Potpourrie

And the subject is...stinkbugs!  Outnumbering the mice and squirrels in the barn, these inch-long, shiny black beetles move slowly like tiny robots going about their business, whatever that might be.  I have a feeling they're some kind of dung beetle, although I've never actually seen them do anything with the "product."  When threatened, they hike their back end up as if aiming, and perhaps they do emit some stinky chemical because the birds back off. 

Yesterday was a red-letter day in the Silkie pen.  I picked up one egg in the morning and another at night, so at least two of these mini-chickens are girls.  I have two...can I hear three?  Maybe they're just late bloomers.

For the third appointment, I again waited for Dishwasher Guy, and after the mandatory four-hour wait (stuck in the house by the phone) was again told he couldn't make it.  Aaargh.  DW Guy said he can't come now until the seventh.  He did promise me he'd have the dishwasher fixed by Thanksgiving.  What a relief!  I might get a little tight-jawed, but am truly grateful it's the dishwasher and not the toilet.

Temperatures dropped from one-hundred four to one hundred yesterday.  While it seems impossible, those four degrees actually felt cooler.  Not cool, but cooler.  Take what you get and be glad that you got it.

Philosophical Maunderings

A long time ago I read that there is no heavier burden than great potential.  Living alone, I think there is no lonelier burden than responsibility.  There is no one to whom one can hand off or share.  Illness is a spectre that lurks in the corner of my mind for that very reason.  I don't get sick, haven't even had a cold in probably six years, but I was sick yesterday.  I desperately wished that someone, anyone, would come and milk the goats, feed the chickens, tend the dog and cats (and pick up the rest of the sticks!).  Well, there's an old saying, "If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride."  There was nothing for it but to pick up the milk bucket and go about business as usual...comes under the heading of  "pull on your big-girl panties and get 'er done."  I will admit that cleaning the barn got short shrift, and the sticks will wait for another day.  Thankfully, the dark cloud seems to have passed and today is going to be a much better day.  And even better, Sheila didn't have her baby yesterday. 

Just Wait

As the saying goes, if you don't like the weather, just wait a day (or sometimes five minutes).  These pictures are taken two days apart.  The snowfall was pretty wimpy and only stayed until late afternoon, but it just goes to show how fast it can change. 

I'm also "just waiting" for Sheila to drop her kid(s).  We're at that stage when I'm continually checking under her tail for signs of impending delivery.  (Again, it's a good thing no one is watching me...I'd hate to think what would be said about me now.)  There are two tendons running from the spine to the hip points that are normally taut as bowstrings.  These soften and stretch just before birth to allow the pelvis to expand, so I'm also feeling her back end for those.  The girls are perfectly capable of delivering on their own, but it seems to give them comfort to have me close by when their time comes, and I never get over the awe of watching the miracle of birth. 

It's time for my semiannual tirade against the time change to or from (I've lost track of which is "real" time) Daylight Savings Time.  It makes me nuts and totally upsets the schedule.  The goats and chickens all run on the daylight they can see, not what the clock says, so what good does it do a farmer to move the clock hands?  The best analogy I've heard is that of cutting six inches from the top of a short blanket and sewing it to the bottom so your feet will be covered.  There are only so many hours of daylight, winter or summer, and changing the time will not create more...period.  Case in point:  the girls go to bed at sundown.  Right now the sun sets at six o'clock.  I received a dinner invitation for six o'clock.  I could put the girls to bed a little early and still make it on time and enjoy the evening.  However, with the time change, bedtime won't be until seven.  The chickens will not go in their house until sundown.  Do I go to dinner, leave in the middle of the meal, come home and put the girls to bed, and go back, stay home and miss the rest of dinner, or let them stay out and try to find them in the dark when I come home? 

Why isn't a chicken worried about the economy?  (Because she always has a nest egg.)

Know When You're Happy

I won't lie.  It's no fun to feel ice-cold water dripping down your collar or sit to milk with pant legs soaked to the knees from wind-driven rain.  I don't enjoy slipping and sliding in the gooey chicken pen, hoping I don't go turtle, flat on my back (again).  There was a moment last evening, however, after all the critters were tucked in for the night, that was pure pleasure.  The chores for the day were done, the woodstove had warmed the house nicely and my wet clothes were spread on chairs to dry, Swedish meatballs were simmering.  As I stood at the kitchen sink, looking out at the fading light and the pounding rain, listening to the wind prowl around the house, I realized just how fortunate I am.  I have work that is physically challenging, animals that I love, books to stimulate my mind and imagination, projects to satisfy my "artistic" side, family and friends I adore.  I was warm and dry and comfort food was waiting.  My mother told me, "Know when you're happy," and I certainly knew it last night. 

The storm continues to rage this morning, and I may have to work a little harder to remember that feeling today.

Weather...Again

If Winter is an "old man," then Spring is a capricious flirt.  She teased us with a couple of smiling, blue-gold days, luring us outside to enjoy her charms, but yesterday she withdrew and hid behind a fan of fog and overcast.  Like a dropped hankie from a romance novel, she left behind the blossoming almond tree and the first daffodils to bloom...a promise that she'd return. 

As an aside...capricious (whimsical, changeable) comes from capra, which means goat.  Capricorn, caper...the goat has contributed many words to our language.

The gray day drained my incentive to do any spring cleaning, inside or out, and I holed up with a good book while Bessie Anne and the cats snoozed the day away.  We'll wait for Spring.

An Ordinary Day

Yesterday was an ordinary day, but it was warm and sunny and I enjoyed every minute.  It was not a two-fer day...didn't need two pairs of socks or two shirts...didn't even need a jacket to go down to the barn.  After finishing their alfalfa breakfast, the goats stretched out on the slope to doze in the morning sun and chew their cud.  The hens were all outside, scratching for choice tidbits and gossiping.  The old almond tree in the northwest orchard has burst into a pale pink cloud of blossoms.  Daffodils are heavy with buds, promising their pools of sunshine soon.  I do have some miniature daffys, but I really prefer the big, blowsy King Alfreds.  I did a load of laundry and Frank and Pearl played tag around my legs as I hung out the wash for the first time this spring.  I did get some housework done, but outdoors kept calling me through the open front door (it was that warm!).  Surrendering, I grabbed the rake and got a start on the blanket of leaves in the front garden.  The oaks are totally barren now, so it's not an exercise in futility.  Raking only under the hedge by the windows and clearing the pathways, there was still a mountain of leaves to move down to the slopes, where the wind will take over the rest of the clean up.  I was told when I first moved here that there would always be one more snow after the dogwood trees bloomed.  I scoffed at what I thought was a local legend, but found that it's true every year, and the dogwoods haven't blossomed yet.  So it's too early to uncover the herb gardens and iris bed.  The thick blanket of leaves there will protect the young shoots just now pushing up.  I set a loaf of golden yellow egg bread to bake while I did chores, ready to come out of the oven when I came back to the house after putting the girls to bed at dusk.  Warm bread with butter and my neighbor Joel's gift of his tart-sweet homemade blackberry jam was the perfect dinner after an ordinary day, made extraordinary only by a sense of beauty and accomplishment.

A Few of My Favorite Things

Few things can settle my mind and put peace in my soul like sitting on the deck overlooking the south pasture and the hills beyond.  At first, thoughts crowd in and the chatter of birds in the oaks is distracting.  Slowly, the warmth of the sun soothes and I surrender.  My hearing expands to include not just the local colony of birds, but a pair of high-flying red-tail hawks screeching their hunting cries, the gossip of the free-range chickens down by the woods, and even the jake brakes of a truck over on Mt. Aukum Road about five miles away.  Throw in a good book and the dog at my feet and my world is complete.

My favorite chore is hanging laundry on the line.  I'm grateful for my dryer in the wintertime, but as soon as the weather permits, I love to do the washing just to have an excuse to go out to the clothesline.  There's something very satisfying about snapping out the wrinkles before hanging a towel, and then watching the shirts and pants dance to unheard tunes.  On hot summer days, Frank has learned that the damp wash still in the basket is a cool place, and frequently my "clean" clothes have cat footprints.  Oh well.  Tee-shirts and sheets taken off the line and folded right then are as if they'd been ironed smooth, something that never seems to happen in the dryer.  Often in the evening there are deer in the south pasture, watching me watch them.  What could be better? 

Naps are high on my list of priorities.  In the summertime, sleep will get me past the worst of the day's heat, and snuggling under an afghan with the dog and a couple of cats chases winter's chill when the woodstove struggles to keep out the cold.  Even a short nap is like a bonus for taking care of business during the day.

We all know the words to Julie Andrews's song...and these are a few of my favorite things.

And Now A Commercial...

I'm going to digress today to throw in a plug for Melissa D'Arabian's Ten Dollar Meals on the Food  Channel.  I watched her win the Next Food Channel Star show, and ran across her program the other day.  Last night I made her menu...herb-crusted pork loin and braised red cabbage with apple, fennel seed, and a little red wine.  I've never made a better pork roast, and Joel, who normally runs from vegetables, had thirds on the cabbage.  We all signed up for the Clean Plate Club.  Dinner for four really did cost less than ten dollars!  Pork loin was less than the price of hamburger.  I'm definitely putting her on my DVR list.

I explained to all the critters that their cooperation would be greatly appreciated last night, and would you believe it...they all went in like good little kids.  After whirling through the house like a dervish all day, I actually was ready with ten whole minutes to spare!  (That's got to be some kind of record.)  As I told Dennis, you can come to my house late, but for crying out loud, don't come early! 

Even though I'm no longer an official member of the Red Hat Society, I'm taking Judy with me today to meet up with the Red Hat Gold Diggers (my old chapter) for luncheon at one of the local Indian casinos.  It's my belief that Red Hatting is more of a lifestyle and mind set than membership. When you get to that stage in life when you just don't give a darn what "impression" you make, you qualify for Red Hats!  After all, Girls Just Want to Have Fun!!