Years end...

Christmas eve found us with 9 around our festive table. There were appetizers,  and a rather magnificent rib roast, cooked with an obscene amount of garlic, a dozen bay leaves, and a couple cups of good red wine. We also made some creamy mashed potatoes, and Rachel and Evans brought a lovely salad and warm gingerbread with whipped cream for dessert. I think it is safe to say no one went home hungry.

Christmas morning, there were goodie-filled stockings for "the kids," and a squishy new bed, piles of squeaky toys and some special treats for the dogs.

After an exceptional breakfast, we opened gifts. Each carefully and thoughtfully chosen to delight its recipient.  Love in bright ribbons and bows. Chris got a long-wished for Panama hat.

I was given some amazing vintage items.

And Evans was a good sport about his funny shirt.

The livestock had sliced apples and carrots, along with other delicacies 

After the holidays Chris and I made a trip south to my sister and brother-in-law's house. The same house my dad built before I was born, and where I had the good fortune to grow up. It was beautifully decorated and bunches of loved ones came to share supper with us. I got to hold my sleeping 3 year old great niece in my arms for a precious time, and couldn't help but think how pleased my parents would be to know that we were still gathering and celebrating special occasions inside those dear walls.

 I went to visit them, too. 

My sister, niece and I had a sweet trip to a place I used to love as a child, Putnam Pantry. It features a make your own sundae bar, with the most delicious toppings.  One room still has the original pink tiled tables, and soda fountain chairs. The wall paper is even the same. Entering the door my senses were immersed in the things that memories are made of. The sight, the sound and especially the smell. I remembered sticky birthday parties, trips with my siblings, or just with my mom, a few dates with my first love. It was all delicious.

Farewell 2018. Despite some bumps along the way, you were delectable. 

Donkeys and such...

Sarah donkey has a sore hoof. Her doctor has instructed that I soak it for 40 minutes, 3 times a week. Rachel has mastered the art of putting the soaking boot on so it stays. When I put it on, Sarah is able to shake it off in about 30 seconds.  Last week we had a fine, warm, morning and I tried my best to put that boot on snugly. I could tell it wasn't going to stay though, so adjusted it and resigned myself to sitting outside and keeping her still while she soaked. I upended a muck bucket, and grabbed a brush, then sat there, holding on to Sarah's lead rope while she soaked. She was happy for the company and stood very still. I brushed her dear face, her funny little mane, and down her broad back. I brushed her tail and her curvy hips and down her legs. I cleaned her hooves and then brushed her round belly and sturdy chest. She liked all of it, and before I knew it, had rested her head in my lap! Her eyes were shut and there she stayed, for long, lovely, minutes. Meanwhile, Abraham stood nearby, and I brushed him, too.  When I took a break, he moved behind me, and rested his chin on my shoulder.

And there I was. Being actively snuggled by donkeys. It was a very special time.

In the mail yesterday I received a little envelope from the woman who gave Sarah to me. I was delighted when I opened it up.

A little, red, needle-felted donkey. She is now hanging on our Christmas tree. I love the little smile on her face, and the sparkle in her eye. 

My customers enjoy the donkeys, too. Some even bring them gifts. 

We had a pretty little snow storm last week. My neighbor snapped this picture of the back of our house on her way to work. 

And I captured this shot of our arbor while I was shoveling. 

I have had a lovely Christmas season. I've been enjoying listening to my favorite music, baking cookies, and grooming many, many dogs and cats during these busy weeks. I'll be sad when it's over, but am excited to see what joys the New Year has in store. 

Flirt and festoons...

Nine years ago a random messaging conversation with a friend suddenly had me agreeing to buy a puppy.  A toy poodle puppy, to be exact.  I have a list of breeds of dogs I'd love to live with before I die, and toy poodle was never on that list. Yet, I had an overwhelming feeling that this little girl was meant to be mine.

 I picked her up in Georgia at a grooming trade show. To be brutally honest, it wasn't love at first sight. She was kind of homely as a baby. Her coat was wispy, her body long and legs short. Her ears were set rather high on her head. She weighed 2.5 pounds and soon let me know that though her body was wee, her spirit was huge. We named her Flirt, and it was a name well chosen. This girl never meets a human that she does not love.  And she pretty much demands that they love her in return. From infants to elders, she simply adores people. Happiest when she is with me, if I am not available, other folks will do. She has certain special humans that she adores beyond measure, (JCA!) but in general, she is just a people "person." She is a happy, sweet girl, and a most excellent snuggle buddy.

This week we celebrated her ninth birthday. Other than the fact that she is not shy about leaving the occasional "poodle bomb" on the floor of the laundry room, and that her voice is akin to the tone of a smoke detector, she is a grand companion. I love her beyond reason, and am so glad she is mine.

On a different note...

I would like to be the sort of person who is crafty, but really, I'm not.  Still, every once in a while I pull off a little project I am pleased with.  As I was taking down the last of the autumn decorations and beginning to replace them with Christmas things, I decided it would be a shame to throw away all the pretty dried hydrangea blossoms I had gathered.  A wee spark of "crafty" glimmered. I fanned it into a flame and off I went.

I carried them out to the garage, and a few at a time, I put them in a big, cardboard box. I had picked up a can of copper spray paint, and away I went, gilding each cluster with coppery highlights.

I let them dry overnight, and the next day went for a walk with my hedge clippers, and pruned a few trees. Then I got out my very fun vintage looking lights. They are shaped like pinecones, and have a warm glow.

With a little time I festooned three horizontal surfaces in the front room and living room.

On top of the tall television cabinet I changed things up a little. I have a short strand of little electric candles that flicker sweetly. I clipped each candle on to a sturdy branch and stood back, well pleased. 

Meanwhile, the Christmas tree was bought and decorated.

There are certain ornaments that I am delighted to greet every year, like old, special, friends. 

 The fabric heart I made in high school.

 The "first married Christmas" ornament,(interestingly enough, given to my by the grandmother of my first boyfriend.)

And of course, "baby's first Christmas," (a special gift from my thoughtful sister Deb.)  Each helps me to remember special times in years past.

As I was decorating, James Taylor sang to me. There was one song that I have heard a thousand times or more, but on that day I really listened. The song was "Secret o' Life." The lyric that resonated was, "The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time." And that is just it. From 3,285 days with a small dog by my side, to cutting greens and repurposing flowers I filched from a huge bush at the local cemetery, to loving every moment of decorating for Christmas, it's all about enjoying the passage of time. There are plenty of things I'm not good at, but I think I have enjoyment part down pat.

What if..?

This morning I was awake before dawn. I snuggled in for a while, as the windows, then the curtains, then the roses on the dresser became visible in the chill, gray, light.  It was bitterly cold outside. I could tell because when it is in the single digits the boards of the deck outside my window pop and snap in the still air. I was in no hurry to leave the warmth of bed and go out to tend the animals.  But eventually I did. Bravo hops up to encourage me to start the day.

Once up and out, I am always glad. I greet the barn cats with a plate of food and they rub against me, purring loudly. The rituals of my morning chores are filled with small delights. The dogs frisk around as I carry hay, fill water bowls, let the chickens out from their coops. I am only milking one goat now, but the quiet moments when all I hear are the sounds of her enjoying breakfast, and the hiss of warm milk filling the pail are pleasantly meditative.

Chris likes to sleep in on Sunday, so when chores are done I have the house to myself. I cleaned the wood stove and got a good fire going. The house looks festive, decorated for Christmas. It smells of evergreen with a hint of wood smoke. It's quiet as I strain the milk, heat it to make chevre, (simple cheese,) and feed my bread starter. I empty the dishwasher, looking out to see the donkeys, sheep and goats pulling great mouthfuls of hay from the rack. A few bold hens have left the coop, and are scratching around in the pasture. I begin to cook breakfast, deeply content.

Chris and I often wonder what heaven would be like. I take a look around me and suddenly wonder, "What if this is it? What if this is my heaven?" I pause and smile. That would be sweet.

Simple things...

Sometimes it is the most simple things that bring me the most pleasure. Here is an example. Our large animal housing consists of a shed with two rooms. The first, original, room was for the horse. When I added more goats than I had intended, we built a small addition off the back for them. It has a doorway, which we screwed a bar across to keep the horse out. The room is fairly narrow, and I was afraid she'd lie down in there and get stuck. The goats, (and I) could duck under the bar and all was well. Abraham donkey could also go under the bar, but mostly hung out with the horse in the larger area. When the horse died and we added another donkey, we lowered the bar by a significant amount, and made it so I could slide it in and out of metal brackets. It didn't slide easily, and we soon learned it didn't keep the donkeys out, either. I had trouble getting the bar out the brackets, but they did not.  I really wanted a space just for the goats, so I could give them their special minerals and such, and not worry about the donkeys eating all their food. Another problem I was having was that the wooden floor of the chicken coop was getting mushy. The coop is elevated, and I was afraid that one day I'd put my foot through the floor and cause myself serious harm.

My neighbor/friend mentioned that her carpenter husband was between regular jobs. I asked if he'd be interested in helping us create a donkey deterrent gate, and replacing my coop floor. These are really handy man jobs, and he is an artist with wood, but he kindly agreed help me out.  A few days later he appeared, and disappeared into the donkey dorm/goat cozy. I was working, but was dying of curiosity to see what he'd come up with.  Next I saw him cutting and carrying sheets of plywood from the driveway to the coop.  In a few hours he was done and gone, and I was working as fast as I could so I could go check out his handiwork. To my delight, the coop floor was solidly replaced with nice, sturdy plywood. Safe for the birds and me. I don't know about them, but I was relieved. And then, I toddled out to the shed. What to my wondering eyes should appear?

The most elegant little gate. Big, sturdy hinges make it swing easily. On the right is a metal bracket he made by cutting up one of the ones we were using. He mounted it in such a way that I can easily swing it up, even if I am wearing bulky gloves. I can then go in to feed or clean up. But the donkeys are evicted, permanently. The goats scoot right through, and come and go as they wish. I am delighted by this gate, it has made my life so much easier.

Meanwhile, Sarah donkey is still lame. The farrier was out and he thinks that instead of an abscess, she is experiencing pain from something called "white line disease." It is a fungal and/or bacterial infection of part of the hoof, and quite common in donkeys.  She had it when she came to live here, and despite regular trimming it has gotten worse. We ordered some special medication to soak her hoof in. We are supposed to soak it for 40 minutes 3 times a week.  This seemed daunting, but my hero husband, problem solver par excellence, bought me something marvelous.

It's a heavy rubber tube, with an absorbent pad that can be inserted in the bottom. Invented for just this reason, but I had no idea they even existed. I simply mix up the soak, place Sarah's little hoof in, and cinch the boot up snugly. She was less than amused by our first efforts, but I think things will go more smoothly in the future. I let her stomp around for the allotted time, then take the boot off and clean it up.  SO much easier than other methods I was using.

Meanwhile, I am giving her pain medication, and she seems to be more comfortable.
Chris caught this sweet shot of the two friends dozing in the sun on a bed of cast off hay.

Sturdy gates, soaking boots, happy animals enjoying rest. It's the simple things that bring me joy.

Limping along...

On Thanksgiving day I noticed that Sarah appeared to be limping a little. I looked at her, hard, and couldn't quite decide if she was limping or just walking slowly because of the snow. I filed the information in my busy head.  By yesterday it was clear. She WAS limping, favoring her left rear leg. I messaged my wonderful veterinarian, and she suggested I soak the foot in warm water with Epsom salts. That didn't go so well.  She also said she could come out today.

She was wearing multiple layers of warm clothes, as she went from farm to farm in today's storm.  We found Sarah, Abraham, the goats and sheep in the shed.  She walked Sarah outside a little and said, "She's lame, but not too bad." Then she squatted down and began to cut away at the donkey's little hoof.  Sarah was very good about it.  At first she and Abraham were head to head.

When he realized the vet (see the pink hat above) was doing something to his beloved, he spun around, in close quarters.

He watched very, very closely as she worked.

The veterinarian suspects there is an abscess in Sarah's hoof. "They hurt like the dickens," she told me. She tried to find it, but could not. She brought in a heavy plastic bag, and filled it with warm water and Epsom salts. She put Sarah's hoof in there and taped it up.  We hung out for a while, and she fashioned special bandage while we waited.  Sarah stood quietly.

Meanwhile, Bliss checked out the doctors bag with great interest.

Next my wonderful veterinarian removed the bag, smeared some medicated goo on the area she'd been cutting, then placed a moistened poultice on the bottom of the hoof. Then she layered on an entire roll of vet wrap (elasticized bandage material.) After that, she placed the specially made pad fashioned from duct tape over the bottom of the hoof. It extended up and around the outside hoof wall, as well. She wrapped the whole thing in more duct tape and the job was done.

 Sarah tolerated the entire process with grace. SUCH a good little donkey.

I am supposed to re-bandage the hoof Thursday. THAT will be a rodeo. Any volunteers to help? Hopefully Sarah will be dancing a jig in no time, pain free and on the mend. My animals are a constant adventure.

Thankful...

We have so very much to be grateful for. Maybe that is why I make a rather big deal about Thanksgiving. My parents always hosted large, delicious, Thanksgiving feasts, with lots of family coming to join in, and I have carried on the tradition.  This year was no exception.

 Rachel and I prepared much of the feast the day before. Dips for the appetizers, sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes, corn bread dressing, bread stuffing (delicious redundancy!) rum cake, pecan pie, bread. Most everything is made from scratch, right down to the chicken broth used in the stuffing, dressing and gravy. All that is left to do on the day of feast is cook the turkeys, make gravy, and set up the tables.

Rachel made her first pie crusts. They were lovely and delicious.

The house looked welcoming. Yellow roses, in remembrance of my mother, who often decorated with them when she was the hostess of the event, were scattered about in old bottles. The day was cold, the coldest Thanksgiving in many years. Several inches of snow covered the ground, and the windows were painted with frost.

It made coming inside, where the air was warm and heavily scented with the aromas of all the good food, that much sweeter. Twenty people came in, and shared the day. As always, I loved listening to the sound of voices chatting, and bursts of laughter. One nice thing about our annual event is that there is a distinct lack of drama. We like it that way.

Clack, unimpressed with the cold, snuck inside every chance he got. This "barn" cat quickly discovered the comfort of the basket in front of the stove.

My niece bought me a funny shirt. It will be my cooking uniform forever more!

I cleaned up before our guests arrived. Rachel was off to spend the day with her in-laws.

Sister Deb is a huge help in making everything run smoothly. She has also become the queen of creating delicious gravy.

Though we cook up the major components of the meal, everyone else pitches in to help. It's a stone soup affair, with many contributions adding up to make everything  come magically together.

Fresh snacks from Aimee, beautiful pie from cousin Chrisy, and so much more. 

Love in every dish...

Chris pulled of a miracle of sorts, smoking a 22 pound turkey when the weather was in the single digits. Getting the smoker hot enough to do this was an epic feat, but he pulled it off with his normal aplomb. It was delicious, as always.

After we dined, nephew Dave and his girlfriend Marjory treated us to some toe tapping live music. A little dancing happened, too. I may have been involved.

Much to be grateful for, indeed.