Lazy days...

On Saturday Marion, Rachel and I got together to make a batch of tiramisu. It is one of Marion's favorite desserts, and this was a little early birthday celebration.

We had mimosa's, a little local goat cheese and crackers, and good conversation while the results of our efforts chilled. The dogs held me down.

Then we tasted the tiramisu and found it to be quite nice. But we agreed that perhaps we should practice again, and again, until we get it "just right!"

Sunday Chris and I decided to do an early beach visit, and were there by 9:30. The place was empty, the tide was high. I finished my book, took a walk in the sand, picked up and put down a myriad of shells and stones. Then I spread a towel on the sand and let the sun toast my back a while. We took a swim and another stroll. Just like that, two hours had passed. Hours filled with the sound of surf raking over rocks, the scent of salt water and wild roses, and a cool breeze whisking away the heat of the sun. It felt like my batteries were being recharged.

We stopped into a favorite place for lunch, then home for a peaceful afternoon.  Later we went to our favorite farm stand and got the first sweet corn of the season, and a couple lobsters.

Some storm clouds were rolling in from the west, but we had time for supper at our weathered picnic table, a summer feast after a lovely day.

And then today, after chores and cleaning out the donkey dorm and goat cozy, I did a little writing. And some goofing off.  I tidied the house. Then Rachel, Evans and Opal came over. The day was hot and humid, and we planned a swim. Our sweet friend had extended the offer for us to visit her beautiful nearby camp on a lovely lake. We have not been yet this year, but I've been looking so forward to it. Today was the day.

Bravo headed right into the water.  Flirt stood on the dock and looked concerned. Once I was in the lake, I took Flirt in my arms and lowered her hot little body into the water.  She liked it. I let her swim a little, and she didn't hate it.In general she is not a fan of getting wet. Meanwhile, Bravo was paddling about with gusto, happy as could be. He would swim to me, then go to shore, come back to me, paddle around me, go back to shore, repeat. I swear he had a grin on his face.

Little Opal, in her life jacket, swam from human to human, from shore then back. In between she and Bravo wrestled and played. The air around the camp smelled like those balsam pillows sold in tourist shops. Sunshine sparkled on the rippling water, and we embraced the lovely solitude for a happy hour.

On the way home the dogs were tired

Greeting me in the garden was this lovely, the frosting on the cake of sweet time off.

Three delicious, lazy, summer days, filled with sun and rest, delicious food, summer delights, and fine companionship. The sort of days one might remember in January, when the temperatures plummet and cold winds blow.

Garden party...

After last nights drama, a quiet walk in the garden this morning was nice. It was a drizzly dawn, cooler and still, except for the high, peeping sound of turkey poults calling their parents from the edge of the woods.

A customer left the sweet painted rock as a surprise. It goes nicely with the crimson petunias.

The clematis I planted two years ago is blooming up a storm.

A pumpkin in the making.

The Passion Flower vine I planted is very happy on the trellis. It is covered in buds.

This variegated geranium is a pretty thing.

The day lilies are blooming.

Yarrow is, too.

The bluebird chicks must have hatched in the last 24 hours, because both parents are suddenly in and out, carrying fat bugs. Here papa bluebird carries a caterpillar for his young.

Summer, and the gardens are bursting with color and life.

"... no one can hear you scream..."

The 1979 sci-fi masterpiece film Alien had the tag line, "In space, no one can hear you scream." I don't live in space, but there is a lot of space around me. I have to admit that I love the fact that I cannot see a single  house from my yard. I have wonderful neighbors, who are there if I ever need anything from a helping hand to a cup of sugar, but wherever I look there are trees and fields, deer and turkey and wildlife. It's lovely.

Our grand Pug Opal is here for a spend-the-night. She is 7 months old now, and the embodiment of happiness. We are all in love with her, especially Rachel, who tells me almost every day, "I love my puppy." So try to imagine my horror when she was nearly killed before my very eyes today.

Here she is, 13 pounds of firmly packed joy. She is mostly a very good dog, but she is young and foolish, and has one terrible habit... sometimes she will dash out a door or through a gate, and giddy with freedom, refuse to be captured.

 See that fence behind Opal? It has openings 4" square. Late this afternoon, while I was in the back yard taking care of chickens, potting a few plants, pulling a few weeds, and generally puttering, Opal gave me the side eye and pushed through one of those squares in the fence, out into the pasture. She was delighted, and made a bee line for the donkeys. To their credit, Sarah and Abraham did not kick her when she dashed inches behind their heels. But Jezebel? She took one look at the little fawn dog dancing in her space and decided she needed to kill it.  She was off at warp speed, chasing the tiny pug.

 The gentle little donkey turned into something rather fierce and terrifying.  Her ears were pinned flat, her lips pulled back in a horrible grimace. 300 pounds of angry equine was thundering around the gleeful little puppy. With her front hooves, she tried to smash the dog into the ground, with her long teeth she tried to bite.I could not catch either of them.

Please let me tell you that I am not a screamy kind of woman. I don't come from loud people. My father greatly disliked raised voices, and we were taught from an early age to modulate our tone or be spoken to firmly. In 35 years of marriage I have never raised my voice at my husband.But tonight I screamed. I screamed and screamed and screamed some more, trying to stop the donkey from smashing baby Opal.How would I ever tell Rachel and Evans that I had allowed their sweet puppy to be killed so horribly?

 Confused by my uproar, the donkey paused her chase for one moment, and to my relief, Opal had a moment of clarity and ran towards the gate, then lay flat, submissive, allowing me to scoop her up. My heart was racing, blood pounding. I hoped my neighbors had not heard me, how embarrassing!

I held the puppy tightly and showed her to Jezebel. Trying to calm myself and speak in a normal tone I told her, "Do not hurt this dog. She belongs here." Jezebel sniffed her, but looked dubious. Opal hung in my arms, limp as a noodle. I think she realized she had felt the hot breath of death, and it smelled like donkey.

I carried her to the house, and once she was safe I began to tremble. My throat hurt from screaming. The adrenaline that had been dumped by my nervous system left me feeling weak and stupid.
It was then that there was a knock at the door. My sweet neighbors Joyce and Dan were there, looking terribly concerned. "Are you alright? Dan thought he heard you scream."  I was flooded with a weird mixture of gratitude and shame. What must they think of me? I had made the most horrendous sounds out there, watching the drama unfold before me. I tried to explain, and I hope they understood, but really, how could they? Unless you've seen an beloved, innocent creature nearly die right before your very eyes, it all sounds rather ridiculous.

At least I know, now, that someone can hear me scream. I hope they never have a chance to again, but isn't it nice that they cared to come and check on me? Blessings all around.

Summer Sunday...

The grooming studio was extra busy this week. We opened early, we worked late. We have a waiting list, and every hour was packed with pets. The weather was toasty, the pace brisk. When I woke this morning and realized it was Sunday, I was glad. I had two dogs visiting, and grand-pug Opal was here for a "spend the night," so I took care of all the dogs first thing. Then I let the poultry out, and filled their water pans and wading pool with cold, clean, water. The donkeys and goats had a little breakfast.Next, I hit the sofa with my laptop for some greedy quiet time. It was lovely.  Around 9:00 I got up, showered and pulled on a bathing suit, then covered it with a dress.  One of the visiting dogs went home. The other got a nice walk. It was getting hot, the thermometer nudging 90.  Chris and I packed a cooler with cold drinks, grabbed two folding chairs and headed for the beach. When we got there the parking lot was nearly empty. The crescent of beach was open, the tide low. We walked to a solitary spot and set our chairs up. Books in hand, toes in the sand, I felt the tension release from my shoulders. The sound of rippling waves curling over pebbles soothed me on some deep, elemental level. Children laughed and shrieked. Mothers and fathers dipped toddlers in the sea like animated tea bags.

Even at the height of summer, the beach was fairly deserted. It was much cooler here, with a lovely breeze.

I asked Chris to use his long arms to take a "selfie." When I looked at it I was aghast at the wrinkles around my eyes. Then I decided they were all his fault, he's kept me laughing for the last 35 years.What could be better?  And look at his eyes. Have you ever seen anything kinder? 

Right off I tested the water. It felt icy cold, even just washing around my ankles. So I sat and read, and after a while I began to get hot. I waded in waist deep. Every small, rippling, wave, made me gasp as it reached higher on my body.

I gave up after the water reached belly high, and retreated to read more. I decided I was being a wimp, and tried again, braving the chill and finally diving, head first, imagining I could hear the sizzle as the sea closed around my head. It was fabulous.

The sun was high and we had no sun screen, so we skedaddled off to Rockland for lunch. Claws is a fun eat-in-the-rough spot we enjoy. It boasts nice views...

And what they dub, "Vacation Sized" glasses of wine, (16 oz.), local beer, and cute plastic lobsters to keep track of each order.

Chris had an oyster po' boy, and I tried lobster taco's. They were tasty.

As we drove home, a torrential rainstorm surrounded us, dropping the temperature around 20 degrees. There was a delectable afternoon nap, then Chris grilled chicken which we enjoyed in the shade of the back yard.  Our Sunday is nearly over, and we are both relaxed, refreshed, and ready to take on another busy week.

Donkeys and happiness...

Jingle has settled in wonderfully. In fact, I think it is safe to say that she the leader of the herd. In this picture Abraham in on the left, Jingle on the right, and Sarah in the rear. Jingle does not answer to her name, or even flick an ear when I call it, so we have taken to calling her Jezebel. She ignores that, too, but we rather like it. She is wildly excited when every other day each donkey gets a bowl with 1/2 cup of vitamin and mineral supplement pellets.  These are designed to promote good health and sturdy hooves.  Her hooves are fine at the moment. The farrier was out last week and pronounced her sound. Meanwhile, Sarah and Abraham's feet were not as wonderful as they were on his last visit. He wants me to start rubbing Vick's Vaporub on them once a week. I need to buy a tub of the stuff. Sarah is supposed to be getting medication every day, but hates it, and we have to chase her. And chase her. And chase her some more. It takes more than one person. Sometimes I have to call in a dog. Many times I fail altogether. She is smarter, faster and stronger than I am. It's maddening. I have starting making her wear a halter all the time, to help me catch her. It does not help much as she can easily wrench her head away from my grasp and take off, bucking. 

I found a man that would deliver hay and on Saturday we put 100 bales up in the garage. This makes me wildly happy, because it means the goats and donkeys have a winters worth of hay stored.The spring and early summer have been so wet, I suspect hay will be expensive and hard to find this winter. I have 40 more bales at a friends farm, and we will start getting it soon and adding it to the stash.

Sister Deb came to visit for the weekend. Saturday we went to Arts in the Park in Camden, where booths of amazing crafts were displayed before incredible views of the picturesque harbor. I put a few Christmas gifts up, and we bought lobster to bring home for supper from a local fish market.  Deb made these delicious appetizers, with fresh Maine crab, sushi rice, mango, diced cucumber, a spicy saucy topping and toasted sesame seeds.

I made garlic studded focaccia bread. Rachel and Evans joined us for the feast.

Chris cooked the lobsters to perfection, but I failed to take a picture.  There is something so nice about eating a messy meal like that at our rustic picnic table. We had a fire dancing in the fire ring, and there was a lovely breeze. The goats and donkeys cavorted in the pasture. We had music and conversation. These are the summer moments I treasure.

When Deb left this morning she gave me a long hug. "I'm glad you are happy," she said. And what more can be spoken? Isn't that the wish we have for everyone we love?

Wonderful weekend...

We took a long weekend off to revamp the grooming studio. It was a good bit of work, but the end results are lovely.

It just so happened that the hottest days of the summer so far coincided with our efforts. After we put things back together on Saturday we were sweltering and a little cranky.  The decision was unanimous. We needed to go for a swim.  Rachel and I peeled off our sticky clothes and changed into bathing suits. We put Bravo and Opal into the car and drove to the Sennebec Pond boat ramp. To our delight, the place was pretty much deserted.

 Bravo was delighted. He knew what was in store, and splashed in for a cooling paddle. Pugs are not known for being swimmers, and Opal has had limited experience with water.  With their deep chests and squished faces, Pugs are far from aqua-dynamic.  But with a new bright orange life jacket on, and watching her buddy Bravo paddle around with ease, Opal was soon swimming with aplomb.

The water was just cool enough to feel fabulous on a hot day. And though the day got hotter, the refreshment lingered.  I went home and did some cooking. We had company coming for supper. I made up a big batch of pasta salad, and baked a lemon cake. I set the table and arranged flowers. The sky grew dark and thunder rumbled in the distance.  I hustled out to do chores before the rain came, and just barely made it. The rain came down fast and furious, thunder boomed, Bravo quaked, and cooler air blew in the open windows. When the storm passed, the heat was broken, a sweet relief.

Today dawned cool and crisp, the word "perfect" seemed the best way to describe it. We went out for breakfast, then headed to Belfast for Arts in the Park.

We enjoy this annual festival.  Clusters of tents, each filled with lovely things, perch along the harbor. There are food trucks, and wonderful music.

On a warm summer day the smell of fresh mown grass, salt water, and the wild Rugosa roses that bloom in profusion near the shore is indescribably delicious.

I bought myself a treat. A wind chime made from reclaimed silver plate. I saw them last year and regretted I didn't buy one. It makes a tinkling sound and I love the look of it.

Rachel and Evans joined us, and after we explored the festival we walked down town and had lunch sitting on a patio overlooking the harbor. The word idyllic comes to mind. Next we went home and had a peaceful nap, I am reading an interesting book, and snuggling up with the afternoon sun streaming in and a fan whirring in the window was so peaceful.

When we woke up we loaded the truck with our kayaks for the first time this year. We put in at 7 Tree Pond, paddled up the river to Round Pond, then back again. For a long while it was just us... no roads, no phone poles, no people. Our paddles dipping in the water, birds calling, frogs croaking, and minnows splashing silver in the shallows, the only sounds.To me this is as good as it gets, and to have Chris join me was icing on the cake.

Home again we sat at our picnic table and feasted on leftover barbecued chicken, jalapeno cheddar cornbread and pasta salad. We watched the animals graze in the sinking sun and felt glad. It was a wonderful weekend.

Independence day...

Rachel and I really know how to celebrate a holiday. We decided to change our schedule up a bit so we would have an extra long weekend, courtesy of the 4th of July. There was a reason for this, beyond having a little respite during our busiest time of year.  Wednesday evening, after a full day of grooming, we took every single thing out of the grooming studio.  We cleaned each item as we moved it, wiping down the furniture and tools, one by one. It took us a couple of hours to do this. We had the good sense to plan ahead and put batch of Hungarian Goulash big enough to feed 4 in the crock pot.  She headed home with a hot supper, and we settled in here with ours.

Bravo loves the grooming studio, and was clearly unhappy with our activities. Chris was surprised to come home from work and see the dining room packed full of... well, everything.

I was up early on Independence Day. I hung our beautiful flag, took care of the animals, and then Chris and I headed out to buy the floor cleaner I had forgotten to purchase before the holiday. While it was mighty convenient to be able to go to a big box store for what I needed, I couldn't help but be sad that it was open at all. I remember when I was growing up every store was closed up tight on major holidays, and that seems more fitting.

Once home, Rachel joined me and we washed the walls in the studio, then she got down on her hands and knees and scrubbed the floor with a stout brush. I mopped. Then mopped again. And one more time for good measure.  It was a hot, sunny, day, and the windows were open. The floor dried pretty fast, so soon we got in there with trim brushes and painted the floor from the walls out. Next we used a roller on a nifty handle and painted the rest.  We last painted the floor a year and a half ago. We took some time off in January, when business is a little slower anyway, and moved everything out for the project. Though the studio is heated, the floor was cold, and the paint never cured properly. Even when freshly washed, it showed the dirt, and chipped, looking disreputable. We were happy to cover that up and try again. It's warm and lovely now, so hopefully it will cure hard and perfectly, and last longer for us. We are plotting ways to reorganize as we move items back in, to optimize our work space while keeping things looking serene and comfortable.

Hot and tired, we headed into the celebration phase of the holiday.  Evans joined us, and the four of us used excellent family teamwork to prepare a feast. The lawn was mowed, a fire laid in the sturdy new fire ring, the table set, the outdoor cooker fired up.  Rachel and I made a batch of focaccia bread, and cooked some local asparagus. Chris steamed up a mess of lobster, Evans tended the fire, hauled fire wood, helped carry things to and fro.

Rachel and I, looking a mess from our labors, did not pose for a photo, but these two handsome guys did!

There were hardly any bugs, and we enjoyed a perfect meal at the old picnic table. The donkeys and goats lazed around in the warm evening air, and the chickens were happy to clean up any meat we left clinging to the lobster shells.  They stayed up later than usual, enjoying the treats.

Later Rachel and I sat by the fire ring, watching the sun go down, and a lovely deer graze in the pasture near the domestic critters.We were full of excellent food, and it was quiet and peaceful all around us.

Evans and Chris broke out some special cigars they'd been saving for just such an occasion. And one of them practiced blowing smoke rings.

Before the fireworks from neighbors and the camp across the lake went off, we got the dogs settled inside. Poor Bravo is afraid of loud sounds, so he got a little something to take the edge off. It didn't help much, and I was glad when things quieted down. Flirt didn't care. She likes holidays. I do, too.

Little mysteries...

We spent much of the weekend cleaning the garage. This may not sound like a great time, but it was actually quite enjoyable.There is satisfaction in creating order, and we always like working together, too.

 Our garage is big, wide enough to hold two cars, and extra deep. This is both a blessing and a curse, because as Aristotle once postulated, "horror vacui," or "nature abhors a vacuum." The garage collects stuff it is lovely, open, space.

To be fair, we use it for very good reasons. There is a big freezer there full of chicken and lamb raised here. The snow blower and lawn mower take up lots of space. There are ladders and tools, garden implements, flower pots, seasonal decorations in bins.  And then all the animal care stuff. Pallets are stacked with hay and straw. A tower of neatly bagged shavings stands ready for animal house cleaning day. There are barrels filled with food for chickens, goats and wild birds.  Trash goes there until we haul it to the transfer station, and bins of recycling get messy.  Its a lot of stuff. 

The weekend was not too hot and the sky was overcast .It was good weather for hauling and moving, discarding and organizing.There was sweeping up endless barrows of wasted hay and hauling it off. I swept cobwebs and polished windows. When we had a pretty good sized dent made, and lots of floor showing, it gave me delight to put my sweet gate leg table under the sign from my fathers business. Below it we hung a lovely little row of hooks I was recently gifted. This perfectly holds a variety of scoops I use for feed and seed and such. To the right of that Chris fastened another vintage board with metal hooks to the wall for me..  I carefully hung each donkeys halter and lead rope there. The tidiness of it all brought me joy.

At one point on Sunday, when I was alone in the garage, a distinct whiff of Half and Half pipe tobacco wafted around me. This was my dads tobacco, and part of his warm, familiar, scent. After he died, I would often feel I could smell it. The first time was when I was watching my grade school daughter raise the American flag at her school with some other pint sized kids. Other times I'd be zipping down the highway, and the car would fill with the familiar aroma. It was comforting, yet odd.  It's been years since it's happened, but puttering happily in our good garage, there was that dad reminder, tantalizing.

Last week my chum since third grade posted an image on Facebook that captured my interest in a big way. She had been searching for memorabilia from Topsfield, Massachusetts, on Ebay. And came up with this:

It doesn't show well in the picture, but the ink is a deep green. My father used to type all his business letters in green ink. He used all capital letters, and invented abbreviations that could be real head scratchers. That green was his signature color.  I was delighted when Melanie shared this little treasure, and fired it off to Chris, who quickly bought it for me. I'm not sure what I will do with it, but I'm delighted to have it. It does make me wonder, though, who would have saved this old book of matches, and why?

Another little life mystery, I suppose. Like why empty space is quickly filled, how certain emotion evoking scents appear from nowhere, and how little reminders of the past suddenly pop up to offer delight.