And then...

 Yesterday a friend stopped by. The three of us, and the two dogs, were in the back yard at the picnic table, chatting. Flirt poodle was in my lap, Bravo at my feet. 

It was late afternoon. The chickens were ranging about in the meadow, some very far out, some close to the backyard fence. Suddenly the neighborhood crows began to scream their "alert" call. I snapped to attention, looking for a fox. Then I saw a very large Red Tail Hawk swooping towards us, heading for a chicken just outside the fence, about 20 feet from where we were sitting. As the hawk dipped, its talons brushing the hens back I didn't know what to do. Impulsively I yelled, "BRAVO!" I'm not sure what I thought he could do, there was a 4-foot hardwire fence between us and the unfolding drama, but I called his name just the same. 

He woke from his nap with a ferocious bark and leaped forward. The hawk saw him, and lifted away from its quarry and off, its broad wings flapping as it went over the fence, then above our heads and off.

Our hen had a narrow miss, thanks to our good dog. Bravo, Bravo! 

Al Fresco and emergencies...

 There is not much Chris, and I enjoy more than enjoying a simple supper outside in our yard when the weather allows. Tonight it was grilled steak and fresh corn on the cob from a local farm. We start as early in the spring as we can and repeat most nights all the sweet summer season. Sometimes we sit at the picnic table; other times, I stretch out in the lovely recliner sister Deb gifted me. When I do this, Flirt likes to hop into my lap. If she leaves, Bravo takes her place.  This evening there was a distinct fall-ish chill to the air. All of us enjoyed the view of goats grazing and storm clouds rolling in. 

Last week I glanced outside one day and noticed that Spirit goat had a bald spot about the size of the palm of my hand on the right side of her rib cage. Upon investigation, I saw that though her hair was missing, the skin was normal and healthy. I put some balm on the area to help prevent flies from nibbling on her and repeated this for a few days.  All seemed well. She was eating and drinking and going out to the big pasture to graze in the evenings while I did chores, so I didn't think too much about it. A couple days passed, and I checked again. To my horror, she had a terrible skin infection going on. It distended from the original bald area down to her chest and was raw and angry-looking. I will spare you the photographs but trust me, it was ugly.  I immediately contacted my vet, and she came right out. She gave her antibiotics, steroids, anti-inflammatory medication, and a special spray for her infected skin. This was on a Friday. On Saturday, I had Spirit out to give her injections and spray medication on her wounds. While I was working on her, she urinated, and to my dismay, it was thick and full of bright red blood.  I contacted the veterinarian again, and even though it was raining and the evening, she came right over. Of course, she lives over an hour away, so it was 9:00 PM before she arrived. Poor Spirt didn't want to eat or drink and clearly felt absolutely awful. More medications were given. I was worried, and worse yet, I was due to leave the next morning for my annual delightful visit at Wag It Camp with Bravo.  Chris assured me that he could medicate our sick goat and that I should go ahead as planned. I vacillated. 

The next morning Spirit was clearly feeling better. She was eating and drinking, and her urine looked far more normal than it had the night before.  Chris insisted I pack up and depart. I did but worried he would have trouble with the multiple injections our goat needed every morning and evening. I messaged Cheryl, who lives just up the road, and she very kindly took time from her own busy life and livestock to come twice a day and help Chris over the weekend. Between Chris, Cheryl and Rachel, I came home on Wednesday to a goat acting perfectly fine. Her skin is healing, and she runs from me when it is time to medicate her. That is always a good sign. 

Because the home team so kindly joined forces to take care of Spirit, I was able to sneak away for a few delightful days.  Bravo and I spent hours swimming, training, walking, snuggling, and visiting with some of our favorite people. He won a nice stack of ribbons.  I relaxed deeply, smiled, and laughed lots. At one point I was chest-deep in the clear water of Ossipee lake, completely alone. No boats broke the smooth water, no people dotted the beach. I was admiring the mountains and firs when a large bird flew into view. "Oh, let it be an eagle..." I wished. It was. It flew closer, its bright white head gleaming. Then it dove with a mighty splash and rose, a flapping fish held tightly in its talons. I was the only observer. Gifted. 

As for my good dog, he enjoyed every tail-wagging moment. 

Sometimes goofy. 

Other times regal. 

He was tired at night and clearly wondered where I planned to sleep! 

He even got a "Pup Cup." Ice cream with a dog cookie garnish. 

I loved our trip but was glad to get home to well livestock and Al Fresco meals. This interlude reminded me just how lucky I am, on so many levels. Family, friends, pets, long swims in crystal clear lakes... I am blessed beyond measure. 

Storms and gardens...

 A hurricane is passing by New England today and tomorrow. The air is still and thick and the distance view over the ridge is broody. 

Up close, though, the gardens are full of color. All my flowers this year were either gifted to me in the spring or volunteered from seeds left behind last year. The beds look a little reckless and wild but are certainly bright and cheery. 

The Cosmos are taller than I am, and dance and nod in even the slightest breeze. 

These are mystery flowers, I'd love to know what they are. 

The birds plant sunflowers for me every year. Those happy golden faces nodding in the garden make me smile. 

Zinnias are so hardy and bright. The hummingbirds love them and buzz from one brilliant bloom to the next, drinking deeply. Soon they will migrate south, fueled by flowers.

A sweet customer brought us this jewel-tone bouquet yesterday. The long view outside may be a little gloomy, but the garden is glowing. 

Senility...

 See this face? It looks so innocent. So pretty. Surely, someone, you would like to know. 

But she's really a little MEAN. 

Here is an example. She likes to make me question my mental health. How you may ask? Well, let me tell you. First, there is this, "Mom. Remember to call Mrs. W. She called last Friday! (accusingly) She wants to know what brush she should buy for her dogs" My mind goes into turbo overdrive. Mrs. W? I know her. I know her dogs. I have zero memory of why I am supposed to call her.  Moments later, when I am in turmoil of wondering how I forgot to call this woman, my dear daughter says, "I didn't tell you. She called and needs you to call her back." Phew. I guess my aging brain is not at fault here. 

Then there is this. 99% of the time I make my bed in the morning. Smooth sheets, spread up and lovely, toss pillows neatly arranged. Once in a while, in the summer, I leave the bed "open," because it has been a hot and sweaty night and I want the sheets to air out. This was the case recently, yet when I went into our room that evening I found our bed all nicely fixed. I knew I had left it unmade. My husband sometimes makes the bed but he is not a fan of extra pillows and demonstrates his distaste by refusing to put them on, so clearly, he had not made our bed. Besides which, he was gone early when I was still in repose. I had felt a little bad, all day, that I had not made our bed. But THIS bed was neatly made, with pillows in place.  I froze in confusion.  I had left the bed unmade. But here it was, all pretty, with pillows. I questioned my sanity. I contemplated my drooling future. I wondered if I should quickly invest in nursing home insurance.  Then I remembered my daughter had been upstairs that day. She was clearly the one that made the bed. And made me question my brain function. She looks cute. But really? She had a little evil in her. 

Visitors and everyday life...

 Because Maine is "Vacation Land," lots of people come here to enjoy the beauty and wonder of New England summers. Some of those people land at our house, and for that we are glad.  This summer we've had friends and family popping in for a few days at a time often enough that the guest room has stayed fairly full. We cook a little, laugh a lot, and are sad to send them on their way when it's time to go. 

Chris keeps the grill going... chicken, steaks, and if we are lucky, he smokes ribs. 

Much like my father before me, I can't get enough of fresh-picked corn on the cob. This time of year we get it from the local farm stand, still warm from the field. I love it grilled, with the kernels just slightly golden from the kiss of the fire. Here are some that are almost ready to make my tastebuds happy. 

Deb came and stayed a few days. She kindly treated us to a cruise on the Appledore, a lovely wooden sailboat that summers in Camden. We've been on her before and always enjoy the ride. 

All in all a perfect outing. 

This past weekend Rachel and I drove to Freeport to do a little shopping. Niece Aimee met us there. We had a few specific things we were looking for, one being outfits for Aimee and me to wear when we officiate at her sister's upcoming wedding in Maui. Aimee suggested that it might be whimsical if she and I had matching outfits. I thought this was a marvelous idea until I really gave it a think. Aimee is in her 30's, tall and willowy, with a fashion-model figure. I'm in my 60's and best described as round. I couldn't imagine any style of clothing that would flatter both of us. But you know what? We found something!  And it was lots of fun. We had some lunch while we were there, and I sat across from Rachel, where I could admire her, all glowing and beautiful as she nears her third trimester of pregnancy. 

We found a few treasures for the baby at a consignment shop and tucked them away. We will be needing them before we know it.

One of the things I love best in the world is to paddle my kayak around a quiet lake.  Chris kindly suggested we do just that yesterday. He is not really a fan, finding the boats worryingly wobbly. I let him ride in my big, new kayak, while I sat in one of our older ones. I was convinced that he would love the new one so much he would catch my enthusiasm for the hobby. I was wrong. But he's such a good sport, and I, at least, had a magical hour. 

Neighbor Cheryl stopped by Saturday night for a beer and some conversation as dusk gathered over the pasture. She was regaling us with a story about having to call a friend for help to move a recalcitrant pig. It occurred to me that she often tells us of asking people for help moving animals or solving farm problems, but she's never once called on us. As these emergencies often seem to happen at night, I didn't feel too sad about it, but it did occur to me that she must think we are completely incompetent. And she's probably right. Then Sunday night I got a text as I was headed up to bed, "Are you awake? I need help." I laughed at the ironic timing and asked what she needed. Apparently, some of her baby cows had discovered that the hot wire to their pasture wasn't working and were taking turns dancing in the road. Their mothers didn't care to test the wire, knowing from experience that electricity hurts, but the innocent babes had not learned the hot wire lesson well enough yet. They were on one side, their worried mamas on the other, bellowing their concern into the mosquito-laden nighttime air. Chris unhooked our fence charger and we drove up. It took a while and involved running a long stretch of extension cord, but soon we were rewarded by the disgruntled yelp of a bull calf as he met a few thousand volts of electrical current.  The little renegades headed for the soft bed of hay in the center of the pasture and called it a night. 

We humans headed to our respective homes to do the same. 

It's summer in Maine, and I get to be here for every day of it. 

Abundance...

 We've had lots of rain, and are glad.  The pasture is lush and green, the gardens are growing beautifully, and the air is filled with birdsong. It is the height of summer and life is abundant. 

Cheryl came and mowed the pasture. She squeezed this project in amongst her already busy schedule, so it was an hour here, two hours there until it was done. Meanwhile, she left her tractor parked in our yard, and that made me happy. It looked like a "real" farmlette!

 The first night she came upon a lovely nest full of turkey eggs. Now, a week or so later, there is a hen turkey with a wee flock of tiny poults hanging around. 

The goats and donkeys seem to like it when the pasture is freshly shorn. They explore with obvious excitement and dine on things they previously could not reach. It seems to bring new energy to the whole herd. 

This evening when I went out to do chores I walked to the upper pasture and the animals all joined me. I heard a little commotion on the way back and turned to see a whole lot of running. This is about as fast as the donkeys ever move. I am delighted that I caught it on my camera. 

There is an abundance of joy captured here. 

Freshening up...

 It's been a while since I did any "freshening up" in the house. This state of affairs changed drastically when I was in an antique store a few weeks ago. I'd made the whole circuit without falling in love with anything. Then, as I approached the exit, there they were. Two wing chairs, sturdy and comfortable, at a most reasonable price.  

The upholstery was in great shape if a little grubby in spots. For several years I've thought that two wing-back chairs would be perfect in our front room. I had a sofa in there, but the room is small, and the sofa took up a lot of real estate.  Quick as a wink, I arranged to bring the chairs home. 

The sofa got moved to the living room, and I ordered slipcovers for the chairs. I had a clear vision of how I wanted the room to look. I cast a critical eye at our beloved table and benches. The paint was worn, looking more shabby than chic, and the cream and blue color scheme was not fitting in with my new vision. 

This weekend I got my trusty sander out and went to work smoothing up the rough spots and putting a fresh coat of paint on everything. I'm not sure I should be allowed to paint; I go at with gusto and make a mess. Even with an old blanket under my work area, I splattered paint about with reckless abandon and had to do quite a bit of remedial cleaning up when all was said and done. 

But oh! it looks so clean and bright and fresh now. And the chairs, in their new outfits, are just how I imagined they'd be.

I think the room looks a little larger with the new additions and fresh paint. 

Now I am looking about to see what else needs "freshening up." Perhaps another antique store stroll is in order?