It's A Start

Watching.  Waiting.  Watching some more.  Nope, no rain clouds overhead, so Bess and I went out to mow.  (She's recovered from her accident the day before.)  Gassed up Fu Manchu and off we went, down the drive, down by the road, the back yard, and the side yard.  It was a perfect afternoon for this kind of work, warm sun and a nice breeze.  The Cecile Brunner is obviously thriving with this on-again, off-again weather and is loaded with those sweet little roses.  The west field could have used a trim and I've yet to tackle the front yard, but by the time I'd finished what I'd started I'd gone butt dead and needed a pit stop anyhow, reason enough to call it quits.  Another storm cell blew in last night.  More twiggy branches down and everything is soaked this morning.  Oh well.

I'm destined not to have fresh salad greens.  This leaf lettuce was coming along nicely.  In fact, it was to the point that I thought, "Just another couple of days," and it would be ready to pick enough for dinner.  Yeah, how's that workin' for ya?  The ground squirrel bandit has struck again.  Fortunately, he doesn't have a taste for the Thai basil in the same pot.  I think the wild things are getting a little too comfortable.  The other day there was a large deposit of turkey poop on the front porch right by the door where no turkey should be, and a squirrel had brought a helping of sunflower seeds from the bird-feeding station and left a pile of shells on the porch, as well.  They're pushing the boundaries of my hospitality.

There's always more to do, but at least I got a start.  It was a good day.

Oh Crum

Man, I was on a roll.  Encouraged by another sunny day, laundry hung on the line, fresh bag of feed in the back of the truck, chicks fed and watered and their diapers changed (the cardboard under their cage), doing some other little piddly chores, and it all went to pot when it started raining (again).  I raced to get the clothes in and struggled to get that 75-pound bag of goat chow out of the truck.  Patrick had put it up toward the middle of the bed instead of back by the tailgate.  I'm not as agile as I once was and climbing up there had me laughing at my own awkwardness.  Wet chow gets moldy in a hurry and would make the girls sick if they ate it, so I had no choice.  Whew.  And then, wouldn't you just know, it stopped raining and the sun came out for the rest of the day.

Bessie Anne likes to go to the feed store.  Even more, she likes the two (always two) milk bones she gets when we get home.  With her short little legs, Bess needs a boost to get into the truck, but manages to get out by herself.  Until yesterday.  When she carefully and slowly jumped down, her back legs twisted under her and she pulled a muscle.  I'm hoping that's all she hurt.  It took her awhile to get to her feet and she limped her way to the house.  I have some doggy painkillers and gave her one, hoping it would help.  Bessie napped the rest of the day and wisely chose not to go with me to put the kids to bed.  She seems to be better this morning.  She's had such bad luck with her legs, breaking one in two places when she was a puppy and then cracking a heel later in life.  She's the only dog I've ever insured for injuries and it turned out to be a good thing, because she's sure racked up the bills.  Would not have believed a dog could be so accident prone.

Fifteen years ago yesterday was Deb and Craig's wedding, which was held here.  It sure brought back memories.

This Close

It was a perfectly gorgeous morning, shining sun and blue skies.  Milking went well and I got the stalls cleaned in no time.  Bess really likes our daily routine of going out to sit on the deck when I get back to the house, even if she went to sit and watch while I'm in the barn.  It's "our" thing to do.  She's big on togetherness.  I had some business to attend to and phone calls to make.  Purse in hand, I was finally ready to go to the feed store.  In fact, Cam had called and I'd asked her if she needed anything because I was going to leave.  And then.  In a matter of seconds the sky went dark, there was thunder and lightning and hail, followed by a downpour.  I was this close, but obviously the trip for feed was cancelled.  Ratchafratch.

After months of waking in the dark, it's unsettling to open my eyes to light.  The sun is not yet up over the hills in the east, but it's definitely not dark and I get the feeling I'm late even at 5 a.m.  The days are definitely longer, sunset not until nearly 8.  It throws me off as I've been fixing my evening meal after putting the kids in for the night.  If I did that now, I'd be eating dinner in bed.

It will take another couple of days for the yards to dry so mowing has been put off again.  I almost got started yesterday.  I was this close.

Ever Changing

As much as I hate going into town, I have to admit it's a beautiful drive.  Like flipping the pages of a calendar, the scenery changes on every trip and around every curve.  The blue and white wild lavenders in the hills have been replaced by brilliant yellow Scotch broom shrubs and fields of purple lupine.  The flowering fruit trees are busy producing fruit now, their branches green and leafy.

The weather at this time of year is just as changeable.  It's a bright, sunny morning, but thunderstorms are predicted for this afternoon.  I'll take that any time over the dog days of summer or days of endless rain.  I need to get to the feed store today before the skies open up.  The chicks have eaten nearly ten pounds of mash already, and I might as well get another bag of goat chow while I'm at it.

Camille offered me a deal and I took her up on it.  Since neither one of us generates enough trash to fill a garbage can weekly, we share her containers and will split the bill.  (My cans were confiscated by waste management because I didn't follow the new rules.  Call me a rebel.)  Saves me a trip to the dump and cuts her cost in half.  Works for me!

Green stuff on the property is sprouting up faster than one could imagine.  Priorities:  housework or mowing.  Hmmm.  Some things don't change.

Monday Blues

Company two days running and the accompanying prep had me totally discombobulated, so it was a shock when I realized yesterday was Monday and Milk Guy was coming.  I had not saved Sunday's milk for him.  Aaargh.  Heading for the barn, I could only hope that Sheila would not put a foot in the bucket.  Given the girls' fresh grass diet, I wasn't worried there would be enough milk.  Between them, the three milkers are pumping out a gallon and a half a day now.  Let me rephrase that.  I am squeezing out a gallon and a half, and it takes a lot more work and time.  There were fortunately no untoward incidents during the process and I strained and bottled MG's order in time.

Another goat owner called to ask about one of his does with an udder problem.  Her kid had a preference for just one nipple and the other side was getting large and firm.  In case I didn't explain, a goat's udder has two separate "compartments," one for each teat.  In this case, the milk in the full side was congealing into a curd and, if left, could result in mastitis.  He needed to get it milked out, and fast.  I once had a girl with an injured teat and it took two hours to massage the mass and get her udder empty.  And yes, I do get some strange phone calls.

The hummers are coming in larger numbers now and drinking two quarts of juice a day.  (They made a great hit with Bruno and he sent a video clip of my flying jewels to relatives overseas.)  Filling their feeders was about the only productive thing I did yesterday.  I'd planned a day off anyway and Mondays are great for watching TV.  A number of my favorite programs run on Sunday nights and I DVR them to watch later (on Monday).
 
It was a good day, Monday or not.

Expanding Horizons

Yesterday was edifying in many ways.  Tecla is from the Netherlands and Bruno is from Belgium.  They are both world travelers.  They have lived in a number of areas of the United States.  They've had, and continue to have, adventures that most of us would only dream of.  Listening to their conversation was like reading a National Geographic magazine and I learned so much.  One small example:  when hiking in bear county, one should carry a "bear can" to keep food safe, but check with the rangers about whether pepper spray is legal in that park.  Who knew?  Tecla goes all over, including other countries, to volunteer on various farms, working with agriculture and animals, sometimes speaking the language and sometimes "winging it."  She's fearless.  They described biking as a means of transportation in Holland and in the Bay Area where they live now.  It made me laugh.  I had to tell them of the one time, and one time only, that I decided when the Kids were young that I would use one of their bikes for exercise.  After peddling a few hilly blocks, I figured I'd better head back toward the house so my body could be found and identified.  They had spent the morning at Tim's, helping to trim hooves, deworm, and give shots to 70!! goats.  When they got here, they'd more than earned a cold beer and a hot meal.

Laughing comes easy to this couple, and it was such a pleasure to spend time in their upbeat company.

It was a good day.

Cockeyed Optimist

(Song from South Pacific.)

Procrastinators are the epitome of eternal optimists.  We always think we can get everything done at the last minute and stretch time available to fit our needs.  For all procrastinators in training, the first rule of thumb is plan ahead and prioritize, otherwise panic will take over and you'll get caught with your dustrag down.  When crunch-time comes, think about what must be done and what could wait.  For example, you can cook after your guests arrive, but not take a shower.  Take the shower first thing even if you have go milk goats and just hope for the best.  The whole room looks better when the carpet is vacuumed.  Do that and worry about dusting later.  What's a little dust between friends?  Sweep the front porch.  As Mother said, "You only get one chance to make a first impression."

We had not actually set a firm time but following precedent, I shot for eleven o'clock for Tecla and Bruno's arrival yesterday.  I love my bread machine.  The first thing (after a shower) was to put ingredients for Black Forest pumpernickel in and let the electric servant go to work.  The aroma of fresh-baked bread goes a long way toward forgiveness when guests walk in.  There wasn't much time after barn chores, so I whirled like a dervish on one task after another.  Eleven o'clock came and went.  Like the guy who fell from a tall building who, as he passed one floor after another, kept saying, "So far, so good," I kept knocking jobs off the list.  About 1:30, I started getting worried.  Had I put down the wrong date?  At 2, Tecla texted and said they'd be here around 3:30-ish.  More time to get more done.  The white chili I'd prepared for lunch would be a good dinner, but then found out they were expected elsewhere.  Ah, well.  Such is life.

Bruno is as much a delight as his wife, Tecla, and how can one be peeved when guests arrive bearing beer and a homemade Dutch apple pie?  Tecla, from the Netherlands, made the real McCoy.  I think the pumpernickel sealed the deal here and they asked to come back today for lunch.  All that housework did not go to waste.  We had a good visit and I look forward to today.

Why is it, I wonder, that only after they'd left, did I see that cobweb hanging from a light fixture in the bathroom?

It was a good, if tiring, day.