You Just Know

You just know it's going to be one of those days when you tackle the first chore of the day and it goes kerflooey.  The little door to the coop is a drop-down that forms a ramp for the chickens to run up and down.  The big door (the people door) is a Dutch door.  I opened the top, no problem.  I opened the bottom half and the blankety-blank thing nearly fell off in my hands.  The coop/storage shed could easily be 27 years old ( the house was built in 1990) and our weather extremes wreak havoc with wood.  The hinge screws had pulled out of the rotten support and left the door hanging and me hanging on.  This was not the way I wanted to start the day; the chickens could have cared less.  I managed to tie the door back enough that it wouldn't fall off and flatten a hen and went down to deal with the goats, my mind racing furiously through various scenarios for repair.

The glorious sun had come out so the daily routine went smoothly, the girls eager to get their duty done so they could go outside to bask in the grass.  The milking stand was buried in mud, another problem to deal with and I added that to the list.  After days of downpour, I was finally able to do a good job of cleaning the still-damp stalls and put down more sawdust chips for Sheila and Cindy.

The third item on the list was getting the chimney cleaned.  Impossible to keep a fire going the day before and unable to bank any coals, Stove and the chimney flue were stone cold, perfect timing to be swept.  But what to do?  I called Dave.  I knew he was home from work suffering from a bad case of shingles, but hoped one of the FSMC guys might have the day off and be willing to come help.  Fortunately for them, but not for me, they were all gainfully employed.  Sigh.  I put in a text to Helper Dude and, ta da!, he answered and would be here in early afternoon!  (Insert "smiley face" here.)

HD roared up the drive on his quad, girlfriend clinging on behind, and I told him what needed to be done.  "No problem."  In order of importance, he tackled the door to the coop first so I could put the little kids to bed safely come nightfall.  He relocated the hinge in solid wood and also fixed the clasp to that half-door.  (Smiley face.)

Next was the chimney.  HD is quite tall and only needed the eight-foot ladder to get on the roof.  He provided the muscle to wire brush the creosote buildup down through the flue, while I did the dirty work of digging it out from inside Stove at the bottom.  Silently, I was singing "Chim Chim Cher-ee" and covered with soot to the elbows.  It's a dirty job, but somebody had to do it.

Cleaned up with soap and water, we headed to the barn where HD was able to pull all 12 inches of the stand legs out of the mud, fill in the squirrel tunnels and level the ground, tamp down the dirt, and replace the stand as it should be.  Having an endless supply, we folded empty feed bags and tucked them under the legs to hopefully keep them from sinking again.

Unbelievably, everything was done in an hour.  Ah, youth!  We settled our business, he and girlfriend (who had said perhaps all of ten words the entire time) climbed back on the quad and roared off down the drive.  (Smiley face with exclamation points here.)

The only thing spectacular about this sunset is that there was a sun to see setting.  You just know it's been a good day when problems have been solved and all's right with your world.  I went to bed with a big smile on my face.

Rainy Day Play

I was pretty good about thinking up things to keep the Kids occupied on rainy days when they were little.  Making molasses taffy was messy, but they had fun.  Finger painting, messy fun.  (I'm seeing a pattern here.)  After days of not being able to go outside, watching innumerable reruns of Criminal Minds, CSI, and Blue Bloods, I was ready to bang my head against the wall with boredom.  And what did I do for fun?  I dusted.  Ta da!  I've got several unread books, but I really had to get off my rusty-dusty and do something positive and minimally active.  The downpour of the morning had subsided to a day-long drizzle not conducive to hauling firewood, so I was still stuck in the house.  Dusting equals desperation, but the living room glows!

Stove is choking.  No matter how I stoked and vented, I couldn't keep a good blaze going.  It's pretty obvious he needs a chimney cleaning.  I called my neighbor Beau who is looking for handyman jobs, but wouldn't you know he got hit hard by some bug his kids brought home from school and is sick as a dog.  No help there for the time being.  Stove and I are going to have to limp along together and hope for the best.

Even though John Dear's back is turned to me as I walk by, I can tell he's feeling neglected.  I actually dreamed last night of tootling around with John in the sunshine, mowing here, there, and everywhere.  Sigh.

Speaking of last night, looking out on the deck I had trouble recognizing what I was seeing.  Had it snowed?  No, that white light was moonlight!  It seems like forever since the skies have been clear enough to see the moon.  That was a good sign.  This morning, however, that light on the deck when Bessie went out was ice.  With no cloud cover, the temperature dropped below freezing and what was wet is now frozen.  I really need to make a trip to town and had been waiting for the rain to stop.  Now I don't want to take a chance on icy roads.  Aaarrgh.

I guess today I'll dust the dining room, but my heart won't be in it.

One Brief Moment

Gee willikers, I was as wet yesterday coming back from the barn as I've been in the worst of the storm, and there wasn't any wind, it was raining that hard.  I spoke too soon about the back stalls staying dry.  Inga's and the big room were okay, but Sheila's and Cindy's were a muddy mess.  I hauled a big bale of cedar sawdust down and put a four-inch thick layer in the dryest corner for each of them.  It isn't the best solution, but it was the best I could do.

Days of rain have affected us all.  Even the cats, who never go outside, have a bad case of cabin fever.  Ralph and Celeste raced through the house as if chased by demons, and wrestled and fought all day.  Bess Anne sulks when she can't go out.  She stands by a door (pick any door, this house has eight to the outside) and gives a bark.  I open the door, she stands and looks out, gives a disgusted sigh and goes back to lie down.  The goats are cranky and bicker and butt.  If there is the slightest letup, the chickens dash outside to look for bugs under sodden leaves.  I am depressed and apathetic.  There are things I could be doing, and I do nothing.  In the afternoon the rain stopped and for one brief moment the sun came out and I saw a tiny patch of blue sky.  Oh joy!  As I was hunting for a dry jacket to go out and bring up more firewood (the porch supply is nearly depleted), it started to hail and then rain again.  Ratchafratch.

News reports are full of weather conditions here and in the valley.  Flooding is rampant, even in downtown Placerville where little Hangtown Creek has overflowed into the streets.  Deb sent a photo of the Yolo causeway, which now looks like a huge lake with water from the Sacramento River.  El Dorado County has declared a state of emergency.  The local FB page has notices of downed trees blocking roads and huge potholes, one so deep that someone floated an empty milk jug to warn drivers.  All this to say I'm not overreacting to the situation.

It is raining this morning, but the weekend is forecast to be dry.  Please, please, pleeeze let them not be giving us false hope.  I need a little ray of sunshine.

I'm Not A Duck

Perhaps ducks might enjoy this wet weather.  Lacking webbed feet and feathers, me...not s'much.  Yesterday was a repeat of steady downpour and heavy winds (and it looks like today is going to be more of the same).  The barn is a mess.  So far, the stalls have remained dry, but water has flooded the milking room floor.  The stand had sunk a good twelve inches into the muck and I was almost sitting on the ground.  I wasn't able to pull it out, but will have to before the dirt hardens to cement.  The play yard was awash, too, so again I left the big room open for the girls.  How I wish we'd had the foresight to build the barn on high ground.

While switching out goats for milking, I noticed a large hawk out in the pen.  It saw me, but didn't fly off.  Turns out he'd made a kill and come hell or high water (I'm betting on high water), he was going to eat his breakfast.  He was still at it when I'd finished my soggy chores and was going past loaded with clanking milk buckets. 

I'm starting to feel like a model on the runway as I change clothes umpteen times a day, out of soaked bibbies and jacket and into comfy dry britches, and then repeat when I've got to go out again.  I've been coping with just my barn shoes, but today I must dig out my wellies to go wading in the barn.

Badly in need of some comfort food, in the afternoon I put on a big pot of ham hocks and lima beans.  Cam called as she was leaving Plymouth and I invited her to join me for dinner.  She and Honey had been out in the rain most of the day running errands, and she readily accepted.  Honey's thick coat is like a sponge and the towel I used to dry her could have been wrung out when I finished.  Good food and good company was a great way to end the day.

A Bit Of A Break

This morning photo yesterday is what a bit of a break looked like.  I was perfectly happy to settle for low, threatening clouds all day because the wind had stopped.  My worries always are for the trees when the ground is super-saturated.  It rained only twice, a smattering when I was unloading feed from the truck (of course) and then a real drenching when I put the kids to bed.

Camille wasn't so lucky.  When she went to check on her other property, she found a neighbor's tree had fallen, smashing through her fence and landing directly on a small barn/shed.  We agreed it could have been worse if it had landed on the house.

Rain began in earnest after nightfall, accompanied by the dadratted wind, and continues this morning.  So many areas in the valley and by rivers here in the foothills are at flood stage.  Even little Perry Creek had risen nearly up to the bridge and was roaring like a mill race when I crossed over to go to Mt. Aukum.  There's naught to do but batten the hatches, stoke the fire, and keep the fingers crossed.

Makes one appreciate a bit of a break.

How Bad Was It?

Well, it was as bad as I've seen, and we made it through okay.  (I'm tempted to add "so far," but that sounds so pessimistic.)  Down in the barn yesterday, there was a cacophony of sound:  the wind was trying to tear panels off the roof, banging them up and down continuously, and the rain competed with fire hose force, fading a bit and then redoubling efforts.  Even the rainy day routine we've developed went to pot, the girls absolutely panicked by the deafening noise.  With no hope of letup, I did something I don't ever do and chained open the door to the big room, Tessie and Esther's room.  It took the girls a while to realize they could go in, but did dash around in the downpour from the play yard to the much larger and more protected space.

Stove decided to cooperate and with a good bed of coals easily fired up in the morning and kept his appetite to a minimum all day, keeping the house (at least the living room) toasty without seriously depleting the woodpile.  Hearing a scrape and thump, I realized the wind had blown the bench where I sit on good days to the rail and was trying to lift it up and over.  Going out to rescue it, I was nearly blown off my feet and was soaked in the few minutes it took   Jacket, hat and bibbies festooned the back of chairs and shoes sat on the hearth to dry all day.  Trees danced and sheets of rain blew horizontally with only a few breaks in the wind.

Conditions had not much changed by nightfall.  I'd been concerned about getting the girls to cooperate, but they seemed eager to get to the security of their own rooms and it all went rather well.  The chickens just said, "Shut the door!"  One thing about a rainy day, I don't have to spend any time filling the water trough before dark.

A bowl of hot soup from my stock in the freezer was real comfort food last night.  Stove was on duty and for the first time in days I didn't need a jacket in the house.  The trees were all upright.  The power stayed on and the rain at its worst had blocked the satellite dish only momentarily.  The barn roof stayed intact.  All in all, I can't say it was a good day, but we made it!

Two...And Counting

It's only day two of this storm and already it feels like we're on an endless loop (rainy days will do that).  The mud is so thick in front of the goat barn that it threatens to suck the shoes from my feet, and I don't even want to talk about the muck in the chicken pen.  I'm happy to report that so far no leaks have appeared in any roof, barn or sheds, and that all trees remain standing.  Twenty mph winds are predicted again today and given what I'm hearing out there in the dark this morning, I think the prediction is correct.  In short, t'ain't fit weather for man nor beast.

I may look ridiculous in that knitted pig hat with ear flaps (and pig ears) that Dave gave me last year, but it fits snuggly and keeps my head dry so it's being put to good use.  The goats don't care what I'm wearing as long as they get breakfast, and I don't think chickens have much sense of humor.  I made the mistake of sending Dave a "selfie" while wearing the hat, and quickly realized there's an age past which one should not take selfies.  I bore a strong resemblance to a Shar Pei!

Yesterday was spent doing those things like laundry, dishes, and assorted housework looking toward the possibility of a power outage.  The local FB site is full of downed trees and spin-outs and crashes on wet, slick roads.  Bess and I went as far as the mailbox yesterday and that's our limit for travel.  (Yeesh, the wind is rattling the windows like they're tambourines right now!)

My weather app is showing four more days of rain this week before we get a break.  That's depressing.  Sigh.