Where You Find It

Awoke to a howling wind yesterday.  It roared around the house like a freight train.  Down in the barn, the metal roof creaked, groaned and rattled, and I feared that one of the panels might tear off.  Our winds usually come out of the west or south; this was an east wind, not necessarily cold, but really strong.  As a result, dry oak leaves were blown into the goat pen.  Inga, first girl up, spied a leaf and got distracted, running around chomping up the equivalent of goat potato chips instead of coming into the milking room.  Okay, Plan B.  The normal, orderly sequence of the milking parade became seriously out of whack, but eventually everyone got fed and/or milked, including Inga.

Rain was predicted for later in the day, so Bess and I made a hit-and-run trip down to Mt. Aukum for another tarp.  Sure didn't want Helper Dude's work to go for naught.  Now, this tarp-covered woodpile might not seem like an occasion for amusement, but it's important to take an opportunity for laughs where you find it.  The first problem was getting the 12x20 ft., heavy, cold plastic tarp unfolded.  Tarp took on a life of its own and fought me at every turn, folding back on itself constantly.  Finally stretched out full length, the fun started for real.  Winds were gusting 15-30 mph and I'm trying to get the tarp over the woodpile.  Tarp bellied like sheets on a sailing ship on the high seas.  Trying to anchor one end down with a piece of heavy, fresh-cut wood was futile.  The wind flipped the logs off like they were nothing.  Running back and forth and around the stack like something demented and, by this time laughing like a loon, I finally got enough wood chunks piled on to pull Tarp into place, if not perfect.  It was then I discovered that Tarp was not quite long enough and definitely not wide enough.  Crum.  In the past, I could anchor the coverings with more chunks of wood.  With nothing to put wood on, another Plan B was in order.  The woodpile was stacked on old pallets, and there were grommets along Tarp's edges.  Hmmm.  What did I have in unending supply that could be used for tie-downs?  Bailing twine!  While being beaten soundly about the head and shoulders by flapping Tarp, I was able to get twine through the grommets and under the edges of the pallets and, ta da!, the deed was done.  Raindrops started falling as I headed back to the house.  I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and, believe me, I looked like no one you'd want to take home to mother.

I might take fun where it's found.  Ralph takes what space he can find, jamming himself into whatever nooks and crannies in the recliner left for him by Celeste.  Later, when the footrest was up and we'd been joined by Bessie Anne, Ralph perched behind my head like a pirate's parrot.  Whatever works.

It rained throughout the day and I was content in front of the well-stocked and well-stoked wood stove.  However, it was raining particularly hard when it was time to put the girls to bed.  I had, of course, left the play yard open for them during the day, so sorting them out to get them one at a time into the appropriate stalls would be a challenge.  I thought I had a plan, and then it all went to pot.  Cindy was first in, as she should be, but then the others shouldered past the gate and rushed in behind her.  Nooo!  Chaos reigned.  Goats pushing and shoving, running in and out of stalls, trying to get at the food bowls; it was like being in a living, breathing pinball machine.  What are ya gonna do but laugh?  It seemed impossible, but I actually got everyone in and settled.  Whew.  The chickens, those supposed birdbrains, had enough sense to put themselves to bed, waiting for their nighttime snacks and for me to shut their doors.  Mission accomplished, soaked to the skin, I went back to the house and the warm fire.

It was a good day.