New for twenty two...

 We moved to Maine 22 years ago this week. I loved this house the first time I saw the realtor's photo of it, and I am so grateful to live here. We have made the place our own over the years, with lots of fresh paint, a roof, a furnace, landscaping, and more. When we bought this house, there was a deck that was part of our main entrance. 

The boards and supports began to get spongy last year, and the whole thing needed to be replaced. Finding a contractor was a trick. I tried for months. This was frustrating, but in the end, it was a gift, because with the help of friends, I realized there were better options for this structure, which didn't really suit our 100+ year old house. 

Another friend found me a contractor who not only wanted to take on our project, but totally "got" me. I'd explain what I was thinking of, and he would add perfect suggestions. About a month ago, he and his team got started making my house dreams come true. I enjoyed having them here and loved watching them create beauty around our cozy home. The end results are a delight. 

They tore off the old, rotten deck and built a beautiful new entryway. This greatly enlarged my favorite flowerbed. They made the prettiest little picket fence and gate. Then they spruced up the entry to the grooming studio, which is on the front porch. 

While they were at it, they replaced the under-house lattice skirting (which I never liked) with something much nicer. 

Best of all, they cut an enormous hole in my dining room wall, removing the small, off-center window and installing a large French door.

 Beyond that door, they built a 16 ' by 16' deck. Chris and I love being in our backyard and have talked about installing a deck for decades. It was a fun adventure to design what we had been dreaming about and then watch as the dream came beautifully true. 

On the twenty-second anniversary of moving to Maine, we gave our house a little facelift. 

I think she approves. 

Moving day...

 The broiler chicks are around three and a half weeks old. They have most of their feathers and were outgrowing the "brooder" we use, a calf hutch with a heat lamp. Today was predicted to be hot. Last night after work, while I was on an errand, Rachel mowed a handy corner of the pasture and moved a calf hutch there. She set up the electro netting, and Chris helped her "hot it up." I got up early this morning, and after doing all my regular chores, I grabbed the wonderful new garden cart Chris gave me. I easily grabbed the first half of the chicks and moved them through the gate, across the back yard, and to their new home. The second batch had wised up and hid way in the back of their house. I had to get in there and catch them, which was a bit tricky because the hutch does not offer standing room. I hunched, waddled,  grabbed, and waddled some more, then placed the squawking birds into the cart. They rode beautifully, and it was quite fun to transport them to a spacious new home on such a fine summer morning. 

Their new situation confused them, but soon they explored a bit, finding food, water, and shade. I watched carefully all day to make sure they were doing alright. This evening, Chris helped me, and we caught each chubby chick and tucked them into their hutch, where they will be protected from any number of wild animals that enjoy the taste of chicken. We rigged up extra shade, too. Now they can dig in the dirt, bask in the sun, eat bugs and weeds, and grow happily. Moving day went well. 

Big doings...

 We are having some excitement at FairWinds. Our old deck, the entrance to our house, was rotting and needed to be replaced. We decided to change things up a bit while we were at it, and the work has begun. I will share before and after pictures when the project is completed. Meanwhile, removing the old deck left me with my favorite flower bed vastly enlarged. Here is what it looked like. 

Where you see that tallish green plant in the center used to be the back edge of the bed. Now the whole area is 8 feet or so deeper than it was. I decided to dig up and move everything currently in there, because those plants no longer fit into the new shape of the garden. I also decided to plant a bunch of annual flowers while I get used to the new configuration and decide if I want shrubs or perennial plants. I started digging and made good progress, but the large rose bush on the right was a tough customer. Chris helped me dig and wrestle it out. I gave the long rose canes to the goats, who made short work of them, thorns and all. 

There was a Flag Iris in the garden that my friend planted 9 years ago. It had spread so it was the size of a bushel basket, and was one tough customer to shift. I dug and wiggled and dug some more. I finally called "uncle!" and Cheryl and Mike came to my rescue. In about 30 seconds, they team lifted the heavy mass up and out for me. I was sad that I couldn't quite manage it alone, but thrilled for the assistance. 

There was a sweet little breeze the whole time I worked, and it wafted the perfume of our lilac bush to me in tantalizing gusts.

The soil that had been under the old deck was hard as concrete, so I got out my mattock and went to work breaking it up. Then I hauled bag after bag of heavy compost to the spot, sliced them up with my wicked pocket knife, and distributed the deep black stuff over the soil I had just disturbed. 

Over the weekend, I enjoyed a stroll through a local plant nursery and loaded up with a nice variety of seedlings. I could hardly wait to start planting them. I decided to top dress the soil with some mulch before I put the tiny seedlings in, so I hustled off to the hardware store and bought six big bags of mulch. My friend who owns the store told me she had no help, and I'd have to load the mulch myself. A kind man standing by overheard our conversation, strode right outside, and helped me load the bags. How magical is that? 

Once home, I dumped the bags at appropriate intervals and carefully spread the mulch in an even layer. While I was at it, I created a little stepping stone path from the edge of the garden to the water faucet. Then, I planted morning glories, hollyhocks, and foxglove. I planted cosmos and portulaca. After all of that, I decided I'd done quite enough for one day. I gave all the plants a cool drink and sat for a while, considering where to tuck the zinnias and other seedlings that were waiting to get growing. The plan is coming together nicely; every bit of the work and planning has made me happy. 

Meanwhile, the construction guys went back and forth, sawing wood and priming boards and chatting with each other as they worked. The quietest of them paused to look at my efforts and said, "You are gaining on it." High praise! 

Big things are happening at FairWinds, and little plants are stretching their roots and settling in until they are big enough to fill my new space with loveliness. 

Circle of life...

 Last week, forty new broiler chicks arrived via USPS in a peeping box. We set them up in the kitchen for a few days so we could enjoy the totally overwhelming adorableness of them. 

The Owlet is enchanted by them and immediately gathered a pile of her favorite books to share.

They outgrew the little nursery quickly, so on Friday, they were promoted to a big hutch in the garage. They have a heat lamp, a deep bed of clean shavings, and lots of food and water. They eat, drink, sleep, and poop- and then they poop some more. But they are still cute. 

Later that day, a fox slipped into the pasture and killed two of our good laying hens. We had been fortunate; in twenty years of enjoying chickens, we had only lost one to a predator. Having two taken in one day was a sad loss.  I kept all the birds locked up the next day, and today I let them out since we were home all day to keep an eye on things. The rooster kept the ladies close to the coop; he's a wise bird. The fox did not make a repeat visit, but it certainly could. 

When I did chores tonight, I peeked into our little coop, where the diminutive Olandsk Dwarf chickens live. I've had a broody hen there for a while. When hens feel in the family way, they sit on eggs. For most breeds, this means that for 21 days, they rarely move, leaving their nest only once or twice a day to eat, drink, and defecate. I figured chicks would be due mid to late week. So I was surprised when I saw an empty shell, perfectly split in half, at the edge of the nest. I carefully lifted the hen and saw a pile of intact eggs, but no chick from the empty egg. I then ruffled through her feathers and, sure enough, found a teeny, peeping baby bird snuggled close under her mama's wing. 

Then I remembered this breed has a slightly shorter gestation period than most, 18-19 days. I gave the chick a little cuddle, tucked it back deep in its mamas feathers, and grinned all the way back to the house. 

Living with animals, one experiences the circle of life at an accelerated rate. I am sad about my fox-food hens, but happy to welcome new life to the farmlette. 

And then my eyes leaked...

 When my older sister Dicy was around sixteen years old, my parents bought her a horse. Dad built a little one-stall barn with a tack room and Midnight came to our place to live. I don't remember her, but she was part of family folklore. 

The barn is still there. It was turned into a pool house when I was a little kid, but there was a sign that the building once had a different purpose. Dicy had carved a little two-dimensional horse and our dad hung it between the diamond pane windows that faced the house. When I was a little girl, I was in awe of that horse. It amazed me that my sister could make something so pretty from a blank piece of wood. 

My sister Deb and her husband now live in the house where I grew up. A few years ago my brother-in-law mentioned to me that they were replacing the windows on the old barn. I asked him about the little decorative horse. He didn't know what I was talking about, so I described it to him. He said he suspected it may have disintegrated and disappeared, because he had never noticed it. After all, it was over sixty years old. I was a little sad, but I am a pragmatic person, so I filed the memory of the small figure away in the happy place where such memories live. 

For Mother's Day Rachel and I packed the little girls up and drove to my sister and brother-in-laws house. We had terrific weekend that included fun and delicious family meals, time with my adorable new great-niece and an outdoor flea market on a perfect spring day. We also poked around a huge antique mall and took all the tiny girls for a swim at a beautiful heated indoor kiddie pool. 

At one point, when my brother-in-law and I were alone for a moment, he handed me a slight, flat object wrapped in red tissue paper. "I've been saving this for you." he said. "It needed a little repair, and I can make it look more perfect if you want, or you can keep it just the way it is." My curiosity was piqued, and I carefully opened up the light package. And then my eyes leaked. 

After I mentioned the little carved horse on the barn he went out and looked for it. It had been painted over numerous times and was camouflaged and unnoticed until he searched. He managed to gently pry the little equine from where it had been fused to the wall for decades, a small nail through its eye. The tail was broken in two places, but he carefully saved the fragments. He left it on his work bench for safe-keeping, then recently he glued and clamped it. 

My brother-in-law is a genuinely nice guy. He is also thoughtful and talented. "You are the only person who remembered Dicy's horse," he said. "So it should be with you." 

I opted to keep the pony just as it is, and she is now safely here at FairWinds. My eyes have stopped leaking, now I smile every time I walk past her. Thank you, John, for the amazing kindness. 

Dilly dally...

 Spring has been toying with us. There is a frost predicted for tonight, but that does not really matter, because there are bluebirds and tree swallows nesting in our bird houses, and the flowers are riotous. 

Rachel arrived today with an armload of loveliness all for me. 

I got right to work arranging them. What a delight. 

Nineteen or so years ago I planted some daffodil and tulip bulbs under the crabapple tree in the front yard. The daffodils are happy there and have spread. This is my view from where I work, so I get to see them nodding and bobbing in the breeze all day during their blooming season. 

Some of my sister Dicy's ashes were scattered in this spot. She had the most amazing, contagious laugh, whenever I was around her my face would hurt from smiling. I like to think of her laughing with flowers now.  

I mentioned in an earlier post that we planted some bulbs in a little rock garden that had been previously covered up with brush. It is coming into its own. I walked out tonight to admire it. There is a bird house right next to this space, with a lovely pair of tree swallows setting up housekeeping in it. I hope they appreciate the view, I know I do. 

Spring has stopped dilly dallying and is busting out in color and song all over. It's a delightful win. 

Small towns and flowers...

 For our March birthdays, Rachel and I received some cash from my sister Donna to designated to buy pansies. I've been happily anticipating this delightful shopping errand, and today was the day. I stopped into a greenhouse that I've heard about but not visited previously. It was a happy discovery. 

The greenhouse is tucked behind an old farm house and a barn full of cows. Chickens were scratching around, and beautiful 7 Tree Pond sparkled brightly at the edge of acres of sloping pasture. There was a sign near the entrance that said something like, "Feel free to browse. We are around, call --- ---- when you are ready to check out." I stepped in and was immediately awash in solar-powered warmth and the heavy, marvelous scent of warm soil and growing plants. I inhaled deeply. Several times, and grinned as I gazed up and down the rows of greenery and blossoms. It was like fast-forwarding the season and it felt (and smelled) so good. 

There was a wonderful selection of pansies. I bought one package of every color, making sure I got some that had "little faces" because they were my grandfathers favorite. 

I filled an entire tray with bright blossoms and felt almost giddy as I carried them to the cash register. I hadn't seen another soul there while I shopped, but did notice there was a self-serve pay box. 

Businesses that offer this option always make me so happy, because they are a testament to the inherent goodness of humans, something that is easy to forget when listening to the news these days. They are common around where we live, so I frequently get that same happy feeling as I buy milk, or pies, or hand-crafted items near me. 

I was getting ready to tuck some cash into the box when someone appeared to check me out. We had a nice chat and I admired my purchase as I tucked the tray safely into my front seat. 

Yesterday was Easter Sunday and we woke up to hear our furnace making alarming noises and no hot water. We called the company that sells us fuel and installed that furnace and to my surprise, they sent someone right out. On a Sunday. On a holiday. He fought valiantly with the stubborn furnace and got everything working as it should before he left. Small towns and local companies, nothing better! Add some pansies and smiles abound.