Anticipation...

 We had an exceptionally pleasant Christmas. The house was cozy and festive. I enjoyed decorating and took a lot of pleasure in gazing at our tree, the vintage decorations, the little illuminated village, the roses, and the candlelight. I listened to beautiful Christmas music all month, and we viewed all our favorite seasonal movies. Holiday anticipation is really the best part, don't you think? 

On Christmas Eve, I drove up the road to buy some extra milk and took a selfie with Moxie, the Jersey cow. Moxie has spent time in our pasture the past two summers, and it was fun to give her a little winter smooch. She was decked out in red velvet with brass bells and looked particularly lovely. 

I spent the rest of the day in my happy kitchen, cooking. I made a favorite potato dish; it's a little fussy to create and contains more than its share of calories, but it is so worth it. Here is the recipe in case you want to try it sometime. https://www.thespruceeats.com/gratin-dauphinois-recipe-1375736  I baked a gingerbread recipe that has been in our family for over 100 years and a rum cake. Rachel made eggnog pie with a gingersnap crust. I made phyllo pastry straws stuffed with cream cheese and pesto, and Chris made bruschetta. I baked a batch of popovers, and Chris roasted an enormous prime rib to perfection. There were seven plus the Owlet at the table that night. Our sweet neighbor brought tasty Brussels sprouts and the most delicious squash. There was excellent wine and toasts and cheery conversation. No one went hungry. 

Christmas morning, the Owlet and her parents came for breakfast. We enjoyed it at a leisurely pace, then headed to the living room to see about the pile of gifts that awaited. The Owlet enjoyed opening things for a long while, but then she became weary of it. 

We had given her a sweet little toddler-sized bed pillow. She went to where her napping sheepskin and knit blanket were stored and brought them to the living room. She carefully placed them in the middle of the floor, surrounded by gifts and discarded paper and ribbons, and laid her little self down. She looked up at us with big eyes and said, "Cozy." Then she picked up a book her Grandmama and Aunt Meg had sent and coaxed her father to join her on the floor for a read. He patiently complied. 

Around the time we were cleaning up, she climbed up our stairs. "Seepy time. Lovie. Seepy time. Pop Pop, seepy time." I asked if she didn't want to go home for her nap. "No. Snuggle. Read book." So, we sent her parents home for some quiet time and had a cozy Christmas nap (after reading approximately 100 books.) It was a peaceful afternoon, with plenty of fine leftovers for supper. 

Once the days preparing for and enjoying the holiday were past the anticipation kicked into high gear, because we are all anxiously awaiting the arrival of our newest family member. The due date is today (12/28) and because this is a second child we all suspected it might arrive a little early. The expectant mama has experienced many taunting signs that labor would soon begin in earnest, but then the baby apparently decides to stay where it is safe, warm, and cozy. 

Today is chilly and raw, with leaden skies and a drizzly rain. Rachel and I went for a walk on the beach to see if the primordial sea and pull of the tide might trigger something. We stared at the pewter water, the foam, and the sand and sighed simultaneously. The waiting is difficult. 

But wait, we must, feeling like we are holding our breaths in readiness for the arrival. I think we are all ready for this "pregnant pause" to pass. We are all anxiously anticipating falling in love with the new baby. 

Let it blow, let it blow, let it blow...

 The famed Christmas song, "Let it Snow," kept running through my head today as we experienced sixty-mile-an-hour wind gusts. Today's storm was not Christmassy at all. The temperature hovered in the 50's, and the rain poured down in torrents. I had an appointment, and driving there was a little scary. As I drove, huge tree limbs fell on the road, and the wind buffeted my truck. When I got home, we had lost power. And a big tree had fallen near the end of our driveway and blocked the road. 

Although it was fairly warm outside, I started a fire in the wood stove. It was only mid-afternoon, but the house was dark because the storm clouds were so thick. I lit a bunch of little candles and busied myself tidying the house. Because we have a well, when we lose power, we also lose water, but I wiped down the kitchen counters and put away some things that were where they didn't belong. I played Christmas music on my phone and swept the floor. I folded a load of laundry and wrapped a few last gifts to tuck under the tree. 

Because we are expecting a new grandbaby any day I planned way ahead for the holiday this year. It seemed to me that it would be nice to be prepared in case the baby made an early appearance.  I did my shopping in October and November and even wrapped most of the gifts before I turned the calendar to December. This was a first for me. We had a baby shower here the first weekend of the month, which spurred me to put up any decorations I wanted to use before then. 

So today, while the tall firs danced at the edge of the meadow, and anything not tied down outside banged and crashed, and the wind had a loud voice, I puttered in our holiday-decorated house by the flicker of candles and chuckled a little when "Let it Snow" piped out from the speaker on my phone. 

Yule Season Sprinkle...

 Our daughter and her husband are expecting a new addition at the end of the month. Today, her wonderful friend Elizabeth hosted a "Baby Sprinkle" for her. Apparently, first babies are welcomed with a baby shower and subsequent infants are celebrated with a Sprinkle. Smaller gifts since baby number one already received a car seat, stroller, and all those biggish things that babies require. We had the party here because we had more room to spread out. Almost forty people came to celebrate the impending birth. 

Liz and her husband created the most gorgeous charcuterie board. 

Since the baby is due during the Yule season, the expectant parents have dubbed the baby "Yule," while they wait to meet him or her.  Knowing this, Liz ordered a cake from an amazing local baker shaped like a Yule log for the party. It was not only gorgeous, it was incredibly delicious. The largest piece was black forest cake, and the smaller front pieces were tiramisu. Everything on the cake was edible: candied rosemary and merengue mushrooms... every bit of it a treat. 

We had lots of other delicious munchies, too. Hot and cold dips, hot wings, deviled eggs, a make your own sandwich board. Everyone helped themselves, chatting and snacking and having a good time.

Many little kids were present, and they all went out and met the goats and chickens. The goats were wearing festive holiday ruffles and welcomed the company. 

They also decorated sugar cookies with icing and sprinkles to take home as party favors. 

It looked like lots of fun. 

There was a pile of presents. Impossibly tiny knit hats, wee little onesies, lots of diapers and wipes, and more. All to welcome a precious new babe to the tribe. 

I was privileged to meet lots of young moms and dads and their small children, friends I have only heard about. Family members drove for hours to share the day. Seeing the village that surrounded and supported my daughter's growing family did my mama heart good. A lot of love and joy was sprinkled today. I am so grateful. 

Gathered...

 The last guest has gone home, and the house is very quiet. It wasn't that way... the first visitors came Wednesday, and at one point, we had two additional air mattresses inflated and tucked in spare rooms as more family arrived. 

Rachel, Deb, and John all pitched in with cooking, and the joint effort was delicious. 

Niece Emily and her family brought whimsy and laughter. The Owlet was thrilled to have her big cousins here. There were shrieks and giggles, tickles and laughter, visits with goats and snuggles. 

Inside, the air was fragrant with the scent of our favorite seasonal foods. The dessert table was laden. 

My grandmother's silver sat side by side with gifted China, thrifted butter dishes, and salt and pepper shakers. In addition to doing all the shopping, Chris brought me buttercream roses to decorate with. So pretty! 

 

I got to hug my baby and her soon-to-arrive baby simultaneously. Lucky me! We wore matching dresses for fun. 

If our calculations are correct, Chris and I have hosted Thanksgiving for 34 years. The menu has varied a little from year to year, as has the location and guest list, but this holiday is special for me. The preparation, the teamwork, the cooking, and, best of all, the gathering of the ones I love. 

This year, we missed some favorite faces around the table, but we had the added joy of 
anticipating a new babe and watching the three youngest of the clan play. It was an excellent gathering. 

Straddling the Seasons...

 We are excitedly gearing up for the Thanksgiving feast. This will be the twentieth year we have hosted it in this good house. The guest list varies. This year will be a smaller than usual group, just sixteen around the table. In readiness, I catch up on lots of things that I have procrastinated ... like cleaning the pantry, washing the China, and polishing the silver. The groceries for preparing the meal have been bought. A locally raised turkey is nestled in the refrigerator. The guest room is ready. 

The weather has been mild, but it won't last. I wanted to do some exterior winter decorating while I could, so today Chris helped me cut down a few small pine trees and bring them to the yard. I snipped and cut and filled the old iron clawfoot tub at the end of the driveway and a big galvanized tub with them. A nice neighbor friend let us steal some brilliant winter berry boughs from her land to brighten the tubs up. It was great to get this done before the cold weather freezes the soil in the tubs, making it difficult (or impossible) to secure the branches. 

  

                                                  

Next, we put batteries in all the little window candles and set them on every sill at dusk. Then we took a break and went out for an early supper. The house looked so pretty when we drove away. 

I like to celebrate each holiday in its own time and, in an ideal world, not decorate for Christmas before Thanksgiving is over, but this year, I am straddling the seasons. There are busy days ahead... Thanksgiving, birthdays, Christmas, and a new grandbaby expected before the New Year. I plan to embrace each happy moment. Preparing a bit in advance will help. 

Kind November...

 The weather has been kind to us, and I have been able to get more yard projects done. To make the jobs even more enjoyable, I invite the goats to leave their pasture and join me in the fenced yard. Since the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, they are delighted when I prop the gate open, and all rush to explore the more novel space. We don't allow them into the backyard during the summer because they destroy the gardens and poop on the picnic table. But now that the outside dining season is well past, they can do as they please. 

They nibble on the plants I am trimming, dance on the lawn chairs, and make me laugh while I work. There is something joyous about them. Last week, a car pulled into the driveway, and a couple got out and asked if they could see the goats. They were visiting from Cape Cod and had never met one. I was working, but Chris was here and kindly took them out to the pasture. The little herd dutifully charged up to them and showed off their cuteness. The people told Chris the visit was the highlight of their trip. 

The Owlet was here yesterday for a little while as her mama worked on a project. She loves to be outside more than anything, so she joined me as I put a garden to bed. "Owl help," she proclaimed and carefully picked up the foliage I was discarding and placed it, piece by piece, into the wheelbarrow. She turned two this month and is becoming competent at many things. Her vocabulary grows by the day; she is interested in counting, loves books above all toys, has firm opinions about things, is fascinated by big trucks, and is generally the most delightful and happy little spirit. Seeing so much of her is an enormous blessing; this grandparenting stuff is even more fun than anticipated. 

My focus is turning toward the annual Thanksgiving feast, preparing the house for guests, plotting the menu, and planning the supplies needed. I look forward to this holiday all year and am excited to hear the voices and laughter of my nearest and dearest filling the house once more. I have so much to be grateful for. 

A Very Good Day...

 I've always liked to mess around in the garden. For the past few years, my knee was so painful that gardening ceased to be fun. Walking on uneven ground caused shooting pain, forget trying to shovel or kneel. Fortunately, I have friends who were willing to come to help me keep the yard looking pretty, but it was sad that I couldn't easily participate. 

A few weeks ago I had four yards of mulch delivered and dumped in the side yard. My gardening friend has not been able to get here and that mountain of mulch has been vexing me. Last weekend I grabbed a shovel and tried spreading mulch in the garden right next to the mulch pile. My new knee didn't hurt a bit, and the job was soon done. I felt so happy and satisfied. That feeling stayed with me all week and today I decided to tackle a larger project, mulching in the big circular garden in the front yard. 

I filled the big wheelbarrow with shovel after shovel of fragrant mulch. It made for a heavy load, and I had to push it up and down to get where I wanted it. It took 5 trips of the stuff to fill the big bed and one more to do a couple of smaller beds in the same area. I raked it all smooth and stood back to admire my work. 

To my great joy, I still had energy. I weeded a small garden and pruned a shrub, then hauled more mulch and covered up that tiny space. 

And then... I wasn't done yet. There was a messy garden that needed pruning, weeding, and cutting. I got to it, hauling a full barrow of tired plants off, then loading up two more barrows of mulch. Chris got home right about then and helped me push and dump the last two loads. By the time I finished raking, I also felt... done. 

But I also felt incredibly happy that I had been able to do a bunch of gardening. I shoveled and pushed and dumped and raked and weeded and pruned, and it was terrific. There is more to be done, but today seemed like a turning point. There will be future gardening and similar delights to come. My new knee has healed, and I feel... good. 

Rainy days...

 The forecast called for yet more rain this weekend, but yesterday morning, though overcast, was dry. I took the opportunity to clean all the animal houses. I started with the goat cozy and enticed the little herd into the backyard so I could clean without their assistance. They are not terribly helpful. 

It was hard to concentrate on my work because they were so entertaining, dancing loudly on the overturned kayaks and trying to nosh on my pretty pumpkin. Once their house was clean, I swept the soiled shavings out of the wee Cochin house. When I peeked in on them this morning, I was surprised to see how many feathers littered the floor. The fall molt is in full swing. This means they lose all of their old, tattered feathers and replace them with bright new ones in time for winter. My yard looks like a variety of feather pillows exploded.

From there, I moved to the big coop, hauling tub after tub of old shavings out and to the big wheelbarrow. I filled their feeder and spread a fresh bale of shavings over the floor. The Lavender Orpington pullets hovered outside the door, supervising. 

These recent additions to the flock are growing nicely and should begin to lay eggs soon. They keep to themselves and don't forage around the pasture with the rest of the flock but seem happy enough. They are large birds, and their color is beautiful. Photos don't really do them justice. 

The Owlet has been exploring her artistic side, hauling a little bucket of crayons with a giant poster board from room to room. She plops down to draw and likes an audience. "Sit, Lovey," she tells me, pointing out which chair I should land in. Then she toddles to the front room and drags back a little footstool. "Toes!" she commands, and I put my legs up. Under my watchful eye, she gets to work, concentrating deeply as she lays out waxy scrawls. Despite the dreary weather, it's a colorful life. 

A milking I Shall Go...

 My goats make me happy. I like to look at them in the pasture... grazing, snoozing, leaping, playing. I like to stroke them and feel their sleek fur. And I like milking them. It's a quiet time, the goat happily munching on grain and alfalfa pellets while the warm milk hisses into the pail. It's time for peaceful thoughts; the sweet smell of pine shavings, hay, and healthy animals wraps around me. But lately, milking time has been fraught with peril. 

I had a little wooden stool gleaned from an antique store that I would perch on while the goat, on her stand, enjoyed a meal. That stool got wobbly and worrisome. One day last summer, Chris took over milking chores while I was away. The sad little seat collapsed and broke, dumping Chris unceremoniously as it splintered. He replaced it with a previous milk stool he found in the garage. I had abandoned it because it was creaky and wobbly. Every time I sit on it, I wonder if it will hold me this time. So far, it has, but each time I sit, there is concern. 

Last night, our son-in-love popped in with a twinkle in his eye. "I hear your milk stool needs to be replaced," he said. And gave me this. 

Beautifully handmade by him, the lovely, smooth top is crafted from fine Fir, the legs sturdy Pine. It has been carefully oiled to protect it from the elements. I promptly tried it, and there wasn't a wobble anywhere in that excellent seat. I can hardly wait for milking time. The old scary stool will be relegated to the burn pile, and I can milk away, free of fear, with this handsome seat beneath my rear! 

First story...

 The Owlet is 23 months old. She reliably speaks over 200 words and babbles a lot. She has been chattering on for months, obviously trying to tell us stories, which we all wished we could understand. Today, for the first time, she told me a story I could quickly interpret. 

Recently, she and I were out in the pasture with the goats. Shine, the baby goat, was dancing about and trying to play with the Owlet. She called out, "Shine!" in a happy little voice, obviously enjoying our outing. Shine then knocked the toddler down, and giggling ensued. Then she jumped on the Owlet's head, which was not quite as popular. 

The next time we went out to the pasture, I asked Pop Pop to carry her so no goats would topple her. The baby regards her Pop Pop like a groupie would a rock star. (It may have something to do with the fact that he happily fulfills any request she can make clear to him.) He scooped her up, and she could admire and pat the goats safely. He gently set her down in the milk room while I was milking, and she was able to watch the process with great interest. A wonderful time was had by all. 

Today, we were sitting outside, and the Owlet saw the baby goat. She said, "Shine!" Then she patted her head, reminding me of how the little goat had climbed on her. Then she put her arms up as if asking to be picked up. "Pop Pop, hold you." She said, her face alight with happiness.  She was clearly telling me the saga of how she was gently carried out to see the goats from the safe height of her hero's arms. 

It was a good story. There was action, drama, a damsel in distress, and a knight in shining armor to save the day. I can hardly wait to hear more of her tales. 

Drama on the Farmlette...

 Today started off in a typical, pleasant fashion. I got ready for work, did animal chores, tidied the house a bit, then began working. We were just finishing up grooming our first dog of the day, and the second customer arrived a little early and was sitting and chatting with us. The weather was exceptionally fine: blue skies, low humidity, and a soft breeze blew through the open windows. All was well. Until suddenly, it wasn't. 

We heard a goat scream. From where we work, we have a good view of the goat cozy and a long, elevated bridge I had a carpenter friend build for them several years ago. The goats love this spot, and after breakfast on a nice day, they lie up there contentedly chewing their cuds and surveying their domain. It is usually a very peaceful scene. 

When the terrible sound of a goat screaming in pain and fear reached my ears, I jumped and looked outside. There, to my horror, I saw a goat hanging, suspended head down from the bridge, her hind leg stuck in the ramp. I don't move as fast as I once did and knew it would take me a bit to get out there to help her. Time was clearly of the essence. The panicked goat vocalizations continued, causing a massive dose of adrenaline to dump into my bloodstream. My very pregnant daughter was there with me. "You can move faster than I can," I said, but I was talking to the back of her head; she was already on her way. I put the dog I was grooming into a crate, asked my customer to be patient, and headed out to help. My daughter somehow moved at warp speed... through the house, across the long deck, down some wonky stairs, through the back yard, through the tricky gate, over the muddy pasture, through another gate, and with strength driven by panic, quickly lifted the dangling goat back onto the bridge.

This is the goat in question. She is a recent addition to our place and such a pleasant one. She is lovely to look at with her gazelle-like facial markings and sweeter and friendlier than any goat we've ever had except our very first one. She is a dream on the milk stand and produces sweet, delicious milk. Having favorites probably isn't nice, but she ranks high on the "best girl" list. Her name is Happy. 

Once Rachel lifted her from her dangling position, she had another problem. Happy's leg was stuck tight in the gap at the top of the ramp. Mind you, this ramp and bridge have been used by countless goats for years with no difficulties, but today, a freak accident occurred. Here is the area where it all happened. 

See the black and white goat? Happy's leg was wedged just to the right of where her left front leg is, and she was suspended, head down, in that triangle of space you see between the two animals. 

With some skill and finesse, Rachel managed to free the jammed leg. Happy laid there, stunned, until Rachel gently lifted her down. She walked off on three legs. I was on the phone to my veterinarian so fast! 

In the end, Happy seems to be ok. She didn't get so much as a scrape, though her lower leg is slightly swollen.  She is limping but bearing weight. I have given her an injection of anti-inflammatory medication, and my husband and son-in-love will help fashion something to ensure no goat ever gets stuck in the ramp again. 

My pleasant morning went awry, but my amazing daughter saved the day, and my dear little goat seems to be not much worse for her awful adventure. 

Toddling...

   The Owlet and I took a little walk out into the pasture today. She loves to be outside, and her joy is contagious. 

The goats ran to greet us, and the Owlet giggled with glee, petting them happily. They seemed glad to see her, too. 

We strolled around, and the goats all joined us. I plopped the Owlet up on top of a big pile of hay. She enjoyed the lofty perch and throwing handfuls of dry grass into the breeze. After a long time, she slid all the way down to the bottom and was so pleased with herself. 

She stopped to pick some flowers in her chubby fists on the way back. "Mama!" she said, and we brought the bounty back to be proudly presented. 

To see the world through a toddler's eyes is a blessing beyond compare. 

Wag It Camp...

 Bravo and I snuck in a little summer adventure and attended Wag It Camp again this year. The brainchild of my dog training friend Sumac Grant-Johnson, the camp is open to people who enjoy working with and training their dogs. It is held on the beautiful, peaceful grounds of a Catholic children's summer camp, on the shore of stunning Lake Ossipee in New Hampshire. 

Because we have been several times, there are lots of friends and familiar faces to enjoy, as well as the opportunity to meet new friends, both canine and human. 

I stayed in the most adorable little cottage. It had a wee screened porch, a bedroom, and a small bath. I rarely have any time in my life when I am alone. This is a wonderful thing, something I am deeply grateful for, but every once in a while it is a treat to be by myself for a brief period. I read an entire novel without interruption. Heavenly. 

Bravo got to flirt with a pretty little Golden Retriever lass, and his old friend Kellie, a Brittany Spaniel. He met a few other dogs he liked as well. 

We attended some classes and he behaved nicely through it all. He got to swim and fetch and splash, and spend almost every moment with his favorite human, me. He was a happy boy, busy all day and sleeping hard at night. 

It took some convincing to get him to let me get into my cozy sleeping bag, even though there was plenty of bed for him share. 

Meanwhile, at home, Rachel kept the business humming along, and Chris took over all the animal chores. He learned to milk the diminutive goats, took time to cuddle baby Shine to keep her friendly, nurtured the chickens and kept an eye on the cows. He helped keep the Owlet busy while her mama worked, too. What a guy. My dear Aunt Pearl had it right the day she noted, "You have a real helpmate with him." Indeed I do. 

Our little summer adventure was a sweet treat, the sort of nugget I will keep as a warm and happy memory to recall in the dead of winter when a storm is howling outside.  I am thankful for the opportunity and the support system that made it happen, and for quiet time with my best boy dog.