Drat

The Dynamic Duo showed up at first light and got right to work whacking down the now-dry weeds in both chicken pens.  They raked the yards and did some cleaning in the coops.  And then they hit me with the news that they'd be moving soon.  Nooo!  I've really come to depend on these boys for help with some of the "guy" things around here.  For twelve and thirteen years old, they have a great work ethic, for which I credit their parents.  I had anticipated that, being so young, they'd probably dog it, fooling around and needing a lot of supervision.  I couldn't have been more wrong.  When their mom came to pick them up, she explained they'd be moving to a (very) small town near Sonora in a week or two.  Drat!  That puts them completely out of range.  The boys will be sorely missed and hard to replace.  Helper Dude started working here when he was fifteen.  I can still call on him in an emergency, but he has many customers now and his time is limited.  As hard as it is to believe, he's twenty years old now and next year when he turns twenty-one, he's applying for work with the Sheriff's Department.  They grow up so fast.

When the boys left,  that was the end of work for the day.  Normally I watch the early morning news for the weather and that's it.  Yesterday there was so much chaos in Washington that much TV time was devoted to the op-ed in the New York Times and to the congressional hearings on the nominee for the Supreme Court and I got hooked.  I ended up watching a neutral news station all day long.  I have no interest in radical talking heads on either the conservative or liberal sides.

I didn't get a darned thing done.  Drat.

New Kids On The Block

I'm getting pretty excited.  A while ago my sister-in-law called and told me a friend of hers had chickens she needed to rehome, and would I be interested.  Hmmm.  After the demise of my last flock, I had decided not to replace them and had let the weeds take over the pens.  Yesterday I talked to the lady and she told me she had six Delaware hens and a rooster.  Well, that's manageable.  Okay, I'm a sucker.  I told her I'd take them.  Now all that needs to be done is to work out the logistics of getting them here.  My SIL had said something about coming up, but I don't think they have an appropriate vehicle to haul chickens.  That's up in the air, and I'd have to figure out where the heck we keep Loomis if I need to go get them.  The Dynamic Duo is coming this morning to whack the weeds and get the pens ready.

I'd never heard of a Delaware chicken.  What a fount of information we now have at our fingertips.  The Delaware is a cross between New Hampshire Reds and Barred Plymouth Rocks, but are white with some black touches.  They are, as one article stated, a "critically endangered" breed.  Who knew?

Looks like Farview Farm is going to be a farm again.  (What's a farm without chickens?)

To Each Her Own

Fall won't officially begin until the autumnal equinox on September 22 this year, but the trees are getting in some practice already.  Drifting leaves provide cheap entertainment for Ralph and Celeste as they sit on window sills and watch them swirl down.  Me?  I see the same thing and think I need to charge up the leaf blower and get out there while the piles are still manageable.

I get a kick out of the girls.  They have such different personalities and quirks.  Sheila inevitably leaves a few bites of breakfast in her bowl.  Tessie, on the other hand, eats every bit and then signals she's done by throwing her bowl around.  She obsessively cleans up every dropped morsel on the stand.  They make me think of Felix and Oscar in "The Odd Couple."  Sheila can't wait to make a dash out the door, while Tess takes her time, looks around, sniffs the uprights on the stand, and sometimes has to be coaxed outside.  Without Inga to pick on, these two seem to get along quite well and are always together.  It could be that Sheila is smart enough not to start a quarrel with a goat with a unicorn horn, or maybe it's because they realize they're the last of the herd.

Celeste would definitely take the role of Felix.  She gets so irritated with Ralph.  He is admittedly the world's worst when it comes to the litter box.  He'll take a couple of swipes to cover his stuff, sometimes uselessly scratching outside the box, and calls it good.  Celeste comes behind and does a better job for him and sometimes starts to cover up before he's even finished!  I'm just happy he uses the box.

I don't need the calendar to tell me the seasons are changing.  It's not full daylight now until after 7, and sundown comes before 7:30.  It wasn't that long ago that the girls didn't go in the barn until 9 o'clock.  At least the time change won't happen until November 4th and really screw up my days.

Short Shrift

I need to start paying more attention to the girls.  Since they stopped giving milk, it's become a case of getting them in, fed, and out.  Goats, by their nature, are very rapid eaters so Sheila and Tessie don't get brushed down every morning like they used to.  That's on me.  Once their head is locked in the stanchion, they're not going anywhere and probably wouldn't notice the few minutes a little currying would take.  I don't know if they miss it, but I realize I do.  Without that close contact, they become just another chore...get it done and get out, and that's not fair to them or me.

I'm seeing more vultures these days, on the fence, in the tree, and in the sky.  (No, they're not looking for seconds.)  I think they're starting to gather for the annual migration down to the Owens Valley.  That usually happens toward the end of September, and these must be the vanguard, the early birds, if you will.  I was so glad that Deb was here one year on exactly the right day to see this amazing, jaw-dropping phenomenon.  Committee refers to vultures on the ground.  In flight, they're called a kettle.  That's a pretty descriptive term as they circle and rise like steam on the thermals.

With the holidays approaching, I've been thinking about washing windows.  That's as far as I've gotten so far, but at least I've been thinking about it.

Spray Away

During that week of really pleasant weather, I had put the empty, no longer needed spray bottle back in the kitchen.  Yesterday it was refilled and back in action.  Aaargh.

Talking with my daughter, she asked about plans for the holidays.  Whaat??!  Nooo, it's too soon!  And then I remembered what it's like to try to get my herd of cats organized and decided she was right.  Undoubtedly Thanksgiving will be held on the weekend, which day depending on when Clay is off work.  He has split days off and I'm never sure whether he'll be free on Saturday or Sunday.  I put out the word.  Christmas, as always, is up for grabs.  Sometimes it gets delayed because of weather or illness.  All I'm ever sure of is that I'll go down to the goats in the morning and, if someone is here, I'll cook.  It pays to be flexible.

Poor old Bowyer can't catch a break.  He was running in the top ten toward the end of yesterday's race when he got taken out in a crash.  Ratchafratch!

September

It is my habit to watch the morning news, mainly for the weather, every day before going down to the barn.  Yesterday both local channels and others were covering the funeral of Senator John McCain instead and I got caught up in that.  (Funerals are not my thing.)  I was stunned by the eloquence of eulogies by family, allies and opponents alike.  Three past presidents spoke, as well as a host of political dignitaries.  (How long has it been since Henry Kissinger has been seen?)  It truly was a bipartisan event.  There were tears and some humor.  None ignored the man's temper and foibles, but the common thread addressed McCain's heroism and, above all, his loyalty and fervent patriotism over the sixty years he served our nation.  The senator left some big shoes to fill.

Camille returned from Houston yesterday (yay!).  After a battery of tests there, she was able to transfer her care to a Sacramento facility, and will begin this week.

Bessie Anne opted not to go with me in the morning, even though I assured her I would not leave her outside.  Maybe she was just not up for the walk.

Nature is reminding us she's still in charge and that summer is not yet over.  We're due for another week of high temperatures.  Thankfully the nights are still cool.  That makes a big difference.

Indulgence

Okay, so tending the goats takes a little longer, so what?  It isn't the goats, it's the walk back that is slower as I wait for my companion.  Neither of us moves as fast as we used to.  One of us (the short one) takes several breaks on the way up to the house, and other one (me), if she is honest, is grateful for the pauses.  Last evening Bess wandered off the drive to get a drink from the wild things' water pot, and needed to be redirected afterward.  Ordinarily I would have kept going, but no longer.  Waiting is such a small thing if it keeps that lost and confused look from her eyes.

I received a long and gratifying call from a high school friend.  We touch base now and again over the years, but not often.  I've seen more recent photos, but in my mind she never changes from our boarding school days.  Her enthusiasm and passion are contagious, and our conversation ranged far and wide on a variety of topics.

Neither Arden nor I eat out often, but yesterday we met to indulge in pizza and (for me) more good talk.  We had a leisurely lunch before she left to go to the library (Arden is a voracious reader) and I went across the street to get groceries.

It was a good day.