Early frost...

 I lit a fire in the wood stove last night, keeping the downstairs of the house warm for the puppies. I was glad of it this morning, when the thermometer read 32F. I added a log and opened the damper, and flames leapt and crackled. 

Outside the world showed frosty evidence of the drop in temperature. 

A thin skim of ice covered the duck pool and animal water containers. 

The ducks don't seem to care. 

It won't be long until it is too cold to use the garden hoses, and watering the animals will become a far more difficult chore than it is in the warm months. I don't take the gift of running water lightly. 

This time of year tends to make me nostalgic. I hear the calls of Canada Geese as they pass overhead, heading south, and am transported to the yard of my childhood home. My father spent hours each fall, raking leaves from the lawns. The yard was deeply shaded by tall oak and maple trees, and they created much work when the leaves fell.  Dad would rake them into an old shower curtain liner, then gather the corners up and haul it, full to bursting, to a part of the property near a wooded area called, "The Edge."  There was a sharp drop off here, and each years bounty of leaves helped to level out this area.  After 30 autumns he had built the space up enough to create a sloping lawn there. He would always burn some leaves, too, the fragrant smoke curling blue up to meet the chilly sky, where the calls of migrating geese haunted the air. I had my own little rake, and would make small piles beside his big ones. Of course, some of the bigger piles got jumped in, over and over, until they needed to be redone and taken off to the edge. 

Last week, using the miracle of the internet, I brought up Tom Rush's version of the song "Urge for Going." I played it for Rachel while we worked. Again I was swept back in time, sitting in the passenger seat of my brothers old Mustang, Tom Rush singing from an 8 track tape shoved into the dashboard. Dana drove fast but well, the car bouncing over the rutted back roads, and I was joyful to be there with him, hearing the yearning song as the fall foliage few past. 

Back then my roots were shallow, holding me in place just long enough to grow, and sprout some wings. I had yearnings of my own, as intangible as the perfume of burning fall leaves. Now I listen to the sweet strains of this favorite song and remember the longing I once had with fondness. My roots now are deep and strong, embedded in the cooling rocky Maine soil, bracing for the time when, "bully winds rub their face down in the snow."

                                         (photo credit pixabay.com) 

Urge for Going

Tom Rush

And I awoke today and found the frost perched on the town
It hovered in a frozen sky and gobbled summer down
When the sun turns traitor cold
And shivering trees are standing in a naked row

I get the urge for going but I never seem to go
And I get the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown
Summertime is falling down winter's closing in

I had a girl in summertime with summer colored skin
And not another man in town my darling's heart could win
But when the leaves fell trembling down
And bully winds did rub their face down in the snow

She got the urge for going I had to let her go
She got the urge for going when the meadow grass was turning brown
And summertime was falling down and winters closing in

Now the warriors of winter they give a cold triumphant shout
All that stays is dying all that lives is getting out
See the geese in chevron flight
Flapping and a-racin on before the snow

Got the urge for going they've got the wings to go
And they get the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown
Summertime is falling down and winter's closing in

I'll ply the fire with kindling, I'll pull the blankets to my chin
I'll lock the vagrant winter out I'll bolt my wandering in
I'd like to call back summertime
And have her stay for just another month or so

But she's got the urge for going I guess she'll have to go
And she's gets the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning
Brown
All her empire's are falling down winter's closing in
And I get the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown
And summertime is falling down

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Joni Mitchell

Urge for Going lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Crazy Crow Music / Siquomb Music Publishing

Many good things...

 I spent most of the day away from home today, which is rare for me. It started out nicely by being treated to breakfast at the wonderful Hartstone Inn with my customer/friend Karen.We dined royally, and had a nice chat. That was sweet. Then I ran a bunch of errands. I went to the hardware store, and to TJMaxx for the first time since Covid. I took my time, steeping myself in retail therapy, something I have not done in ages. I even stooped so low as to run into the Dollar Tree, a store I loathe, because I needed a specific thing, cheap. More on that in a moment. 

After that I went to a doctors appointment because my ankle has been sore on and off for months. I've been limping so much that now my knee hurts, too. He looked me over and said, (and I quote) "Well, you are all jacked up." He thinks he can fairly easily remedy the situation and wants to see me again in two weeks. This was encouragingly good news. 

When I got home I went to work with the items from the Dollar Tree. 

Last year I made a beautiful arrangement in the little coop window box with dried flowers. It looked terrific for two days, then it rained and all was lost. So this year I went with tacky fake leaves, flowers and a cute little scarecrow. It's bright and festive and quite happy to look at, (as long as you don't look too close.) 

Last spring my neighbor/friend Penny gifted me with some dahlia tubers. They are blooming now, beautifully. 

And the duck that was dragged and injured by a fox 8 days ago? She is doing quite well! She has a little limp, and rests more than the other ducks, but she seems stronger each day. 

Best of all, I think, is how delightful the little pugs are. They have changed a lot in just the last few days, playing with each other, toddling around, making little "grrrr" sounds and one even wagged her tail today. It's a whole lot of cuteness in one space. 

They are three weeks old now. Soon we will introduce some solid food and I think Opal will be relieved to not be their soul source of sustenance. 

Here at the farmlette, despite listening to the news each day, I am able to forget, sometimes, what a mess the our country is in right now. I am able to focus on the animals and wonderful people that surround me instead. On my rare days "out in the world," it is all so much more clear.I find myself feeling a bit overwhelmed and depressed. 

Then I come home, and see my sturdy house beckoning. The flowers are cheerful and the dogs leap with joy to see me. Chris greets me with a kiss, and the beautiful flag snaps smartly in the cool breeze. I am reminded that there so many good things.

Late summer day...

 It's not really fall yet, but it's coming. We celebrate this time each year by making vats of tomato sauce so we can enjoy the taste of summer during the long winter. Bushel boxes of tomatoes are purchased from the farm stand, and we add in the bounty from our own garden, too. The counter top cooker is pressed into service. We add onions, garlic, hot and sweet peppers. 

 Then the whole thing simmers for hours until it become mush. Next we ladle the contents of the pan into a blender, pureeing all of it. It is returned to the cooker. We add olive oil, tomato paste, salt, pepper, oregano, thyme and a little sugar. Then the whole thing simmers all day long, perfuming the house with the most amazing scent. When it was done Chris tasted it, and looked thoughtful. He asked for a second sample. A slow smile crossed his face, "It's PERFECT," he pronounced. 

This year it was Rachel in the lead of making the sauce, with help from Hannah. I was back up, but mostly I was preparing supper. 

Niece Elyse has been promising to bring her new beau Kevin to visit for ages. The puppies were an excellent lure, and things were arranged. 

I roasted a home raised chicken, made a pile of mashed potatoes, baked some fresh bread,cooked some peas and planned an appetizer and dessert of fresh peaches and berries over ice cream. Meanwhile Hannah and Rachel made multiple batches of pesto with basil grown in our garden and garlic from the farm up the street. It is destined for family dining and gifts, too. 

Three minutes after Kevin and Elyse arrived, all the dogs were in Kevin's lap. They know good people when they meet them. 

Five minutes after they entered, Elyse was holding a puppy and her eyes were leaking a little. The cuteness does that to some people. 

A jolly visit was had, the meal was enjoyed. Donkeys and goats were patted by guests, and the tomato sauce and pesto were put to bed. Much was accomplished on one late summer day. 

Fox ..!

 After a peaceful afternoon nap I woke and was reading the final chapters of a good book. From the hen yard, one of the chickens began to cluck loudly.Chickens will often vocalize after laying an egg. Poultry fanciers call this "the egg song." I've read a variety of articles about why they do it, most seem to think it is to distract any predators away from their nest site. The noise this bird was making was similar to an egg song, but more strident, and went on and on.  I could barely hear it over the fan in the window, but after a few moments decided I should see what the fuss was about. I came down the stairs, and let the dogs out. Bravo and Flirt both barked alarm barks, so I hurried out to see what was up. There was a fox at the edge of the meadow. Small, probably one of this years kits, its coat glowed a deep and vibrant russet against the green grass. Bravo poised, impatient, as I fumbled with the latch on the gate, and as soon as I cracked it open he was through like a shot, running flat after the intruder. The fox hesitated just a second, looking over its shoulder at the dog barreling in his direction, then stretched and fairly flew to the far end where the grass meets a stand of white pine. He vanished under the electric fence and into the woods. Bravo stopped at the wire, cocked his leg to leave a calling card, then pranced back to me, proud. 

I watched him approach and scanned the pasture. The goats and donkeys were off in a scrubby area having an evening meal. The chickens and ducks were all in the hen yard, having tucked themselves there when the fox made itself known. Then I saw something white moving at the left edge of the pasture. A duck was there, huddled in the grass, but raising her head to look around. She was far from the rest of the birds, and too still. I walked to her and was pleased to see her stand at my approach, and take a few wobbling steps. Once I was close I could see crimson blood staining her snowy feathers. She let me pick her up, something I have never done before, and barely struggled as I carried her across the field to her coop. She had shallow wounds on the back of her neck, and near her rump. I rinsed the injuries with water, and put her in her coop with food and drink. She stayed there a little while, then awkwardly came out and sat among the other birds. She was panting and trembling, but I was encouraged to see her drink and move around a bit.

This morning she is still with us. She moves as if it hurts, but is up and about. I am hopeful that she will survive. 

Bravo is on high alert, hoping for a chance to chase the fox again. I am hopeful the thing will hunt elsewhere after being escorted from our yard by my good dog. I will pay better attention to the chickens conversation in the future, their warning was loud and clear. 

Summers end...

 The evenings are cooler, and there is a hint of fall in the air. Farm fields are filled with glowing, orange, pumpkins, and the apple trees are laden with fruit. 

After working hard this summer I had a fun few days off with friends at a camp in New Hampshire. We all brought our dogs, did a little training, and some resting, too. Several of the women brought food to share; frittata's, fruit salad, steak tips and more. All of it delicious. We social distanced, each staying in our own cabins. 

I spent a lot of time in and on the water. Mountains arched up beyond the lake, different, yet beautiful, in every light. I relaxed deeply. 

I've been wanting a "sit on top" kayak for years. We have three nice "sit in" kayaks which I have enjoyed tremendously, but the sit on top style seemed easier to get into and out of, and I had a little fantasy of teaching Bravo how to ride with me. I splurged and bought one and took it to camp with me. After a quick ride in it to see how it handled I fetched my good dog and invited him to hop on. He barely hesitated, bracing himself as we pushed off into the water and the boat rocked a bit. Soon he relaxed, sitting between my legs. After a bit he laid right down, resting his chin on my ankle, lapping a bit at the rippling water as I paddled. Once in a while he stood up, turned around and washed my face. His plume tail wagged and I swear he was smiling. Later, on the beach, another dog approached the kayak, and he snapped at him, warding him off, as if to say, "This is MY toy, back away!" My little dream of paddling with Bravo came delightfully true. It was evident he liked it, too.

To celebrate the end of summer I spent a few days with friends and dogs, in the company of lake and mountains. It was good.