

    “Really? It’s 6:00PM.”

    “He lives out that way off the 9. He won’t mind.” I want you to be able to use the thing.

    I hung-up.  “A guy’s coming out here to help us.”

    “You are kidding? Tonight?” My dad said wide-eyed and incredulous. “Well, that’s what we need or this isn’t going to happen.”

    The phone rang again. “Yep, he’s comin’ out just as soon as he finishes supper.” Duane said.

    And he did. It was the same guy who serviced the tractor last month, Wayne. He took one look at it and said there were missing pieces. “Lots of missing pieces.” He looked around, went to the barn where I keep the tractor and took the pieces off the mowing implement. He said, when the tractor came they weren’t on and you don’t use them for the backhoe, so I wouldn’t even know they exist. He walked back to the tractor, flipped the seat up to reveal a secret storage compartment full of little rings and things to keep implements in place. In a few minutes, he had it all put together.

    He turned to me and said with pride “ I’ve got to brag a little. My corn is already coming out of the ground. First time in twenty years I’m ahead of everybody else. I’m no farmer. I planted my garden where my donkeys used to poop. You know they always poop in the same place.” I nodded. I did know that.

    “Did you know it takes more than a year for a donkey to have a baby?” I thought I’d dazzle him with my bit of newly acquired knowledge.

    “Yep. My jennet had a baby once. Cutest thing I ever saw. She wouldn’t have anything to do with the baby after a couple of days.”

    “What did you do? Bottle feed?”

    “Nope. Called the vet, he came out and spent the day with her. Trained her on being a mom. She was perfect after that.” Housecalls are not something I’m used to.

    After he drove away, I started thinking. I looked out into the field. Now that I have the tiller hooked up, I can plow anything, even the big field in the pasture. I can plant corn. I can plant a big giant corn maze. Maybe some heirloom pumpkins and sunflowers and do a whole fall-apple-cider-thing if I get my permits. What’s the worst that can happen? I plant some seeds, after all, that’s what farmers do.

May 18th Agony & Ecstasy

Three stunningly sunny days in a row, I’m told this constitutes a Bellingham summer. Knowing the end is near; we spent the day outside again working on the fence. We pulled out posts – again. Mixed the cement – again. Leveled everything – again.

    About 1:00PM Chris called and said he and his mother were on their way out to drop off my van and retrieve Lisa’s. I thought it was a little silly; my dad had another gig in town today and could have just picked up the keys so we could do the old switcheroo at school in the morning, but they insisted. I think they wanted to go for a drive. Mosquito Lake Road certainly is the hot spot for motorcycles and bicycles - a sort of Topanga Canyon - without the fires. It gently winds around as the terrain goes up and down and over a few rivers. It's even got it's own S-turn. The people who bought that house must have a serious lack of judgment. Can you imagine coming all the way out to the country and buying a house with road surrounding you on three sides? Since the sun came out our traffic on our scenic byway has increased ten fold.

    I was inside when they arrived and I heard yellling and screaming. I ran outside to see Mike grabbing Irish.

    “Irish jumped on Anne and knocked her flat to the ground.” I ran to the driveway to see Anne on the ground and Chris standing over her. Her blue sandals strew about she was starting to stand up.

    “Is she ok?”

    “No! She is not ok.” Chris barked. I could see he looked worried. I felt terrible.

    “It's my rib it really hurts. I injured it before at a wedding.” We got her inside the house; she had some water and sat on the porch to regroup. She's just a little wisp of a thing and he's so puppy clumsy and strong it's a real recipe for disaster. The crisis momentarily behind us, we chatted about where they should go for lunch and options for driving back. Chris discussed his new need for a road bike as we saw a stream of bikers go by. He’s got mountain bikes and Lord knows what else. As far as I’m concerned there are two types of bikes. His and hers and really who rides a hers. Ok some bikes have speeds and some have hand brakes and some you just back pedal. I got hurt in a bike accident when I was six and I’ve never really enjoyed riding bikes. Oh, I’ve done it, but I don’t really like it.

    After only about 15 minutes they set off for the Blue Mountain Grill. I was worried about Anne she looked pale.The grill is about 10 miles from here on the 9. That’s just about the closest restaurant we have – except the Acme Café which is seven miles. If you go in there, everyone looks at you wondering who the heck you are. It’s strictly local.

    After they’d gone. I went to my car and found they’d practically detailed the thing. It was shiny and clean. The leather had been cleaned. My receipts were neatly stored in an envelope, they’d found my lens cap I’d been hunting for -  and washed the laundry I’d left in the backseat. And a full tank of gas! When Shakespere said "Never a borrower nor a lender be" it's obvious he didn't know the Donaldsons.

    When my dad returned from his afternoon gig, he looked at the fence and asked us why we hadn’t done anything today. I wanted to take a swing at him with his own cornet except he was thoughtful enough to bring a big block of “deer chow” home for me. It looks like a giant salt lick, but it is crumbly and deer are supposed to love it. Mike and I climbed on the tractor and took it out into the pasture. We grabbed a wooden crate and set the block on top of it so the deer or whatever wants to eat it, can find it in the tall grass. We set it up so our spotting scope can be trained on it 24/7.  I put a step stool so Henry'll be able to get into position quickly. At a distance, he's blind as a bat.

    On the way back, Mike and I began discussing what to do with Miracle and the goats. I keep measuring and calculating how much it would cost to build another area and structure to keep them safe at night. Their current pasture was never meant to be permanent and what I’d forgotten was we had originally planned on putting all the critters in the same pasture. That was how farms used to be. Farmers just grazed them together. We’d changed from this when Pancho and Lefty arrived. They were so big it didn’t seem safe to put little Riley or any of the goats out there with them. Things are different now and we began discussing what would have to change. First a gate or fence would have to be put up where the round bale is, because the goats can simply hop out of there.

    Tom called and I discussed the idea with him. He thought it was great IF they could all get a long. I can’t see why they wouldn’t. Horses and cattle are together all the time and Horses and goats. Goats and cattle? OK I’ll admit I haven’t seen this, but that doesn’t mean it won’t work.

    I decided to take Miracle down to the pasture for little “get to know you” mixer. I put a halter and lead on her and took her out of the barn. Gates and doorways spook her, but with a packer pellet nearby she’ll keep moving. I got her outside with little trouble and let her eat some tall grass. After all I wanted her to  think coming out of the barn is a positive experience. I sat there with her while she grazed. I told her stories and eventually I sang. Considering her uber-hearing this may not have been the best choice as I can't carry a tune in a basket, but I never can resist a good "Oh My Darlin' Clementine". Gold rush, donkey it seemed to conceptually be a song she'd be drawn to. She tolerated me better than most. People have been known to put their fingers over the ear closest to me while they're singing so I don't knock them off key. I remember when Henry was five and I was singing on the way home from school my "Friday" song. He said, "Uh, Mom? Could you keep it down? I need some quiet, kindergarten is very noisy." My own kid telling me not to sing in my own car. A new low. My sister's a songbird so I try to stand next to her in church and just lipsinc.

    Eventually, when I thought she was ready, I started for the gravel driveway - she wouldn’t budge. I reminded her she was a Grand Canyon, desert dwelling donkey. She reminded me she was an ass. So I just let her graze and enjoy herself. She was in complete ecstasy with the dandelions. We can always try again tomorrow.

April 23 Things Heat Up

     

    As scheduled, my dad took Henry to school so Mike and I could get an early start on the barn. Armed with our cups of coffee and a thermos® we dug in. At first, we didn't know exactly how we were going to manage the logistics of the barn cleaning situation. Currently, there isn't a working light in the area Pancho and Lefty are in, which in general isn't a problem, because there are doors open to the outside and there's a light in the main part of the barn.  Initially, Mike thought we should close the doors to keep Pancho and Lefty out of the way. We tried this, but it was simply too dark. One might think we should just change the light, but if it was that simple we'd have done it long ago. Several people have tried to change the light, but so far to no avail and I'll be darned if I'm going to hire an electrician to come out here for a light bulb.

    Hiring people out here isn't like what I was used to in Los Angeles. I would simply call my friend and contractor, Doug and he would tell me who to call. Then I would schedule an appointment and they either would show up or not, because workmen, especially in LA, can be rather unreliable. Once they did arrive the meter, so to speak, would start running.  Here, you first have to ask, “We live in the county, will you come out to the county?” Now you'd think this place was the end of the earth, but in reality it’s 20 some odd miles – without traffic. Most people in large cities are used to driving, it’s just part of life.

    Anyway, the meter starts running from their shop. So I pay about $60.00 before they arrive and, even then, when I have bitten the bullet and paid for a plumber to drive out here only to hear him say. "I don't know how to fix that. . ." (leak in the barn wall.)

    "So it's ok then?"

    "No. It's got to be fixed I just don't know how. You'll have to get someone else out here." (And I paid him to drive here and back for that kind of answer?)

    Back to the task at hand. We opened the stall doors. We determined our procedure: Mike would use the pitchfork and scrape the gunk while I drove the tractor. This meant I had to get off and on to open and close the gate so our two convicts wouldn't take a stroll down the road again.

    I figured I got off easy. Driving the tractor is fun. I offered half-heartedly to switch jobs once or twice, but Mike doesn't even like driving my van, let alone the tractor. Each time I went back to the barn for another load, I would jump off the tractor, open the door to the corral, race back to my seat and gun it because one or the other of those sly oxen would be casually "eating" right near the gate. I knew their dastardly plan. Now, I’ve bad-mouthed them and called each a “dumb ox” before, but really they're pretty darn smart. Once in, I jumped off again and closed the door, then I’d pull right up to the stall door where Mike was working steadily. I’d turn off the motor because otherwise I couldn’t hear a thing Mike said.

The boys loved the company. They would rub on the tractor and keep bumping into me so I’d scratch their heads.  I was surprised at how social they were. At first, Mike was annoyed, because Pancho kept getting in the way. Once he realized Pancho followed him wherever he went, he kind of liked the company. After a while, when I pulled up and turned off the motor I could hear Mike singing, "Home on the Range" to Pancho, explaining his relocation and the reasons behind it. He assured Pancho that he and Lefty would be happy in their new home with the Mellotts.

    While I drove the tractor back and forth, back and forth dropping off a mixture of cow dung and straw in the compost pile and then picking up fresh wood shavings from the adjoining bin, I had a lot of time to think. I realized this first year of living on the farm is a lot like my first year of teaching. The year I had my very first fifth grade class all the procedures seemed confusing. I think Donna and Margie in the office should be canonized for their patience. They didn’t even yell at me when I used blue ink on my register (the legal document you fill in to report attendance – It MUST be in black ink – why? Because Margie said so that’s why – past that I don’t care. Well at least I wasn’t as bad the teacher who used green ink.)

    Anyway, after going back and forth I realized that we had created a lot of this work for ourselves. Now I know you put hay and grain into the cow and out comes a big green pie, but that isn’t the hard part to clean up. The worst part of cleaning the stall was the leftover wet heavy hay. It gets tangled in a mat and is really difficult to lift. As I drove, I realized we needed to feed the animals in the covered area outside. It only took nine months or so to figure that out -  nothing gets by braniac me. What I really need is a farming mentor, When I was teaching I had a mentor, Anice, who teaches second grade, but I would go to her with questions like  “How do you grade the tests, look at the homework, enter the grades, help the kids, teach the class, fill out the paperwork, attend the meeting, talk to the parents and replace the napkins in the lunchroom so the kindergarten teachers won’t get mad as well as what’s a good gift for kids to make for the holidays and keep your sanity?" She then would tell me procedures to make life easier. The answers seemed simple once you heard them, but when you’re in the thick of things you don’t see the nose on your face.

   In the warm sunshine, I kept thinking as I passed the goats and Miracle on the way to the compost heap, that’s starting to look a little like Whistler, and realized what we needed was a bench in the goat pasture so we can sit down there and sip a soda while socializing with Rachel, Christina, Alexander, Riley and, of course, Miracle – The Wonder Donkey. We’re not spending enough fun time with them; we need to work smarter and enjoy them more. They love the attention and don’t just want their basic needs met.

    As I passed the pen, Miracle turned her back to me every time I drove by. She was jealous and sulking because we were in the stall with the big boys. She needs to feel like number one all the time. She’s a very high-maintenance donkey. Lately, she's turned up her nose at her treat bowl, she wants to be hand-fed.

    After five hours of steady work we were hot and tired, but Mike warned me if he took a break he'd never get going again so we didn’t stop until we finished.

    After we were done, I started getting melancholy about the boys' departure and sat with them until the vet from Kulshan came for their examination. He was amazed, and I was proud. He couldn’t believe Pancho came when I called his name and that I could use Lefty's horn as a handrail. The vet was nervous trying to read the number on their silver ear tags, but I just yanked at each of their ears and read it to him.

    As Paul was writing up their health certificates, we started chatting about the large pile of junk I had from the construction and, before he realized it, he was leaving with a lovely parting gift. One of my windows will now brighten his workshop. One less thing for me to throw away.

After he left, I got to thinking about the compost pile. In Los Angeles I’d gone to Griffith Park, where you can get these black plastic composters for your yard. In it you put table scraps, coffee grounds etc. you turn it and you're done. But this is a whole different story. My compost pile was over eight feet high. It was too high. And it is supposed to be turned regularly to be most effective. Toby said she uses a tool designed much like a molly bolt. You stick it in the pile of crud and, once at the bottom, it springs open.  Then you pull it up and it churns the mixture. – But it can only be a few feet high.

    Since I don’t have one of those and she’s already told me my pile is too deep, I decided to go John Adams. If one of our founding fathers could churn his compost heap by hand, well, then who was I? I got Henry suited up after school and we dug in.

    We began with pitchforks, taking the top of the mound and pushing it down to the empty space in the three-sided wooden compost area. By doing this we were taking the mountain and spreading it out more equally. I told Henry it was the same idea as chocolate chip cookies -  we had to fold the mixture so it could cook more evenly. All was going well; Henry complained a bit about the smell, but he took it in stride.

    What we didn’t know was how interesting this whole thing was about to become. Sure I was yammering on in review of the fourth grade science standards regarding decomposers, reminding Henry of the unit Ms. Elberfeld had taught him last year. Teaching is re-teaching. All the while we’re getting deeper into the pile. I knew things like worms lived there, but I had no idea toads aplenty would be leaping out as we scooped. We were both amazed at our giant science project. Another scoop and something brown and fuzzy scurried by. I thought it was a mouse and screamed. A mouse in a compost pile didn't really make any sense, then I thought it might be a teeny mole. Mike came over and suggested it could be a shrew, Henry thinks it's a vole.

    Now I knew the compost would be warm, as the energy created is what the whole process is based on, but I was unprepared for the intensity. The heat emitted was astonishing. I don’t mean warm, I mean hot, hot, hot steaming hot. In fact, when we were churning much of the hay that had been deep within the pile it was ashen – really appearing as if it had been in a fire. Would I just be insane to buy a thermometer for my compost heap? I never expected to be so happy shoveling shit. But I made the mistake of having a DietCoke™ and taking a rest. So  reluctantly Henry agreed to finish the project this weekend.

    We still had the bonfire Henry lit earlier to watch. Unlike the city, out here in the “boonies” (as the vet said when I heard him on the phone) we are allowed to burn our scraps. It’s strange just lighting a fire in your yard, but if you keep it with in the guidelines all you have to do is call a number and listen to the recording. You get what is considered an implied verbal permit which is free. I didn’t know this at the beginning and had the fire marshal come out and I got stuck for $50.00 bucks for his time.

    The fire burned for several hours and we didn’t want to leave it unattended so we ate dinner outside enjoying the warm glow.

    With everyone fed and put away I sat down to read a note from Maryruth. It seems she’s just purchased 75 Arcaucana chicks and they're living in her bedroom at home. (And my sister thinks I’m nuts.) She mentioned she isn’t doing much sleeping. And then she told me she's just started a worm farm because they’re easy. I wondered, are there heritage worms?

April 15th Kiss His Ass Good-Bye

    Today none of us wanted to get up and face the day but like or not, the sun rose. First thing this morning, Tom slipped out to the barn to have coffee with his best girl. He brushed her and fed her treats whispering in her ear he’d be back.

    With the geese, cattle, goats, dogs, cats and Henry fed we got in the car headed for school. It was quiet at first no one spoke. We drove knowing Tom would be leaving for quite a while maybe six weeks. Money’s tight and he’s got to earn a living - who knows I may be serving coffee at Starbucks™ or bagging groceries at Trader Joes™ if we can’t get anything else going. A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.

    So with a heavy heart I drove to town armed with my coffee for comfort while Tom read a loud from James Herriot’s “All Creatures Great & Small”. Henry loves the stories and I have to admit, they’re very real to me now. I’ve had a lot of James Herriot moments over the last eight months or so. We dropped Henry at school first. Tom kissed him good-bye barely choking back the tears as Henry happily climbed the hill to his class with a child’s understanding of the upcoming separation. Tom on the other hand got back in the car with a somber silence.

Next we drove to meet Lisa for a farewell breakfast chatting about the run Lisa had just done bantering back and forth verbal darts flying. Many aimed at the hay still clinging to my hair. “How can you let her go out like this? She looks like she just rolled in the hay.”

    “You get used to it. She used to be so clean. I remember a yellow feather dress.. .”

    “Has she showered lately?”

    “The cows don’t mind.”

    Finally, I dropped Tom at Bellingham International Airport (I think they may have one puddle-jumper that goes to Canada) The good-bye was quick and almost emotionless as though we’d see each other later this evening. That’s the only way we could do it

    Now then, with Tom gone there was work to be done. The goats needed a new salt lick in their pen and more baking soda. And I’m a little worried, they didn’t eat their timothy hay from last night and if there’s one thing for certain, goats eat. I’ll have to call Marcia.

    Tom called, he’d arranged for someone from Scholten’s to make a tractor house call. He thought it should be serviced and he didn’t want me to have to find a way to take it in to the shop in Lynden.

    This was way better than flowers.

    One of the service guys at Scholtens’s lives on the 9 near the Everybody Store so they’d agreed to send Wayne out. He came out and got the tractor all taken care of. We had an interesting discussion on Bio-diesel. I told him I’d tried to be green and used it but it became sludge in the winter. I expected to be chided and brushed off as a girl from the city, but instead he laughed and told me that although he uses it in his little tractor, Kubota™ put out a warning because a lot of it smells like French fries, popcorn or peanuts and mice love those things. The hoses are just rubber and so sometimes they go to town on people’s tractors.

    Miracle, Christina, Rachel, Alexander and Riley were fascinated with Wayne as he worked. Pancho and Lefty had eating to do.

    As I passed the dozen spectacular roosters roaming around Ann Storm’s place on the way to pick up Henry from school I realized I just have to give up on the Java chickens if I ever want to get chickens. There just aren’t any Javas available. Williamsburg has Dorkings and if they’re good enough for Williamsburg, I guess I’ll go with the Silver Dorking they’re noted as a very hearty and gentle breed. Now how many should I get? I called Tom.

March 23rd Mike Brady alias Reporter #1

Tom's Easter Card to Henry

    Lisa called me at sunup as she does every Easter and said "He is Risen." I told her Henry was still sick this morning so we couldn’t go to church or her house for brunch,

    Henry and I stayed home. Disappointed we played the computer version of Life™ to pass the time. I came in third. To come in third with two players is a bit annoying. I took this as commentary on my current financial situation.

    Late in the afternoon a horrendous wind and hailstorm moved in. The power went out. I called my dad and Mike at Lisa’s to let them know and went about setting up the generator. I had no luck. It wasn’t dark so I didn’t worry. My dad would be home and I figured he’d get it started. It’s a brand new generator. I spent what I consider a fortune getting it and then paying the power company to put a terminal in so we just plug it in and voila. Light.

    My dad arrived not long afterward with a plate of food piled high with ham, salad and two different kinds of quiche made from a recipe she got from hillbillyhousewife.com. I took a quick taste and put it on the back stoop while we started fooling around with the generator. Nothing. It didn’t turn over it didn’t do anything. We went through the trouble shooting section of the manual standing there in the rain. Nothing. We turned every knob and flipped every switch twice. Frustrated and annoyed, I called Bill. I figured he’d have better idea about what to do than we did. The thing is brand new what the heck. Well, he didn’t have any better idea, but he did call the electrician we bought it from and left a message. I didn’t have much hope that was going to come to anything on a Sunday. Easter Sunday.

    We got out the paraffin lanterns and put on our jackets. When the power doesn’t work, as I may have mentioned before, the water doesn’t work. The well pump stops.  I wasn’t too worried, it was now pretty dark, but Puget Sound said the power would be on by 7:00PM. We went in the family room built a fire and apropos of the evening Henry got out the Worst Case Scenario™ game. Now here’s a game I can win.
Reading the questions by flashlight and drinking my Earl Grey®  – the stove works and I had water in the kettle. We were doing OK.

    Lisa called to see how we were doing. “ It’s not as if it’s December and the pipes are going to freeze.”

    That’s true. It’s a lot warmer, we’re fine. I’ve got my laptop.”

    “Well, tell Henry he didn’t miss anything with the egg hunt. Just as the kids were going out it started to hail like crazy and they all ran in screaming.”

    I indeed won the game. It was 8:30PM and Rob the electrician called. He’d just gotten the message about the generator and said he’d come out. I told him not to bother –

    “It’s too late on Easter Sunday and Puget Sound said we’ll have power in less than a half hour.”

    “Well, I don’t live far so if you need me just give me a call. I don’t want you to go without power.”

    “It’s not December.” I reminded him.

    When I hung up, Mike decided he was going to go upstairs and do his Thomas Jefferson imitation and read by candlelight.

    Henry and I decided we were going to try and watch a movie on my laptop. Luckily, I had a full battery but I warned him I didn’t think we’d make it through a whole movie. It was worth a try and long before that the lights would be back on Henry reminded me.

    We popped in “Speed”. Henry’s never seen it before and it’s made even better because my old room partner at Woodland Hills Elementary, Bruce Wright, is in it. He plays “Reporter #1”. Henry and I did a talent show with him a couple of years ago. Where we re-enacted a “Brady Bunch” episode during which Mike dressed in a tux does a dramatic reading accompanied by Greg on guitar – while Bobby and Peter drop props like rubber chickens, feathers, making it rain etc. When we did it, Bruce played the Mike character complete with tux, I did the dramatic guitar strumming  (as I have no musical ability) and Henry stood on a ladder behind the curtain dropping things on Bruce while Bruce feigned shock and outrage.

    The laptop was a trooper and made it all the way through the credits.  At 1:00AM the power came on.

March 21st Pass The Mustard

    The phone rang at 6:30AM per usual. Tom calls me to make sure I’m up as I can barely open my eyes on dark morning. This morning there was a modicum of light in the sky. A hopeful sign. I quickly got a cup of coffee, started to make Henry a ham and cheese sandwich, remembered that today was Good Friday, and put the ham back. Now, I went through the morning “C’mon Henry it’s time to get up!” He stumbled to the shower and soon we were on our way, dog, goats and donkey fed. Henry and I had a PopTart™ and a bowl of oatmeal on the way, respectively.

    The ride to school was breathtaking. There had been snow overnight in the hills above our house and the trees were covered with a fresh dusting. Henry talked non-stop. I heard story synopsis' on The BFG and The Fantastic Mr. Fox, both Roald Dahl books. Just before we arrived at the bottom of the playground, Henry started wincing. I asked him what was wrong, but he said he was ok, he thought he had a little whizpopping going on - a Roald Dahl term.

    

I rushed off to take care of some stuff at the bank and then I was going to try and meet Lisa and her friend to get some things for the kids Easter baskets. I’d just finished at the bank a complimentary coffee in hand when the school called.

   

“Is he hurt?”

   

“No. He’s not hurt, he’s had a little accident and he needs some different pants.” I instinctively looked in the far reaches of my van/laundry hamper and spied a pair of jeans tossed aside on the way to gymnastics.

   “I’ve got some clothes with me, I’ll be right there.”

     “Umm, OK.” She said and then hung up. All the way there I wondered, why she’d said that, had that hesitation. I parked and went in. I walked in the office and both women tilted their heads toward a closed door.

   

“He’s in there.” They said in unison. I opened the door and was hit by a wall of pungent stench. My boy stood in front of me covered in crap. He didn’t have an accident; he was living some kind of Stephen King elementary school nightmare. He had feces all over his body, on the inside of his pants, in his socks, on his arms, under his fingernails he needed to be sterilized. This was something Mike Rowe might run from. Mother’s don’t have that choice, I found some baby wipes, and we borrowed some school pants and got out of there. So much for Easter baskets, perhaps we wouldn’t be going to Easter brunch at all if I had diarrhea boy.

   

The way home was fraught with bathroom humor. We discussed the “Saturday Night Live” commercial for adult diapers, “Ooops I Crapped My Pants”. I told him I’d always suspected he was full of shit. And so it went as we made our way home to Jell-O™ and rice. If he were really lucky he’d be eating the old B.R.A.T. diet. Lisa said not to worry she’d get everything for his Easter basket.

   

I made him some raspberry tea my father suggested and called some Java chicken breeders in an attempt to find someone who’s sell me these reportedly “gentle and calm” birds. After a call to Monty in Kansas, I realized I was hungry, remembering Henry’s cheese sandwich I’d made earlier I went out to the car to get it. When I opened the door, I saw them. They were standing near the newly budding tulips.

    

“Not again.” This isn’t funny. I went back inside and called my dad. “

   

“Yeah”

    “I hope UCLÅ isn’t playing because Pancho and Lefty are out again and they’ve broken down the fence.”
I told Henry to get his shoes and coat on and we went outside to round ‘em up. I was sure Tom was sitting in some meeting. Clean.

    When we got outside our cattle were well on their way to the pond. We followed. Once there we saw that Wally had run muck. Having been left to his own devices for a few days he’d built a damn rivaling the Hoover. The problem with his dams is that they choke the pond. The island where the Canada geese made their nest last year was flooded. Henry and I spent a few minutes clearing out his work so the flow of the stream would return to normal and hopefully allow the geese to nest.

    When we walked back my dad was finishing the repairs on the fence. Pancho and Lefty were in my yard. And leaving the largest cow pies you can imagine. More crap. I had savory thoughts of them as prime rib covered in mustard.

    We got them in again, filled their water and went in the house. I checked to see if anyone had any interest in purchasing them. I’m ready to give them away. Free shipping. I went back out and fed the goats, Miracle and Anna. She came at me giving me the head down and horn shake thing. I was having none of it. I started yelling and screaming something about McDonalds®. I don’t want any cows at the moment. I love Andy and Abe is a close second, but I started thinking how happy Miracle and the goats would be down in the pasture. What was I going to do with these stupid cows anyway? No one wants a history camp around here. No one cares about having a Plimoth Colony who am I kidding?

    Henry, Mike and I played the game of Life™. Big surprise, I lost. Tired and very cranky I went up to bed. Of course, the cat box needs changing. Perfect.

February 14th I Will Survive

Tom's Valentine's Day Card to Henry

I don’t put too much stock in Valentine’s Day anymore, but then again it’s nice to get a valentine. I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, my heart is not broken, but I did inform my child, that Mother’s Day is three months away and I expect to get a handmade card. He said he understood and that he’d make one in April, but he’s sure he’s going to lose it by May. Devil Child. As far as Tom goes, he’s not really the Valentine-type anymore, he has given me plenty of sunflowers and wonderful handmade valentines, but we had the biggest fight in the history of our relationship on a Valentine’s Day many, many years ago and we’ve never looked forward to it since.

    Today wasn’t the best day not because of Valentine’s mind you, but I just don’t feel terrific I’m fighting a cold. My head is pounding, my eyes hurt and I just don’t want to move much. I’d say I had a hangover; only you can’t get a hangover from hibiscus tea. The goats, cows, dogs and donkey don’t care at all how I feel. They want what they want and that’s it. The cats are much more sympathetic, they seem to want to lure me back into bed. Emmett and Alvin just purr inviting me to join them.

    Henry got sent home for his mild concussion. He’s dizzy and needs more rest. I might be doubtful about the validity of this claim; however he missed the ONLY party of the year in his class by leaving and I know he was looking forward to it.

    I must have an angel watching out for me, because on the way home I stopped despite my ailments and my reluctance and got a container full of diesel for the tractor. I didn’t think we’d need it until the weekend, but I did it anyway. And good thing I did, because when I got home I found the boys in the pasture needed a round bale of hay. Their feeder was barren and so was the tank of the tractor. I might mention I really didn’t want to go out there and move that bale, but that was the way it was. Those boys depended on me and they were moo-ooing up a storm when they saw me.

    Luckily, Mike, Henry and I can get a bale loaded onto the makeshift sled pretty easily now. We’ve got our technique all worked out; everyone knows his place so we can tip the 700lb bale.  We make the tractor do most of the work. It doesn’t take long; however, we lack style points. We must look ridiculous struggling with the plastic wrap, Mike in his slacks and me in my miner’s light while Henry crawls around on the bale like a cute little monkey, well, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn would be mighty disappointed in us. We’ll have to work on that.

    Dan Cramer called and has assured me he’s located some good hay and he’ll deliver a mix of Timothy out here on Sunday. You’ve just got to love Dan. When he speaks he just oozes deal making combined with real concern. He’s always saying things like “If I throw 30lbs of hamburger in with the hay load, I suppose you’ll buy that too.” What can you say, but yes? I might start to feel put upon, but then I mention I’ve got to make sure I have enough money, my finances are running low, we haven’t been able to get financing for the camp etc. and he says “Don’t worry, you’re animals are going to eat, pay me when you can.” Huh. Those thoughtful words of kindness from someone I barely know brought tears to my eyes. I hope I’ll never have to take him up on it, but what a nice man. Now I have to buy the hamburger. Maybe Henry will like Sloppy Joes.

There’s no rest for the wicked, all the animals have eaten, but none of the people. I wonder, is it a sin to give your child a Jenny Craig™ frozen entrée? I hope not, because he enjoyed a lovely roasted chicken dinner with broccoli and roasted potatoes accompanied by Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop tarts™ for dessert as Mike read aloud to him and I wrote the events of the day. I’ll have to stop now, as it is time for my escape: “Survivor”. I applied once,I sent in a tape, but alas they didn’t pick me.

February 7th Animal Farm

This morning as I was greeting the residents in the barn. I was welcomed with the usual Brenda-Vicarro-type-brays from Miracle and eager bleats from Riley. Donkeys it seems love to be snuggled, so if I don’t want a sulky donkey I have to take the time to hug Miracle and let her rest her nose over my shoulder. I am then expected to scratch behind her ears, under her halter and in general bestow love. This is not a sacrifice, I consider it an honor, and I comply readily. I was raised around horses and given that donkeys are equine I thought they’d be like horses or ponies. NO, they are not. They do all like to be brushed and pet, snuggled and loved, but donkeys are their own deal.

    The light in Anna’s area, I’d say stall, but it’s much bigger probably three times a regular stall, has burned out and so as she sticks her wet nose through the slats mooing at me she just seems like the monster in the dark. I’m not too fond of her, as you probably have surmised over time. I had such high hopes for owning a cow, but she is not a real chummy cow. She’s beautiful true. But she’s suspicious, nervous and cranky.

    I went through my morning routine, the very pushy goats get their alfalfa pellets in their trough first, or they steal everything from Miracle. She’s much more shy and demure, unlikely qualities in a donkey but she’s really the only donkey I know. They are a clash of cultures. Watching them respond to each other is like taking a sociology class – Not animal behavior. The goats have no personal boundaries they cling and hang together. They don’t care where one goat ends and one begins. My donkey is much more standoffish. She backs up if someone wants to get by. If the goats rushed in and took her treats she walked away. As time has gone on, Miracle has found passive ways of fighting back. She waits until the goats get their pellets, then she positions herself between them and the rest of the area- blocking them in with her body. This way they have to go try and slip between her lethal hind legs and the wall if they want to steal some of her treats. Very crafty. If one slips by and tries to snag a treat she pretends to try and bite them, but they know an empty threat when they see one. Goats are not stupid.

    Which brings me back Anna. She was mooing up a storm, like a baby who wants a bottle. Although she really isn’t supposed to get cow cookies in the morning- the boys don’t but they’re down in the pasture- she doesn’t think it’s fair that everybody else in the barn is getting treats.  I don’t blame her, so I give her some cookies in a black flat bottom bowl from the feed store. (Miracle prefers a white plastic mixing bowl she won’t eat out of the feed store bowls) I leaned in to give her the treats she so desperately wanted and what does she do? She starts thrashing her head back and forth hitting the bowl with her horns dumping the cookies on the ground in her water and all over the place. It is at this moment I start to yell “You stupid COw” I stopped. Hmm. That’s where that came from. Thousands of colonial farmers probably yelled those very words countless times for it to become part of our colloquial language. American history. I didn’t want to follow up with dumb ass, because you know how sensitive Miracle can be.

January 31st Live Long And Prosper

    Today is Mike’s birthday.

We spent the day at home doing chores in the barn for the most part, but we decided to meet Lisa and the girls for dinner at Stannellos. None of us had ever been there and so we thought we’d give it a try. Everybody readily found something, but Quinn. She is a vegetarian, making her choices sometimes a bit more challenging, but they clearly had options for her. She said she was going to eat when she got home. It seemed odd. Lisa took her to the Ladies room and when they came back Quinn ordered.
It was great food. The ambiance isn’t stellar, but it’s fine. The view on a clear day would be amazing, you’d be able to see the islands, but this was not a clear day.

    We ordered a bottle of Chianti among the three of us and Mike began opening packages. Henry gave him a pair of gag “nerd” glasses with a full-scale nerd test on the back. There were more than a couple questions he had to answer - yes , but we were all relieved to find he had never owned a "Star Trek" uniform. Although he did admit he’d been to a convention – just to see what it was like. (Funny, because he isn’t really a fan)Anyway Mike's a great sport and we made many jokes at his expense. He laughed the hardest of all.

    The nerd glasses were a big hit, everyone tried them on. Quinn loved them and with Mike and Henry’s permission she planned to wear them to school the next day with a promise to relay her experiences. She did put in the caveat she was not going to wear them in the 8th grade section she would don them she got to the 6th grade area. She said she didn’t need that kind of attention.
Everyone settled into cheesecake.

December 24th Our Little Christmas Miracle

    Christmas Eve and the presents are all wrapped. Henry, Tom and my dad spent the day cleaning out the barns. They’re full of an abundance of hay, clean snuggly shavings and fresh water. After all, how can we have a dirty barn on Christmas Eve? All you have to do is walk in the barn and it looks like the Nativity. Going in there this afternoon being near the animals in the quiet of the day felt like a Christmas prayer.
This evening as is tradition we’re spending the night at Lisa and Chris’ so we can all hang our stockings with care and then all wake up in the morning and open our presents together. Mike will stay here and feed the animals for us before he joins us later in the day for Christmas dinner.
When we left home, we were going directly to church. As I was putting the finishing touches on my make-up getting ready to go, Henry came in my room quietly dressed in his suit with a little box wrapped in penguin paper.

“Mama, I’d like you to open my present now.”

“Sweetie, are you sure? Don’t you want to wait until everyone’s around?”

“Nope. I want you to open it just with me.”

“OK.” I opened the package wondering why he’d want me to open it now right before church. I couldn’t believe it. There in the box was a dainty necklace with the word “Faith” etched in a circle of white gold. Henry was beaming. I was so touched at his thoughtfulness I was glad I’d applied the waterproof mascara.
We piled in the car to meet the Donaldsons at Sacred Heart Catholic Church where Phoebe would be performing in the Christmas play during Mass. She was so nervous that she wouldn’t get the role she so coveted. Tom asked me on the way what she wanted to be.

“Did she want to be Mary?”

“No.”

“Is it the Angel who spoke to Mary?”

“A magi? Did she want to be a magi?”

“No.”

“Well, what did she want to be so badly?”

"You’ll see.”

When we walked in the church we could see Phoebe dressed in costume. Henry blurted out “It’s a Miracle!”

“She’s the donkey” Tom snickered, as Phoebe stood very proud floppy ears and all.

December 6th Friendship Never Ends

    The kitchen counters are supposed to be installed later today. I say supposed to be, because as we roll along, you get used to disappointment. Bill says not to worry, they’re coming.

    In the meantime, while I’m waiting I decided that we should get one of those personalized stamps to mail our cards. I took a good picture of Tom’s true love, Miracle the Wonder donkey and it is cute. She started sniffing the camera. And as it happens her halter is red. I’m going to order them today and I think we should have everything in time to get them in the mail.

   

    I’m trying to get a phone number for Mary King; she was the nice woman I met at the Humane Society Gala. As it turns out, I’d had a phone number for her and I called in case she wanted to come to Tom’s William Bradford performance, but it seems it was the wrong number. I had her name down on a list to try and find an address for her to send her a Christmas card. The list was on the table in the kitchen when Little Chris Donaldson came in for lunch as he usually does around 11:30AM. He looked at the name and looked at me and asked me why I had it there. I told him I’d met Mary and Frank King at the Gala and was trying to get an address for them to send them a Christmas card. He just kept looking at me. Finally, he said, years ago when he was ten. He had been a friend of Wade King’s, their son. And on the day Wade died in a freak gas explosion, Chris was supposed to go with them to light firecrackers, but instead his grandfather had made him stay and do chores. He told me what a great athlete Wade was and how he’d looked up to him. Chris said  their families had drifted over the years and couldn’t believe he was looking at his parent’s names in my kitchen. I was simply stunned.

    I couldn’t help think of Henry he was the same age right now. Oddly, Henry’s best friend, Harry died when they were just four years old.
(Henry & Harry)

Henry did the eulogy because he’d heard best friends do that. He drew a picture of he and Harry at Knott’s Berry Farm™ in the Red Baron airplane where they’d gone on Harry’s birthday. He told St. Mel’s congregation that day about how he and Harry loved to do the same things. They loved the slide, wrestling and the sandbox. And sometimes Harry bit him. One time Harry bit him like an apple, but it was ok, because Harry said he was sorry and they were friends. It makes me cry even now.

December 1st Winter White

   

    It seems so cliché waking up to a winter wonderland on December 1st, but that’s exactly what happened. During the night we received a beautiful blanket of white. The barren trees are glistening with ice.

    After my morning coffee, I went out to feed the goats and Miracle the Wonder Donkey with my coffee in my pajamas, slippers and robe. When I opened the door to reveal what had happened during the night they were all cautious. The goats and Miracle stood at the edge of the door assessing the situation. I realized that even though Miracle came from only a short distance away it was almost right on the water so they didn’t get much snow. I guess only fools rush in where wise Asses fear to tread. Miracle took her hoof and gently pressed down on the snow. She kept putting more and more weight on it to see if it would hold her. The goats watched. I watched. After she felt sure that this stuff was solid, she went out and kicked up her heels. She raced around playing in the snow. The goats followed careful to stay out of her way. I have to say, as I sat there with my coffee, I thoroughly enjoyed the morning.

   Usually, we put up our Christmas lights Thanksgiving weekend and normally, this would be the weekend we’d decorate our Christmas tree. In numerous phone calls, Tom has suggested we go out on the property and cut one down. We’ve thought about it, but without him here all I can think of is hauling the thing back to the house by myself – or with Henry. We’ve seen plenty of tree lots around as well as the “chop-it-yourself “places scattered everywhere we go on a normal day. But, Henry and I keep resisting. We’ve talked about it and today we’ve decided to skip Christmas. Not the holiday, just the decorations. We told Mike our decision and he thinks it makes sense. To anyone not here all the time this is the unthinkable, after all, I have a collection of Santas numbering over a hundred. How can I skip Christmas? Easy, if you could see the mess we’re living in on a daily basis. The very idea of trying to find the various boxes hiding the Christmas decorations amongst the pile of boxes in the garage and then the idea of bringing one more thing in this house that doesn’t need to be here and then having to pack it up again and after all that work we will not be one bit closer to a cleaner more organized house seems more than any of us can bear. Besides, we’re going to spend the night at the Donaldson’s and they will have a tree.

The Christmas gift we’re going to give each other is a better home to live in.

(our tree)

October 27th Feeding Time

    I’m trying to make the feeding of the animals more efficient. Currently, it’s tough. The barn animals, like the goats and donkey are actually fairly easy. Alfalfa pellets, two scoops morning and night for the goats. Miracle gets one scoop of Packer Pellets™ both morning and night – to be served in her Tupperware™. She is a picky ass and won’t eat out of just any old cow dish. She has to be locked outside while she eats hers or Rachel and Christina will eat them right out of her mouth. They are like a clash of cultures. Miracle is very Nordic in behavior while the goats tend to act a bit more Middle Eastern. Finally, I fill their water and make sure all the doors are secured so that I don’t have to lose sleep over coyote attacks.

    The cows are tougher. As I’ve said before I have to throw two hay bales down from the hayloft, get the tractor and load them up. Drive the tractor down to the pasture get off and drive over to the feeding stations. Then I have to take the bales and lift them above my head into the mangers. Finally, if I haven’t forgotten the scissors I cut the strings that bind the bales. This happens twice a day. I have to say there has to be a more efficient way to do it, but I don’t know what it is.

   

Don’t get me wrong; some days my dad helps me and other times Mike pitches in. Even Henry helps lift the bales, but it’s tiresome. I take that back. Actually, once you’re doing it, it isn’t too bad, but as the wind howls and the nights get longer you just don’t really want to put your boots on and head out the door to do it. I find doing the barn animals kind of relaxing and once you’ve finished doing it all you truly feel as if you’ve done something meaningful. I can imagine the kinds of dinner’s farmers must eat. This is work worthy of hearty eating.

     Once, the feeding is done, we’re still having to go out and medicate Rachel. It’s almost over and no one is more relieved than Rachel (and me). She seems to be doing a lot better and apparently she isn’t contagious so she’ll be returning to her stall with her daughter, Christina and the others soon.

October 22nd Packer Pellets Anyone?

(Alfalfa)

   

(Packer Pellets)

Lisa gave me the medication I have to give Rachel every day for a week. When I say give, I mean inject. Some might be squeamish about this, but I had to take care of my mother while she underwent years of chemotherapy and have long since gotten past the “I will not give a shot under any circumstances position”.

    Lisa said it's prudent to keep Rachel isolated in her single stall just in case what she has is contagious. Rachel's not very happy about this, but she can see Christina and the others and she’s getting a good deal of “Packer pellets”.  The packer pellets are our "cow cookies" and Miracle loves them. They’re just alfalfa big fat alfalfa pellets about two inches long and about as big around as a hot dog. They're called packer pellets because people who pack into the mountains aren't supposed to leave any food stuff behind. And it's not very practical to load a bale of hay on the back of your horse. Truth be known, we call them goat heroin because the goats completely lose their minds for these things. They're personalites change. They get kind of wild and frantic, they rush at you wild-eyed ears twitching. So we don’t give them much.  I've suggested to Tom, we just cut them off. You can't give in to addicts and Idon't want to be a goat enabler. Sometimes though I soften and scatter a little of the dust you find at the bottom of the bag on their hay. Anyway, today I thought Rachel deserved a little extra, so she’s not too, too unhappy. Snacks as comfort this explains how I ended up on Jenny Craig™.

August 19th A Cute Little Ass

 This afternoon we’re going to get a donkey.  Lisa says I’m like a hound on a scent when I get going. Admittedly, this quality can be annoying, but it does get things done.

    I looked all over the Internet –searched site after site including craigslist.org ruralheritage.com. I even called to find out about getting one from the Bureau of Land Management, but none of these efforts led anywhere. They had donkeys but they were either too expensive or located in Idaho or somewhere in the South. I had just had a road trip with three dogs and a 10-year-old and really I wasn’t ready for another one with a donkey.

    I was puzzled as to my next step until I remembered Del’s Farm Supply. I called and asked if they had any ideas. The very helpful lady told me that, in fact, there was a sign up right now. It said, “Donkeys in Anacortes for Sale – call Vern”. I called Vern. I told him why I wanted a donkey and that, although I had horses growing up, I knew very little about donkeys. Vern was fabulous. He said he’d wrangle up some starter donkeys. I wasn’t quite sure what a starter donkey was, but since he had thirty donkeys all together, he said I’d have a few to pick from.

    Now, even I didn’t think I could get a donkey in the Odyssey, so I started looking into trailers. I found one in town and the guy I rented it from helped me hook it up.

    Naturally, I called my psychic twin, otherwise known as my sister Lisa. Actually, Lisa is 2 - 1/2 years younger than I, but she tends to act like the older sister. I think it’s a doctor thing. She’s really everything to me. Oh, she bugs me and frustrates me and I yell at her like I wouldn’t yell at another human being on Earth. Yet she buys me a cup of coffee on her birthday and I wouldn’t do anything, including move to Washington or get a donkey without her - and her girls (Quinn & Phoebe).

    Anyway, back to Vern. Vern lives in the house next to the where house he was born, and where his daughter and her family now live. He has a herd of over 30 donkeys, 6 llamas and 5 alpacas- he’s been thinning the herd, he used to have a lot more. At 92, he thought it was time to cut back a little.
There were several donkeys in a small corral in the middle of a very large field bordered by woods at one end. In the field, twenty-four other donkeys were milling about. While we stood there, Vern told us a bit about each donkey. After showing us all the donkeys, he recommended Roseanne.  There was a mother-daughter team he would only sell together, a pair of best friends that needed to go together too, and a mule. I didn’t want two donkeys.  We needed a donkey not a mule, so this narrowed things down. Then there was Roseanne. She was mostly white. At first, I didn’t find Roseanne too cute. Henry didn’t take to her initially either, but after a little while he grew to adore her because she was quite snuggly, if not beautiful. The girls liked her immediately.

    Prior to this I never would have said a donkey was pretty, but when I saw one of the other donkeys in the corral, I couldn’t help it. She was stunning. Henry thought she was cute, too. Nonetheless, we weren’t here for a beautiful donkey, we were here for a good livestock guardian and you know how well I do at first impressions.

    We agreed on a price and Vern led Roseanne toward the trailer. That’s when it happened. My son, in his new-found love for Roseanne, was so smitten he went running after her to be near her. Running is not an action a donkey reacts well to. Roseanne was gone - lead rope and all. For the next two hours Vern, his grandson, Quinn, Phoebe, Lisa, Vern’s daughter and I chased Roseanne. We made a human chain, we snuck up on her and we tried to trick her. Roseanne was having none of it. She ran off into the woods Vern owned and didn’t come back. These donkeys were all sort of wild and I was getting more than a tad bit nervous about what I was getting into. But I had goats to protect. We were now at the point in the evening where we either had to pick another donkey or come back another day. Henry was heartbroken. Roseanne was the only donkey that would do. We took the looker, her name is Miracle.

    Once again, I called Gina as I now towed a donkey behind my Odyssey on the 5. Gina said the book club was never going to believe this.

    One thing I learned tonight, when you own a donkey, you hear ass jokes. I heard a million of them on the ride home. Quinn is the queen of ass jokes. “I always knew Denise had a cute ass.” “We knew Henry would have a big hairy ass one day.”   “It’s hard getting Denise to move her ass”.

    I called ahead, so Tom, my dad and Mike had Miracle’s stall all ready.  Miracle had not been easy to load. It took Vern and his very strong teenage grandson to get her in. Now, we had to get her out. To everyone’s surprise she just came out and went in the barn. Tom took one look at Miracle and fell in love. He went on endlessly about how Miracle could be a show donkey.







I always knew he was a real ass.

    I’ll feel better tonight when I hear the coyotes, howling knowing my watch-donkey is now on duty  .

August 18th I Got Your Goat

 Traveling down Highway 5 for an HOUR with FOUR goats in the back of my Honda Odyssey was not something I could ever have imagined. The noise, the beards, the pee. Three goats taking turns nibbling at my DVD player and looking out the back window, the baby riding snuggled up in Henry’s lap. It required me calling my friend Gina and giving her a firsthand account, because I needed someone other than family to verify the event. She was relieved to hear I put a tarp down, but felt strongly I was going to need more than a car wash; a full detailing was going to be necessary to rid the van of the pungent aroma.

    We unloaded Rachel, at three the oldest (yellow)

and the mother of Christina (purple).

How can you separate the two?

Then there’s Alexander, who was going to be butchered if we didn’t take him (black),

and the baby Riley(orange),

named for Jim Riley of Riley’s Farm in California. After all, you have to get a baby. We went for two and ended up with four, and we’re not even talking about breeding yet.



    Our handyman created a goat pen, but he didn’t have goat pens on his resume. I guess it’s like anything, until you bring the goats home you really can’t imagine what it’s going to be like. Just like baby-proofing the house. Before you have one that crawls you don’t see the coffee table or the fireplace as lethal weapons. It’s the same with goats. I just didn’t see the coyote access until my defenseless little charges were quietly munching on their hay. Tom and I got so nervous after seeing three coyotes we put all the goats in the chicken coop slash tool shed. I hate chickens, I’m afraid of chickens. They leap and flutter, peck and squawk and so I have no desire or plan to ever use that area for anything other than a tool shed, but we’ll have to coyote-proof the barn in the morning. – Strangely Toby loves chickens.

    I’ve now spent the better part of the evening researching how to protect Rachel, Christina, Alexander and Riley from harm. It seems there are three options. The first choice as livestock guardian is the Anatolian Shepherd. Great, but my dad’s puppy is hardly going to help now as it’s only a couple weeks old and he hasn’t even seen the litter yet. Not to mention that my father’s philosophy is “one bite for me and one bite for my dog”. He takes better care of the dogs than his grandchildren, which means his dog isn’t going to be sleeping in the barn.

    The next option is a llama. They are ferocious and extremely efficient at taking care of herds. Not a bad way to go, but not exactly colonial.

    The final and my favorite is a donkey. Donkeys are great guardians, according to all accounts. They have three methods of attack. They stomp at a predator like a flamenco dancer or they run away as if afraid and then launch their hind legs at the predator, and, finally they bite with their tremendous jaws. Perfect. Now where do you get a donkey?