If I Never...

If I never see another tomato or pear, it will be too soon.  Another afternoon of trimming, cutting, and filling bag after bag of pears to put in the freezer.  There are still a dozen or so in the box, but Camille came over and I set them aside.  Cam had finished painting the last two walls on her barn (another project that had dragged on and on) and was ready for a break.  I sure wasn't going to say no to that.  The morning had been spent doing laundry and hanging it on the line, and I, too, was ready for a sit down.

I'm going to start Tessie on an every-other-day milking routine.  She's about done, and I am, too.  Poor Sheila, I felt so bad for her yesterday.  The people who live behind me on property adjacent to the goat pen have two very large dogs.  I've only seen them a couple of times, but when they show up, they bark and bark at the goats (and me) in deep, loud, scary voices.  Sheila was up on the stand when the dogs started up.  Inga, the first outside, came racing behind the barn and Sheila started quivering so hard I thought she'd give ready-made milk shakes.  Fortunately, the dogs didn't stick around long.

I can't say one bad thing about the weather lately.  It's been perfect for fall, warm and breezy.  Much of the wind has been coming from the north, over the mountains from the desert, and it's very dry.  That keeps us in a high fire situation so I still can't mow, but, boy, I sure want to.  The property looks so raggle-taggle, it's embarrassing.  Oh well.

New Routines

Barn chores are taking less time each day as Tessie has finally gotten with the drying-up program.  From her all-time high of 500-600 squirts to her standard 350, she's now down to 60, and that will soon come to a stop.  Her udder is less full each morning and she'll soon stop milk production altogether.  It takes the girls only about five minutes to eat their bowl of chow, and Sheila is an easy, quick milker.  It used to take over an hour in the barn every day, now I'm in and out in thirty minutes.  We're set in our ways and I'll keep the routine of bringing each girl to the stand for breakfast.  It is my chance to give them attention, brushing their coat, checking for any injuries, and trimming their hooves as needed.  They are getting ready for winter as their coats are thicker now.

Either I missed the mass vulture migration at the end of September or there are not so many making the journey south anymore.  From the thirty-plus I had seen for awhile in the morning, they're back to the maybe 8-10 maintenance crew.  I'm not the only one in the area that has had a rat problem this year, and I hope people are not putting out poison for them or the ground squirrels.  There is a trickle-down effect with poison; carrion eaters like vultures and the natural predators will take advantage of an easy meal and also die a painful death.

Days are getting shorter and definitely cooler and nights are long.  Even with shorter barn time, I seem to get less and less done.  I'm geared to shut down at sunset; that's the end of my workday, period.

Seeing Daylight

I can't remember the last time I woke up to see daylight instead of pitch-black darkness.  The extra hours of sleep felt good, but I've lost half the day.  Oh well.

Once upon a time there were door-to-door salesmen, itinerant preachers, and circuit-riding judges.  We out here in the boonies are so lucky that Candy, who once had a small salon in Somerset, now does house calls to cut hair.  She lines up her appointments and makes the rounds, and yesterday we were on the list.  "We" was Arden, Camille, and myself.  Unfortunately, Arden had car trouble and couldn't get out of her driveway, but Cam, Candy, and I had a most enjoyable afternoon out on the deck and getting trimmed up.  In addition to being a great hairdresser, Candy is good company.

Today, like it or not, I must finish cutting up pears.  Nearing the bottom of the box, I'm at least beginning to see daylight.  I'm feeling about pears as I felt about tomatoes.  Enough is too much, and I must start showing restraint in these ventures.  Or not.

Could It Be?

I'm not sure that Stump and Raggedy Ann might not be one and the same.  Raggedy comes running from the same spot of ground where Stump hangs out and goes back there when she's finished eating.  Maybe it is Stump who, after the kids left home, decided to go out for breakfast every day.  Never having gotten a close look at Stump's ears, it could be I was mistaken.  I haven't seen Turk for awhile now.  Either he's sleeping in or, perhaps because it's fall, he's busy stocking his larder with the dropping acorns that sound like mini-bombs when they hit the truck.  I've got to get to the feed store today.  There's only enough seed for one more meal in the barrel and I'd hate to disappoint squirrels and turkeys tomorrow.  The little birds I meant to be feeding have to settle for the second seating and leftovers.

For years and years in the past, I had only one cat at a time:  Tag Along Too-Loo, Sarah, Annie, then Victor.  I wanted just one so they would bond with me alone, and they certainly did.  It wasn't until I went to get Frank and couldn't leave his sister Pearl behind that I accepted two.  They were supposed to be outside barn cats anyhow.  (Yeah, how'd that work out?)  I found that two could share their affection and then keep each other company.  I could deal with that, so had no problem taking Ralph and Celeste together.  It could be that Celeste would have preferred to be an only child.  Ralph torments his sister.  Celeste will be sleeping in a patch of sunlight on cool days and Ralph gets bored playing alone and will go over and sit on Celeste's head.  If that doesn't get a reaction, he jumps on her body, pulls her tail, or bites her neck.  When she's had enough, she slaps his face and the fight is on.  They tussle and roll on the floor and then race through the house.  She chases him and then he turns and chases her until they're both worn out.  Then they go cuddle together on the bed and take a nap.  I needn't have worried about not getting my share of attention.  They mostly take turns, but sometimes my lap gets pretty full of cats.

A jacket felt good all day, even in bright sunlight.  In the afternoon the sky got dark and a strong wind blew.  It really looked like a storm was brewing, but it came to nothing.  The clouds rolled back, the sun came out, and the wind became a breeze again.  We don't need a calendar to know that fall is here.

Ralph, The Sequel

Update:  Ralph is doing his utmost to strip the guest bed, and he's making progress.  Now it's the blanket, and I don't understand that.  It's a soft velour that I know he likes to knead, but maybe he's tired of the color.  Who knows?

A trip to town took a chunk out of the afternoon.  Oh well.  It's a good thing I keep an eye out for wildlife, as I came around a curve and a doe (another one) and her twins were crossing the road.  As I've told the Kids, if you see one deer, you can count on more to follow.  Like goats, deer are herd animals.  Besides, the bucks are going into rut and traffic is the last thing on their mind.

Wally World is again in the process of changing shelves and relocating departments.  I know it's a marketing ploy, but for someone like me who prefers to spend as little time as possible shopping, it's maddening.  I needed to buy yet another pair of shoes as the old ones bit the dust.  The department was in the same corner, but they'd completely reversed the sections.  I had no interest in cruising up and down aisles past high heels (they don't go well with bibbies and squirrel holes) and baby slippers (long past the need for those!).  It pays to keep a pair ahead so I've got clean go-to-town shoes when the barn shoes give out.  I'd also like to have words with the store buyer.  Why would they have baking soda in the baking department and not stock baking powder?  Hmmm.

I decided when I started writing about the farm and country living to keep that the focus of the blog.  I am well aware of what is happening out in the "real" world, and have strong, passionate opinions.  Reported news can make me furious or bring me to tears (like yesterday), and sometimes make me laugh, but this is not the venue for my reactions.  I don't twit or tweet, whatever.  There's always FB if I need to rant.  I prefer to put my energies where I can hopefully affect a change, unless it's the ground squirrels and I can't do much about them.  I have all the day-to-day drama I can deal with right here.

I'm having a difficult time typing right now as Ralph is on my lap and I have to reach around him.  Oh, that Ralph!

High Tech

I do move with the times, albeit slowly.  Were it not for Deb and Craig, I might not yet have a cell phone.  I love the new flat-screen TVs, but I still have a couple of ancient behemoths in the house, as well.  I have a computer, of course, but no laptop or iPod.  I can relate to the guy living up the hill on the other side of the road:  when we moved up here, he had a television antenna installed up at the very top of a tall pine tree, which I thought was pretty funny.  I see that has been replaced with a satellite dish, so he's moving along, too.  Whenever I get something new, the instruction manual becomes my best friend.  (Remember my trials with John Deere?)

The point of all this is, yesterday was sports day.  The Steelers-Ravens football game was on at the same time as the NASCAR race at Dover.  Thanks to technology, the remote control allowed me to switch back and forth instantly between the two events, slow down or speed up the action, put everything on hold, and replay something I might have missed, all at the touch of a button.  Boy, did I ever feel high tech!  Pretty amazing stuff for somebody who grew up, first without a television at all, and then going to my sister's house to watch Harry Owens and His Royal Hawaiians or Gorgeous George, the wrestler, on a 6" round screen.  I think there were only three channels then, but my brother-in-law was a fanatic channel changer who drove the rest of us batty as he constantly was getting up and flipping through all three.  I didn't get one for a long time, but I thought just having a remote control was a pretty neat innovation, and yesterday I sure made use of mine.

My chair is a great vantage point to see the herb garden and front yard.  Before I went to the barn in the morning, a couple of big dogs traveled through the yard and then came around to check out the deck.  That's when Bessie saw them and went nuts.  I did not let her out.  The dogs had business elsewhere and went on down the driveway.  A little later, I caught movement in the herb garden just off the front porch and thought the dogs had come back.  No, it was a doe and her twin fawns!  There was a time when herds of deer would cruise through the property, now it's rare to see even one or two, so this was pretty special.

The Steelers won big time, and Clint Bowyer came in 6th.  It was a good day.

It's Official

Ralph has been at it again, only more so.  What I thought of as the guest room has now officially become Ralph's room.  When my granddaughter who is autistic would come to visit, she would give Grandma a hug and then disappear into this room and it was then known as Taylor's room.  She preferred the quiet rather than the noise of a family gathering, and I kept a supply of soft stuffed toys in the closet for her.  It was her sanctuary.  Once I had a "real" guest staying when Taylor came up and Tay was told she couldn't go in "her" room.  Desolated, she lay in the hall in front of the door, hoping we'd change our minds, poor girl.

At any rate, Ralph is changing the decor of "his" room to suit his taste.  I used to have a small bowl filled with potpourri in there.  Ralph thought that was too frou-frou for such a manly man as himself and emptied it all over the floor.  I don't know what he has against the small throw rug or the comforter, but obviously they have to go.  If I were to have a "real" guest staying, Ralph would probably throw himself on the floor by the door, a la Taylor.

Yesterday was spent in the kitchen, cutting up pears, pears, and more pears.  I'm about halfway through the box.  What madness overcame me when I took the 25 pounds, I don't know.  One would think I'd learned my lesson when I spent days cutting up tomatoes, but no.  Obviously not.