Getting Squirrely

Raggedy Ann beat Turk to the breakfast bar yesterday and didn't wait for a by-your-leave to start filling her cheeks.  Not the best photo because of the shade of the oak, her torn ear is on her right, the tip in shreds.

Later in the day, Stump was back at (and on) her post.  One wouldn't think these little creatures who race and tear around most of the day would be capable of such intense concentration for such lengthy periods of time.

Once in a great while and never in large numbers, the big, beautiful grey tree squirrels will put in an appearance.  It seems my road has pockets of microclimates, with different plant and animal life as the elevation changes.  Cam has no ground squirrels at all at her place at the bottom of the road.  I keep telling her I have more than enough and am willing to share, but so far she's declined my offer.  Beau lives the better part of a mile up the road past me and tree squirrels abound there, and no ground squirrels at all.  How'd I get to be the lucky one?!  Camille has pine trees with maybe one or two oaks.  My ratio of trees is exactly opposite.  Beau has only pines.  One wouldn't think such a short distance would make such a difference, but it surely does.

My days and nights are getting mixed up, possibly due to later sunrises and earlier sunsets.  (How I dread the time change.)  I'm one of those people who, when my eyes open, cannot go back to sleep and the thought of just lying there...no.  Getting up at 3 a.m. is just nuts, but, in Beau's words, what're ya gonna do?  That means I need a nap during the day.  Yesterday's snooze was longer than usual and put an end to my pie plans.  Sigh.

Tree For Two

Turk has started bringing a friend for breakfast under the oak.  Turk evidently gave me a good rating, as Raggedy Ann (maybe it's Raggedy Andy) also comes running when I call, shows no fear, and starts to chow down as soon as I throw the seed.  Gender is arbitrary when it comes to squirrels and I assign as it suits me.  Raggedy Ann is so named because of an ear that has been shredded at the tip; she evidently got into it with another.  I'd hate to see what the other guy looks like.

True to form, I put off the pears again.  I didn't feel quite so bad when Camille told me she hadn't done anything yet with her twenty-five pounds, either.  We procrastinators have to stick together.  Today is definitely going to be the day (she said with a show of bravado).  There's only me here, and why I got so many pears is anyone's guess.  I don't seem to be able to do things by halves.  I once made thirteen apple pies in a day, and the last time I made fruitcake I made sixty pounds' worth.  (Don't tell the Kids, but they may be getting pear cake for Christmas.)

Drying up a goat is a slow process.  I'm milking less and less each day from Tess, just enough to relieve the tension, as a weaning kid would do.  Pretty soon her hormones will tell her milk production isn't needed any more.  It isn't good to quit cold turkey as it leaves the doe vulnerable to mastitis.

Beau stopped by yesterday.  He's been doing some remodeling on his house and took a break and came cruising around on his quad.  I enjoy his visits and it gave me another excuse not to work on the pears.

It was another warm day, but there was a good breeze to keep it comfortable.  Weather Guy says it's going to cool off by tomorrow and stay cool for at least the next week.  After this summer, that's welcome news.

Visiting Day

The goats are my early warning system.  As I finished up in the barn, I heard their snorts of alarm.  All eyes were looking toward the house and ears were forward.  Just because I couldn't see anything didn't mean nothing was there.  I've learned to trust a goat.  Sure enough, when I neared the house, Bessie Anne was playing with a guest, a dog I recognized and who should not have been out on her own.  (I was just glad it wasn't another skunk.)  Memories of Faye, the old black Labrador retriever who came visiting often, came flooding back.  I put a leash on this well-behaved dog, gave her a drink of water, and we sat on the porch while I put in a call to her mama.  It's only when a strange dog is a threat to my livestock that I call Animal Services.  I normally have a sit-down spell after coming up from the barn so it was no hardship to sit on the porch while we waited for the dog's owner to pick up "Houdini."  This wasn't the first time the dog had escaped from her fenced yard, but the first time she'd made her way up here.

I did some visiting of my own when I went to the Senior Center for lunch (I'm a sucker for salmon).  I'm really glad Camille talked me into taking advantage of this service.  Cam goes frequently, and I've started going maybe once a month.  There are no fast-food restaurants in the area, and where could one get a protein, starch, fresh vegetable, and fruit for three dollars?  This isn't school cafeteria food, either.  Another plus is meeting new people.  I tend to be reclusive and I really need to get out more. 

Home again, I buckled down and finished the paperwork that has been plaguing me for the last week.  Ta da!  Now I'm ready to take on the twenty-five pounds of pears that have been waiting.  They've been sitting in a box on the porch, and yesterday it was discovered that I'm not the only one who likes pears.  Squirrels have been visiting and helping themselves to a nibble here and there.  Sorry kids, these are mine.

It was a good day.

Anticlimax

First thing in the morning, I went down (without Bessie) to see if Pepe Le Peau was still under the deck.  He was not.  I looked in every corner and under everything Steve had stashed there.  I walked all the way around the house (which is built into a hill and not as easy as it sounds) and there was no sign of him.  I wouldn't have given that little sick skunk a snowball's chance in hell of surviving the night.  He'd been so weak the day before he could barely lift his head.  While I would like to know for sure, my assumption is that something came in the night and carried the body away.  I called off Animal Services.

When I let Bess out later in the morning, she gave no sign of smelling our intruder.  She may be half blind and stone deaf, but her nose still works!   Dave, my buddy at Animal Services, called to ask about the situation.  I described the skunk's behavior and he immediately said, "Distemper."  Oh, great.  I asked how distemper was transmitted, worried about Bess, but he said it was through saliva and I knew she hadn't been bitten; her attack had been from the other end of the skunk.  Also, Bess is up to date on her shots.  Dave also thought a wild thing had taken Pepe, as distemper is a mostly fatal disease.

The weather had warmed up and a strong north wind blew, which was a good thing for a change because I could open the doors to air out the house.  Once in awhile I still get a whiff, but that gawdawful smell is mostly gone now.  If you've never smelled skunk up close and personal, be glad.

After the drama of the day before and being on high alert in the morning, I didn't do much but nap off and on yesterday and didn't feel a bit guilty.  Wasn't a drum-roll ending, but I'm just glad it was over.

Going In Circles

Finally, a day I could concentrate on and hopefully finish the paperwork that had me going in circles.  Around noon, Bess and I went out on the deck for a breather.  I located Stump under the pine, evidently her new digs (and I do mean digs), checked the slope to the woods for predators in the weeds, and looked over to what should have been the empty chicken pen.  Empty, that is, except for the many ground squirrels that use it as a play yard.  Hmmm, that's an awfully big squirrel.  Then said squirrel turned and I saw the white stripes.  Well, isn't that just great.  We haven't had skunks in the area for ages, for which I've been grateful.  In the case of skunks, Bess is a slow learner and got herself skunked (sprayed) seven times in one year.  Keeping an eye on Pepe Le Peau (the romantic French skunk in Walt Disney's 1945 cartoons), I noticed he wasn't looking for a way out, he was just running laps, going in circles.  He'd made about twenty circuits when I called Animal Services.  This was not normal behavior and, with skunks, one worries about distemper and rabies.  Of course, like the tooth that stops aching as soon as you get in the dentist's chair, while I was talking to the nice lady, Pepe disappeared.  "Call me back if you see him again."

With the immediate danger gone (I figured Pepe had gone off into the woods or out in the fields), Bessie and I went out to the sunny end of the deck.  We were quietly enjoying the warmth when Bess took off like a shot and around the corner.  Oh crum!  I went after her and heard rustling behind the hedge in front of the house, but Bess was in the walkway and I thought she'd just gotten a whiff of the intruder.  I was reaching for her collar when she ran to the other end of the hedge.  Need I say it?  Bess backed out shaking her head and stinking to high heaven and I grabbed her and put her in the house (big mistake, but I had no option).  I had to see where Pepe would go.  As I was calling Animal Services again, Pepe lay down, obviously ill.  This time I got the answering machine, oh goody.  Just then my milk customer drove up and scared Pepe, who went off around the corner of the deck.  It would have been funny, but I wasn't laughing.  I told Milk Guy not to let Bess out and I followed the skunk, who had holed up under the stairs to the deck.

Left alone and trying to get the smell off, Bess had rubbed on all the furniture in the living room, along the wall in the hallway, and around the bed in the bedroom.  The house absolutely reeked.  I quickly concluded my business with Milk Guy (who is a great talker) and hustled him out the door.  I needed to get Bess into a bath!  This was easier said than done, as the front bathroom has glass doors around the tub and the tub in my bathroom is exceptionally deep.  Smallish as she is, Bess is no lightweight.  It was hard enough to get her into the tub, but lifting a dripping wet dog up and out was almost impossible, but I struggled and got it done.  I had used the magic deskunker formula (water, hydrogen peroxide, and Dawn dish soap) on Bess and sprayed the house with Febreze.  It helped, but there's still enough odor to make your eyes water.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, as they say, I went back to going in circles of my own with the ferschluggen paperwork, going out periodically (without Bess) to make sure that Pepe was staying put.  The poor creature was obviously sick and probably dying.  He moved to a couple of places, but stayed under the deck.  Nearing the end of work hours, I again called Animal Services and got a real person.  They'd evidently not listened to my message where I'd left my house phone number and address.  They had called the cell phone, but I don't answer calls with "No caller ID" as they're usually robocalls.  It was, of course, too late to send anyone out by then.

Bessie still has the scent of skunk on her, as Ralph approaches her cautiously, sniffs at her face, and walks away loudly saying the cat equivalent of "Whew, you stink!"

Until Pepe is removed, when Bess has to go out on a potty run, she goes out on a leash (as we did in the dark at 5:30 this morning).

It was, if not good, a very eventful day.

Another Change

It won't happen right away, but my days as a milker are coming to an end and what a change that will be.  I've decided to dry up Tessie, leaving only Sheila to produce, and who knows how long she'll continue.  These three girls, including Inga, probably hold some record for giving milk the longest time without being bred.  Dairy goats and cattle are usually bred annually for continued production, and these does haven't seen (or smelled!) a buck in years.  I have mixed feelings about this.  In a way, it will be a relief to spend less time in the heat and cold in the barn, and my hands certainly need a rest.  I've been milking for seventeen years, after all.  However, I will miss the closeness of working with the goats on a daily basis, sitting by their side every morning.  I like that they are "earning their keep," even though the little I charge for their milk in no way pays for their feed.  They are expensive "pets."  These girls were born on Farview and will live out their lives here, regardless.

Either Raymond and Rhonda have left the nest or Stump has given up trying to get them to mind.  She hasn't been at her post for days, and I haven't seen the kids, either.  Of course, when they're grown, it's hard to tell one squirrel from another.  I did finally find Stump yesterday.  She's moved over to the shade under a pine tree close to the deck, but she was alone.  I wonder if squirrel mamas suffer from separation anxiety or give a sigh of relief when the youngsters leave home.

As predicted, I spent the day at the computer, trying to remember formulae for creating a spread sheet.  Aarrgh.

While still spectacular, with the cooler weather it seems to me there was a change in the colorful sunset last evening.  There wasn't the blaze as there was during the heat wave, but more of a glow.  I can deal with that.

Computer notwithstanding, it was a good day.

Always Some Good

With cooler weather, the level in the wild things' water pot doesn't drop as fast, but I still check every morning to make sure there isn't a floater in there; hasn't been one for quite awhile now.  (That isn't on everyone's chore list, I'm sure.)

After finishing in the barn yesterday I went down to Cam's to take her up on the offer of more grapes and some tomatoes for Pete, and to pick up the smoked salmon she'd gotten for me at the big box store.  (Love these personal shoppers.  I put in an order and voila!)  I'd no more gotten home when she called to tell me I'd forgotten my half of the fifty pounds of pears she'd bought at Boa Vista Orchard up at Apple Hill.  Cam was going out on errands and brought them by.  I am now the proud possessor of twenty-five pounds of pears that I'm going to have to do something with.  I'm thinking pear tarts, pear bread, and, of course, pear butter.  I used to make pear strudel, but it doesn't freeze well.  I'd planned to share some pears with Pete, too.

My modus operandi when company is coming is to take on the most obvious need first; in my case always is the kitchen.  Still not here?  I move on down the list.  Still no sign?  I keep on going.  Thus my day went (with a few breaks outside to enjoy the mild weather) until Pete called about 2 to say something had come up and he couldn't make it.  These things happen, but with my list whittled down, some good came out of it.

That smoked salmon that I'd planned to share had been calling to me all day.  That and Gorgonzola crackers made an oh-so-good dinner...with grapes for dessert.

I got a preview last night of what winter will be like when I turned over in bed and almost fell out.  The cats had pushed me over to the very edge.  Again.

It's back to paperwork and the computer today.  The only good thing I can think of with that is that it will be done.

Blurred Around The Edges

With the exception of a couple of forays out into the sunshine to warm up(!) and give my mind a rest, yesterday went by in a blur of paper and computer work.  I absolutely love a comment on FB about a sign hung over a calendar that said, "WARNING.  Dates are closer than they appear."  I need that sign; it's the story of my life.  (Another apropos comment sent to me by a cousin said, "I dusted.  It came back.  Not going to fall for that again."  Obviously, my reputation precedes me.)

I'd like to find the gremlin who steals and hides the one critical piece of paper that I just had in my hand and then cannot find; I'd throttle the little booger and then hide the body.  "How d'ya like them apples?"  Ralph is in cahoots with said gremlin.  He cannot stand it when there are papers spread out on the table and takes great delight in pushing them off and watching them float to the floor.  Aarrgh!

It snowed in the Sierras again yesterday for the second day (in September!) and when I had a chance to look, I could see awesome mountainous white clouds with dark underbellies behind the hills to the east.  Weatherman keeps saying it will be in the 90s this week, but it didn't climb out of the 60s here all day.  I weakened last night and put the comforter on the bed.  Even the cats were happy.

Pete is coming up today and I'll get a break, but Monday I'll be back at the computer.  Oh goody.

Another View

Up, down, and all around, I am surrounded by beauty here.  This was the view from the milking room yesterday morning, the sun backlighting the clouds.  Later in the day, Bess and I enjoyed a similar scene over the hills to the south.

It was the coldest day yet and I wasn't the only one feeling the chill.  The cats took turns sitting on my lap for warmth and this was my view any time I was in the chair.  A week ago, I couldn't have tolerated this.

I seriously considered putting the comforter back on the bed last night, but high temps are predicted by the weekend and I'd just have to take it off again.  I needn't have worried.  The cats who had been sleeping all over the bed in summer draped themselves near or on my feet all night for our mutual comfort.

Nothing exciting and, other than the views, nothing spectacular.  It was a good day.

On Hold

Two days ago I put three things to accomplish on the board; I have yet to cross off even one.  A trip to town always puts a crimp in my ambition (excuse #1).  Yesterday was bill-paying day.  Before I could start, I discovered a significant discrepancy in my check register.

Math is not and never has been my forte.  Knowing this, I took a dumbbell math class my freshman year in high school, none my sophomore year, and then transferred to a boarding school where four years of mathematics were required for graduation.  Well, that was a pickle.  The school decided that three years would suffice and they put me in Sister Mary Louise's algebra class.  I don't think that was the cause, but I came down with an illness and spent eight out of the first fifteen days of school in Miss Frith's infirmary and missed the basics of algebra and never caught up.  At the end of the year, Sr. Louise gave me the lowest grade possible without failing me entirely and the school decided that, for me, two years of math were enough.  I'm pretty sure Sr. Louise convinced them just so she wouldn't have to deal with me further.  Years later when I was in college, I took several basic math classes, but when it comes to numbers I have a Teflon brain and nothing sticks.

At any rate, it took hours to go back months and recalculate to find my numerical error before even starting to pay bills.  It had been overcast and cold(!) all day.  Nature really flipped the switch on weather.  A week ago it was well into the 90s; yesterday it barely reached 70 outside and a jacket was mandatory in the house. 

Hoping that the long wait times had been a fluke, I called my home buyer's insurance company with the intent of putting in a complaint and then cancelling my policy.  They weren't the only game in town and could be replaced.  I outsmarted Ms. Snotty, the robo-voice, by choosing "Pay bills," knowing that a real person would be there, eager to take money.  Ha!  Not so "ha," as it took three transfers and two and a half hours on hold to reach a supervisor.  Whoever called me stubborn doesn't know the half of it.  It became a challenge and I don't like to lose.  Thank goodness for wireless phones.  I had time and was able to go to the bathroom, heat and eat a dinner of leftovers, watch TV, let the dog out and back in any number of times, and wait, and wait, and wait.

Let's just say I was locked and loaded by the time Supervisor Charles came on the line.  Had Charles been anything but calm, apologetic, and placatory, I would have hit him with both barrels.  As it was, he explained that the company was dealing with the aftermath of the two hurricanes in a number of states and the claims that were pouring in.  He listened when I questioned the lack of service companies under contract in our area, and being told I had to find one on my own.  He agreed that no technician would sit on hold for an hour waiting for authorization, and said they were working to rectify the problem.  In the end, Charles would reimburse me for the cost of the fan and gave me his email address for any future complaints.  Since a number of appliances are over twenty years old, I decided to maintain my policy.  Just shows what a good rep can do.

Oh, about six o'clock last evening, it started to rain!  It's a good thing I'd rinsed off the truck before going to town or it would have been a muddy mess.  The girls were more than eager to get inside at bedtime and made that job a lot easier.

Since life as I know it was put on hold yesterday, I have things to do today

Changes

The coming of fall and cooler weather brings a new set of chores.  Things that had been left undone or done less often must be caught up.  During the extreme heat it wasn't worth my life to stay in the barn and clean stalls every day, so I had my work cut out for me yesterday after milking.  I made my apologies to the girls.  The leaf blower is charging now, so I know what the job will be today.  I've promised myself to stay ahead on that this year.  Or not.

It was cool enough to sit at the sunny end of the deck in the morning for a change.  The garlic chives (the only plants that Robert and Bobby haven't destroyed) are almost through blooming, but the bees still visit the flowers.  I wonder, as always, if orange blossom honey tastes of orange and lavender honey comes from those plants, what does garlic honey taste like?  Eeeuw.  The naked ladies (pink amaryllis) under the oak are also fading now.  They're always such a surprise, springing up out of plain dirt without benefit of green leaves.  Those will come later.

Like it or not, a trip to town for supplies was on the menu yesterday.  It was the first time in months that I didn't need the a/c in the truck and I didn't melt into the pavement as I made my stops.  Halloween candy on the shelves at Wally World was expected.  I've been checking the nursery section periodically, looking for African violets to replace those that, after all these years, succumbed to the heat and died this summer.  What I did not expect was to see Christmas trees in that department.  I think that's pushing the season a bit.  A shipment of violets had just come in and I bought two.  They are such happy flowers.

Cruising the aisles (it makes me a crazy person when stores change the shelves around and I can't go directly where things used to be), the thought of jambalaya came to me and Zatarain's makes a well-seasoned rice base.  Shrimp and kielbasa were also available.  It's definitely more fun to cook for and eat with someone, so I called Cam.  She'd been cleaning her barn all day and was ready for dinner; she was here in half an hour.

The seasons are definitely changing.  Six o'clock and no sign of dawn yet.  Sitting in a robe instead of sweltering is a welcome change.  I can deal with that.

Looking Rosy

If it looks like I'm blushing, I'm not.  That rosy tinge comes from another day of dicing a mountain of tomatoes and making another batch of marinara sauce.  I will be so glad to have those bags of sauce in the freezer this winter, but right now I think that if I see Beau pull up with another gift of those red globes I will lock the door and hide.

The first thing I saw in the morning was two young doelings on the slope down to the woods.  Too big to be called fawns, but still petite, they looked enough alike to possibly be twins.  In nearly twenty years, I have never tired of seeing deer on the property.

Turk is getting braver and braver.  He used to hide behind the tree when I called his name and just peek around the edge.  Now he waits up on the bird feeder platform or on the ground where he knows I throw the seed, doesn't run away at all, and even looks me in the eye before starting his breakfast as if to say thank you.

If I was going to have to spend time in the kitchen, at least this time the weather cooperated.  It was cool, bordering on chilly, with overcast skies most of the day.  In fact, I closed doors last night that haven't been shut in months.

Remnants of clouds made for a spectacular rosy sunset, another view from Farview that never fails to take my breath away.

Home Front

I have few overnight guests anymore, but I do like to keep the room ready just in case.  Ralph rearranges the bed to suit himself.  Let's just say we have differing views on how to make it neat and tidy.  Mother's little helper isn't helping.

I stopped at Cam's on the way to the store yesterday.  She has a fence line of grape vines and is overloaded with these very small but oh-so-sweet, what seem to be Thompson seedless.  She's not sure of the variety.  She has shared with me in the past and I was more than happy to take some (okay, a lot).

Ingredients for egg fu yung looked particularly fresh and good at the store so even though they weren't on my list, they went into the cart.  Camille had said she'd bought pork chops, so when I got home I called and told her we could combine and I'd cook dinner (after NASCAR, of course) and she accepted.  My meat thermometer was on the blink and the chops were overdone, but the veg pancakes made up for that.

Most of the day was spent just futzing around.  All quiet on the home front.

A Different View

Cats are such quirky critters.  Celeste evidently wanted a different view of Farview yesterday.  She lay on her back, eyes open, adjusting her position now and then and looking at her world upside down.  How I wish we had better communication.  What was she thinking?

When it was so hot I put throw blankets on both recliners.  It was necessary because sitting on the faux leather for even a short while made your backside sweaty, most unpleasant.  The cats avoided the bare chairs, but now have reclaimed one for themselves.  Ralph, especially, curls up often in the big chair for naps.  He's another one with whom I'd like to have a conversation.  For no apparent reason, he'll occasionally walk through the hall, talking up a storm.  Last evening, he woke from a nap and began to talk...about what?  Did he have a bad dream?  Where is Dr. Doolittle when I need him?

Stump is apparently training Rhonda as a stand-in sentry.  Rhonda was at the station, assuming the upright position.  Raymond declined the responsibility.  Since these little creatures are, at most, maybe eight inches tall, their view must be fairly limited, but they take their job very seriously.  I'm pleased that loudmouth Shaddup has moved from his place so close to the house and out to one of the granite boulders in the front yard.  At least his high-pitched yip isn't as piercing at a distance.

The cool(er) weather continues.  Yay!

For The Birds

There are few birds more graceful in the sky than vultures.  They are so impressive when they assume the regal heraldic pose with wings spread while sitting on a post.  However, they become awkward and comedic when they try to perch on the power lines.  Like a beginner tightrope walker, the big birds teeter back and forth, trying to balance and not lose their grip.  They're not always successful, but sure are fun to watch.  More and more are arriving daily, gathering for the migration east, and there aren't enough posts to perch on.  Twenty-plus are sitting in the tree over the barn every morning now, and there were nearly fifty circling on the thermals yesterday.

Grape growers put high fences around their property to keep deer out of the vineyards.  I'm glad they finally gave up on the sound cannons that boomed so loud in the morning.  I think the deer got used to the noise and ignored it; I never did.  The growers are still losing grapes, though, and I know who the culprits are; turkeys.  The grapes must be close to harvest time because I find grape skins in turkey scat everywhere these days.  Turkeys roost 50-60 feet up in the trees at night, so an 8-foot fence means nothing to them.  I'm sure the little birds steal their share, too, ignoring the fluttering strips of Mylar some growers string up.

Shhh!  I don't want to jinx it, but I think fall has arrived.  It never got out of the low 70s yesterday, and even lower temps are predicted for this week.  Nature could be teasing us, but I'm sure enjoying this weather now.  It was cool enough to hang laundry on the line and warm enough to dry even the bibbies.  A good portion of the day was spent peeling and cutting the big butternut squash.  They make you work for your dinner with their tough, hard skin and firm flesh.  This squash was really large and I was able to bag and freeze most of it.  The rest made a luscious dinner.

I waited until I was sure Ralph was asleep in the living room before putting clean sheets on the bed, but somehow he knew and came in for a rousing game of hide-and-seek and chase the wrinkles.  Crazy cat.  For the first time in a long time I put the blanket back on the bed, and this morning in the dark Ralph crawled into the cat cave to snuggle by my belly.

It was a good day.

Grey Day...Yay!

After what seemed like interminable days of heat, a misty morning was a most welcome sight.  (Remind me of this when I'm wondering if we'll ever see the sun again this winter.)  It was a pleasure to put on a work shirt over a tank top even before going to the barn, it was that cool.  The girls were feeling pretty frisky, too.  Ironically, after giving that good advice yesterday, when I brought Sheila around, she dropped a load of raisinettes on the stand.  She must have peed in her stall and I didn't get the warning.  There were four frantic mousies in the grain barrel.  Back in the day, there were small hand-held games with a number of BBs to try to put in little holes.  Trying to capture those mice with a yogurt cup as they raced around was a lot like that game.  I eventually caught three to toss out and the fourth tried to burrow in and hide.  That one I picked up by the tail.  I don't have to leave home to find amusement.

Beau, the local vegetable pusher, came by and talked me into another basket of tomatoes (I see more marinara coming) and a big butternut squash.  As I told him, I love butternut squash and have in the past made squash risotto, or at least thought about it at times.  The problem is that when the caramelized squash comes out of the oven, I eat it before getting around to starting the rice.  How very nice it is to have a generous neighbor with a garden.

The sun did break through, but the breeze continued throughout the day, and that shirt felt good again at sundown.  It was a good day.

Of Course

With a new ceiling fan installed, of course the temperature dropped a good 20 degrees.  Nature has such a wicked sense of humor.  It was actually pleasant walking down to the barn and I didn't drip one drop of sweat while milking; how's that for a change.  (Just as an aside, if you're leading a goat somewhere and she stops to pee, don't get in a hurry because she's guaranteed to drop a load of pellets right afterward.  One of those things you learn the hard way.)

Each delivery of alfalfa is like Forrest Gump's "box of chocklits," you never know what you're going to get.   Sometimes, depending on the time of year and where it was grown, it's the next best thing to straw, nothing much but dry stems with a few leaves.  The prior load was loose leaves only and the flakes fell apart, very difficult to handle.  This current batch is perfect:  small stems, green leaves, and big chunky flakes to throw over the fence.  Right now the girls are getting two flakes a day, filling up any empty spots with the dry grasses in their pens.  Come winter when the ground is bare, I'll up their feed to three.  That's in addition to their bowl of chow in the morning and a snack at night.  Their weight remains steady on this diet and Tess and Sheila continue to produce milk.

Bess and I went to the "cookie store."  She doesn't care why I am going, she only knows that's where she'll get two cookies (milk bones).  She checks carefully when I get back in the truck.  "Put 'em here, Mom, right here (on the console)."  Bess won't touch them then, but when we get home and she jumps down, she turns in expectation to get her treat.  She eats that one, then comes into the house and looks for the second cookie.  And then of course, she wants the lamb treat that always comes when she's gone for a ride in the truck.  Who says I'm not trainable?

Cam and Honey stopped by in the afternoon and we all went out on the deck to enjoy the delta breeze that had blown in and watch Stump and the kids, as well as five huge tom turkeys that marched by.  There was a thunder storm over the mountains, and with each clap of thunder the turkeys set up a racket.  Evidently turkeys don't like thunder.

From the dampness on the deck (it's just now light enough to see), I gather we got a sprinkling of rain last night.  Of course we did...I didn't unload the grain from the truck yesterday.  Some things are just inevitable.

Back In Business

My neighbor Beau may never stop by again.  He dropped in yesterday morning to see if I might have a timing light, have a cold drink and a chat.  He, of course, noted that the house was hotter than Hades.  I explained I was in the process of hunting for an electrician (I'd already made two more calls).  "Why didn't you call me?!"  I knew Beau was an electrician, but also that he was up to his eyeballs in work on his house, and then there was the fact that my costs would not be reimbursed.  "Well, I'm going to check it out anyhow," and the next thing I knew he was up on a ladder and asking for screwdrivers.  "Call Helper Dude and see if he can come over for a few minutes."  Taking down a big ceiling fan is a two-man job and I was useless.  HD's job for the day had been cancelled so he came right away.  "The motor is shot," said Beau.  "I'm going into town today, do you want me to pick up a new fan for you?"  This thing was getting out of control, but when the Fates smile on you, you go with it and, as my dad would say, "It's just money."  "Yes, please."  I put the telephone books away.

Beau sent me photos of a couple of choices (isn't technology grand?), and I said I liked the one on the bottom.  Cam came by just before Beau came back...with the other fan.  He showed me the photos on his phone and sure enough, the order was switched.  The thought of moving air overrode esthetics and I was happy enough.  Helper Dude came back and the guys worked together to get the new fan installed.  Ta da!  Back in business again!

Everyone left just as it was time to put the kids to bed.  Even Beau exclaimed about the gorgeous sunset.  He lives just up the road, but his house is surrounded by pine trees and he doesn't get this view.

It was another of those evenings when the sky to the east was as beautiful as it was to the west.

Walking back into the house where the fan was running and the air was moving was quite wonderful.  Ahhh!  I know it wasn't how Beau had planned to spend his day, but I am so grateful that he came by.  I no longer qualify as a damsel, but I was definitely in distress.

It was a good day.

On Hold

When a thing starts to go wrong, odds are it will continue in that direction.  It's not just water that goes downhill.  Temperatures climbed back up into the 90s on Sunday and again yesterday.  On Sunday, the ceiling fan in the living room went kaput.  I've carried insurance for twenty years just for such an eventuality, and I put in a call.  The call was answered by an automated voice, a voice with attitude.  "Say the type of appliance that needs service."  "Ceiling fan."  "Ceiling heater fan, is that right?"  "No, ceiling fan."  "Ceiling heater fan, is that right?"  "NO! Ceiling fan!"  She didn't care for my attitude, either.  "You wish to end this call, is that right?"  "NO!  Representative!"  That wasn't one of the options she'd given, and she hung up on me.  If I hadn't really needed to get the air moving, I might have given up, but I was desperate so made the call again to Ms. Snotty.  I had her number by then and started right off with, "Representative," and kept repeating until she gave up and connected me to a real live person after a 30-minute time out on hold.  That person assigned the order to a company in Lake Tahoe.  Lake Tahoe is a good two hours away!  "Is there no one closer to me, say like Placerville, Jackson, or even Sacramento?"  "No.  They'll be in touch."  And so I sat in a pool of sweat and waited.

There was no call back on Sunday.  Before going to the barn yesterday, I phoned again to check the status.  After another "discussion" with Ms. Snotty and another 30 minutes on hold, I gave up and went to tend the girls.  The air in the living room was stifling after chores.  I had no choice but to try again.  Do you know how ridiculous it is to sit alone in a room and shout at a recorded voice?  After 35 minutes on hold (Ms. Snotty knew how to get revenge),when Representative answered, I was told that Lake Tahoe had declined the honor and that Dispatch was trying to find a company closer to Fair Play.  Well, duh.  If I hadn't heard anything by the afternoon, I was to call back.  Aarrgh!

Ms. Snotty punished me with a 45-minute wait this time, but I knew what to expect.  Representative informed me that there were no local companies under contract and the solution was for me to find a service and, if I followed a very strict and involved set of rules and pay for the repairs/replacement myself, I would be reimbursed.  Oh goody.

The company I'd dealt with in the past had gone out of business, so I called another number from the book.  The nice man said he had a two-week waiting list, had no recommendations for anyone else, and suggested I try Googling electricians in the area.  I gave up.  As Scarlett said, tomorrow is another day.  In the meantime, life as I know it is on hold.

Probably Not

Percy and his crew will probably never get Farview declared a national wonder like Carlsbad Caverns, but it won't be for lack of trying.  "Giant excavations created totally by squirrel power!"  And how do I know the gang is still active?  Because current holes are getting bigger and new holes appear.  This one started out just big enough for a squirrel to squeeze through from the play yard into the milking room.  Ta da!  They must be so proud.  The broomstick hides the secret entrance to an underground tunnel leading who knows where.

This rather elaborate creation began as a mouse run from Tessie's room.  One of the crew obviously has artistic ambitions.

 This last big one (oh, there are others!) is a more utilitarian escape hatch not only dug out, but the wall has been chewed through to the big room.  Is it any wonder that I think someday the entire hilltop will sink three feet?  Probably not.  Will the furry workers ever quit their incessant digging?  Probably not.

For Pete's Sake

My phone rang just as I was putting Tessie up on the stand.  It was my son Pete.  "If your social calendar isn't full, I thought I might come up today."  For Pete's sake, or any other Kid, I would clear all entries on the calendar.  I did a quick mental inventory of freezers and cupboards and decided on baked pork chops.  Pete asked what he could bring.  "Anything green that you might like."  Pete, like Steve, has an aversion to green vegetables.  Steve thought I was out to do him in if I put peas or even innocuous green beans on the table.  Once I insisted that he pick something green for dinner.  "Okay, spinach noodles."  Pete suggested asparagus.  "You'd eat asparagus?!"  "Well, maybe one or two spears, but I know you like it."  No way would I turn down an offer like that.

Finishing up in the barn, I needed to spiff up the house.  I had dusted just the week before when Clay came up (I forgot to mention and give credit that Clay actually noticed that effort), but don't you know it was needed again; most thankless job there is.

Pete arrived with a loaded goody bag.  Not only was there asparagus, there were blueberries, black plums, white nectarines, bananas, and pistachios; a treasure trove of fresh and crunchy!  Because of my infrequent shopping trips, fresh produce is a real treat.  Hoping to please, I decided to grill the asparagus to keep it crisp and then drizzle with a little of the black truffle oil of which Pete is so fond.  Guess what?  It worked, and he ate every piece on his plate!

We spent the afternoon talking and it was a lovely visit.  After he'd gone, it was a Saturday NASCAR race and I took the obligatory NASCAR nap and, of course, missed the finish.  It should come as no surprise that I had a banana, a nectarine, and a plum for dinner.

It was a good day.

What'cha Doin??

Some days I'd be hard pressed to explain if someone were to ask what I was doing.  Yesterday was a good example.  Coming back up the hill from the barn, I usually stop at the driveway to catch my breath, bent over, arms braced on my legs.  Not much to see in that position, but then I noticed that the long straw(?) in the middle of this photo was twitching.  The small red ant at the right end (click on the picture to enlarge) wanted that straw out of the way and it was going to happen come hell or high water.  Comparatively speaking, it was like a man trying to move a telephone pole by himself.  That ant pulled, pushed, lifted, and dragged that straw until I thought he'd get a hernia.  I must have stayed there watching this epic struggle for a good five minutes.  "What'cha doin'?"  "Oh, just watching an ant."  "Uh huh."

Rhonda and Raymond are reaching the adolescent stage.  They don't stay babies long and, like their human counterparts, they don't want to mind their mama anymore.  Raymond snuck out of the nursery at nap time, talked Ronda into coming with him, and they played tag until Stump caught them at it.  They gave her some sass before coming to her side.  They grow up so fast.  "What'cha doin'?"  "Oh, just watching the squirrels."  "Uh huh."

I don't even have to go outside to watch squirrels.  From my chair in the living room, I could see Robert, Bobby, and a group of cousins raid every potted plant on the deck.  "Hey, come try a taste of this one!"  They provide a lot of amusement, but I wish they weren't so destructive.

In the afternoon, Bess and I watched birds flutter and splash in the spray from the sprinkler.  Bluejays and woodpeckers took turns with the dinky birds in the birdbath.  They just had the best darned time.  I didn't see it, but last week Camille told me she'd seen a vulture taking a dip in the goats' water trough.  I knew they drank from it; I didn't know they bathed in it, too.  (Eeeuw.)

I didn't get a lot done yesterday.  I was busy watching.  Uh huh.

Ahhh!

Yesterday the theme was from an old Alka-Seltzer commercial, "Oh, what a relief it is!"  There was a good twenty-degree drop in temperature all day and nothing could have been more welcome.  It was actually cool enough in the morning that a shirt would have felt good down in the barn, but I wanted to feel that chill on my skin.  Ahhh!

Every colony of ground squirrels has its own lookout.  A large group has moved in and under the burn pile and this sentry was posted on one of the bigger branches.  There are going to be a lot of displaced squirrels when it's safe enough to light the pile on fire.

I was waiting for the battery for the leaf blower to charge when Camille called, asking me to come down and take photos of a dog that was in her yard to post on the local Lost & Found page.  The small dog was lying under a bush, hardly moving.  Cam showed up with food and water and Dog gradually roused enough to stagger to its feet to eat and drink.  Poor little old girl was totally blind, bumping into the gate and posts, but her nose worked well and she found every bite of kibble and drank a whole bottle of water.  The question then was what to do with her.  After a long wait on hold, Animal Services' solution was to bring her to them; they wouldn't come out to get her.  Cam decided to take her up to the house and see if the FB notice got any response.  And it did, almost immediately.  Little dog's family had been searching for her all night and, in fact, had sent for reinforcements from the valley to help hunt.  Turns out that Abby was diabetic and had Cam not given her food and water, she would have undoubtedly died under that bush.  Abby had picked the right yard to collapse in, and Camille was the angel on the spot.  I love happy endings.

I got the deck swept clear of leaves.

It was a good day.

Getting Better

Far from cool, the temperatures did drop enough to notice yesterday; however, the humidity continued.  Being covered in a sheen of sweat is not my idea of fun, but as my neighbor says, "What're ya gonna do?"  It was a day to take care of piddly household chores and do a lot of watering.  Between the heat and then the loss of water, the poor plants had been sorely neglected.  I don't know if plants accept apologies, but I made a lot of them as I made my way along the deck.

September already.  Even though this summer seems to stretch on forever, we're in September and the year is slipping by.  The stores are putting out Halloween candy and decorations and the pumpkin patches down in the valley are advertising already.  (When did Hallowe'en lose its apostrophe, I wonder?)  There is a difference of opinion as to why the oaks are losing so many leaves now:  it could be because of the stress of the excessive heat or perhaps it is a premature fall.  I know for sure that I've got to blow the leaves off the deck soon if I have any hope of not being buried beyond hope.  Walking outside sounds like stepping on potato chips.

I wish there was a switch or button to turn off the goats' heat cycles when they're too old to breed.  In frustration, they get so cranky with each other.  Sheila gave poor Inga such a bash last night that it hurt me just to hear.  It's like PMS on steroids.  The one good thing is that it doesn't last too long.

I'm looking forward to the drop in temperature and the delta breeze that are promised for today.  Maybe I'll get something more than cleaning the litter box accomplished.  Or not.

Stump, etc.

Blue sky at dawn was the first I'd seen in days, but the smoke coming up from around Yosemite was lurking there behind the hills and the blue didn't last long.

Nature pulled a fast one.  The temperature dropped as promised, but the old gal upped the humidity to over 70% so yesterday wasn't any more comfortable.

Rats minus one in the morning.  They are such clever little beasties, I'm surprised they don't use bubble-wrap in the shed to make floaties when they go for a swim.  How lovely it was to have fresh water to wash out the pot.

Braveheart put in a very brief appearance yesterday, but even a glimpse was welcome.  I'll admit it, I am prejudiced in favor of mice.  Not in my house, of course.

At first, I didn't see Stump.  She wasn't at her regular post, but then I found her up in the shade.  She's no dummy.  Rhonda and Raymond were playing close by, but then, when Stump turned her back, that rascal Raymond made a dash to get a snack.  Stump called him to her, chastised him severely, and sent him to his room for a time-out.  Rhonda snickered like a goody-two-shoes.  Raymond was underground, so I couldn't hear his response to that.

The humidity was such that there were even a few raindrops on the windshield on my way to and from town, only enough to put polka-dots in the dust on the glass and only served to raise the humidity.

 I had to wait until Ralph was asleep in another room so I could change the sheets.  He has had such fun chasing wrinkles that he's put dozens of tiny rips in the top sheet.  I'm all for letting him have fun, but there are limits. 

My neighbor came by in the afternoon, wanting to borrow my cement mixer.  I told him he certainly could as I have no plans to use it, but it hasn't been run in many years.  I guess he took a look and decided against it, as it's just visible in the open shed.  Sigh.

There was still a touch of blue, as well as the haze, at sundown.

Saved!

What a relief it was to see Go-To's truck drive up shortly after I'd come back from the barn yesterday.  I had to almost physically turn off the whirling thoughts in my head the night before, thinking of all the possible high-dollar things that could have caused the loss of water; that way lies madness.  It took Go-To just a few minutes to assess the problem.  The dadratted, fershluggen ground squirrels had chewed through the wires from the pump to the tank.  He was surprised there weren't electrocuted bodies lying about (and I almost wished there were).  Go-To said it would be an "easy fix," so Mrs. GT and I went in the house to chat and let the man go about his work.

We'd been promised a few degrees cooler, but I couldn't tell any difference and the exposed wires were in direct sun.  Poor GT.  It took him close to an hour to repair and then enclose the wires in a metal conduit (take that, you blasted squirrels!).  The small furry beasts had chewed and enlarged the hole in the wall and had been wreaking havoc in the shed.  I'd swept out a ton of acorns (again) and picked up a bagful of insulation before GT got there.  He molded and stuffed chicken wire into and around the hole to stop the little buggers from getting in again.  After we'd concluded our business and I was walking them out to the truck, there was a loud yell from where he'd been working.  You didn't have to know the language to know that those were cuss words from one irate squirrel who had been denied access.  Hahaha!

Yes, 100 is less than 104, but it was still 90 in the house, another day to sit and read and I finished another book.  In addition to the heat, smoke from fires all over California made a thick haze in the sky, hard to see the hills to the south and hard to breathe.  Another reason to do nothing and I'm getting really good at that.

It was grand to turn a tap and have gushing water and be able to flush the toilet!  Go-To saved the day.

Clay Day

Clay was coming up!  As I do whenever company comes, I start thinking about what I can serve.  Especially if there's no time to go to the store, I have to consider what I have on hand.  Hmmm.  Chicken in one freezer, okay.  Marinara sauce in the other, that'll work.  I took those items out to thaw and put cans of green beans and sliced beets in the fridge to chill.  A menu was taking form.

My son from another mother, or my plus-one kid, rode up on a motorcycle I hadn't seen before, a Buell.  These boys and their toys.  Clay and I never seem to run out of things to talk about, and yesterday was no exception.  NASCAR didn't start until 3, so we watched an old, B-grade Bruce Lee movie with terrible dubbing.  Clay had been a big Bruce Lee fan as a kid and then had been more interested in the martial arts than film quality, but he had to laugh along with me at this one.

Before the race at Darlington started, I was able to introduce Clay to Stump.  Evidently things were quiet in the woods because she was back, immobile as usual.  My driver, Clint Bowyer, had bad luck and his engine blew at lap 21, so I had no trouble going to the kitchen to fix dinner.  I pounded the chicken breasts flat, then breaded them with well-seasoned flour and egg wash and browned them well.  They went into a baking dish to be topped with Parmesan cheese and the marinara and put into the oven to finish.  Beets and beans were drained and mixed together with tarragon, basil, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar for a cold salad of sorts.  I was happy when Clay gave the meal a thumb up.  I think it made up for not having a/c.

The race finished about sundown, so Clay went down with me to put the girls to bed.  All was well until I stopped to top off the water trough.  What had been a perfect day came to a terrible finish when I realized there was no more water coming from the hose.  I mean, not one drop.  Aarrgh!  It's bad when the power goes out, but there is nothing worse than not having water.  Clay and I said our goodbyes and I went in to make a call to Go-To Guy.  It was after hours on a Sunday on a long, hot holiday weekend, but I left a message anyway and hoped for the best.  Bless his heart, GT and his wife called back in a few minutes and arranged to come out this morning.

I always keep bottled water on hand and so was able to make coffee today to put in the new mug Clay brought me from the race at Pocono.  Fingers crossed for the day.

Farview Mysteries

Braveheart, the single mouse in the milking room, plucked up his courage and made a fast dash across the wide open space.  I mentally cheered as if the quarterback had made a touchdown.  The question is, to where and why did the tribes leave?  They were there...and then they weren't.  Why just this one mouse now?  Is he a leftover from the big colonies, or is he a scout for a new bunch?  I wonder about these things.

Ninety-six in the house and little to no breeze outside, but we went out on the deck anyway.  I can sweat in one place as well as another and I wanted to soak Bessie down.  She suffers from the heat, too.  Stump was at her post, stationary as usual, and then her attitude changed.  Her head went forward and she stared intently down toward one spot in the woods.  Suddenly she began a frantic chittering, certainly not the monotonous, continuous yip warning that Shaddup gives.  Stump was in a panic.  She made a quick run toward the fence line, stopped, gave that chittering cry again, dashed back toward her post, continuing to sound the alarm and looking in the same direction.  What in the world did she see?  I could find no motion in the weeds or under the trees, but her instincts and eyesight are better than mine.  I continued to look, but saw nothing but a few turkeys under the oak and they didn't seem to be afraid.  Stump had run a short way away, but then came back and ducked down to join Rhonda and Raymond.  Another of the Farview mysteries.

Speaking of mysteries, I spent the day reading one by Nelson DeMille, "Plum Island."  I've read and enjoyed a number of his books, but not for quite awhile.  There was a line in "Plum Island" that I particularly liked; it is so apropos to my life.  I may not have it quite right, but it goes something like "The trouble with doing nothing is not knowing when it's finished."  (Made me laugh!)  So I get up and do it all over again.

The excessive heat and poor air quality continue to be oppressive.  We're promised a break, maybe tomorrow, but not today.  Today I'll do nothing again, but I won't be doing it alone.  Clay is coming up!  He said we can watch NASCAR and sweat together.  The man is a glutton for punishment.

Revision

If Noel Coward had lived here, he would have revised the line in his song to read, "Mad dogs, Englishmen, and baby squirrels go out in the midday sun."  Okay, it wasn't quite midday, but it was 100 degrees, and it was in the shade of the oak, not out in the sun, but baby squirrels were rampant.  There was enough of a breeze to make the deck more appealing than the living room after barn chores so Bess and I took our accustomed places outside.  It must have been recess for the ground squirrel kindergartners as they were out in numbers.  Stump was the only grownup in sight.  I don't know whether she was the teacher, the nanny, or simply the only responsible adult in the tribe, but she takes her job seriously.  Regardless of the heat, the kidlets chased each other up and down the tree, stopped to grab a snack, then played a rousing game of tag.  It made me tired just to watch.

Down in the barn earlier, I saw the first mouse I've seen in ages.  He poked his nose out of one hole, then another, but wasn't brave enough to come all the way out.  I know how it sounds, but it made me happy and not quite so lonesome.

Tired of binge-watching reruns of cop shows, I reverted to an old friend, a book.  Camille had loaned me a book she'd enjoyed, but I didn't want to start it until I finished one I'd begun some time back and set aside.  Stephen King sucked me in for the rest of the day (and well into the evening) with his book of short stories, "A Bazaar Of Bad Dreams."  At one point during the day it was 104 outside and 95 in the house, and reading was all I could manage.  When King is good, he is very, very good, and he can scare the socks off ya.

Late in the afternoon, we went outside again.  All the little ones were, I suppose, napping, but Stump was once again on guard duty.  She is such a good mama.

The sun tried hard, but could only glow through the pall of smoke from numerous wildfires in the valley when I went out to put the girls to bed.  It never cooled off all night.

Something Different

We must have been the first delivery of the day for Patrick.  He'd come and gone by the time I was ready to go to work.  It's always nice to see the cupboard stocked with supplies and know the girls won't go hungry.

Either the rats have been taking swimming lessons or perhaps they've put a lifeguard on duty because I haven't found another floater for some time (just as well).

Squadrons of dragonflies hovered over the goat pen like tiny drones.  Among the many pesky bugs there are, dragonflies seem a friendly kind of insect.

I generally use two wipes each to clean the girls' udder before milking.  While wiping with one, I keep the other wadded up in my other hand; in winter this is to try to warm it up so as not to shock the girl, and in summer it's to keep it from drying out before it's used.  It pays to work fast.

Sitting out on the deck during my after-milking break, I was watching the wildlife under the oak.  Several large tom turkeys were having a late breakfast when I noticed they weren't just scratching for feed.  Stump, Rhonda and Raymond were also at the buffet and the turkeys were kicking them out of the way!  That's not a sight one sees every day.

Just for something different to do, I met Camille at the Senior Center just down the road for lunch.  One, salmon was on the menu and (2) the hall was air conditioned.  Camille goes quite often, and we sat with four gentlemen who were obviously regulars, two of whom barely spoke and two who were more than happy to have a new audience for their comedy routine.  I laughed all  the way through the meal (which was very good).

Cam went off to do errands, but came by afterwards.  We took our regulation places on the deck, hoping for a breeze that never came.  Stump was on sentinel duty, sitting upright like a statue.  Rhonda and Raymond must have been napping, and Stump had a watchful eye for predators.

It was a good day.