Power to the People

Today is California Primary Election day and I will be going soon to go cast my votes.  I like going to my polling place instead of using the mail-in ballot, with the thought that if I make the effort, my vote will count more.  I also like the "American-ness" of standing in line with my neighbors, each wanting to make our voice heard in our government.  I was in Greece at the time of a national election, and it was a fascinating process.  At Platka Square in Athens, successive evenings were given to each of the three parties, Socialist, Democratic (not the same as ours), and Communist (wow! right there out in the open, and they didn't have horns and tails nor nuthin'), to make their pitch to the public.  All Greek citizens are required to vote and must go back to their towns of origin.  Our Greek tour guide had to get a replacement guide for us so she could go home on election day.  My mother was a staunch Republican and my dad a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat.  They voted in every election and effectively cancelled each other out.  I personally vote a mixed bag, thinking that party lines have become pretty blurred.  I dislike the smear campaigns that were run for Governor this year.  I want someone to vote for, not someone to vote against.  I have politely listened to my husbands' (yes, that is plural possessive) arguments regarding candidates and issues, and it wasn't until we listened to the results that they found out I didn't necessarily vote as directed.  After all, I am my parents' child.

It is absolutely amazing that dogs have the unique ability to expand during the night.  Bessie Anne is a fairly small dog during the day, but in the bed after lights out she becomes the size of a Saint Bernard and takes up three-quarters of the space, allotting me just enough on the edge to keep from falling off.  When Frank and Pearl join up, I just can't move at all.  Usually I make every accommodation for my furry friends, but early this morning I really needed to stretch a leg.  Running into the usual block wall, this time I pushed back and...Bessie actually moved!  I felt so empowered! 

Those Crazy Kids

Because of unfortunate past experience with my neighbor's dogs, anytime the chickens fire off squawking I hit the panic button and go see that they're okay.  Several times lately, I've heard the little girls hollering, but all seemed calm when I looked out.  Yesterday, two hens were strolling on the deck, pecking once in awhile in the flower pots for stray bugs, but headed for the corner off the dining room.  The land slopes away at the back of the house, and this corner of the deck is fifteen feet or more from the ground.  I watched as these thrill-seeking kids, one at a time, leaped from the edge, yelling "Geronimo!" as they fluttered and flapped all the way down.  So that's what all the ruckus has been about...just chickens having fun.

There was a sad consequence for a male hummingbird who was evidently proving his macho to a reflection in the big window, and I found the tiny body when I was outside last evening.  It's so rare to have the opportunity to really study a hummingbird up close.  The body could not have weighed a whole ounce and felt like nothing in my hand.  The head feathers that appear such a brilliant ruby in flight are actually a magenta red, mixed with an iridescent gold-orange, but the emerald green of the back are truly green, blending to a dark grey at the tail.  Little jewels, nature's treasures.

The other morning I watched a sparrow fluttering on the ground, going up the front walkway, and Pearl slinking along a few feet behind.  The trick here is not to watch where the bird is going, but to see where it came from.  It was a parent bird, drawing the cat away from the nest I found in the hedge in front of the house.  As soon as the parent felt the cat was sufficiently distracted, it took off flying, leaving a disappointed Pearl behind.

Signs of the Seasons

Almost like clockwork, flies show up here on the first of June.  Down in the valley, they don't appear until September.  One would think they'd be year-round pests, but no.  In the barn, there's a loud buzzing from the pee-bees.  Dennis assures me they are wood bees (and what are those?).  These large bees only come when there's been standing water in the barn and they hover noisily over the puddles.  They'll disappear along with the moisture.  I've found and sprayed three wasp nests around the deck.  Several rattlesnakes were sighted sunning themselves yesterday as Arden and I went from one winery to another.  (Another reason I'm so grateful to Joel for cutting down the high weeds in the south pasture...I want to see their beady little eyes before they see me!)  One sure sign of flipping seasons is the change from the warm flannel sheets of winter to cool cotton sheets, which I did last night.  It doesn't take many days of sunshine before I have to add watering deck and front yard plants to my to-do list.  Something will need watering every day from now until winter comes again.  Four deer were in the front pasture last evening; they'll soon be scouting the orchards for fruit salad. 

The weather couldn't have been better yesterday for the Festival; sunny, with a cool breeze.  We went to some old favorites and also tried some new wineries, trying a few sips and nibbles at each place, but mainly enjoying the views and the music and good company.  Those things don't change.

The Hurrier I Go

The hurrier I go, the behinder I get.  I received one of the now-familiar phone calls yesterday before going to the barn.  "Is this the Goat Lady?"  It seems a young Nigerian dwarf doe had given birth to a tiny kid and then wanted nothing to do with it.  This isn't uncommon in first-time mothers.  The owners had held her down so the kid could at least get some of the first milk, the colostrum, but decided they'd better have a backup plan and someone had given them my number.  The caller said she'd phone back later to let me know when she'd be here.  I got a wild hair (who'm I kidding...I've got a head full of wild hairs) to get a haircut (this only happens every two or three years) and got a last-minute appointment for noon.  Rushed through the milking with a half-hour to spare, enough time to finish the chores and get cleaned up.  As I was hurriedly straining the milk, the strainer tipped off the jar and there went milk all over the counter and stove top.  Clean up the milk, or clean me up?  I got to the hairdresser's on time, still in my bibbies and barn shoes. 

At five-thirty today, barely daylight, I could hear Joel out on his tractor, spraying his vineyard.  The work day starts early up here.  I, myself, am taking the day off (after milking and the other chores).  Arden and I are going to the Fair Play Wine Festival!

Lurking Sheep

Poppy knows that if she shows up at the right time after I finish milking, while I'm filling the feed bucket for the next day, she has a chance of getting a treat.  She might give a straight-leg kick to the door, or come to the gate to the feed room.  If the goats are anywhere around, they butt her or pull her wool, so she has taken to lurking behind the corner of the barn and poking just her head around to keep them from seeing her.  If she's timed it right, then she hurries to the gate and puts her big, moosey nose through the gap, her black tongue flicking in the most obvious nonverbal, "Gimme, gimme, gimme!"  I sneak her three small helpings from my hand...just three, but always three...and then she wanders off, probably humming, "Mother always liked me best."

Linda's comment yesterday made me smile..."She who can't be named," is a quote from the old BBC program, Rumpold of the Bailey, referring to Rumpold's bossy wife.  Anyone who is interested in the history of my little Earth Mother can Google the Venus of Willendorf.  The little figurine is thought to be the earliest representation of a human form.  We found it interesting that it is of an obese woman, at a time when that many calories must have been difficult to find.

The problem with tearing a room apart to paint is that it must be put back together afterward.  I'm trying to be selective.  One just accumulates so much stuff over the years.  It's overcast and threatening rain today...a good day to stay in and sort stuff.

What's Mother Done Now?

T'was an eventful day yesterday.  Larry, with next to no help from me, painted the remaining wall in the living room, having finished the barn the day before.  One wall may not sound like much, but this is the wall that goes down the stairwell.  Not only do the stairs create their own painting problem, they make the ceiling about twenty feet up and Larry balanced precariously on two boards over the open stairwell to reach it.  Being the concerned parent I am, I gallivanted off with Clay, who had given me the gift certificate, to go get a tattoo and left Larry to deal with it.  We got back just in time to watch Larry wash out the brushes.  A fresh paint job does wonders and I so much appreciate all that Larry has done.

Clay and I went to Moontiger Tattoos in Placerville.  I took pictures of what I had in mind to Dale, the artist, who reworked his original drawing and then started the tat.  I fell in love with this little figure years ago in an art class in college, and she epitomizes the Earth Mother for me.  She is a stone carving, about four inches tall, from approximately 22,000 BC, found in Austria in 1908.  Clay wonders if anyone will recognize her, so I won't tell her name just yet.  Having received calls from Deb and Dave, I know they are waiting for the great unveiling, so here she is.

If she appears to be blushing, it's only because the skin is still red from the needle work.  (By the way, a penicillin shot hurts worse.)  My girl...no, my woman, is only about two inches tall, but she is strong and wouldn't blush for anyone.  To me, she says, "Take me as I am."  She's her own abundant person.  And she has curly hair...no wonder I can relate.  At least now, if I'm ever found wandering, the Kids will have no trouble giving identification marks.  Clay also got inked...the Jack Daniel's logo of Old No. 7 on his arm.  The family that gets tattooed together...and all that. 

When I put the kids to bed a couple of nights ago, I thought something looked different, and then realized that my dear neighbor, Joel, had been mowing.  He had come unannounced and cut down the big south pasture and the tall weeds on the slope of the front yard that I cannot get with my little tractor for fear of tipping over.  He came over again yesterday to finish up, and I went out to thank him...such little words for so much appreciation.  I also thank Judy, because it's her husband who could, and probably should, be doing things on their own homestead, and she loans him to me. 

Clay and Larry were able to stay for dinner, so I had an opportunity to extend what had been a most productive, enjoyable day. 

All Creatures, Great and Small

I am used to my tiny companions in the milking room.  When the baby mice come for breakfast, they are no bigger than a good-sized almond in the shell, and then there are those the size of a walnut.  The teenagers might be an inch-and-a-half; the adults are about two inches or a little bigger.  The ubiquitous ground squirrels are out of hibernation and have started showing up while I'm milking, looking for a handout.  As small and quick as they are, next to the mice the squirrels seem like lumbering brontosauruses.  A year or so ago, Cheeky and Nuts would come daily and hang out, watching me milk, sometimes laying flat out and sometimes getting themselves a snack, like popcorn at the movies.  While living alone, I certainly don't lack for company.

My small victory with the bathroom sink gave me confidence to tackle the dishwasher that had quit draining well.  Who invented hex screws anyhow?  Getting down to crawl into the cave of the machine wasn't the problem for me; it was the getting back up.  Let's just say I had a good excuse for getting to the goats late yesterday.  The dishwasher is working good again.

My friend in Mt. Aukum goes for animals in a big way.  Let me rephrase that, he goes for big animals.  His "dog" is a purebred wolf; his horse is a Belgian Blond draft horse.  He has a flock of Dutch Giant chickens; huge birds, reaching almost twenty pounds.  I saw enough of those chickens to know I'll stick with my little layers.  Those Giants are frighteningly aggressive, hens and roosters alike. 

The temperature jumped twenty degrees in a day and it's difficult to make the transition to eighty with no chance to acclimate.  Larry is coming back today to work on the barn.  While he's here, I'd like to get the burn pile started before it gets too hot and dry and the fire department closes down burn days.  The burn pile intimidates me and it would be nice to have his backup.