Party ready...

I get ideas in my head about little things I want to accomplish. Having a deadline such as an upcoming holiday is a bonus, because it encourages me to get things done and not just sit on my plans.Sometimes I get a little help...Chris happily tromped through some brush to get me winter berries and greens.

These found their way into the window box on the chicken coop, and here...

Today was rainy and cold, taking away my incentive to clean the chicken and duck houses. Instead I did a few things to get ready for Thanksgiving. I made up a batch of dough to make pie crusts. It will wait in the coldest part of the refrigerator until I bake on Wednesday.  I made my famous rum cake, because it actually improves if it sits a few days.

Bright cranberries were cooked with some orange zest, sugar and water, to make a tasty sauce to accompany the turkey.

I polished the bright work on the wood stove, and cleaned soot off the glass. I should do this more often, but it's not a fun task. It is a pleasure to see the flames more clearly when the glass is freshly cleaned, and the light reflects nicely off the brass. I really should make this a monthly event. Flirt doesn't care either way, she just likes to be warm.

Evans stopped in and sat a while, sharpening the knives I will use to prepare the upcoming feast. That was a special kindness.

I put a final coat of appliance paint on the top of our peeling freezer. It doesn't look great, but it does look better. I have a few other small chores to accomplish in the next three days, but mostly I am ready for the house to be filled with the happy chatter that accompanies a good party.

The little solar lights on the Donkey dorm look cheery, as does the illuminated arbor. I love the window candles glowing during these long, dark, nights.

Even the Silkies get in on the action, with a wee light in the window of their coop, shining out bravely over the pine in the window box. 

Let the winter holidays begin. We are ready.

Countdown...

I am in Thanksgiving countdown mode. I have lists. A guest list. A grocery list as long as your arm. My "to do" list is blissfully short, because I have planned ahead and accomplished many pre-holiday tasks well in advance. Chris' list isn't horrible either, but he does have to tackle the grocery shopping, and unenviable task. Rachel and I will work tomorrow, (Saturday,) then have one day off. We groom all day Monday and Tuesday, then Wednesday we start cooking early and stay in the kitchen all day. It will be so much fun!

Sister Deb had the brilliant idea that I need to write down all the recipes for our traditional Thanksgiving feast. She has even made me a binder to house them all. She said the spine says, "Gather," and the cover says, "A Gracious Plenty." It will be fun to have all the recipes in one place, and when I am ready to pass the holiday baton to the next generation they will have the flavors they remember at their fingertips if they want them. Or they can re-invent the whole menu!

The donkey dentist came out yesterday to check on Abraham's tooth. She gave him a dose of fast acting sedative, and he stood like a champ while she poked and prodded.The good news is that the site of the partial tooth removal is healing nicely. The bad news is that he has fractured another molar on the other side. She suggested we check him in the spring, unless he shows signs of discomfort before then. Meanwhile, he is eating well, and seems to feel fine.  He is here on the left, with his companions, sporting blaze orange bandannas so some over-eager hunter does not mistake them for a deer, and soaking up the sun on a chilly morn. Don't they look like a contented crew?

In a happy spare moment today I got the little window candles out of storage. Rachel and I unpacked them, put fresh batteries in and left them in a huddle until dusk. Then I quickly screwed each bulb into place until it glowed. I scurried about with an armful of illumination and placed a candle in every window. Now they will turn on at the same time each evening, and turn off after 6 hours or so.The day was dreary and wet, the sky glowering and dark even early on. It was lovely to step outside at twilight and see the windows aglow.

I love this time of year. The coziness of home, the short days, the long comfortable nights. Holiday anticipation is richly engaging, and I am caught up in all of it, happily.

Making ready...

Today we accomplished many chores to get ready for winter. Chris climbed up the rickety garage attic stairs and handed down the gallon sized heated water bowls for the chickens and ducks and the great big heated tub for the goats and donkeys. We gave them all a good scrubbing and a thorough rinse, then got them situated where they need to be. The big one for the hoof stock goes under a window near the grooming studio and plugs handily into an outlet I had put there for this specific reason. In even the nastiest weather, I can toss a hose out the window and fill that tub, never having to haul gallons of water out. It's fabulous. The animals much prefer warm water when it's cold, too, so they drink more, which is good for them. We put a little hay next to the bucket so they'd be sure to see it, as it is in a different place than their warm weather drink trough.

Next I rummaged around and found some flat concrete paving stones. I put two in the corner of the hen house, and a third next to it to be a little step. This way their heated bowl is slightly elevated, so hopefully they won't kick a lot of shavings into it while they are scratching around. Curious things, they checked it out right away.  It's always a neat trick to prevent them from unplugging the bowl, but I'll hope for the best.

Chris ran a long extension cord from the garage outside, behind the chicken coop, and there we set up a deeper bowl for the ducks.  Ducks have to be able to submerge their nostrils when they drink, to keep things clear and clean, so they need a deep bowl. I will also take them 3 gallons of warm water each morning and put it in a low pan so they can have a little splash. When it gets really cold the water begins to ice over within the hour, so they learn to splash fast.  I feel sad that their wading pool days are over, but they are. They will have to adjust to the reality of winter just like the rest of us. Their pool was frozen solid, so it has been dumped out and we will tuck it away to be enjoyed in the spring.

Meanwhile we had a big discussion about the duck house. The house they have always had is a small, sturdy, (heavy!) wooden structure. It was originally built to be a dog house. The ducks fit in it comfortably while they sleep, but it gives very limited room to move about. This is OK if the weather is fine, because they are out waddling around all day and just go in the house to rest at night. But if the weather is crummy they'd be stuck in a small space. Chris suggested we move the house out and put a larger shelter there for them. With quite a bit of effort the heavy house was moved, the ground smoothed, and a fiberglass calf hutch tucked into the space where the former house was.  I put a fresh bale of shavings in and fluffed them up. This change gives the ducks more than triple the space of the old house, so if we have a lot of snow they can at least move about a little. They eyeballed the new digs, looked skeptical, and went back to pottering about the yard.

At dusk I went out to find the ducks sitting just outside their spacious new condo looking a little confused. To my delight it only took a bit of encouragement to get them to step up and in. I fastened the door to keep visiting foxes out, and felt very pleased with the situation.

Meanwhile...I got brave this weekend and started letting the chicks come out of the coop to explore the world. They have been quite excited with their new horizons, nibbling on blades of grass, scratching through the fall leaves, chasing a late moth. I am pleased to say that they have mastered going in and out of the coop with no difficultly, and both nights have tucked themselves into their safe coop as the sun went down.

 After I got the ducks tucked safely in, I stepped up into the coop and counted beaks. 8 of the chicks have learned to roost at night, but the remainder pile up in one corner of the coop. I counted, 20. I counted again. Still 20. I was missing a chick!  I got my flashlight and looked under the coop. No chick. I listened to see if I could hear a bird chirping in distress. The evening was silent. I tried to think like a chicken. Apparently I am pretty good at that, and I turned the beam of my flashlight into the duck house. The ducks had already snuggled into the deep, clean shavings near the entrance. I pointed the light back further, and way in the rear, nestled deeply, a white chick was sleeping. Perhaps she was looking for a space of her own as she bedded down this evening. I left her there. Hopefully tomorrow night she'll rejoin the rest of the chicks.

The winter readiness check list got a work out today. Hopefully we will get even more done tomorrow.

Memory lane...

My big sister died, too young, 17 years ago. She was a magnetic personality, a moth-attracting flame. Time spent with her left me with my jaws aching from smiling and laughing out loud. She collected fascinating things... arrow heads and pottery shards found on and around her land in Bowdoinham, and quirky, whimsical, antiques. At one point the sofa in her house consisted of a magnificent, vintage sleigh stuffed with pillows and soft blankets. The perfect spot to curl up with a good book.

A few weeks ago her beloved former partner contacted me. "We need to schedule a time for you to get some family stuff." I arranged to drive there last week, and Rachel wanted to join me. For some ridiculous reason, it never occurred to me that this would be an emotional trip. I was looking forward to seeing her partner again, and to visiting the magical home they shared on the water. I was quite blithe as we drove there. I was happy to see the snug house, the imposing views, and to hug my sisters love. 

We loaded our car up with the family things she had been saving for me. My heart strings tugged as I saw the familiar items. We walked over the lovely grounds and sat on the Dicy memorial bench as the sun went down. Waves of ducks lifted and sank into the wild rice growing at the waters edge. We went inside. Everything was familiar, yet different. from the last time I was there, shortly before my sister died. That had been a wonderful visit. She felt well enough to take us out on her boat, showing us where osprey and eagles nested, telling stories about adventures she had experienced in this beautiful place, and stretching my face into aching grins. We grilled steaks and tossed salad and I savored every moment with her, suspected they might be the last we shared. And they were. 

Once inside we sat at the majestic dining table.Pictures were brought out, stories were shared, questions asked and answered. My eyes leaked a little. 

When we headed home I was surprised by what an emotional experience our visit had been. Then I was astonished to realize how silly it was to have not anticipated the feelings I was awash in. 

At home we carefully unpacked the treasures I had been gifted.  Here they are: 

A marvelous fireplace screen, it's fabric fragile and threadbare in places. It is freestanding when the feet at the bottom are twisted, but now it hangs over the living room sofa. Dicy liked the image of the saucy woman canoeing. I do, too. 

This vintage, child's sleigh held me, and most likely, my siblings, and ushered us over snow and icy lakes. Somewhere there is a picture of me in it. The upholstery was red velvet then, I think. I am planning to use it for Christmas decorating, the possibilities are endless. 

This lovely fairy was originally an advertisement for Fairy Soap. It is hanging in my guest room now, and I smile every time I walk past the doorway. 

This old, wooden trencher was most likely used as a bowl to knead dough in. I remember it when it was my mothers. She used to let me use it as a cradle for my big baby doll, Susie. She would fill it with huge salads for parties and holidays.  For many years it graced the center of Dicy's huge table, filled with her partners amazing collection of vintage rolling pins. 

I feel blessed, honored and thankful to have it and the other heirlooms, under my roof, brimming with memories and a heaping portion of love and kindness.

Is there a donkey tooth fairy..?

Abraham donkey had a bad tooth. A molar, at the very back of his mouth. It was broken, and food was catching in it. The vet told me it was painful. She took a look but didn't feel confident about removing it, and referred us to an equine dental specialist. Did you even know there was such a thing? There is, and she came to the farm two weeks ago. She took blood work and x rays. She tranquilized our little donkey friend and poked around in his mouth. It was decided that she would return the next week, after ordering smaller tools to get into the tight space way in the back. She came with an assistant, and they hauled in stacks of equipment. Abraham got another dose of tranquilizer, and then a catheter was inserted in his neck. This was a tricky, fiddly process, but finally it was in place. IV fluids were started, along with a more serious tranquilizer. A nerve block was injected so he wouldn't feel any pain in his jaw.

 I locked the goats up in the Cozy. They ate some hay, then napped while Abraham was worked on in the next room.

The donkey ladies stayed close to the door, curious about what was happening. 

Once he was sleepy, his mouth got a good rinse with a medicated wash. 

Next, a heavy, metal, speculum was buckled to his head, and his jaws were opened wide. 

Many tools were used, as the veterinarian tried to remove the broken tooth. 

After much effort, some of the offending tooth was removed. A shard, attached to the infected root, remained. This was disheartening, but the vet told me that at least food wouldn't be getting stuck there, and his pain would be relieved because the wiggly, broken part was removed.

She said Abraham was a very good donkey, and then said, "I rarely use those words together in a sentence." He had been a wonderful patient throughout the hours he was worked on.

They took the speculum off, and unhooked his catheter. Wobbly, he wandered outside and relieved himself the liters of fluid he had been given. Then came and put his head in my lap. For a long time.

The vet and her assistant carried all the tools back to her truck. I set the goats free. After a while Abraham was more awake and began looking for food. I gave him some hay and he ate it. I paid the doctor, was pleased that my donkey was alert and hungry, then found myself sighing deeply. The whole experience had been more stressful than I had anticipated. Watching my little donkey go through that long, arduous process was hard. I felt wrung out.

Just then the phone rang. It was the man I was borrowing the buck goat from. "I'm on my way, I'll be there to get Bon Homme in 20 minutes." The buck is cute as can be, but wild as a March hare, and I knew catching him would be tricky. Back out to the pasture I went, with some goat grain. The lady goats recognized the bucket and came running. The buck was hot on their heels, because he wanted to be with them EVERY SINGLE SECOND. I locked them back up, just in time. The goat farmer arrived, and was pleased that he didn't have to chase his buck around the big pasture.He tied a length of baling twine around the goats neck and hauled him to his truck, and they were off.

Suddenly the farmlette seemed quieter. The donkeys dozed in the sun, the goats nosed around for late autumn plants to eat.

Later we had a fire in the back yard, then Chris and Evans teamed up to create a fabulous supper for us to share.

 Now we wait to see how donkey boy heals up. So far he is being a good sport, swallowing 14 antibiotic pills a day, and tolerating my fussing over him. He and I are both looking for a visit from the donkey tooth fairy.

Life lessons...

In high school I had a friend named Jamie of whom I was particularly fond. We'd often eat lunch together, laughing and talking about boys. Then, as it sometimes happens in life, we went our different paths. She went to college, got married, moved to Cape Cod, had two daughters. I thought of her often, but we had little contact.

Then a few years back we re-connected on Facebook. Social media has many a drawback, but there are wonderful things about it, too, like reforging old bonds.  Not too long after we started visiting on Facebook, I mentioned that my Flirt poodle had a puppy that was looking for a home.  Jamie was looking for a small dog to join their family, and they next thing I knew she and her husband were coming to adopt the pup.

I liked her husband the moment I met him. Tall and rather quiet at first, I soon learned he had a good sense of humor, a curious mind, and a deep love of his family. He enjoyed looking around our little farm, meeting the animals, and asking great questions.  Jamie explained that Harry was raised in the city of Lynn, and had not ever had much exposure to farm animals before.  He had a twinkle in his eye every time he came here, most especially when we would go spend time in the pasture. The goats would go through his pockets looking for treats, and his grin would brighten the whole place up a few notches.

Three years ago Jamie announced to her many friends and family that kept up with her on Facebook that Harry had been diagnosed with cancer.

They jumped right in to fight the good fight. And Jamie told us about it every step of the way. The medical treatments, the successes and disappointments. And how they chose to tackle this particular challenge. They decided to make memories.

The next thing we knew, they'd both retired. They went to Europe. They went to Iceland. They bought the cutest little retro looking camper you've ever seen, and they took off. We got to see it all. The wild horses, the buffalo, the national monuments. The ocean side walks, the rocks they climbed.They posted hundreds of "selfies," side by side, grinning, with amazing backdrops. We got to see the cozy camp grounds where they, along with their two little dogs, would cook and chat and laugh, relax and enjoy each others company. Chris and I had the opportunity to join them one time while they were camping in Maine. Burgers on the grill, dogs in laps, laughter and chatting all around. It was sweet. Every time they came to Maine they'd stop by. Rachel and I would groom the dogs, Jamie and Harry would bring us home made beach plum jam and other treats, and we always were richer for the time spent together.

Jamie and Harry were the sort of couple that everyone hopes to be. Totally comfortable together, supportive of one another. Jamie funny and outgoing, Harry a little more reserved, but obviously delighted to watch his wife's antics. They touched each other a lot... his arm around her shoulder, her hand on his leg. Warmth radiated from them.

This fall the Facebook news told us that they were not planning any trips. Harry chose to go on Hospice care. The posts never showed any self pity; each was full of courage and joy in the time they had together.  Harry started his next journey on October 17th. He was home, in the arms of the woman he so clearly loved and admired.

I am so grateful to have had the chance to spend some time with my old friend, Jamie, and my new friend, Harry. They have taught me much as they shared the story of the last three years. How to embrace all the good in life, how to be courageous as the sand in the hourglass dwindles. They took every step with deep love, and took the time to share with others how they lived life to the fullest while they could. You left us inspired, Harry. Thank you.

Visitor...

There was a knock on the door around 1 PM today.  My daughter opened it and said to me, "You have a buck!"

The man at the door was familiar. We have "rented" bucks from him before. Today he brought me Bon Homme, a buck born last spring. He was in the back of a pick up truck, with a cap on it. The bed was full of hay, and there was bucket of grain to keep the goat entertained. He looked a little worried.

Charles said, "He is not used to being led." I asked, "So, how are you planning to do this?" He said, I'm going to grab him and start walking. I went ahead, opening gates. 

My goats were in the far pasture. They must have smelled the new guy, because their heads snapped up, and they began to call, "Baaa?"

Running, they headed in our direction.  We brought the buck into the pasture. The donkeys saw us coming and began to bray.

The buck is terribly handsome. The dirty looking parts?  Male bucks in "rut," (ready to breed) urinate on their faces and legs to make themselves more desirable to the does. To humans, the scent is unpleasant. To does, it is irresistible.

My girls think he is the best thing since sliced bread.

Tonight they are all tucked up into the goat cozy with piles of hay. A big rain storm is headed this way, but the goats are snug and plotting kids for spring.

Bon Homme is a welcome visitor.