Mart's Farm

See Glitter Bones

2010-09-14T08:16:00.000-07:00

I have decided to merge my blogs--I probably shouldn't have separated them out in the first place. Anyway, all Martsfarm content is now available on the Glitter Bones blog--so no pictures of plants or animals are missing! Also, I had to enable the comment moderator because of the large number of Chinese spam comments I was getting. I guess real people are doing it because they somehow get beyond the word verification. But I am sick and tired of Chinese porn sites commenting on my blog. Go f--- yourselves, Chinese spammers!!

More Birds!

2010-05-25T06:07:00.000-07:00

So I don't think I blogged about this but my incubator failed to hatch the fancy bantam eggs I bought, so I thought I'd do another test drive with our own eggs, and after tinkering with the thermostat a bit I set three eggs in and almost forgot about them. Luckily I had written on my calendar when to remove the turner, so I did do that. Then on Sunday I was cleaning up in the basement when I heard a peeping coming from the 'bator. I looked in and behold! A fluffy yellow chick! I was amazed. The other two eggs had pipped.

Later I checked on the two eggs and was a bit concerned. I knew the humidity in the incubator wasn't as high as it should be and I was afraid of the membrane drying out and toughening such that the chicks could not break through it. So eventually I helped one chick out of the egg and within a couple of hours it was fluffy and alert.

I hesitated about the third egg. It only had a small hole and although the chick was peeping the egg had not been "zipped." It was around dinnertime then and I decided to wait until bedtime to see if the chick had made any progress. At 10 PM the chick still had just that small hole. I took a deep breath and started to peel off the shell. Just as I feared, the membrane had toughened and was stuck to the chick in several places, and in addition the chick was covered with goo from the yolk. I wasn't sure what to do about that but I left the weak chick in the incubator and decided to wait and see how it did. I did not have much hope it would survive the night.

The next morning I was surprised to see the chick was still moving and peeping, but the goo had plastered its down and it was clear that it was not going to fluff up on its own. So I took a wet washcloth and tried to wipe it off and remove a little piece of shell that was still stuck to its wing. I didn't succeed in removing the fragment but I set the chick back in the 'bator hoping that I had been able to remove the goo.

A couple hours later there was no change--the chick was still a sticky mess. Another deep breath. This time I held the chick under warm running water and gave it a shower. I put it back and waited, checked a while later. No luck. Still sticky. So I removed it again and this time put a few drops of baby shampoo on its body and lathered it a little. Rinsed the chick and put it back. A little time passed. Chick was still pretty much plastered with gunk. OK, plan D. Filled a bowl with water and some baby shampoo. Soaked the chick. Got the fragment of shell off, finally. Toweled it off and set it back in the heat. A while later... success at last! Except for the head, which I'd dared not wash, the chick was fluffy. But very weak. It still couldn't stand though it had a strong voice. I dipped its beak in water and sprinkled some feed for it and went to bed, not feeling very optimistic.

This morning the little bugger is hanging on! Still not standing up, but moving around as best it can. I took a dropper with a little sugar water and fed it. It was eager. I put a few sprinkles of feed on its beak. It swallowed them. Instead of lying on its side it is squatting. Things still do not look good for this chick but I'm a tiny bit hopeful. I'll say this for it: the chick is a fighter! No doubt Merle junior, if it survives!

Keets, Peas, Kitties

2010-05-18T09:53:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been feeling rather ill. So yesterday evening I had dozed off on the couch. Suddenly I heard the peas making a fuss, so I went out to check and they were all by the car, screaming. Guess what?! Charlie was in the car!! I had left the hatch open while I was getting things out and I guess he went in and got comfy and then I closed it. I'm glad it wasn't hot!! Anyway thanks to peas for letting me know. It's the first useful thing they've done.

The keeters are now in the chicken yard with the rest of the avian gang. (See below: It's hard to get a good photo of Guineas--they really do have great camoflage.) After some initial bullying by peas and hens (mainly Loretta, whose behavior is proof of the adage that those who are abused grow up to be abusers!) things settled down and now there is a kind of detente, though the peas are keeping a close eye on everything. I don't mind as it keeps them out of my garden and away from my flowers, which they have a twisted and destructive desire to behead. They also like to pull plants out of containers and drop them next to the pot.

Another example of bad pea behavior: One morning last week I noticed Sushi staring intently at something on the back deck. I got up to see and there was a beautiful little yellow warbler just sitting there. I called to Shreed and just as he arrived a peahen stepped onto the deck and tried to attack the tiny warbler! Shreed ran out and shooed her away. He almost caught the warbler--it seemed sort of stunned but then flew away. I had no idea peafowl would attack like that. I have often seen them run towards small wild birds. But I always thought they were just curious rather than aggressive. I've started calling the peas "peavils"-- pea + evil.

Tofu continues to grow and to expand his mischievous activities. He has a toy monkey that he loves to carry around--that is when he is not harassing one of the other cats. Wabi is so hefty that when she slams him to the floor it looks and sounds like a WWF wrestling match. Tofu doesn't seem to care though. He keeps coming back for more. He also loves to jump on Crim's head. Crim is a very large, moody, somewhat deranged cat and I am always surprised at how tolerant he is of the little one. When Crim gets sick of being used as a punching bag he just meows unpleasantly and walks away. Of course Tofu's behavior is nothing compared to the tenacious and destructive behavior of Crim-kitten. We were convinced that little Milkweed (as he was named in the beginning) was actually an albino ocelot. He destroyed a very large jade plant and he chased Bella Janey all over until she was panting. And she weighed at least ten times what he did. Eventually Crim shredded the bottom of our box spring cover--he crawled up in there and I had to sew it shut using some heavy duty fabric and carpet thread --after I got him out, of course). It was like having a snow leopard cub in the house. Tofu is a mild mannered little cream-puff compared to that kitten!

Last week Daniel and Elam cut our hay. Extremely early this year! These guys below did most of the work:

The icat

2010-05-12T07:46:00.000-07:00

The new icat plugs into your mini mac with a USB cable. It gets hair in your keyboard and types enigmatic sentences...

Catching Up and Thoughts on Mother's Day

2010-05-11T07:27:00.001-07:00

I guess I've neglected the blog for a while, for a number of reasons. Busy with other things. Ambivalent about blogging. I feel bad about not posting pictures of my tulips. I did take the pictures though and they're on Facebook, which seems to be my preferred means of communication lately: a pithy statement and a picture of an animal or bird. At least I know someone sees those truncated posts.

We have more birds. I sent for Cayuga ducklings and silkie chicks. Some of the silkie chicks have little bouffant hairdos. The one I picture here is a male, I believe, the bit of fluff on his head makes him resemble Kim Jong Il. Let's hope he is more benign. That would not be difficult.

Tofu and the keets are growing fast--they seem more adolescent than baby now. The keets are outside now though I've been a bit concerned with the low morning temperatures we've had lately--it was 28 this A.M. We protected the tomato and pepper plants and covered up the keets with blankets and a duvet, but I'm afraid we may lose strawberries and apples. Such is the life of a farmer! At least it's not our livelihood.

On Friday the mailman wished me happy Mother's Day. In our family we never observed the Hallmark Holidays--my family has always been rather iconoclastic. But the mailman's good wishes got me thinking. I was instantly pleased, and I am pretty sure he knows I have no children. But clearly he sees something maternal in me, and he's quite right. I am actually one of the most maternal women I know! I think we need to expand the idea of mother's day to include those women who don't have children but choose to nurture other forms of life. In some ways we might be considered more genuinely selfless because we choose to care for that which helps the planet instead of contributing to its ever-bulging population. Of course I don't mean to belittle mothers of children. Many have told me that it's the hardest thing they have ever done and I believe them. At least they have chosen it. Most women the world over have little choice in the matter.

Listening to Mark Knopfler now. The Get Lucky album. Beautiful album. Even better than the Dire Straits days, though I liked them too.

More Better Keet Pictures

2010-04-05T18:50:00.000-07:00

I had Shreed take some more pictures of the keets. They are very skittish and apparently that is common for baby Guineas but I think I will work on taming them a bit. They have a total panic attack when they see my hand reaching for them!

In my new incubator I have Mille Fleurs D'Uccle bantam eggs. We will see how the incubator works. This is my first attempt at it. I probably should have tried it out with a few of our own eggs but I really couldn't stomach the idea of more Merles, possibly. I might get some real Auracana eggs from Anita. She has the rumpless tufted birds--not just the Ameraucanas that are more common (and of which we have two).

Raising birds is very addictive!

Springtime and a New Friend

2010-04-03T05:16:00.000-07:00

Since I last wrote spring has been upon us with few relapses into winter. It did not snow in March, which is just plain unheard of. It was the warmest, most pleasant March I can remember since I was a child. If every March were like this past month winter wouldn't seem half so bad.

Good weather means more time outside and less time in the studio or at the computer blogging. I have to admit I have become a Facebook regular as well. I never joined during the time I was teaching--I just didn't want to be there with all my students. But it's been a nice way to be in touch with friends from college and my cousins who live in Oregon, New York, and Egypt. And also friends who live just a few miles away.

I've been riding a lot and gardening, getting the plots ready for planting and I did get peas, lettuce, and chard in already. The chickens need to be locked up this weekend so that the plants can grow undisturbed. Chickens can be very hard on gardens, mostly because of their scratching.

Since I last wrote we've had a few additions to the family: some Guinea keets that arrived this week (The pictures of the Guineas were taken through the plastic brooder, so they're a little cloudy), and a little Siamese kitten named Tofu. He is an adorable little baggage and after being here two days slept quietly between us all night. He is a very noisy little kitten and very agile, true to his Siamese heritage. For my sixth birthday my parents gave me two Siamese kittens so I have a sentimental attachment to Siamese cats. Also, our beloved cat Tippy was a Himalayan, but not one of those pushed-in-face Persian types; he looked and sounded and acted like a long-haired Siamese of the old fashioned type. Tofu is also an old-fashioned, "applehead" Siamese, not the elongated Siamese with the wedge-shaped heads you see at cat shows. That type never appealed to me as much.

The other kitties' reactions vary from fear and loathing to curiosity, and I think that eventually everyone will get along. Surprisingly Sushi is the most afraid, which was totally unexpected--she has such a feisty personality. But you never know, I guess.

So our house is now a place of much peeping and meowing, with spring babies among us.

Welcome, Dr. Aziz!

2010-03-08T04:58:00.000-08:00

I mentioned in several places that all my peas are hens (well, maybe one of the whites is a male) and so I decided that the girls needed a boyfriend. Enter Dr. Aziz. He comes from the same farm as the girls and I picked him up yesterday.

I think yesterday was possibly the worst day of Aziz's life. He was taken from the place he was hatched and put in a cat carrier (a large one, really dog-sized) and driven to an unfamiliar farm and placed in a chicken tractor where a bunch of other birds could gawp at him. The girls were just thrilled to their little topnots (poor Aziz has no topknot--the other male with him in his aviary pulled it out). They stuck their necks out and approached the enclosure slowly, then started to honk and even scream (sort of) which I had not heard them do before. Obviously they were excited to see another of their own kind.

Towards dusk I decided to put Aziz in the barn; he was panicking as I tried to grab him and got away and flew off to the hay field. My heart sank as I realized I would probably never see him again. But I spotted him in the hayfield and sneaked up on him--fortunately he did not fly to a tree (and there are none--that helps!) and after one miss I was able to pounce on him and I carried him back to the barn and placed him on the hay, where he stayed--poor thing was probably in shock from the worst day of his life so far. I closed up the barn and I hoped that in the morning he would be cheered by the sight of his five houris.

This morning I heard ruckus as I approached the barn, honking and screaming. Aziz was up in the rafters with the girls. He flew to the same rafter as one of them; they perched right next to each other. One of the whites flew down--I am beginning to suspect that one is a male. Sometimes the spurs take a long time to grow and he does seem bigger than the other white.

My hope is that Aziz, who is not used to being-free range, will stay with his new friends. I hope he doesn't fly off and take the others with him. Gene (the guy whom I got them from) advised keeping him confined for month or so. But I am gambing on the fact that as gregarious animals they will stick together and that the majority will rule. After all, if I got a new horse he probably wouldn't run away from my horses. Unless he took them for a joy ride! We shall see...

Thanks for the Boost!

2010-03-03T06:34:00.000-08:00

Thanks, Jan and Eileen, for your comments on my lonely blog! I hadn't meant to disparage your support, Jan. You've been such a good friend it's hard to believe we haven't met in real life! You're right about commenting on others' blogs. I actually do look at a fair number of blogs, but most of them are written by Blog Celebrities who have countless admirers and no time for the small fry! Maybe I should form a support group for under-appreciated blogs.

There's a dusting of snow this morning; compared to our usual March snowfalls it is nothing (it's not unusual to get 2 or 3 feet this time of year). Nevertheless I am impatient for spring. Seeing those photos of daffodils in Oregon makes me insanely jealous!! The other day I thought I saw a crocus shoot sticking out of the ground where the wind had rendered the surface free of snow. But yesterday when I looked again I couldn't find it. Probably one of the peas ate it.

Speaking of peas, it appears they are all hens. One of the white ones could be a male--it's a bit hard to tell. I never knew that both males and females strut so when I first saw them fanning each other I thought they were males. So far nobody has started calling "MAO MAO" to blow my socks off. I can't seem to get answers to my questions about when they start calling and if hens do it too. It seems there is no peafowl handbook and the websites don't answer my questions--they seem to cover diet and building aviaries, things like that. I may buy a male from a guy in the valley who has a pied a couple of months younger than mine. This peacock is tame, which would be a plus. The guy I bought my eggs from has a couple of males he might sell so I'm waiting to hear from him. His prices are a bit lower than what the guy here is asking.

Yesterday I went to Home Depot to buy seed-starting mix and pots. I was pounced on by about six employees. The store was empty and they must have been bored out of their minds. Across the road is a Lowe's, which was built last year after a Lowe's about half a mile away was torn down. I don't understand this. How many home improvement stores do we need? And I can't understand tearing down a store that was built 15 years before and relocating to a piece of undeveloped land. More and more strip malls are being built around here when most of the existing shopping centers have about a third of their space unrented. I just don't get why State College can't learn from other towns and cities that have made the mistake of allowing uncontrolled sprawl. The town is in the hands of developers and real estate people. There are also more banks in State College than anywhere else I've ever been.

Anyway, back to the subject at hand: seed-starting. I had not planned to start any seeds this year because every time I do it I end up losing all the plants after I set them out. Last year I think I went through 5 sets of tomato plants and finally after seeing the last set through the vulnerable stage all the tomatoes got blight. But Shreed really wanted me to start some seeds and I have tons from last year. Fine, I told him, let your heart be broken. I'm not going to get attached. Right.

Enjoy a random cat picture as that's my default illustration. Crim checks all the plumbing every morning--he's so conscientious! Shreed is in Norway so Crim has to be the man of the house.

Sorry for the Silence...

2010-03-02T05:26:00.000-08:00

Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter because no one reads my blog anyway! Two-plus years of attempts to be clever and entertaining, wonderful pictures, writing skills that exceed those of 99.9% of the people out there blogging... all that equals no readership. Why can't my experience be like Julie Powell's in Julie and Julia? Oh well, I'm probably too much of a snob and it shows. Someone whose blood pressure rises at a misplaced apostrophe probably deserves to be in Bloglandia Incognita. But why are people writing things like "Puppy's for sale, good temperment, get's along with kids"? Once I asked one of my students why he introduced an apostrophe into a word when he was copying a sentence from an exercise manual (I gave that up soon enough). He just shrugged. He didn't know.

Contrary to what most people might think, grammar does matter. If you only had shorts and tee shirts in your closet you wouldn't be a very competitive candidate in an interview at a bank. Standard grammar doesn't matter in every situation, but it's nice to be able to choose to use it if you need to. But I'm probably wrong. People wear shorts and tee shirts everywhere now; no one cares.

I hadn't intended to lecture on grammar. As Shreed says, "You're an English teechur." We share a good laugh over that. I am actually an anthropologist.

February is a hard month to blog through. The risk is that the posts will all be complaints. I don't like winter and for those who dislike it February is usually the worst. We had lots of snow this month but not as much as DC or Philadelphia. Of course those folks could enjoy the novelty, though I am sure that wore off pretty quickly.

Life on the farm goes on--Levi has sore feet, which is my fault, and the boys are all on a diet. My hay was too rich, which was a fear I had from the beginning when Daniel told me what he wanted to plant. Of course his horses and mules work hard and mine sit and watch TV and drink beer.

Kitties are all fine: last month's highlights (lowlights?) were when one of the peas crapped on Charlie (he's still got the remnants of guano on his back after 2 weeks), when Sushi dragged one of my dresses down two flights into the basement, and when someone unplugged the router and caused me a painful internet-free day.

Birds are fine. I have more Merle scars. It looks like I had smallpox, at least on my shins.

Happy March. The month when we hope spring will come, but never does. Maybe this year...

Poultry Personality

2010-02-04T07:25:00.000-08:00

As I have said before, I could watch our birds for hours. On a sunny day in winter (such as today) they, especially the peas, like to gather on the back deck. So I can sit in comfort and watch them through the French doors and get some good photos, though they would be even better were I to wash the glass.

On the whole peas are much more peaceful than chickens. They do squabble but they are quiet about it and it usually just involves jumping around. Yesterday I had given the birds one of their favorite treats, cooked spaghetti, but they get so busy fighting over it that they leave half of it lying on the ground, unnoticed, and in weather like this it freezes and is less appealing as food.

This morning one of the peas was making himself a nice dust wallow, and Loretta chased him away twice and appropriated it for herself. A little later Tammy did the same thing. The peas are quite huge and could whup those hens' fluffy butts, but they choose not to. Whether this is because they were babes while the chickens were all adults or young adults I don't know. The peas have no fear of Merle, however; they scarcely move out of his way and he shows absolutely no interest in them. He doesn't seem to know they exist.

When I watch the birds from the French doors Merle comes and pecks at things right on the other side of the glass. This is one of his behaviors when he is feeling aggressive (or shall we say particularly aggressive) and is frustrated. He pecks at random things and it's obvious he wants to kill us. And later when we go out this frustration will erupt in a frenzy of spurs and I will have the wounds to show for it. He is one lucky rooster as I can't imagine anyone else tolerating him for anything other than Sunday dinner. Though I think he is too tough for that now.

My Ameraucana hens (you see one here) are looking so nice since I got rid of the rootards. They are the best layers for us and have already produced quite a few Martha Stewart blue-green eggs.

The detailed picture of the peas shows the blue feathers that are beginning to appear on the neck. Before I had peas I would have drawn their headdresses sprouting from the top of their heads, but as you can see, they emerge from further back. They are so interesting to observe in detail.

My Constant Companions

2010-01-30T13:14:00.000-08:00

During these extra cold winter days the cats are happy that I'm inside most of the day. In better weather Crim always goes nuts climbing the side door and peering out when I am in the garden. Now he's happy to follow me everywhere and jump into my lap and get fur all over what I'm working on. If it's fabric it's not so bad but if I'm painting it's a real pain. Earlier today he was playing with a feather and he put it in a trash bag I'd been filling as I was trying to straighten up the studio. Consequently he spread the rubbish all over.

I'm really neurotic when it comes to Crim. I have to find him before I go to bed and about once a month (or more often) I panic because I can't find him. Since he's gotten out a few times and he's deaf I'm very worried about this happening again. So if he's not with me I look for him until I either find him or go crazy with anxiety. Usually he just appears after I have turned the house upside down. It's a well-known fact that cats can enter into the Bardo (a kind of Tibetan Buddhist other world) at will.

I haven't done much of anything today. It's wretchedly cold and I am having one of my headchey extra tired days, which seem to occur about once every two weeks. I don't mind too much because a year ago they were happening once a week. I figure they will become even more infrequent over time so I try not to get too upset when I feel useless. It is rather boring though.

Rescue Me

2010-01-27T05:35:00.000-08:00

Off and on since I was in graduate school I have done volunteer work of one kind or another--at the UW Hospital oncology unit, for animal rescue and wildlife rehab, in libraries, and in the Museum of American Folk Art in Santa Fe, which was my favorite gig. While teaching I didn't volunteer anywhere because, as I have said many times, I had no mental or physical energy to spare.

However now since I am a lady of (relative) leisure I have decided to volunteer again. I got in touch with Shirley Fonda of Fonda's Foundlings, a local cat rescue. At this point Shirley is down to "only" 47 cats. She told me that in 11 years she has rescued more than 950 cats! She does this all in her house and as you can imagine doesn't have much time to do but the minimum of media stuff to help promote her cause. That's where I come in. I have offered to do posters, come up with a logo, and do a website. And look for grants to write. So yesterday I went to visit Shirley and her rescued cats.

Shirley is an awesome woman. She is tall and straight, looking far younger than her 74 years. She has an MS in zoology and a Ph D in geology, and her house is stuffed with curios and souvenirs from her decades in these fields as well from her travels as a musician. A jar of snake vertebrae sits next to the huge jawbone of a mastodon; on the walls are wool weavings created by Incas from Cuzco. A whole cabinet is devoted to crystals and geodes of various kinds. Another cabinet contains dolls of every costume and hue imaginable. The sheer number of objects is overwhelming, and we haven't even gotten to the cats.

Among the objects and the kitties weaving around them, Dennis, Shirley's nearly 4 year-old grandson, plays nicely with a dilute calico. Scamp, Shirley's elderly hound cross, snuggles up to another cat. After chatting a while Shirley takes me upstairs to meet the first set of cats and begin the photo session.

In the first room is an orange tabby with part of his jaw missing, the result of a raccoon attack. A young gray tabby female is trying to take his food, which he is getting all over, and Shirley gently scolds the cat, who I think is called Sandy. Shirley has names for all her cats and in this room we have Sandy and Piper, who were found on Sandpiper Drive in State College. Others in the room are from farms. It's hard for me to process all the information she is sharing; I am definitely in sensory overload. I am helping to scoop litter boxes, something I am very good at.

In another room Shirley introduces me to Cirrus and Nimbus, two beautiful long-haired dilute calicos, who are there with their mother. The rooms are furnished by someone who knows cats very well--there are lost of nooks and crannies where the shy cats can hide and shelves where others can sit and look out the window. They have a view of some outdoor cages that Shirley used during her career as a wildlife rehabilitator. Is there anything this woman can't do or hasn't done??

There is one red tabby in this room, Sarge, who has ears like a Scottish fold--well, sort of. They are more twisted-looking. "Ear mites," Shirley announces, and I can hardly believe it. But Sarge's story pales in comparison to the unhappy tales that brought other cats to Shirley. Some stories make me wince and I don't even want to think about them.

In another room we meet cats who are still pretty much scared and mistrustful. They have been here three to four years. Some are hiding, but one, an elegant black cat that looks like an oriental shorthair, is sitting on a desk. I speak to her and she opens her mouth wide and hisses at me. "She's come a long way," Shirley notes.

We go down to the basement where Shirley has her FIV+ cats. Sarge's brother is there and one of his ears is similarly afflicted. He is an adorable guy who badly wants to come out of his cage. She shows me where she kept the last litter of kittens; she will not take anymore. She needs to start scaling down and she is worried about the future, who will look after the cats when she can't. It's hard to imagine her not being able to do all she does. She seems so robust and has twice the energy of most people half her age. But I understand her concerns because I have them too, on a much smaller scale. And at the rate I'm going I will have more and more responsibilities in the coming years. What I've done seems like a drop in the ocean in comparison to what Shirley has sacrificed. But I can tell she wouldn't have it any other way.

Winter Rain

2010-01-25T06:15:00.000-08:00

It's been pouring since yesterday and since the ground is probably a bit frozen (though maybe not--it's been quite mild recently) there are streams and puddles forming everywhere. The boys are encased in mud and their paddock is a rather noisome bog. While everywhere else in the country there are generally four seasons, on the farm there is a fifth, called Mud, that can appear anywhere from November to April. It's always hard for me to believe that people actually wear shoes in the house, but in this season particularly it is awful to contemplate. I suppose I am glad right now that I don't have a dog!

No doubt this is the January Thaw and soon we will be back to the normal cold, which always feels much worse given a reprieve. I guess it would be folly to imagine we are finished with the really frigid temperatures. There are things I should have done given the recent warm period (like protect more of the trees and shrubs) but as usual I didn't get to them.

This is rather a boring post. What can I talk about that is more interesting? The fact that Trisha laid an egg in Levi's stall, thinking that the uneaten hay created a nice nest? It turned out not to be a good idea. The chickens have been laying in the hay bales and since the supply is dwindling the nest areas have become fewer. I am sad to be almost finished with our hay. When I sniff it I recall the summer, with all its fragrance and sound of insects, profusion and color. Winter is a season at the drab end of the palette: Yellow Ochre, Burnt Siena, Payne's Gray. Maybe a wash of Cerulean here and there. My eyes are starved.

Bird Sightings

2010-01-22T07:47:00.000-08:00

Wednesday Anita came and she said that on her way up the driveway she saw a kestrel. I see one almost daily. We got to talking about hawks, and I told her that I see one hovering over our hayfield very often. She thought that it had to be a swamp hawk (I've been told the correct term is Northern Harrier) because red-tailed hawks do not hover. But I emailed the Stokes and they confirmed that red-tailed hawks do hover. They also vocalize quite a bit and if you ever watch TV shows about American Indians you've heard that mournful whistle. Lillian Stokes says the whistle is often associated with the wrong species in these shows.

Yesterday on my run I saw bluebirds, a mockingbird, and a flicker. The bluebirds and mockingbirds seem to stick around all winter but I haven't seen any robins since fall. Of course we don't see as many robins out here as they do in town. In summer their favorite thing is to follow the lawnmower. We call them run-runs because they don't seem to like to fly very much. We did have them nesting in our spruce. In winter it's mostly manure sparrows, hawks, and the few species I mentioned above that I see when I run. I am grateful not to have so many starlings around. They make a terrible mess in the barn and I hate to find drowned starlings and sparrows in the horse trough. Maybe I should put a floating object in it so they wouldn't drown. I am sure one can buy something like that at cheappplasticcrap.com for only $39.99 plus S & H. In any case if I know the boys they would toss it out of the trough just for fun. They used to do that with the de-icer, but so far they have not done it this winter.

Criminal Mischief

2010-01-21T07:42:00.000-08:00

Crim has been acting up a lot lately--scratching at doors and furniture, knocking things around, jumping on my art table while I'm painting, jumping in my lap while I'm painting and getting his fur all over, asking for water from every faucet in the house, yowling at night while he plays with his toy, putting his toy in water dishes and spilling water all over as he tries to get it out, and making his loud trilling sounds. He is completely deranged. Somebody emailed me to ask if I specialize in adopting blue-eyed white cats who are blind! Somehow they got mixed up about which sense blue-eyed white cats are often lacking. I guess I specialize in blue-eyed white cats who are deaf and insane. I wonder how Crim would be as a nursing home therapy cat--we could go visit the seniors in assisted living. I see a New Yorker cartoon possibility there.

This is What Merle Does

2010-01-21T06:29:00.000-08:00

Just to give you an example of what that f*&%^$ of a rooster does. And this damage was done through fleece running pants. Imagine if I were wearing shorts? Actually he has attacked me while I was wearing shorts. I just want to say, however, that if I were wearing shorts I would have shaved my legs. Sorry but I didn't want to go to the trouble of photo-shopping my leg. It's winter and I just don't bother shaving. I'm a farmer, after all, not some pin-up. So get over it. I hope I don't get tetanus or have to have my leg amputated. These marks are from Merle's spurs and they aren't the cleanest body parts in the world. And yes, it hurt like hell, and activated some very violent thoughts that resulted in Merle finding himself in an icy puddle in the back of the pick-up truck. He sat there stunned for a couple of minutes and I felt terribly guilty. But within a couple of minutes he was right as rain. And after me again.

Wabi and Terry

2010-01-19T09:20:00.000-08:00

This is a picture of Wabi mauling Terry. Terry is a teddy bear named after a guy who was friends with Shreed and his roommates back in grad school. Terry is a very 80s bear. I don't know why he ended up with us nor can I remember whether he actually belonged to the human Terry or what that story was. Shreed would know. In any case Wabi likes to stand on Terry and knead him until he is smushed and misshapen. I don't know whether this qualifies as obsessive-compulsive behavior but there is an article about such behavior in dogs in the New York Times.

A Break from the (Bitter) Cold

2010-01-14T07:26:00.000-08:00

Today the sun is out and the morning temperature was 22 and promises to get above freezing later on. This is a real boost to the mood! I'm looking forward to going for a run later. I've run through a lot of this cold weather but I can't say I've looked forward to it. Though I have looked forward to the finish, very much.

Shreed and I have been thinking of adding a dog to our menagerie. Or, to put it more precisely, I have been thinking about it and I have consulted Shreed and he is not 100% against the idea. He wants to wait until spring. I don't know why--it seems to unreasonable not to jump at the chance to take a puppy out to pee when it's dark, 12 degrees, and blowing 30 knots. I don't know what his problem is!

Last weekend we went to see a Newfoundland/poodle puppy, about 4-5 months months old, and I fell in love with the shaggy beast. Shreed vetoed him. The pup was nearly the size of a Shetland pony, I must admit. Shreed mentioned that he might "knock over stuff," possibly meaning the couch or the dining room table. Anyway I have mostly gotten over my disappointment and am thinking ahead. Shreed probably thinks I'll have forgotten about this come spring, and if I were 8 years old, indeed I might.

It's hard to decide what kind of dog. I would adopt an adult if I could be sure he/she would be OK with all my other animals. I just feel more confident about training a puppy. I like Australian shepherds and have read that they are not as intense as border collies. Jan has had several pit bulls including her current dog, Rocky. I was one of those people who was prejudiced against pits before I knew Jan. I never agreed with breed-specific bans but I still thought they were scary and that only people who wanted to scare other people had them, or worse, people like Michael Vick. When we lived in Tuscaloosa, our neighbors, who were students (guys) at UA, had a pit bull and they used to swing the dog around by his teeth. This did not make a good impression on me. I don't think I would ever get a pit bull, mostly because we're not experienced dog owners, but I thank Jan for teaching me about this oft misunderstood breed. So now when I see one I am not afraid and in fact I have a warm feeling. It makes me sad that every time I go to the shelter I see that more than half the dogs there are pits or pit crosses.

So even though nobody reads my blog I do solicit the opinions of dog owners to tell me about their dogs and what they like (and dislike) about the breed they have. Of course I know that breed only means so much. Pennsylvania happens to be the puppy mill state. Unfortunately many of the offenders are Amish. But as of January first wire-floor cages have been outlawed. A step in the right direction.

Skating

2010-01-11T06:59:00.001-08:00

On Saturday I went skating on my neighbors' small pond. It had been 10 years since I laced up the skates and I was rather graceless at first. Actually I don't think I cut a very good figure even at the end of my session but I had fun and only fell twice! It was a cold and perfectly clear day, and unusual for here, it wasn't windy. The Amish kids have been skating regularly and had cleared the surface of snow. Thankfully they were not there to watch, though I'm sure they saw me and no doubt word has gotten around: "I seen Martha skatin'--she fell down twice."

The Amish and I have very similar habits and taste in recreational activities. Sometimes I think we have more in common with them than with our other neighbors. We don't use engines to do every single chore, we hang out the wash, use manure on our garden and fields, drink raw milk, and have our own eggs. We have a different taste in fashion though. They favor black skirts and bonnets and I favor Carharrts.

Coldern a Castahrn Commode

2010-01-03T06:44:00.000-08:00

Wishin' I was in 'Bama right now. Why did we ever leave????? Oh yeah, I remember now . . . the smell of burning tires that greeted us every morning. The abandoned couches on the road. The city council who put Klieg lights in the only park in town so them homosexuals wouldn't do nuthin' nasty in the bushes. Right. OK, it's cold, but not cold enough to move back to 'Bama. Not that I didn't love magnolias in February, or strangers asking my advice on tea in the grocery store, or the sound of cicadas in summer . . . oh well, every pleasure has its price. I've lived a lot of places. And I can't think of one that didn't have its redeeming qualities. Even Dallas, Texas.

But it's hard not to wish I were somewhere else today, like Costa Rica, where my brother is, or Manly Beach Australia, where Shreed was planning an outing. But soon they'll both be on planes headed home, and I wouldn't trade places with them for anything at that point. No lavatory during the last hour of flight??? Can it get any worse? Don't answer that.

Been on a writing spree lately--seven pages in the journal today, six yesterday. The quota is three, and some days I've had trouble writing one. Been blogging too. Guess I'm just feeling verbal. Too much time alone, with the wind howling in my head.

Let's hope this cold snap ends soon. The barn is on lock-down and horses can produce A LOT of manure. That will be fun to clean up. I wonder how much of my day I spend cleaning up poop of one kind or another? I'll tell you one thing--it's better than teaching as a fixed-term lecturer at the Number One Party School in the nation. Even on the coldest day of the year. Jan sent me this: http://www.thislife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?episode=396

Photo credit: Tiffany: http://www.flickr.com/photos/grrl_saturn/3105152435/

Les Trois du Jour

2010-01-02T06:49:00.000-08:00

Jan suggested this phrase for my "three things." It has a certain Je ne sais quoi! I think I'll adopt it, being a Francophile since childhood.

Yesterday Les Trois were to clean the chicken coop, pick the boys' hooves, and make something out of felted sweater. I mentioned this yesterday. I did the first two. The chicken coop was difficult, smelly work. There was no bedding in it, so the guano was several inches thick in places and partially frozen. Yech. Not to mention I had to crouch with my upper body inside, allowing my olfactory nerve to process the full effect of the odeur, plus strain my back rather badly. I did not care to kneel inside, even with Carharrts on. Some things are just too heinous to contemplate.

Charlie kept me company throughout. He is a very companionable cat and follows me everywhere, though his recent operation has not rendered him any less likely to take my hand off when he becomes overstimulated. Which is often. He still shows no fear of Merle, which amuses me greatly and causes Merle to utter a slightly alarmed "Buk buk BAWK" when Charlie brushes by him. I have never really figured out why Merle is so obsessed with attacking me (preferably from behind) while leaving alone every other animal on the place. And I feed the stupid pinhead of a bird, and clean up his stinky crap.

The boys' feet were not bad and not difficult to do, except that Tenzin was having a panic attack and running out of the stall every 10 seconds, which is one of my least favorite of his many bad habits, despite his very beautiful gait. I never really know what makes him do that, and as anyone who is acquainted with horses is sure to know, when one does something the others follow suit, which means that more than three thousand pounds of muscle and fat comes racing towards me when this happens. I have learned to be very quick on my feet. As well as quick to demand wtf is the matter.

Today I have decided to be a little kinder to myself. I had thought of cleaning out the car but since it's so cold I don't want to do that. I did go grocery shopping yesterday, which is another rather unpleasant task. I decided to write a thank-you note to a friend in Norway for a gift she sent, and I have already done that. I decided to scrub my bathtub. And I will finish something in the studio, I hope.

Happy New Decade

2010-01-01T07:07:00.000-08:00

I've heard a lot of people talking about how the past decade was rather awful. Certainly the beginning and middle were bad (9/11, the war, Katrina, the Tsunami, Bush, to name a few), but I think the end was better. Obama's election was earth-shattering and had many of us weeping with joy (at least in the circles I move in).

The same goes for me personally--the end was certainly better than the beginning. Living here is a long-held dream come true. Not teaching is fabulous. Being a full-time artist was a goal since childhood.

Anyway, it's all rather arbitrary, but because such things are culturally recognized as significant it's hard not to join in the practice of critiquing and looking ahead that comes with the New Year. I haven't made any resolutions but I have decided to strive to accomplish three things in a day, an idea I came across in a blog called Zen Habits. I tend to view such self-help gurus with a rather jaundiced eye, but it's possible to pick and choose without becoming anyone's disciple. I gave that up during the last decade too. I used to meditate daily or even twice daily but it just didn't suit me. The only thing I got out of it was that often I would remember stuff I'd forgotten to do. Which is probably worth it--maybe for five minutes every day. Running also works, and I'd rather move than sit around in the lotus position and think about grocery shopping, or how I should dust those bookshelves.

But back to the three things. I actually hate the phrase "three things" because in the beginning of the decade and towards the middle I took dressage lessons from possibly the most tedious instructor on the planet and I'd say I hated her except that I believe that one should not despise the mentally ill. Clearly she had a severe mood disorder and though I do believe she was medicated (based on the evidence that her hands shook and her fingernails were weird), I think that the meds needed adjusting, or maybe that was the best that could be done. In any case she used to demand that I recite three things I learned from each lesson, and much as I would be tempted to say "1. I learned that you are a sadist, 2. I learned that my body is incapable of sitting on a horse correctly, 3. I learned that I should not move the mounting block or you will have a meltdown" I came up with something inane to recite. The point is that I need to think of another phrase because I don't want to be reminded of Hellshire Farm every time I make my list of three tasks.

Yesterday my threefold plan of action (that is a stupid phrase--help me out here, please) was to clean the refrigerator (ugh ugh ugh), pay the bills online (ugh ugh), and finish one of my art projects. I did the first two but did not accomplish the third, though I did work on a couple of them. Today my tasks are to clean the chicken coop (ugh ugh ugh), and pick all the boys hooves (ugh ugh ugh), and to make something with one of my felted sweaters. I don't clean the boys' feet often enough, which is extremely bad of me. The snow does do a pretty good job though. The fridge was like a huge compost bin on wheels, and after I cleaned it I had a six-pack of beer, two parsnips, some cheese, mustard, ketchup, and salad dressing, and a bottle of wheat germ. Which means I will have to go shopping today, unless you can come up with a recipe that includes those ingredients.

Truckin'

2009-12-30T17:30:00.000-08:00

The Peas were in the back of the pick-up and had the Grateful Dead cranked.

" Truckin', like the do-dah man. Once told me 'You've got to play your hand' Sometimes the cards ain't worth a damn, if you don't lay'em down ...."

You can tell a lot about a girl by what's in the back of her truck.

29 Seconds

2009-12-29T06:18:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I read on Weather Underground that today will be 29 seconds longer than yesterday (in terms of daylight, of course). Now there's a cheery thought! The weather during the past week has been changeable and mostly unpleasant, with the exception of Christmas Eve, which was sunny and more moderate (in the 30s) and one other day that I forget now, maybe Sunday. Christmas Day and the day after it poured cold rain and with the ground frozen there were icy puddles everywhere. Then it turned bitter cold and windy.

I slept very badly with the wind howling all night--I could hear things banging and at one point I got up and as I came down the stairs I felt a cold breeze and I almost had a heart attack--but it was only the draft from the front door. Crim was lying there next to it like a draft tube--he has always done this. While other cats seek heat he likes a cold draft.

Christmas was fun but it always goes by so fast, and after cooking up a storm (assisted by Wabi, see photo) and hanging out with family and friends I find myself alone again eating chocolate. Renee gave me four chocolate bars and only the white one is left. That is pretty bad. But I get a lot of exercise tossing manure around, even if the weather is not good for running. My nurse practitioner told me that I needed to take fosamax and go to the gym and lift weights but I told her that I lift plenty of weights around here--bales of hay, 100 lb bags of grain (I can't lift those but I can wrestle them from the back of the truck to the barn), buckets of water and pitchforks of heavy manure. Yesterday I managed to catch a fresh one just as Levi was depositing it. A satisfying feeling.

Levi made me so mad yesterday. I didn't want him to go in Tenzin's stall because it's Tenzin's, so he stood outside and watched me for a long time, as I cleaned it and put new shavings in, and then fresh hay. And when I went back into the barn he went into the stall and peed on the hay. I swear he knew that what he was doing would make me mad. He just had this look on his face, like he was thinking about how to get me back for kicking him out of that stall.

Charlie (have I mentioned Charlie? I think I have) got evicted from the side porch. I kept him there after his neutering (he had three kinds of parasites, an old injury, and a respiratory infection, but thankfully was not FIV +) in the green crate with a nice heating pad and a litter box some distance away from his bed but still on the porch. He thanked me for my $350+ investment in his health by pooping on my handsome leather cowboy boots. So I booted him off. He was all healed anyway, and was back to trying to take my hand off. He's a nice kitty--I really am fond of him, but he pees and poops wherever he happens to be, like a dog. He peed in the barn the other day and I was so mad.

Now there are three strays in the barn, including Sabi's daddy who is not yet fixed. He's really feral. He was in his little cubby in the hay and Tammy decided she wanted to sit there and kicked him out this morning. She looked like she wanted to lay an egg but it will most likely be a couple more weeks before they start laying again. They need more than 29 seconds added to the day to get back on the job.

Scent Signals

2009-12-16T05:49:00.000-08:00

Scent Signals

Gotcha!

2009-12-15T18:37:00.000-08:00

I caught a Pea display on my camera today. If you look closely you can see the blue tipped feathers growing on his/her neck. The Peas are getting so big now. They are such charming birds. I never tire of watching them. I love how they walk with their necks all ruffled and their heads bobbing forward and back. I love how they peer carefully at a bug before jabbing at it quickly. I love the way they turn their heads almost upside down and look at the sky. I love the way they are so curious and come beak to whiskers with the cats at the French doors. I love the way they get excited and jump around and flap their wings every once in a while. I love their plaintive honking. I love their very muted disagreements with each other. Here's to you, Peas!

Oscar's New Bed

2009-12-13T12:06:00.000-08:00

I made this for Oscar today. For the last three weeks he his mobility has diminished almost by the day. It's very mysterious. Shreed left November 9th and I recall emailing him about how Oscar was racing around playing. Then he began to have trouble moving around: first he couldn't go up and down stairs, then he couldn't get on the couch. Now he's pretty much confined himself to an area of about 50 square feet. Since he has to be on the floor I made this bed for him. I didn't think he would like it but he got right in. So at least I hope to give him some comfort. Renee was going to come out last week but I didn't get her message in time. So I think I will have to take him into the clinic this week. I hope it's nothing very serious. He eats and is alert. But the poor guy missed meals before I realized he couldn't go downstairs to eat. I felt so terrible. So he is thin. He's a very old kitty. But he has to stick it out. He's so special to Shreed.

Things Could be Worse

2009-12-11T05:39:00.000-08:00

I think that if one hasn't blogged for a while it becomes more and more difficult to emerge from "private" life again. Nothing terrible has happened; I have been turned inward, perhaps because I'm alone.

It's been more than a month since Shreed left for Antarctica and at the moment I can't believe his weather could be worse than ours, eleven degrees and blowing about 40 knots. All this is a transitory unpleasantness for most people as they exit their cars and dash to their office buildings. But for many of us it means making sure other beings can be as comfortable as possible in these life-threatening conditions, and coping with the layer of constant anxiety weighing down on our daily activities.

Whenever you move to a new property or build, you discover little quirks about the place that despite your best efforts seem beyond redress; they stubbornly continue to irritate or make life just a bit more difficult. Around here the problem is doors that won't stay closed. I now have the French doors bungee-corded (what a verb!) shut and the side door must be pushed on and rechecked several times before one can be certain it is secure. Despite the fact that I was sure that the people door to the barn was closed, I found it wide open when I went to feed this morning. The terrible wind had blown everything about and thoroughly chilled the peafowl, who, instead of roosting in the rafters, were huddled on a corner of the floor next to the tractor.

Several burning oaths later I had closed the door and was going about the morning chores. After finishing I went back to the house and upstairs to my study. A little later I casually glanced out the window and saw the door open again! I rushed out, swearing, and locked the door from the inside, making my way out through the stall door and the gate. On my way out I noticed that one of the peas was shivering badly, so when I went back to the house I searched in the basement for a heat lamp. I went back out side carrying the lamp and I wrestled our large animal crate from the porch down to the barn in the wind (it almost swept me away like a sail), scared the horses in the process, and got it set up with the heat lamp, AWAY from anything flammable (!).

Yesterday the peas had stayed in the barn, much to my relief, but for SOME reason they decided to fly out right at sunset and went under the porch. It was cold and windy yesterday too, and the peas soon realized their mistake, so with a little coaxing they stumbled on the ice and were blown about a little, but they made it back to the barn and through the slightly open sliding door. Except for one pea. He decided to go into the chicken yard and after chasing him around the coop several times I gave up, and then he went into the chicken coop with the chickens. I decided that was good enough and I shut the coop and could hear him honking plaintively, no doubt missing his friends.

So this morning I began to worry about the stranded pea, so I crawled into the coop and grabbed him, sustaining attacks from Merle, and managed to back out of the small space, make my way to the horse gate, unlatch it and go through the stall and let the pea go with his friends. The chickens are a bit hardier and have survived one winter here, so I am not too worried about them, except that I need to buy another electric water dish as they have no access to water next to the coop. Their waterer is frozen, of course.

To tell you the truth I don't know how I ever held down a full time job and managed all of this. In the past I would be drowning in student papers right about now. Then I would truly be despair. I would much rather do farm chores in the terrible cold and wind than I would look at a student paper. Things could be worse.

Christmas 1991

2009-11-12T07:01:00.001-08:00

Love the acid-washed jeans!! And that's Teddy Ruxpin, I believe--the gift for kids that year. I think we had a lot of fun with that dumb bear!

At lunch: Me, Shreed, my dad (standing), Bruce (Holly's partner), Chris (my bro), Holly (cousin), Mark (cousin), Lisa (SIL), my mom. I think my mom is speaking to her grandson, Matt. Sadly my cousin Mark died in India in 1998.

At top, the cutest kid in the world, my nephew Matt (now 20 years old) and his grandpa.

Alone Again

2009-11-09T14:23:00.000-08:00

This afternoon Shreed left on his long odyssey to Antartica; he won't reach Christchurch, New Zealand until about 6 or 7 PM tomorrow, our time. There was an histoire at the airport concerning visas for Australia, which they didn't have and which should have been obtained prior to travel, insisted a loud, overweight, and quite unpleasant United Airlines employee. Even though they will only be in Sydney Airport's travel lounge, the visas are necessary, supposedly. Shreed said one generally obtains a visa upon arrival, but for some reason the counter person had other ideas. The atmosphere at the airport was tense because a US Air plane was "broken" and had "spilled fuel all over the tarmac when it landed," according to another employee. So there was a long line of people trying to get rebooked. Ah, the joys of air travel!

The countdown to departure is always a difficult period--once Shreed is gone there's no choice but to cope. And of course on the way home from the airport I tried to use my debit card and the pin was wrong--those are the sorts of things that always happen. Well, we won't be totally out of touch for another couple of weeks. While he's in McMurdo prepping for the field we'll still be able to email. After that, he'll be where there's no contact with the outside world. Must be nice, in some ways. If only it weren't so dang cold!

I'm posting here a picture of my new bicycle. Jan had requested it! It's been unseasonably warm the last few days and unusually calm so I've enjoyed running and riding, both horse and bicycle. I very much hope our winter isn't brutal. Things are so much easier when it's not. For me winter begins here.

The Adventures of Loretta

2009-11-03T14:35:00.000-08:00

Well, I have another crazy animal story. This morning when I let the chickens out, I didn't see Loretta, the one-eyed hen I had to keep in the house early this year. I searched around for her a little bit but no luck. I emailed Shreed about it and he said she was probably hiding in the hay. "No," I thought, "That's not Loretta." Despite the fact that she's half-blind and scrawny, she doesn't take crap from anybody, and gives the rootards what for if they try anything with her. She chases the pullets and the peas away from any food she wants. So I just didn't see her hiding. Predators were a possibility and just because we've never had a problem doesn't mean we never would. But I know I didn't hear anything, and you know how chickens make a huge fuss over nothing.

Finally late this afternoon, I decided to search in earnest. I looked under the porch, under the deck, in the shed, barn, in the tall grass. Nothing. I went back to the shed and saw an overturned hanging plant basket next to Shreed's motorcycle. As soon as I saw it I knew she was under it. I don't know how I knew because she wasn't visible but it was just a sixth sense thing, which I often have. I nudged it with my foot and it didn't give much. I reached in (the shed is quite cluttered) and started to turn it over. I saw black and white feathers and suddenly there was squawking and Loretta was trying to charge out of the shed, but the basket was coming with her. I grabbed her as she shrieked awfully and of course Merle came running! Always helpful! I held Loretta by the legs and saw that a link of the chain from which the basket hangs was caught around one of her toes. There was blood and the damn thing would not budge!! There was no question of trying to haul her and the basket into the house and Shreed was not there to grab some vaseline or something to try to lubricate the toe. I was queasy from thinking I was hurting her but slowly I worked at it and in what seemed like an interminable time (but was probably 2-3 minutes) I worked it off. I wanted to hold her and check her over but she was totally having a meltdown so I let her go and she ran off to eat some cat food, so I guess she's OK. Whew! I don't know why these things always seem to happen around here!

A Little Help From My Friends

2009-10-21T07:52:00.000-07:00

After last week's freakish weather things are back to normal and that means bulb planting. Yesterday I planted tulips, which any gardener knows is exhausting work. No matter what method I try I am always sore and exhausted afterwards. Yesterday's effort took longer than usual because of all the "help" I received from the birds.

As soon as I start anything in the garden I am surrounded by my curious flock. Of course they are there in part to enjoy a snack of worms and other bugs unearthed in the planting process. However I am certain that that is not their only reason for joining me. They just like to hang out and as you can see in the photos one of the peas is just settled down in the flower bed among the bulbs. As I dug, they wandered back and forth right next to my shovel, confident that I would not hurt them. And as soon as I went back inside they left the area. When I came back out to finish, they returned.

I like to talk to the birds while I am outside working and I believe that contributes to our friendship. Animals of all kinds sense when you like them and they respond. Of course Merle doesn't like me but oddly enough he left me alone while I was planting. I kept a watchful eye on him while I was crouched down setting the bulbs in place but he did not offer to kill me. We seemed to have some kind of a truce going on. But as soon as I went back to the house he followed me up the porch stairs and flung himself against the screen door, so I know his attitude toward me had not changed.

I still have quite a few bulbs to plant but most of them are small, not so much work. No doubt I will continue to receive assistance from the birdbrains.

SNOW

2009-10-17T06:34:00.000-07:00

It's been snowing almost nonstop since Thursday morning. Unbelievable. This is the earliest snowfall on record and this is also Penn State's homecoming weekend. The parade went forward last night. Every year sorority pledges have to stake out prime viewing sites on downtown sidewalks--they take sleeping bags and sit on the pavement and text on their phones. Sometimes they pretend to take "homework." I can only imagine how many of them will be sick after this. And all those tissue-paper floats. What a disaster. And the game is today. Nobody has ever seen anything like it. Especially snow that sticks around like this. It's crazy.

Thursday evening a number of the birds were stranded and couldn't make it to their coops or to the barn and of course I couldn't grab them and Shreed wasn't here (he was to arrive at 4 AM the next morning, having driven from Philadelphia because his flight had been canceled). Friday morning I discovered that the two white peas had spent the night outside perched on a ladder behind the shed. I was able to grab the smallest one who was obviously chilled and get her into the barn and warmed up. I also grabbed the two rootards--one was stranded next to Merle's coop and one on the ledge next to the porch--fortunately they have not inherited their father's temperament. Their sisters were smart enough to have staked out a place in the barn already.

I noticed the big peas on the roof of the house, then one was on the roof of the barn and while I was watching he flew off to the neighbors' tall trees. I felt my heart sink when I saw that, no more than the Pea's mate who was crying and following me around the rest of the day as if she expected me to fix the problem. Around 5:30 I went searching for the missing Pea, slogging through snow for about an hour, looking in trees, shrubs, outbuildings, the red barn--no luck. I returned to our barn nearly in tears, to discover both Big Peas sitting cozily together on a rafter above Tenzin's stall. Sigh.

The only ones enjoying the weather were the boys, who were running, jumping, bucking, playing in the snow. They didn't even want to come in to eat. I wish I had their joie de vivre but it's just not happening for me. I'm not a big fan of snow as it is and snow in October certainly does not crank my tractor, so to speak.

And just look at this shot of a Pea on the porch. You can just see the thought bubble above his head: "WTF??!!"

Catching Up/Feeling down

2009-10-13T05:56:00.000-07:00

The last couple of weeks have been a bit blah for me; typically I don't do well this time of year with the rapidly shortening days and cooler temperatures, the knowledge that Shreed will soon be off to Antarctica, and the burdens and burnout of teaching. At least the latter is no longer a part of my fall funk but I still have a bit of a struggle remaining cheerful.

Shreed was in Brazil, Salt Lake, and today off to Boulder. These trips have spanned the time period from September 23 until mid October. During that time he has been home a total of one week. Usually I don't mind his absences that much but coming as they do just before his departure for Antarctica in a month it's a bit tough. We've always been a very independent couple and I've always felt that this has kept us on a pretty even keel. I don't think either one of us would have done well with a clingy mate. So for the most part I cope, but sometimes get sick of dinner alone.

So what's new to report? This past weekend I passed up a horsemanship clinic to sell my wares at a local farmers' market but didn't sell a thing and nearly froze because we were outside and I wasn't expecting that. Years ago that would have put my nose totally out of joint but I enjoyed chatting with the other sellers and meeting some new people, including a woman who said she would feature me on her PA artists blog. However I am known for my short attention span and I got really antsy sitting there for even two hours and left a bit early. Not sure whether I'll do that again because it costs $10 to set up and if I don't even make that back it's a bit of a drag. Exposure is good though, so I can't decide. Maybe I need to bring a book.

The animals are all doing well: horses are getting fuzzy, kitties continue to do naughty things, peas are growing, and Merle is as mean and ornery as ever. Yesterday he raised a lump the size of a crabapple (weird image!) on my shin. My Amish neighbors' ears must be burning with my shouts of "You f---er!!". Actually we heard a rumor that our nearest neighbors, who so far have not started building, are going to begin construction in the spring. We don't look forward to it but we think that they'll probably dislike our presence more than we will theirs, with three roosters crowing and peacocks screaming and horses busting free occasionally and trampling their formal French gardens.

We shall see...

Silly

2009-10-09T19:14:00.001-07:00

Explain these behaviors.

Keeping Emmy Company

2009-10-03T18:29:00.000-07:00

The "Little" Peas don't like to let Emmy out of their sight, even when she's laying an egg. Usually hens want a bit of privacy but it's not happening for Emmy.

Brain Fog

2009-10-01T07:39:00.000-07:00

I seem to be suffering from an attack of dullness this week. Shreed's been gone for over a week now, giving climate change talks in several cities in Brazil. After a few days alone I've started to become less ambitious about everything and the temptation to stay in bed is strong. It's not always that way--after all Shreed is gone a lot, a good part of the winter, actually--but for some reason his departure coincided with a drop in my mood score.

It's cold, for one--it's been in the 40s and low 50s all week, windy, and often raining. I always find this time of year difficult because I know we're in for a good 6 months of mostly unpleasant weather. This is not a nice climate, in my opinion.

Fortunately I have all these animals to take care of and they often do amusing and/or endearing things (as well as annoying things, of course). Sushi is a very naughty little cat and she stole the toilet roll from the downstairs bathroom and ripped it to shreds. I blame Shreed because he hasn't repaired the toilet roll holder that came off the wall. You know all these little repair jobs that add up--and many of them have his name on them. When you move into a new house you soon discover that certain things were done very sloppily and/or with crappy materials, so you have to fix those things. It's a good thing I wasn't blogging when our house was being built because there would have been a constant stream of profanity directed at our contractors. My blood pressure starts to rise even just thinking about them! Anyway, let's not go there now.

The birds are doing well; Merle continues his relentless attacks and has branched out to the mailman and the tech support guy. The latter I didn't really mind because our internet has been down so often. Another reason I haven't blogged. The peas continue to be extremely cute and now I think they've figured out roosting in the barn if the weather is bad. The Big Peas particularly enjoy resting on the back deck by the French doors, and don't seem to mind being peered at. I just love their little hats.

80th Birthday and Catching Up

2009-09-23T07:43:00.000-07:00

So not only have I been busy with a number of things, but our internet has been up and down and every time we call tech support to come out the service goes back up and we cancel the service call because we don't want to pay $65. Shreed probably knows more about these things than the tech support people, and he knows it's not a problem on our side but of course they want to blame it on our equipment. So if this doesn't get posted in a timely manner that's why.

My dad's 80th birthday was on Friday. We three kids gave him a "birthday book" from the New York Times that has the front pages of every New York Times since he was born. When I ordered it I just had a bad feeling, and not only did they charge my credit card twice but they printed the book for August 18, 1929. So stupid. The one piece of information they need to know is the one they get wrong. After six phone calls (which I had to pay for) and a final irate customer rant I got the book reissued in time. No doubt the New York Times has hired some of my former students.

The remainder of the plans and celebrations went off without a hitch. My brother and SIL came up from Fairfax, there were notes sent in from grandchildren, dinner out, cake, presents, and lots of good-natured teasing. The photo of Shreed was taken after a number of people had offered him their chairs (his back was hurting--hence the strange posture) and he had just told everyone he wanted all their chairs and to get out.

My dad got to tell a number of stories, which my brothers finished and Shreed embroidered. Shreed likes to tease my dad that he was in the "Big One" and in the "Pacific Thee-ATE-ter" and imitate all those old windbags who go on about their WW II experiences. However my dad was not in Japan until 1946 and Shreed knows that perfectly well. My brothers kept repeating "Cream soda for a nickel a pitcher in Wildwood, NJ," which is another thing my dad always talks about. So my poor dad had to listen to a recital of all his most famous anecdotes.

Meanwhile back at the farm the two young roosters have earned the nickname the "rootards" for their foolish behavior. They won't go in their coop at night to roost, preferring to sit on the roof of the big coop and be uncomfortable and exposed. If we manage to catch one he squawks like he's on the chopping block. They crow at 4 AM, when it's pitch dark. This morning they were chasing each other all over, went up on the back deck and knocked over a bunch of flower pots, and then Travis got stuck in the buddleia and I had to go out and free him, whereupon he squawked again. The are so ridiculous, but thus far not vicious like their father.

What's Up With This?

2009-09-17T19:06:00.001-07:00

Better

2009-09-12T08:40:00.000-07:00

Oscar is much better--he went in on Tuesday--Renee was supposed to be off at noon but stayed to see him. She put him on antibiotics and an appetite stimulant and gave him subcutaneous fluids. Renee gave me this super food with a lot of nutrition that's quite stinky too, the way cats like. He ate a little on Tuesday but then threw it up. But Wednesday he ate several times and he's been eating more and breathing more easily with each day. Thursday he was back on the bed as usual and this morning he ate some dry food. So that crisis is past. We were so scared we were going to lose him. At 16 he doesn't have a whole lot of time left but to lose him due to a vet's negligence, needlessly and prematurely, that would have been hard to bear.

The stress was difficult and though I kept up with things I now have this bad neck pain, which is probably stress and maybe all the sewing I do as well. I couldn't run very far Thursday and this morning I felt almost sick the way you do if something hurts a lot, especially head or neck. But I got stalls mucked so that's something.

Yesterday evening when I went to feed the boys the chickens were in the barn and Merle was making a nuisance of himself. There was a plastic bag on the floor and in the process of getting himself riled up Merle caught the bag handle around his leg. Then he ran around having a total shit-fit and I was almost doubled over with laughter. Serves him right. There was so much commotion in the barn with chickens squawking and crowing and Levi and Tenzin butting heads and kicking at the stalls. Camin and the peas behaved nicely. That's something, at least.

One of the small white peas displayed twice the other day, vibrating and everything! One of the big peas has done it too, so we know we have two males. I never knew they did it so early. The younger peas aren't but 8 weeks old.

Crickfest 2009 and Other Stuff

2009-09-09T05:52:00.000-07:00

First, thanks for the good wishes for Oscar--he's still sick and hasn't eaten much of anything since Friday. I'm trying to get an appointment for today. Wish us all luck.

Sunday we were able to get our minds off the crisis at home by cycling the nine miles on back roads to Crickfest in Coburn. Crickfest is an annual event held the Sunday before Labor Day to raise money for the Penns Valley Conservation Association. The focus is on environmental awareness and living "green" so there are various demos on composting, solar panels, beekeeping, and raising animals in a humane way. There was a really good band (forget the name now) that played some good Cajun music.

As always I was most interested in the animals. There was a fat little pony mare giving rides and a bunny petting zoo among other animals to see. Did you know that turkeys can raise the little wattle thing over their beaks at will? Quite weird-looking!

I also got henna painted on my hand. However my skin is so dark that it doesn't show up and the orange hue is similar to my skin color so it just looks like I have a disease.

The bike ride there and back was idyllic. We rode past fields and old Amish farms and through woods of hemlock and maple, and beside Penns Creek. We rode part of the way on a closed road, which was especially fun. It was a perfect day. I want to do this again in the fall--I bet it will be beautiful. There was one place where someone had converted a huge old bank barn to a house. I wanted to get pictures of that but we didn't stop. Next time.

Sick Kitties

2009-09-06T09:14:00.000-07:00

Things haven't been too good around here. About two weeks ago we had a vet pay a house call (not Renee, our preferred vet, but another one). I don't like to stuff my very old cat in a carrier and I felt that she needed to be examined for renal failure (I could smell it) and I decided I should get Crim another steroid shot. I really hate to do that; I'd rather try to combat his allergies naturally but he was making his head all bloody and I was afraid of infection. So I reluctantly called the vet.

While here the vet regaled me with stories about the stray cats at her father's farm that she was trapping and neutering and treating for respiratory infections. And guess what?? Within a couple of days all the kitties (except Quetzali, miraculously) have developed a respiratory infection, starting with Crim. Crim is now recovered but 16+ year-old Oscar is really badly affected and is sneezing and coughing and just looks miserable. I am very upset and anxious and Shreed is in a rage over a vet who doesn't practice minimal good hygiene. This is something we've known about since the 19th century???

I've always been ambivalent about yearly vaccinations because my cats don't go out. I've changed my stance. I just hope that Oscar recovers. Send your best wishes to him.

The Best of the Rest: Grange Fair II

2009-08-31T12:56:00.000-07:00

Prize-winning vegetables, canned goods promising a taste of summer come February, a sheep getting a haircut, feed corn, quilts, first-place apples, and a pig wearing his dish as a hat.

Chicken Show: Grange Fair Part I

2009-08-29T10:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to the Grange Fair, our local county fair, which I wrote about last year; you can learn a little bit about the history of the fair there, or better yet, at its website. I had planned to bicycle over as it's just 2 0r 3 miles on back roads, but the weather didn't look good, so I drove down to the metropolis of Centre Hall and parked near the Farm Store.

I always feel a little overwhelmed when I walk into the fair from town. In years past before we lived in the valley we would enter from route 45 and into the vast parking lot near the horse barns, and usually I didn't venture up to the midway and the tent city with all the greasy food concessions. But entering on foot from Centre Hall is an experience for the senses. My eyes hurt from the brightly colored food concessions with their flashing lights, and their smells were a bit much as well. Not one for funnel cakes or corn dogs I passed those by in my crusade towards the poultry barn for the 10 AM judging.

I enjoy all the animals at the farm and looking at piglets or baby bunnies has always been the high point. However my recent obsession with poultry has trumped even those temptations. The poultry barn housed only chickens and ducks, and of those not a whole lot of variety, and yet I couldn't get enough of the beautiful chickens. I especially liked the Dominique, which ended up first in one category. I watched the judging of roosters: a young Penn State student in a white lab coat examined each rooster and spoke to the crowd about what he was looking for. As he turned the docile birds upside down to have a look at their vents, he blew gently to spread the feathers. I laughed to myself as I imagined him judging Merle, and the subsequent visit of the Penns Valley EMT team. The poultry were all being shown by children, who held their feathered charges tucked under their arms, heads facing back towards the crowd, the combs jiggling as they jerked their heads this way and that as only chickens can. One girl sat waiting for her turn as her mother leaned over her lap, cleaning a slightly resentful duck.

I concluded my first visit to the fair with some peeks into the other livestock barns. A young man washed a jersey cow, a girl stood on a ladder to groom a Percheron, and families crowded around a litter of piglets snorting and burrowing into each other with piggy glee. A ewe demanded my attention and bleated at me as I turned to leave. The rain had held off for this first foray into the Grange; later the rain pounded down and I thought of the people tenting, muddy water swirling around their makeshift porches as they stayed inside, listening to the beat of rain and playing cards.

A Little Bit About Running

2009-08-26T08:11:00.000-07:00

Those who know me know I'm a runner. If I'm asked to identify myself, "runner" will be up there in the top five. I've been running seriously for 23 years. A couple of weeks ago I figured that I have run about 30,000 miles. And I still have some mileage left, perhaps not 30,000 miles but I think I can go for a bit longer, though there have been times when I've had my doubts.

I've suffered pulled muscles from time to time, seven stress fractures in my shins, a broken back, and terrible fatigue from Lyme disease, all of which have interrupted my running for a while, but not for long. Last week I didn't run a whole lot; I felt really tired and a little sick, which still happens from time to time as a result of having untreated Lyme for a long period. I was feeling out-of-sorts, very down, though I thought it was well hidden. Finally at the end of the week I mentioned it to Shreed. "I know," he said. I guess I didn't hide it as well as I thought. I said I thought it was because I couldn't run much. He said nothing, because he hasn't always thought my running was for the best. And indeed there were times when it was an obsession.

Studies have shown that exercise can be as helpful as drugs for people who are depressed. I believe that. When I'm running I can feel positively buoyant, though there are times when I feel I am carrying myself on my back. But no matter whether my run has been wonderful, bad, or average, I always feel as if I have accomplished something that day.

I get a lot of good ideas when I'm running. When I was teaching I thought about what I would say to my students or the kinds of activities that might pique their interest. I get ideas for art I want to create. I consider a problem I need to work out with my horses or what to plant in my garden. I think about things to do for my family and I have imaginary conversations with friends.

And I love to look around when I'm running. I see rare birds like indigo buntings and pileated woodpeckers. I smell the clean scent of white pines. I startle groundhogs at the edge of the road. I greet cows and huge draft mules. And I wave to people driving by because I'm in a good mood. So whenever I feel glum or at loose ends or I have a problem to sort out, I go for a run if I can. The world always seems a little brighter.

Sabi, Mouse, Sushi

2009-08-25T18:44:00.000-07:00

Just a quick update to let you know that Sabi is doing well chez my parents. She succeeded in getting them up to play with her in the middle of the night, turned on the bath water at 3:30 AM, and knocked a small Buddha and a vase (both unbroken) off a shelf. So we know who's in charge there.

The other day I noticed that the kitties were very interested in Shreed's muck boot, which was on the porch. Now if they had been dogs I wouldn't have given it a second thought, assuming that they were interested in the smell. However, with cats it had to be more than that. So I looked in the boot and saw nothing, then took it outside and shook it gently, whereupon I caught a glimpse of a large-eyed field mouse and her attached pink infants. So I put the boot in the shed. The was the second time I had found this mouse on the porch--she had made a nest in a cardboard box containing egg cartons, and I had urged her to go elsewhere. I guess she was looking for a place to give birth and had her mousey mind set on the porch.

Final note for today: In the last couple of days Sushi has stolen a wallet, some brooches, two bras, a small pad that fits in a swimsuit top (believe me, it doesn't do much to enhance one's figure), and a crocheted ornament lent to me by my crochet teacher. Most of these things end up in the basement or beside the bed. This place is beginning to resemble a reformatory.

S-Day

2009-08-22T08:18:00.000-07:00

Today Sabi goes to live with my parents in their retirement community. I am sad because I won't have her sitting next to me every morning, as she has been doing lately. I found her just down the road when she was a kitten, two years ago, when I was very sick with Lyme, before I knew what it was. She and Wabi were another source of joy at that difficult time.

Unfortunately, when Wabi and Sabi came in the house, after Wabi got injured and we realized we couldn't do the barn cat thing, Sabi was bullied relentlessly first by Willow and then by Bella Jane, who found new homes, and then finally by Crim, though to a lesser extent. I often feel bad that I gave up the others when now Sabi is going. But Bella Jane was supposed to be a foster anyway, and Willow went to close friends. It's so hard giving any of them up, but if I don't ever do that, then I won't have room for any more rescues. For Sabi, this is the best thing. She just doesn't like other cats. Even when she plays chase she prefers to play with me.

Yesterday I took my parents to the local pet supply store. They seemed unsure of what to purchase, and it's true that there is a mind-boggling variety of cat foods available: kitten diet, oral hygiene diet, senior diet, sedentary diet, inside diet, outside diet, hairball diet, even Siamese, Persian, and Maine Coon diets!! The latter seems particularly ridiculous. I mean, we're not talking chihuahuas and Saint Bernards here, we're talking cats, that are all roughly the same size and shape. I remember when you just threw some Meow Mix in a bowl and were done with it.

Of course I have to admit that I buy my cat food over the internet, Flint River it's called, which I started to do after the Chinese pet food scare. I tried feeding them a raw food diet, which was sent to me in freezer packs, but after a while I just couldn't handle it. Believe it or not, about 10-15 years ago I made their raw diet myself, putting ground turkey in a blender with lots of other gobbets. Talk about queasy! And I was a vegetarian even then! Now I just have too many demands on my attention. I am not putting grass and carrots in a blender for you know who!

Anyway, as we were choosing Sabi's new stuff, and my parents were fussing and worrying, I said to my mom, "Jeez, you had cats all your life!" To which she replied, "Yes, but I was a different person then." I felt sad--my first impulse is to protest, no, you're still the mom that let your oldest son have a boa constrictor and a South American caiman! You raised three kids, took care of all these animals from horses to hamsters, and held down a full-time, demanding job! But then the truth is that we're all different people moment to moment; I guess that's why I always have trouble believing in a soul--who would that be? Me when I was 30, me right now, me in a vegetative state, if that were to happen? If we're the sum of our memories, what if we have amnesia? Who would I be then? I know this is getting rather heavy for a blog post, but it's the kind of thing I spend a lot of time thinking about. For now, keeping the views shorter, I hope that Sabi is a different, happier cat, and that she makes my parents, different, happier people.

Ag Progress Days

2009-08-20T11:50:00.000-07:00

Every August Penn State sponsors the three-day event Ag Progress Days at its rural trial farms. It's always a fun time, combining the newest cutting edge improvements in crops (not always something I support, but anyway), alpaca wool spinning demos, big tractors, greasy food, equine events, and a corn maze. Today I went especially for the Arabian show, in honor of Levi's Arabian half (his mom). There were two young girls demonstrating saddle seat with their gorgeous Arabian geldings. The horses shone like copper in the hot August sun, and I knew how those poor girls must have been roasting in their wool jackets. Been there done that! They did a pairs event where they rode perfectly synchronized and very close together. The girls' elbows were literally inches apart! The horses were very similar and being pasture mates helped them get along well, a must for this event. I could just imagine my boys doing this. Ahem. I felt a little wistful watching the riders, recalling how Levi and I performed in that arena three years ago. I loved performing and I think he did too, as long as there weren't any drafthorses around. Speaking of which, I saw a percheron that was 19 hands!

After that I checked out some cows: a Simmental cow and calf, and a big Hereford heifer whose bony head I scratched. She definitely enjoyed that, leaning against my hand for more. There were alpacas and some women demonstrating spinning and felting. The spinning looked like a meditative activity.

After that I visited the water conservation tent and viewed a fascinating exhibit on green roofs. The roofs are more expensive but last 50 years, compared to the 10-20 years for asphalt shingles. They are also great at insulating and are just plain cool! I recognized quite a few of the plants used; I'd used some of them for edging our pond. I really want one of these green roofs!

Next was a visit to the children's tent and a bug exhibit as well as a pen with day-old chicks. Kids were also listening to a presentation on wildlife rehabilitation, facilitated by a beautiful barred owl who'd had a broken wing.

I also checked out the maple sugar exhibit and was dying to buy some candy but balked at the $3.50 for 3 ounces price tag. Instead I had a piece of berry pie at the vegetable tent. I've made better pie myself, but it wasn't awful.

For the guys there were lots of huge machines, including an antique tractor auction. I enjoyed the Pasto Agriculture Museum where I saw all sorts of antique farm machinery. Some of it was brightly painted with colorful designs, which I found very interesting. I always think of 19th century farmers in terms of American Gothic and don't imagine them painting their threshing machines red with yellow curlicues.

I followed some Mennonite girls into the corn maze and we had a good time laughing at our difficulty in navigating in the tall corn and sunflowers. Lots of Mennonites attend the event--the women are easy to identify in their billowy cotton dresses, athletic shoes, and head doilies. There were also lots of Amish, men in identical black polyester pants and suspenders, straw hats, the women barefoot. Every now and again I'd see and Amishman with a cell phone pressed to his ear. There were also families, crusty old farmers in John Deere caps, and groups of adolescents. The dairy princesses handed out samples; they were pretty and healthy looking, regular girls, not stick-thin model types.

I had a great time. I enjoyed the exhibits and the camaraderie, though I was alone. As corny as it sounds, I felt proud to be a part of Pennsylvania agriculture, in my small way. There was something very honest and wholesome about the exhibits and the people, a connection to the past, when farming was more of a family business and the bedrock of a community. Looking a big John Deere tractor, the rows of tall corn, and out over the mountains, bluish in the heavy, humid air, I was glad to be there.

Somebody's Birthday

2009-08-19T11:45:00.000-07:00

Today is Shreed's 47th birthday. I remember his first birthday that we celebrated after we got married--just over a month after our wedding day. We went to the Corn Festival in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin. As I recall it was rather a cool day for August. Then we went to the newly opened conservatory on the east side of Madison. I am sure we went out to eat, maybe at Pasqual's or Lulu's. I remember his birthday in 2005, when we celebrated with a champagne picnic at Il Paretaio, in Tuscany. I think we were in the Adirondacks for one of his birthdays. One time I gave him a surprise party. Usually we just have dinner with family, which is what we're doing tonight.

So here are some more pictures of the peas, though they have nothing to do with Shreed's birthday. I seem to be obsessed with the silly birds. Shreed noted that they are high maintenance with all their desperate whistling--I can't stand to listen to it and must go out and try to make them feel better by finding Emmy. She's just not so into being a mom, though she still beats up anybody who tries to bully one of her adopted babies. The older peas--Rani and Sharukh, are always getting lost and getting very upset about it. They totally consider Emmy to be their mom, though she doesn't seem as concerned. They didn't have a mom, being hatched in a brooder, but they quickly became attached to her. I am constantly stalking the peas with the camera and trying keep them together so they don't get so desperate. Shreed keeps reminding me that their brains are very tiny and they forget in 10 seconds about being so upset but I still feel bad for the little birdees!

Bird Drama

2009-08-17T06:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon Shreed and I were having a conversation--I think I had sat down to read the Sunday paper, finally, and he was looking at his laptop. The chickens were under the porch making a huge ruckus, and Shreed asked me if I had figured out when they make noise, if there's a pattern to it. And I replied that there's always a fuss in the morning, before they're let out; I think I've mentioned that it sounds as if you're outside a 19th century insane asylum with all the strange cackling and squawking and low growly noises coming from the coop. And I mentioned that once when Sabi's Daddy was skulking around there was some alarmed clucking.

As the noise continued unabated I decided to go out and investigate, and found the chickens going back and forth under the porch at their favorite place--they'd go in and run back out, alarmed. So I got down on hands and knees to peer under there, and in their favorite little dust-wallow was a very anxious-looking groundhog. Interesting how Merle is more than willing to attack me even when I'm armed with a stick or a broom, but he wouldn't take on this groundhog and chase it out of the hens' bath tub! After a while the groundhog disappeared; my guess is that he won't do that again. If he's smart. Which, of course, he may not be.

Speaking of intelligence or lack thereof, I believe I have mentioned that the two older peas in particular seem mildly (or perhaps more than mildly) retarded. Last night we went to the movies--we saw District 9. It was interesting but rather gory and disgusting in parts. So when we got back it was dark, and I closed up the pea-crate and Shreed and I stuffed the gang of four in the coop--they made such a terrible fuss you'd think they were being badly mistreated. This morning when I let the peas out, one of the older ones was missing. I was so upset and started looking in the brush everywhere, which seemed futile. Then I saw a bedraggled looking pea walking up the driveway, its head stuck out straight in front in a comical way, feathers all damp from spending the night in the tall grass. I was so relieved, silly thing! Baby chicks seem to do a better job of staying with their mama; many times a day I hear the peas' plaintive whistles as they get separated from Emmy. In fact, I hear it right now. I worry so much about them! I am so devoted to my little birds, to all my animal friends. Thank goodness I didn't have children. I'd never have known a moment's peace.

Sorry the pictures of the peas aren't better. Every time I venture out with my camera Merle attacks me. I am getting really fed up with being attacked by that vicious rooster.

Pond Emergency

2009-08-11T13:03:00.000-07:00

This morning I looked out the bathroom window and saw that the pond water was RED, like cranberry juice. My lurid imagination made me think about murder mysteries and bodies being dumped in garden ponds. However, the cause was more benign than that, unless you're a fish. My research indicated that it was some sort of bacteria that had increased due to all this rain and possible runoff tainted with horse manure. We have had an algae problem for some time--we don't have enough plant cover and the pond is in full sun. I'd been neglecting the pond all season so this was my wake-up call.

I went to my local water garden nursery, deep in the woods on the side of the mountain. The owner is not around and if you want him you have to call him and he arrives from home in a golf cart. I told him the problem and he said that I was probably going to have to remove 40% of the water or my fish would be in real trouble. I had already seen them coming to the surface and I figured they were suffocating. So this guy (I forgot his name as soon as I heard it) lent me a pump. He had to rummage for 45 minutes through piles of junk to find the right fittings, but I was very grateful. I took it home and pumped the pond out and refilled it, and also got a chance to re-pot my waterliles, which had way overgrown their containers.

I wish I had taken my camera to the nursery. It's like a little paradise deep in the woods. Huge oaks, maples, and hemlocks shade little ponds and waterfalls; you can walk on a small bridge and look down at the jewel-colored koi and the gently moving stems of water plants. Everywhere are potted trees and shrubs, Japanese maples and bald cypresses and different kinds of hydrangeas. The borders of the ponds are planted with tall Joe-Pye weed, black-eyed susan, and meadow rue. Little wrens play among the carved stone basins and enormous glazed pots, pointing their pert little tails straight up. I almost offered to come help the owner with whatever he might need to do--the thought of hanging around at that nursery was very tempting. But I have enough to do around here.

In the pictures I don't think you can really see the before and after difference in the pond. Believe me, the water was a shocking color. Anyway between messing with the pond and helping the peas find their way back into the chicken yard every 20 minutes, the whole day went by. I wonder if the "pea" in peacock refers to the size of their brain?

Runner in the Storm

2009-08-09T18:51:00.000-07:00

This morning when I went out for a run it was extremely muggy, having rained the night before, and the air was thick and heavy. Lately I have gotten wet four out of five runs and this morning was no different. At the halfway point, furthest from home (of course!), I heard a rumble, and then saw and heard the sheet of rain pummeling the corn before it reached me. Soaked again. As I crested the hill where our house comes into view, I saw a jagged bright split in the sky, right by our house, and the simultaneous crash. I felt a little tense as I passed the Fishers' and considered asking to stand on their porch, but decided to press on. Hm, I wondered, what would it be like to be struck by lightning? Not good, thought I.

Soon a car came into view and it was Shreed. I opened the door.

"I'm soaked! I'll get the seat all wet!" said I
"It's already soaked! I left the windows open!" said Shreed.

So I hopped in and we drove home. I soon discovered one of the breakers was tripped and there was no power upstairs. I also discovered the phone was dead. A little later I went to the barn to look for my clippers and saw that they were unplugged. "I could have sworn I'd plugged them in," I said to myself. I looked up at the outlet and it was all blown out and black. The lightning probably had struck the barn. I was glad I rarely shut the horses in their stalls.

Beach Holiday

2009-08-08T11:35:00.000-07:00

We've just returned from the beach at Lewes, Delaware, site of a family vacation. It's been nearly 15 years since we've done the beach thing with extended family. For years we went to the Adirondacks, until our beloved cottage was sold and the rent raised by about 200%. For the past few years we haven't done the family vacation and I thought we never would again. However, my sister-in-law landed a rental in a great area of Lewes. Thus we spent the week swimming, eating, watching movies, eating, swimming, reading, eating, walking, and eating.

Highlights were a walk beside a salt marsh vivid with dozens of huge hibiscus. We observed some very curious bees who dug into the ground, excavating little burrows and piling up pellets of sand. We went to a very good tapas restaurant. We walked at Cape Henlopen, on a stretch of pristine empty beach. My nearly 80 year-old dad (birthday next month) and I played frisbee by the water and he fell in. We made fun of Sarah Palin, Mark Sanford, and the "Birthers." We ate wonderful Korean noodle soup made by Lisa. Overall a great time. Unfortunately, though I brought my camera it was out of juice and I didn't bring the charger. Oh. well.

I have really enjoyed my social July as I tend to spend a lot of time alone and can get rather melancholy. I love being home but sometimes I feel a little isolated without actually realizing it. Then when I'm with other people I am cheerful and I think, oh yeah, this is what it's like. Nice.

Back home we were glad to see all the animals, who were well taken care of by friends/petsitters. There was an histoire with one of the Gang of Four (Blondie's brood) who got out and was presumed lost. Foolish bird was not lost. The youngest peafowl have the beginnings of a little head-tuft, or one does; I think that one is a male and he is also colored rather than white. Shreed and I had an argument about that and this time I was right. I was wrong about Merle.

The boys were covered in burrs and Crim had scratched himself badly from his allergies, so I immediately had to set to work dealing with their problems and also weeding. The weeds are Godzilla-sized; with all rain and our trips I have not been able to weed the vegetable garden and I need a machete to get in there. There might be a Mayan pyramid in there for all I know. Today I dressed in overalls and a long-sleeved shirt and gloves to go in after the weeds. I pulled out a lot but after a little more than an hour I was completely exhausted and demoralized, and though there was a huge mound of yanked-out weeds the garden still appeared thick with vegetation. Rather discouraging. It is supposed to be 90 tomorrow, so I am not looking forward to my next expedition into the jungle of flesh-cutting squash vines, ankle-grabbing tomato plants, and ragweed that makes me itch like crazy. That's what you get for going away in summer.

Strange Bedfellows

2009-08-01T08:05:00.000-07:00

This morning I took care of the barnyard bunch as usual--I'm often in somewhat of a stupor and have to check things off mentally before I go back in the house for more coffee. Anyway, since I acquired the peas my routine is to look after them first, and I have to go back and forth several times to wash out their water container, clean off their food dish, etc. etc. I do this before I let out the chickens, which means they're making noises like you'd imagine hearing in a 19th century insane asylum. I leave the gate to the chicken yard open until I'm finished and then when I'm done with the peas and Emmy I open the coop and get the hell out of the way, slamming that gate as fast as I can before Merle gets me. He always wakes up in an amorous rage (amor towards the hens, rage towards me).

This morning was as usual. My habit is to check on the animals probably every hour or two when I'm home--please understand that I have OCD. When I went to check on them later this morning, who did I see in the coop entrance but Miss Char, facing out and looking a little worried. The hens looked perplexed as well because somebody was in the way of their morning egg-laying routine. I asked Miss Char what she was doing there but she wouldn't say. She follows me everywhere and my guess is she found herself in the chicken yard with the gate closed and decided the coop was the best place to be. I've never seen Merle or the others even so much as look at her so I doubt Merle would bother her. Blondie, however, was looking at the door and cocking her head in a most comical way. No doubt she was thinking, "WTF?"

It took some doing getting Miss Char out but finally she ran the gauntlet and was out the gate before the chickens could follow. Blondie got closer to the coop door and cocked her little chicken head again, comb quivering. Later I heard her loud announcement, "I laid an egg YEAH! I laid an egg YEAH!" That's how the syllables work out in chicken squawks.

The Calico Quilter asked about Merle's effect on the flock. I don't know what it would be like without them, but he's very protective, and can be rather tender in his way! When he finds something good to eat, he announces it in the same way that a hen announces food to her chicks. I've even seen a hen take food from his beak. When he thinks it's time for everybody to head back to the chicken yard in the evening after their free-range time, he puts one wing down and "herds" them. It's quite funny to see. He's a good watch-rooster too--if anyone drives up the lane he's sure to let us know. Like the geese we had when I was a kid, who tried to attack the school bus! My guess is that the hens are probably less anxious because he's around. They don't appear to enjoy his advances, however, and those assaults can result in the loss of feathers on the back.

So far there hasn't been any hostility between Merle and his sons, though I did see him chase one yesterday. One of our neighbors has a bunch of roosters wandering around together and they don't seem to have problems getting along. But then they don't have a rooster like Merle! The little roos like to rumble with each other and that's quite amusing too. They put their heads down low and stare at each other for quite a while, and then attack, hackles raised and feet aiming blows. Quite dramatic. Much as I abhor cockfighting, the dangerous dance of two roosters is fascinating. These two are just playing though, like kittens tussling. So far, anyway!

As you probably have guessed I am crazy about our birds! I can watch them for a long time; in fact, I often have to tear myself away so I can get stuff done. Maybe I'll learn enough to be a chicken whisperer!

On to other subjects: it has been raining a lot and weeds and grass are growing so much it's impossible to keep up with the mowing and weeding. The good thing about the relative coolness and damp of this summer is that the flowers don't look tired. Normally I'm replacing container plants about now. Usually I don't have sweet peas and pansies blooming at the same time as dahlias and morning glories. I am quite pleased with how my morning glory support worked out--I found this antique pitchfork in a junk shop a few years back and I think that it looks charming with these morning glories climbing around it.

Queen Anne's Lace

2009-07-31T06:06:00.000-07:00

This time of year the meadows are filled with Queen Anne's Lace. I am always yanking it out of my garden but I love it in the fields. Shreed and I often talk about letting our hayfield revert to meadow. It's great to be able to feed the boys hay we grow ourselves but when we see the proliferation of flora and fauna in the meadow we wish we could provide more habitat. We have a number of fairly rare birds species here: bobolink, indigo bunting, bluebirds. I think when most people think of preserving habitat in Pennsylvania they think of forest or wetland, but meadows are teeming with life. I read somewhere that there's more forest now in Pennsylvania than there was in the 19th century and while that may be good in some ways it means that certain birds, the most well-known of those being the bluebird, have lost ground. Not to mention the increase of the deer population, which would be okay if there were predators.

I might have mentioned how last year a man came to the door asking, "Yins want them weeds cut?" and I politely declined. We have so many butterfly species and so many goldfinches doing their funny loop-de-loop flight before landing on a sunflower or thistle. If I walk into the waist high meadow, dozens of insects pop out every which way, food for the bluebird and bunting. Tiny fieldmice with huge eyes emerge from the grass cautiously, wary of the kestrels and red-shouldered hawks that can be heard whistling plaintively. We hear the great horned owl at night and though we never see it, the fields sparkle with the flickering of fireflies, or lightning bugs as I grew up calling them. The meadow so smells so sweet on a summer night.

Well, a little departure from the lyrical here to respond to some comments and provide a few updates. The Calico Quilter asked whether roosters are necessary for good egg production. The answer is no--just like us, the hens don't need a male to ovulate! But the entertainment value is priceless! She also mentioned the cry of the peacock. Yes, it can sound like a woman screaming! I think one's response to it depends on the associations one has. Shreed grew up in India and I have lived there for certain periods during my 20s and therefore we both have a nostalgic feeling about the call. Since most people probably don't share our sentiments we are hoping that the cry of the peacock(s) and the roosters' crowing will discourage our neighbors from building on their land. It's not that we don't like them; however, there are strong indications that they intend to construct the Palace of Versailles. Somehow we don't think this will look right.

I've Got a Cat on my Lap

2009-07-29T08:06:00.000-07:00

Since Wabi is sitting on me and I don't want to disturb her and I am sitting in front of the computer, I thought I would take the opportunity to blog. Since it's raining and cool I have not opened the door for the kitties to go out on the porch, so Crim has been asking for water every 5 minutes, Sushi and Nori have been meddling with all my sewing and artwork and making it difficult to do any of that, and Wabi has been attacking me and biting my bum and now she's sitting on me. The kitties really enjoy the screened-in porch; in fact we always say that Shreed built it for them. It gives them the opportunity to keep an eye on little birdies, catch a fly or two that's managed to find a way in, and, in the case of Crim, stare at Miss Char in a most hostile manner.

This morning before it began to rain I heard one of the little roos attempt to crow. It was very funny. I remember when Merle could only get out the first three syllables and could not manage the stirring finale. It was shortly after that, I believe, that he began attacking people. The little roos are still candyasses and run away from me even when I offer them treats. They are also quite small. Their mom is not much smaller than Blondie so I don't know how big the roos will get. They look a lot like their mom except for their color. Yesterday Merle tried to rape one of his daughters! I told him to move to West Virginia if he planned on making a habit of that. Ha ha now I'll get flamed by West Virginians. Sorry it's just a joke, OK? I was born in Kentucky if that makes you feel any better.

Barn Cleaning

2009-07-28T17:33:00.000-07:00

Today I spent most of the day cleaning the barn, or rather, cleaning the things in it as they become covered with dust and grime. It doesn't take but a few days for a plastic spray bottle to have a film of dirt on it. I guess it's just the hay and shavings and the, well, dirt. The only way to keep anything clean is to seal it up in a plastic box or bag. You could seal it up in a snazzy monogrammed oak chest like I've seen in some barns, but I don't have one. Anyway I'd feel worse if dirt got on a fine wooden chest instead of the Rubbermaid plastic bin.

I might have mentioned that the boys have more hair products than I do, and the sad thing is that they don't even care what they look like. If they have burrs in their bangs and poo on the end of their tails it really doesn't bother them. And since they're grays there's no hope of keeping them clean.

I discovered that mice had found their way into my Rubbermaid chest and had left many droppings as well as chewed the boys' Christmas stockings. So I cleaned that up and hoped that I wouldn't get the hantavirus.

Now everything is sealed up in a bin or a Scoopaway bucket, or in one of the many white plastic buckets that seem to appear and multiply on a farm. In Alabama I once met an artist who made things out of those buckets by melting them with a torch. I heard that the fumes finally did him in too.

Update on the Peas: This morning I let Emmy out as she seemed stressed, but the Peas stayed in. They seem to get along well together, big and small. This evening Emmy returned to the coop and as I was watching one of the older peas popped out from under Emmy's breast. This pea is bigger than a pigeon! It's interesting that though the two older peas were reared in a brooder that they know what to do with "mom." The younger peas like to stand on Emmy's back. She's such a sweet girl!

Meanwhile the two little Roos are always out together in the evenings. They leave their sisters behind and wander off into the front yard. I think they might be a gang.

Peas

2009-07-27T17:05:00.000-07:00

The little Peas are so cute that I just had to get more! Shreed is traveling and more than once he has returned home to find a new member of the family. But I have decided no more pets in the house so anybody who comes to live here has to be happy in the barnyard.

Anyway I got two pea-chicks who are 2 to 3 weeks older than the ones Emmy incubated. These new babies have their top-knots already! At least the beginning of them. They are very dear and I am already smitten with them! Yesterday I set them in the chicken tractor, still in the kitty crate I brought them home in. Later in the day I checked and they hadn't budged from the crate. Towards evening one of them started whistling but still they did not leave the crate. This isn't good, I thought.

So at dusk I put them in the crate with Emmy and the three younger chicks. There was some whistling but then they settled right down next to Emmy, who is a good mama and a very sweet hen. Today I checked on them often and they all seemed to be getting along. Peafowl seem calmer and less aggressive than chickens, but my experience is of course very limited. The chickens have been hanging around the crate and in fact Blondie's juvenile chicks sleep on top of it. Shreed wanted me to put them in the coop and I did the first night he was away; there was much squawking and then Merle, who was inside the coop, started sounding the alarm. There were only two out that night but last night all four were roosting on top of the crate so I left them there. At some point they'll need to go in because it will be too cold for them outside. I think they get picked on when they try to roost inside the coop. I always hear all sorts of squabbles and I know that the juveniles had been pushed onto the floor, which chickens don't like. Shreed did install another perch but I guess this was not acceptable. Chickens are very emotional.

Peafowl, on the other hand, seem a little more rational! A little more dignified, as befits the royal bird of India! I have named this pair Sharukh and Rani. of course I do not know the gender yet. They are black-shouldered, so they will look more like typical peafowl.

To Range or Not To Range

2009-07-24T08:10:00.000-07:00

I have struggled with the free range issue with our chickens since last summer. They can be very destructive to the gardens but since we have kept them penned they just don't look as good--they are thinner and some of them have lost feathers--that could be Merle's amorous attacks combined with pecking--and just generally look less thrifty. Even the aggression they have shown to each other may be due to the stress of being confined. So today I let them out.

Immediately they went under the porch where they know is a lot of fun loose dirt to wallow in. And Merle has been crowing nonstop, joyfully. I know they're happy and that makes me happy.

It's hard to find a balance as a farmer. And I'm not a real farmer whose livelihood depends on what I grow. Recently I talked to someone who lost $20,000 of green beans to deer. They ate every single one of them. So I've really got nothing to complain about. But at the same time I love my garden and I don't feel like I want my whole garden and yard to be a chicken-scratched pile of dirt.

And what about all those peacocks wandering about in the Mughal gardens of India? How do they maintain those beautiful formal displays against hungry birds? I don't really know. Maybe those peafowl are well trained. Or maybe they're not real--they're avioids, peafowl robots. Ha ha.

Summer Planting

2009-07-23T06:09:00.000-07:00

While the vegetable garden as been about one-third to half failure, the flower garden has been wonderful. The trick is to make sure that there are lush blooms all season long. That is a challenge and it is much easier to accomplish using annuals. Some people refuse to get into planting annuals--I guess it's less work to just put your perennials in and weed them (or have them weeded) and then forget about planting the whole season. But many of my favorite flowers are annuals and they can greatly increase the color and fragrance of the summer garden.

This time of year you can pick up a lot of plants for half price. Some annuals look really sad but can be cut back and rejuvenated for a last bloom in September. It's worth it to me. I also picked up some perennials and trees for half off. Trees have been the most difficult and troublesome for us. Many of them succumbed to winter ravages by hungry rabbits. Some of them just seem to croak for no reason. This fall will be a marathon of installing protective shields around all the trunks. They have to go really high up the trunks because the rabbits stand on top of the snow and can sometimes reach more than three feet up. I did put hay out for them last winter but not until they had already done substantial damage.

Anyway, I bought some interesting native species: American serviceberry, clethra (one of which already died--I planted it a month ago), and a golden currant, native to the west. We also got free replacements for the three apples that died, which was nice. The pears have fruit on them. Pears seem easy to grow and pretty disease free.

Update on pea-peeps: the peafowl family is doing well. They're a week old, and as you can see they don't look much different than they did on day 1. I don't like having them in the crate, especially for Emmy's sake but we're not sure there wouldn't be some hazing, as Jan so aptly put it. You can also see how much the chicken family has grown.

Making New Friends

2009-07-21T07:49:00.000-07:00

I promised more on Tuscany and while you might be expecting a travelogue, this is going to be a little different. One of the unique features about the holiday we had was that it was very social. When you stay at Il Paretaio you eat dinner with all the other guests at a long table. You also have lessons with them, but where you really get to know them is around the dinner table and to a lesser extent over breakfast.

There were more than twenty of us at dinner and most of us were pretty good about switching around so that we talked to different people every night. The chemistry was wonderful. We really couldn't have asked for a more simpatico atmosphere. One of the things I noticed about the other guests was that there was a good balance of talking and listening. There was no competitiveness about recounting experiences and people were genuinely interested in each other. It wasn't one of those situations where people are just waiting for others to shut up so they can talk. Or not waiting for others to shut up but barging right in!! There were a couple of children there too (well, one was a teen) and they were both so mature and fun to be around--they put up with us adults very well! While Shreed and I might be used to interacting with academics, the guests at Il Paretaio were from a variety of backgrounds from former police officers to psychotherapists to a high school teacher to a person involved in working with developing countries to a veterinarian. Everyone seemed very open to learning something new. I know Shreed and I really enjoyed learning about life in northern Sweden!

As riders we ranged from beginners to very advanced in dressage. There was no snobbery and there were no put-downs of beginning riders. Everyone seemed secure enough to admit vulnerability and to laugh about him- or herself. Of course we were only together for a week but I think we all went home thinking positively about one another, which is a pretty admirable feat.

Wider View

2009-07-18T12:14:00.000-07:00

Shreed uggested that I take some pictures of the whole garden in addition to the close-ups I always take. I don't think any of the pictures capture the beauty and vividness of the garden and it isn't a very sunny day today. But anyway one can get a sense of how the garden looks and how harmoniously the house blends into the landscape. The natural cedar siding stained a muted green makes the house look as if it has always been there. That was an important issue for us. In a way we felt bad about building on former farmland so we tried to make our house look as if it belonged there and we built the smallest house we could based on the covenants. It's clear that these rules favor building McMansions and when you consider the average number of people who usually occupy that space it seems so wasteful. Anyway we have tried to respect the land and as much as we can we allow it to grow up as a meadow (or, as a local person called it, "them weeds").

Bollywood Peeps

2009-07-17T07:14:00.001-07:00

Little Raj, Amitabh, and Madhuri are doing well this morning; despite Raj's wounds he seems to feel fine. You can see one wound in the third picture. Of course the genders are unknown at this point so the names may have to be changed. They are the sweetest little birdies. They don't freak out and struggle and act like you're trying to murder them when you pick them up the way baby chickens do. I feel so bad that Raj's first moments of life were marked by a vicious attack. Shreed says their brains are tiny and they forget. Emmy is a very sweet hen herself and has lost status since she went broody. Blondie is a good mom and a dominant hen so her babies were safe. For now the young family has to stay in the crate, which I don't like. I'm thinking of creating another enclosure for the Bollywood bunch.

The Peafowl Event has superseded blogging about Italy. So I'm going to create another post to talk more about that. I loved the trip but I'm so involved in my farm life, my animals and gardens, that everything else gets pushed aside now that I'm home. There's a lot to take care of and I take great pleasure in caring for everything--it's not the "tons of work" people always mention when they come out here. I don't see it that way. It's a way of life that I love. If it weren't for Shreed's planning the trip I wouldn't have left--I have become a real stick in the mud. It was amazing to me how much I slept in Italy--Shreed said I must have been sleep-deprived because when I wasn't actively doing something I was sleeping. Anyway, I'm sure that's not very interesting and I will get back to blogging about Tuscany.

Pea Peeps!

2009-07-16T08:28:00.000-07:00

Minutes ago three of the peafowl eggs hatched. I was so glad I was here as one of the other hens started attacking a peep and Emmy isn't the Super Mom that Blondie is. She didn't defend her baby so I had to move the family quickly to our trusty crate that has served us well as a neonatal unit/infirmary on several occasions. I think the peep was not badly hurt but I am keeping an eye on things. I'm guessing that perhaps the chickens are getting stressed and the space needs to be enlarged. We would love to allow them to be freerange again but they can be quite destructive. The peeps are yellow, which is a bit of a disappointment because that means I probably don't have any blues in the brood.

Twentieth Anniversary

2009-07-15T15:28:00.001-07:00

Here we are on our 20th wedding anniversary, celebrating in Tuscany. With us is Paola, another guest at Il Paretaio.

Caballi Italiani

2009-07-14T09:57:00.000-07:00

So here are some of my Italian horse friends. This trip I rode four horses. My main mount was Syberiak, a gorgeous gray Tersk from Russia. This rare breed looks a lot like an Arab. During my rides out I was on Zara and I also rode Squibb and Notte in the arena. I worked on Shoulder-in and Half-Pass and was thrilled to attempt these more advanced moves after a two-year hiatus in dressage lessons. While Cristina still critiqued me as being too "tonique" (I think that means too toned and tensed up) she allowed that I am a much more confident rider. For me it's a treat to ride a horse who behaves himself as my boys usually don't.

Under the Tuscan Sun!

2009-07-13T04:18:00.000-07:00

We're back from Italy and had heaps of fun! I'll tell y'all more about it soon but I am just so happy to be back with all my babies!!! I missed them so. Why is this text being underlined??? I can't undo it...

Mini Merles

2009-07-03T09:20:00.000-07:00

So it might surprise you to find out that hummingbirds are very aggressive. When we lived in Alabama we used to have a half dozen hummies at the feeder at any given time; we could hear their wings making contact as they buzzed vertically and beat on each other. They were big on giving chase to interlopers and it was common for one to guard the feeder against hummies from a rival gang.

We don't have large gangs of hummies here but we do have a Mini Merle rubythroat who is always on the watch. We can see his little head swiveling around as he looks for other hummies to beat up. You can see him in the picture though it is not a very good photo.

We also believe we have two mini Merles in the chicken yard. The two pale chicks have been challenging each other constantly and staging junior cockerel fights complete with hackles raised. It's quite amusing. They have bigger and redder combs than the other two so we're pretty certain they are sons of Merle. Lots of aggression there so we're wondering whether the family is going to turn dysfunctional or West Virginian with rivalries for the little pullets.

We're supposed to leave for Italy tomorrow but I don't have my passport. I won't bore you with my frustrating experience calling the drones working for the Department of State (hello my name is Vanilla how may I help you today your passport is currently in process ma'am). Finally I called my congressman's office and the staff are helping me with this and the passport is supposed to be Fedexed to me today. And I didn't even vote for that congressman! Watch this space to see what happens.

Farm Wife

2009-07-01T08:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Shreed said to me, "Aren't you the good farm wife!" He was admiring the final results of all that strawberry picking: several bags of frozen berries, two jars of jam, and an apple crumble/cobbler/slump whatever you want to call it. And of course we ate plenty of the berries fresh. We have our own patch but many of those are consumed as we wander through the garden.

I liked this composition of the strawberry crumble, rose petals from my "Scentimental" rose (modern roses have such stupid names) and a Oaxacan armadillo.

The Last of the Best

2009-06-29T18:36:00.000-07:00

I picked nine pounds of strawberries today, the very last day the pick-your-own farm will be open. June comes to a close and thus does the strawberry season. My two favorite months of the year are almost over. The taste of a strawberry is the essence of the June sun. There's never enough of either.

Hi Ho Silver, Away!

2009-06-25T06:14:00.000-07:00

The Lone Ranger was already in reruns when I was a kid, but the fascination with the white stallion endured, and as an adult I have three Silvers in my barn, though most of the time they look like Tarnishes, or even Dirts. Yesterday my friend Rachel came over to ride. She and I share Anita as a trainer, so that makes things considerably easier when you run into problems, as we did.

The "Pre-flight check" as Anita terms it, went OK; Rachel had a harder time getting Tenzin to back up, but he's insecure and tends to want to join up. Levi, on the other hand, is dominant, and he wants to yank me around the lunge line instead of vice versa. Anyway, after some groundwork we deemed the boys ready to ride. Rachel struggled a bit hefting herself up onto Tenzin with only the bareback pad on, but like good country girls we know how to make use of an overturned bucket or the bed of a pick-up truck to mount.

So we were off, onto the neighbors' land and away from the farm! Not much traffic and we weren't close to the road but then here comes Daniel, driving his little sport coupe convertible buggy, horse's hooves beating and Daniel's beard flying in the wind. We hail each other, and then Levi, always the diva, becomes unglued. He decided to back up. Fine, back up as far as you want. He decided to piaffe (that's fancy for hopping). This is the usual sequence and so like a dutiful pupil I got off and decided it was time for a little work on the line. Only the line was a bit short, the person was a bit small, and the horse was big, fat, and determined to get away. Hi Ho Silver Away, but without the Lone Ranger, only Tonta (you know that's Spanish for "stupid" don't you?) on the ground, her hands empty.

Meanwhile Rachel thought she could hold onto Tenzin, but as he determined to follow his bro she did an emergency and somewhat graceless dismount, and the two horses were off and running. Camin was calling to them and we saw Tenzin up there by the pasture, where Camin had run through the paddock tape (not electrified) into the pasture, pulling up several posts in the process.

And guess who pulls up with my hay but Corby, a half smile on his face. He likes to give me a hard time, and he and his buddy looked at Rachel and me with barely disguised humor. I realize our misadventures will soon be all over the valley. "Here" I say to Corby, and shove Levi's lead rope into his hand, "hold this dude till I can get his lunge line and whup his butt."

So Rachel and I begin again, putting the boys through the exercises we've done SO many times. Anita would be proud. Thankfully, Rachel has a great sense of humor and a can-do attitude, and after a few minutes we were back in the saddle and doing nice shoulder-ins in the front yard. Nothing like sticking close to home.

Birds

2009-06-21T10:48:00.000-07:00

Birds are just really fascinating to me, both the domestic and wild. I could sit and watch the chickens for hours, and in fact I often do watch them for long stretches. I don't know what is so fascinating about watching birds but it certainly is compelling.

This weekend has provided several bird adventures. Yesterday I drove about 30 miles into the hillbilly hollows to buy some peafowl eggs. The guy had around 8-10 adult birds of different colors, some white, some pied, and some "ordinary" blue. Speaking strictly for myself I have to say I don't really get white peacocks. I mean, it seems sort of like the opposite of what you'd want. I tried to do a little research on peafowl genetics to get an idea of what my birds might look like when (and if) they hatch, but since I neglected to ask whether the cock had straight blue heritage I can't be sure what his offspring will manifest.

While I was at the peacock guy's place, one of his bird called and if I shut my eyes I could imagine being in the gardens of the Taj Mahal; alas, I was still in Snowshoe, PA. Shreed and I plan to name the chicks after Bollywood movie stars. I hope Broody Emmy Lou does a good job of hatching them. I guess we'll know in about four weeks.

Other bird news: I don't know if I mentioned that the silly mama killdeer we had last year has decided once again to build a nest in the middle of our driveway. I guess she figured that it worked out last year so why not try it again? She laid her eggs a little later this year so we thought maybe we weren't going to have this situation. But she's there doing her broken wing-thing every time we come and go.

Other bird news concerns a hummingbird who found herself in the barn and despite the fact that many doors were open she wanted to depart via the skylight. It wasn't working out for her. So I found a very long pole and attached a bent coat hanger with some netting and was able to catch her long enough to lower her to the stall door whereupon she buzzed off.

And last bird tidbit concerns a sighting--a dazzling indigo bunting flitting among the trees.

Solstice Flowers ~ Part II

2009-06-20T04:33:00.001-07:00

Solstice Flowers ~ Part I

2009-06-19T10:11:00.001-07:00

I Killed My Keyboard

2009-06-18T06:17:00.000-07:00

So Crim has been sleeping on my keyboard, and that was bad enough, but yesterday I dumped milk and cereal all over it, and despite a shower and a blast from the hair dryer, the keyboard could not be revived. Since we didn't have another one at home, I had to go off the computer cold turkey until Shreed brought a keyboard home from the office. It was tough.

When I worked for the English Department at A Major University That Shall Remain Nameless, we used to get emails about not eating at our desks. They were not polite emails either as they were composed by the same person who informed us that our belongings left in a vacated office would be considered TRASH and THROWN OUT. So it was with regret yesterday that I spilled a bowl of shredded wheat and raw milk into my computer keyboard at home; I dearly wished that I had been in my office.

Shreed said that a computer can live through such an accident though usually it acquires a terminal (ha ha, no pun intended) illness. He reported that a student in his department spilled soup on a laptop and it lived for a year; when it died they opened it up and it was disgusting inside. Maybe it had one of those pancake fungi growing in it, like the one now spreading on my garden mulch. Yuck.

The past several days have been gloomy and cool, highs only in the 50s. Monday was a perfect June day and I rode my bicycle miles and miles on these rural roads around here. I get a little nervous about dogs and one little mop of a dog did chase me but I managed to outrun it. I cycled past cornfields and old barns and through woods of oak and maple and over a stream, and past a junkyard, a small country church, and a cemetery. I had a wonderful ride.

Why is Crim Using the Computer?

2009-06-12T04:29:00.000-07:00

In the night I am often awakened by the ghostly glow of my monitor and I know that someone has been messing with my Mac. I suspect Crim but I don't know for sure it is him. Usually I find the mouse on the floor but this morning it was the keyboard that was knocked off my desk.

I have found a house sitter for when we go to Italy next month and yesterday I tried to explain to her what things are like here. She smiled and nodded calmly while I talked but I suspect she has no idea of what's in store for her and when we return she probably will have checked herself into the Meadows, which is the in-patient psychiatric hospital just down the road.

Running, Riding, Risk-taking

2009-06-10T05:34:00.000-07:00

Has it been almost a week since I posted?? The time just goes too fast. I don't like the way summer days fly by. It makes me sad.

Yesterday I went for a long run, the first in a while, and I felt great. Fast-forward to this morning, when I can barely shift my body in bed without groan-worthy pain. It's strange because it's not the usual runner's pain; everything hurts, from my head and neck to my hands and feet. It's frustrating because I LOVE running--nothing else compares. I know that this pain is a symptom of the larger Lyme syndrome that has been plaguing me for two years. It seems I'll never be rid of it. But I just don't want to run around to different doctors and research different treatments--the whole thing bores me to tears. I don't want to become one of those people who's always blah blah blah talking about his or her disease, so I'll stop now.

Lately Camin has been acting up when I ride; he used to be my "good" horse. He gets very upset at the mules working next door and he makes challenging noises and keeps trying to join up with me when I lunge him, which I don't appreciate since I don't like my space invaded anyway let alone by someone who weighs ten times what I do. I lunged him until he was dripping with sweat but he still wasn't ready to listen when I started to ride, and he began to back up, which is something I absolutely hate when I'm riding. Fortunately Anita always says, "If you feel unsafe, get off." I am so grateful to her for having this approach because every other trainer I've had has made it a point to insist that riders "push through" the problems. The result is fear at best and injury at the worst. I am certain I would not have broken my arm if Anita had been my trainer when I was struggling to get my horse Ben to canter. My trainer made me keep trying and the horse fell on me. I was lucky to escape with a broken arm. And then when Levi bolted and I broke my back I got right back on like I'd been told!

The rationale behind this approach is that you aren't supposed to let the horse "get away with" acting up and thinking he can get out of being ridden. But there are ways to accomplish that without risking your life. Anita has me get off and start lunging again; the idea is that the horse can choose to comply or he can run in circles, and eventually he will decide that doing a nice trot under saddle is preferable to cantering in sweaty circles for 45 minutes. Anyway I guess we'll be furthering Camin's education this week. It would be nice to be able to trust one of the boys to go on a little trail ride without behaving like a dunderhead.

Frazzled

2009-06-04T04:24:00.000-07:00

So this morning all the smoke detectors upstairs decided to malfunction and emit their horrid screeching that always makes people take the batteries out and render them useless. So this is what I did though it seemed strange that they all had low batteries. Keep in mind that this is a new house and there are smoke detectors in every room, which means no smoking in the lavatory. And because it's a new house the smoke detectors are not that easy to disable. So the screeching continued intermittently and my cortisol rose to toxic levels and the kitties were adrenaline maxed-out as well, except for Crim and Old Girl who are blissfully deaf. Crim was like, "WTF, everybody?" In the lingo of my (former) students.

Since this is a new house it has more possibility for things to malfunction and more technology to break and cause headaches, which I already had, prior to this event. You can imagine what it feels like to have a migraine, which is already like a smoke alarm in your head, and have your morning further shattered by the real thing. (In case you were wondering, no, I did not leave a pot on the stove and I was not smoking in the lavatory, though I came to wish I had, and not cigarettes.) Finally it dawned on my damaged brain that I needed to visit the breaker box in the basement and deal with the smoke alarms that way. Our breaker boxes look like the control panel for the Starship Enterprise and the printed instructions would take you a couple of days to read. Fortunately Shreed had given me a tutorial in Circuit Breaker Operations and I was able to locate and turn off the breaker for the smoke detectors and restore morning calm to myself and five wide-eyed cats. These things ALWAYS happen when Shreed is away--he's in Los Angeles this week.

So when he has been away I have had a broken-down truck, two floods, a furnace problem, a soft water system alarm go off, internet problems, and now this. But at least somebody was home. Can you imagine if both of us had been away? The poor kitties would all have PTSD. Not to mention our house would be destroyed. Sometimes I wish I lived in a mud hut.

Helpers

2009-06-03T07:07:00.000-07:00

So this morning I decided to do some "decluttering." I hesitate to use that word because it seems like some recently coined jargon, along the lines of saying we need "to grow" the economy, which is a new usage that I dislike. "To grow" is an intransitive verb in my world and always will be. No doubt "declutter" came into use because of our incredible wastefulness as a society and our tendency to spend much of our time at Walmart buying cheap crap we don't need, and if we're more thrifty we buy other people's cheap crap at garage sales and call it a bargain. Centre Hall (the small town nearest me) has a weekend in June devoted to garage sales and people come from hundreds of miles away to buy stuff--hence the new gerund, "garage saling." But that is better than buying it new and I may go to some sales myself this year though I don't think I will come to blows over canning jars or a Little Mermaid lamp. Now let's proceed with the point of this post.

Anyway since it is a rainy day and I won't be outside replanting collard greens for the fourth time, I decided to perform a little triage on my clothing collection, which if you saw you would declare a symptom of a rather severe mental illness. So I thought I'd start with the tee shirt drawer of my main dresser (I have three dressers, in addition to a walk-in closet and two coat closets, not to mention an attic with an eight-foot reinforced steel bar on which I hang clothes that are not in season). As soon as I started rummaging in there I got offers of assistance. So the whole project got more complicated.

Those people who say cats are so "independent" and "aloof" and that they don't care about people or take an interest in what they're doing--well those people need to come to my house. Everything I do is a source of entertainment. This morning I received some pointers while doing yoga. Cat radar had alerted Sushi and Nori that something interesting was happening and they had fun crouching under me as I was doing downward-facing dog (or "dirty down dog," as we call it), thus helping me to hold the position longer. if I ever teach yoga I will use that approach with students "Hold that position! There's a kitten under there!"

Incidentally I have gone back to daily yoga, for 20 minutes, and it seems to be helping a lot with the stiffness and pain. Surprisingly I have not lost much of the flexibility I had when I was doing it regularly (which is not saying a whole lot since I am not very flexible). I find it a very rejuvenating form of physical activity, both in my body and in my mind, too.

A Funny Internet Story

2009-06-01T06:07:00.000-07:00

So I am sure y'all are familiar with the sordid tales of MySpace and adults posing as teenage boys and urging teenage girls to commit suicide (which actually happened), and how other hideously warped adults are trolling the internet looking for victims for their various nefarious schemes. Not very funny. However, the internet also provides the opportunity for amusing cases of mistaken identity that suggest new interpretations of A Comedy of Errors.

I do have a facebook account, though I rarely look at it except when someone "writes on my wall" or "friends" me and I get an email notifying me of those rare events. I got the account so I could spy on my students: if a student's profile states that his hobbies include "Driving Under the Influence" I could be fairly certain he would demonstrate a less-than-stellar academic performance. This actually happened and probably has something to do with the fact that I no longer teach.

Anyway, one day I received a message that someone had friended me and I saw that the message was in German. I don't know German and I haven't been there, unless you include sitting in Frankfurt airport wishing I had never boarded that plane in the first place. So I had to resort to Google Translator to figure out that the message said, "With gratitude to you kindly I nod" or something similar from Yoda's monologue in the last Star Wars movie. I took it to be the German equivalent of 'sup? so I responded, being a friendly sort.

But who was Astrid? Was she someone I knew through Etsy? A friend of a friend? At that time I had as my profile picture a photo of my previous horse, Ben, and me, from the rear as I led him away from the camera. Ben was (and still is, I suppose!) a Haflinger pony, which is an Austrian breed common in Germany. I thought maybe that had something to do with the German friending, especially as later she said she would recognize that bum anywhere, or words to that effect. I assumed she meant the Haflinger derriere, but in retrospect I wonder whether she meant mine.

After this I had another German friend request. I figured that this later one was a friend of Astrid's who just wanted to add all Astrid's friends. I didn't correspond with these people at all, really. If they wrote on my wall I might respond with a bland, "hope you're well."

Then a few days ago I had a friend request from Sujata (or a similar name, I forget) from Mumbai. I confirmed because like I said, I am friendly! So then she started IM-ing me. She asked me what I was up to and I told her I had just fed my horses, and then she asked me if I had been on any digs lately. Odd. Her profile said she was getting her MA in archaeology so maybe she's just into talking about digs. I thought perhaps she had seen that I was an anthropologist and thought I went on digs. I replied, "not for a long time," which was the truth as the last dig I was on was in India 28 years ago. She said I should visit her. I didn't think much of this because in all my years of being with Indians and in India, people seem to form intimate friendships very quickly and easily, and visiting someone is no big deal.

Then I asked her how she found me. She said that she found me through Astrid's list and the other German woman whose name I forget, let's call her Birgitte. So I asked how she knew them. "Aren't you the Maratha [sic] who was on the dig in Tubingen?" she asked. Ohhhh. It all started to clear up. I said no and asked whether Sujata thought the picture looked like her friend's. "I was going to ask why you changed so much," she said. Hm, yes, aged about 20 years in 10 months.

It was interesting, finding out that my doppelganger (the German word seems appropriate!) has been out there excavating potsherds (or whatever) in Germany and making friends with young German and Indian students. I wonder if she would mind if we averaged our ages??

Everything is Growing

2009-05-27T07:57:00.000-07:00

We're astonished at how fast the little chicks are growing. They have lots of feathers. Two have tails and two don't so we have decided that two must be pullets and two cockerels. So two sons-of-Merle, Billy Ray and Garth. Rather a scary thought. The others are Tammy and Trisha.

Over the Memorial Day weekend Shreed and I spent almost every waking moment in the garden. He has been building a fence around the vegetable garden (which is probably 40-50 feet on a side) and I have been digging new beds and hoeing and hauling manure and mulch. Lots of upper-body work and too much sun. Memorial Day morning we went to my brother's for his annual pancake breakfast (we brought the eggs). All their kids were there as well as both sets of grandparents. I caught up with my SIL's parents after I don't know how many years. Hard to believe my SIL and I got to know each other when I was 15 and she was 18. She taught me to drive! It was great to catch up with the grown kids, out on their own working in real jobs.

So after about 5 straight days of working outside I was totally wiped out yesterday. Since it was raining and in the 40s I didn't mind being indoors. But I still have to plant corn and cucumbers so I hope the good weather returns soon. We needed the rain and it was a gentle, all-day event so that was good. It was hard to adjust to the 30 degree drop in temperatures, however. Monday I was in a tank top and shorts, and yesterday I pulled out the wool socks and fleece jacket.

I walked over to the Stoltzfus farm and Benyiel was hot-shoeing a horse, which I hadn't seen before, the cows were being milked, and the three-week old colt was playing in the pasture. Toddler Abraham was watching everything, snug in his little bonnet, his older brother tenderly wiping his little nose every once in a while. Then one of the school-age boys (I forget all the names of their kids) started asking me all about what Shreed was building, how he liked his motorcycle, etc. They don't miss a beat! They know who comes and goes and when I ride, and what saddle (or not!) I use! I wouldn't dare ride without a helmet--I'd get ratted out for sure.

Benyiel's black Arab stallion is a gorgeous fellow; we compared notes on the Arab temperament. How I'd love to see Levi and that horse together but I doubt they'd get along. Levi's a very dominant horse.

Lately I've been riding bareback and without a bridle. Anita recommended it and I was dubious. "I'll fall off!" I protested. "I won't be able to make them go where I want!" However, having tried it I am a convert to bareback riding. I actually feel safer. I can feel the horse beneath me, how he's moving; I can make adjustments in my own body to keep my balance and to indicate where I want to go. There are no stirrups to cause me to tense up and brace, which I tend to do. In fact, riding without a saddle causes my body to relax and tension has always been my biggest problem. I even trotted, and those of you who ride know that the trot is the most uncomfortable gait even though the canter is faster. Of course my boys are wonderful baroque movers and their trots are lovely. Riding without all that tack also reduces the hassle. It takes less time and there's no cleaning of tack afterwards. My bum does get sweaty though! I can see riding bareback being much more comfortable than a saddle in cold weather too. So I'm a convert. Wish I'd discovered this long ago!

Begin Again

2009-05-23T06:19:00.000-07:00

Don't worry, I'm no going to wax philosophical. I grew up in a very cynical atmosphere and though I have learned to temper that tendency I am still unable to take myself too seriously and get all profound. Anyway, on Thursday I cleaned out the rest of my TRASH from my office and flung my keys at the cigarette-smoking staff drone who composed that tactful e-mail, and off I went. As I walked out of my office building for the last time, it was a perfect mid-spring day, and the elm seeds lay scattered about the steps of the library. It felt surreal to me, as if I'd just entered a different dimension. When I got home I had a fit of weeping and then felt a strange calm envelop me, and so went out into the garden, where I have spent nearly all my time since. Spending my time on something that grows and is beautiful and useful is a great feeling.

A robin has built a nest in our former Solstice Tree.

Hard Work

2009-05-20T13:15:00.000-07:00

So this was the second step with our hay, then Benyiel came and did something else, and then both young men, along with an older man and their little sister on the wagon, baled it all yesterday early evening. Shreed said those bales must have been heavy, lots of water, because you could see Benyiel strain to heft them into the wagon, and he's a strapping young man.

We went to see the new Star Trek movie last night. We've been watching Star Trek together since we first met: we know all the series and all the episodes and have insider terms to refer to a person or an episode. Last night as we were watching and the Captain Pike character appeared, I whispered to Shreed, "washing machine?" and he snickered and nodded. We refer to Captain Christopher Pike as the washing machine guy because in the original series he appeared in a large box with only his disfigured head above, and little lights would flash as he tried to communicate--green for rinse, yellow for wash, and red for spin! We used to laugh so hard at those episodes, the cheesy miniskirts and the dorky sound effects, where the ship always sounded like it was pinging looking for U-boats or something.

This film was a lot of fun if you're a trekkie; the plot made no sense--there's this mysterious "red matter" that creates black holes. A Romulan ship with a way bad hair day. Blatant product placement. Whatever. We liked it.

The past few days have been rough--I went to the doctor and was told that most of my hormone levels are so low some of them don't even register. There's no detectable DHEA, for example. I know I've seen that in health food stores. Yesterday I had to do a cortisol test where I had to chew on something that looks like a cigarette filter four times a day. My doc thinks the Lyme damaged my adrenals and/or pituitary gland. Don't ever get Lyme. When I lived in India 22 years ago I got TB, but it was nothing compared to this. This ordeal has lasted two years. Not that I haven't had my good days and weeks even, but I've learned I just can't count on that lasting. I'm back on antibiotics and a drug used to treat malaria, for all the good that will probably do. Yesterday I forced myself to run and today I'm bone tired. It's so discouraging when I have so much I want to do. But I shouldn't even talk about it. What's the use? Just keep going, take it day by day, and assorted other bromides.

Where's the Warm Weather?

2009-05-19T06:48:00.000-07:00

This morning it was 30 degrees. Major frost. The night before the low had been predicted to be 33 so I covered everything--it was 36. So last night it was predicted to be 34 and I didn't cover anything. Of course, You can see how the tomato plants look. I guess it's back to the nursery. I also need to tell you that critters got he second round of cruciferous vegetables, despite my (incompetent) attempts at fencing. The life of a farmer is like this. Try fail try fail try again.

Meanwhile, the little peepers are growing: Trisha, Tammy, Shania, and Carlene. If one of them is a rooster he will be Garth. Please no. Tammy is the runt. She is extremely cute and her problem eye is normalizing. They're all getting little wing feathers. They grow so fast. It's fascinating to watch Blondie and note the different types of clucks she uses to let them know about food, to express alarm, to tell them to get moving, to call a wayward babe. I adore watching. She only fluffs up at Merle, though he has never threatened to hurt the babies. Only Loretta, who was bullied herself, has pecked at them. One-eyed witch!

Our hay was cut yesterday by Elam, new master of the farm. His beard is growing since his marriage in November. Pity--he has a nice jawline. He told me about a time he caught a fawn that was in a field he was mowing and how cute it was. It leapt onto his lap! He was saying that he hopes to God he never hits one. Me too. Though there aren't many deer that cross our field, too open. Sabi's daddy has been relaxing in the cut hay--it's his field.

The boys are enjoying their regrown pasture. They have limited time on that diet--it's important to be careful on the spring grass. It's so beautiful here, cold or not. I hope you enjoy these photos.

Those First Few Difficulties of Life . . .

2009-05-17T05:18:00.000-07:00

Friday night I was outside puttering around, waiting for the chickens to go to bed because I figured I'd have to put Blondie and her bunch in the kennel since they wouldn't be able to step up into the coop. Then I heard this frantic peeping and I guess one peep had tried to get in the coop and had fallen between the trapdoor and the floor of the coop, where there's a gap about an inch wide. Hazards you never think of. Well of course it was too small to get my fingers down in there and the gap was too deep--the chick's head would pop up every so often but I couldn't get a hold of it. And I should add that Merle was in the coop and I couldn't shut the door and I was on my knees in chicken crap and expecting him to gouge out my eyes any minute. He was making a ruckus but for some reason he didn't offer to make me the next face transplant recipient.

I ran in the house and got my wooden spoon (always useful!) and tried to flip the chick up out of the crack but it didn't work--it kept slipping back in. OK, I thought, I'm gonna have to saw a hole in the coop floor. Meanwhile, as you can imagine, Blondie is making a fuss. So I went and got a small saw, petrified of course that in the process of freeing the chick I would injure it. Then I decided one last try with the spoon--Ah! I was able to grab it with my fingers but the opening seemed too small to pull it back out. But it got in there, right? So I fiddled and fiddled and used a little force, feeling queasy as the peep peeped louder--and then popped the little bugger out unharmed! With my luck this one will grow up to be another Merle! As you might imagine, Shreed was not here. When he called yesterday and I told him, he said that the floor is not nailed down and I could have picked it up. I'm glad I didn't saw a hole in it! Nevertheless it would have been difficult to pick up the floor with the chickens in there, and grab the peep while holding up the floor. A two- or three-person job for sure.

Last night Blondie crammed herself and her babes into a Scoopaway bucket that was in the chicken yard (for some unknown reason) so I moved them to the kennel after the others went to bed and then put a ramp to the kennel this morning so hopefully they can access it more easily now. The trouble these animals put us to! It's all worth it though, so see those darling balls of fluff running around in the chicken yard, as Blondie breaks leftover fettucine into small bits for them, clucking and pointing to the morsel with her beak. Sometimes they doze off and fall on their little faces. Hard to believe that they might grow up to be a vicious male who only thinks about sex and beating the crap out of everyone but his harem. Maybe moms think that when they look at their little boys. Ha ha ha.

Blondie's a Mom!!

2009-05-15T19:20:00.000-07:00

More details to follow tomorrow, including a peep's first (mis)adventure, with happy ending...

Wild Things

2009-05-11T08:33:00.000-07:00

Before I get to the subject at hand I want to thank y'all for the supportive comments--I guess that office memo really was rude and it wasn't just me being oversensitive... actually my sister-in-law got it too so we had a good laugh over that. Yeah, it's funny how you can devote most of your waking life to a place and after you leave it's as if you never existed. But oh well--one thing I've learned is that the older I get the less I care. Those things your mother told you--the people who don't care don't matter--really are true.

Anyway, so here I am at home, and if you haven't figured it out, I am engaged in skirmishes with critters on the farm, both domestic and wild. As you may know, I raised a bunch of vegetable plants from seed--I probably had five dozen or so tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, broccoli, cabbage, cauliflower, and Brussels sprouts seedlings. I set a few out, then a few more, and finally all, as it seemed safe. Well, in 2 hours, while I was otherwise engaged in some other farm task, I lost them ALL. EVERY SINGLE ONE. Rabbits: that clean 45 degree angle. WHY???? There is so much juicy grass and clover, a whole field of alfalfa. Why my plants? And not only vegetable plants but also rare, expensive perennials that came all the way from California. I've tried those repellents--surprise! They don't work. I just ordered something called a "scarecrow sprinkler." You know what they say about a fool and her money...

Meanwhile, there has been other animal misbehavior. I was in my garden Saturday, yanking out dandelions and talking to my mom on the phone, when I simultaneously became aware of a noise and something large in my field of vision. Three somethings, large and white, with destructive large feet stomping through my garden and to the hayfield beyond. The boys were out! I always feel like an ass chasing them with a lead rope in my hand. They always come home after racing all over but one doesn't feel like waiting around. So I go running across the lumpy fields, tripping and falling on my face, and then I see a tall bearded man on a child's push scooter. Daniel! Benyiel! To the rescue! My Amish neighbors were there to help. Benyiel got Levi and Daniel and I herded the other two behind and we headed home. As Daniel said, horses are going to get out. He should know, as his mules recently paid a night visit. I tell you though, watching three proud white horses galloping through a field of brilliant green alfalfa I get a lump in my throat. I can't help but understand and yes, admire. It's what they were meant to do.

So back to square one with the garden. I'm off to the garden center to see what's left after the Mother's Day shopping frenzy...

Buddha Party

2009-05-05T16:52:00.000-07:00

My Buddhas decided that they did not want to be scattered about the house so they decided to gather in the dining room on this sideboard. I'm not sure if I'm comfortable looking at them or not. But I should practice compassion since I was rather put out after reading this note from the department staff:

Things to do before you leave!

Just a little reminder...

If you have not already done so, please complete the following on or before May 22nd.

return keys
return secur id token
clean out your office
pick up your SRTE files
leave forwarding contact information

If you do not return your keys to Christi in 102 Burrowes Building by May 22nd, you will be charged $25 per key.

If you do not return your secure id token to Christi in 102 Burrowes Building by May 22nd, you will be charged $75.

We do not have space to store SRTE files. If you do not pick up your SRTE files before you leave, they will be shredded.

Anything left in your office will be considered trash and thrown away. Please make arrangements with your students to pick up their papers.
Thank you.

I had a little addendum: "Do not let the door hit you on the way out. You will be charged $35."

Free at Last (almost)

2009-05-03T16:23:00.000-07:00

All I have to do is calculate grades and upload them and I'm finished. I almost can't believe it. The semester was good though; I had nice students even if they didn't always do great work. I had some wonderful thank-you notes from them. So that chapter is closed and now I'll be devoting myself wholly to my art and to the farm.

Our temperatures have dropped about 35 degrees since last weekend. I knew the brief taste of summer wouldn't last, but it will be back. A few days of warmth was all that was needed to coax out the leaves on the still mostly-bare trees. I love this time of year for the thousand shades of green. The redbuds are out now, a sprinkle of dark pink among all those greens. Crabapples are blooming lushly as well, and the little umbrellas of the mayapple are appearing in the woods. Everything is tender and fresh and fragrant. I love it.

The boys are still not permitted in their main pasture--another week and it should be lush enough, depending on the weather. Tenzin has been playing games with me lately. He waits until he thinks I am not looking and sneaks towards Camin's stall to steal his food.

"Ten-ZINNNN!"

He saunters back to his own stall, as if had just come out to check the wind speed. And we do this a few more times until I am back in the house and he is finally in Camin's stall, eating Camin's hay, which I guess tastes so much better than his own.

I am at war with EmmyLou and Wynonna, trying to keep the silly hens from turning my flower garden into a dirt lot. They are the only two who fly, so they get over the fence. Any suggestions on what to do with them, that don't involve Sunday dinner?

Crim continues to be a scofflaw in the house. Lately he's been using my computer; every morning the mouse is on the floor and I can tell when he's using it because I wake up and see the ghostly light of the awakened monitor. Has he been emailing any of you? Don't believe a thing he says...

Almost There...

2009-04-28T04:47:00.000-07:00

Hello friends, and sorry for another long silence. Our internet had been going down repeatedly and finally gave up the ghost a few days ago, despite visits from tech support. Shreed finally figured out what was wrong with it and had to tell them. So it's fixed for good now. I hope.

I'm at the home stretch now; only a few more days until my release from the prison of fixed term academia. Woo-hooo!! I can't wait. I have big plans for my freedom. I only hope my energy matches my ambition.

The last few days we've had temperatures in the mid- to upper 80s. I'm not complaining but it is a little stressful for the plants. They're all starting to grow and blossom and the temperatures are sure to plunge. My species tulips flowered for a few days and then shriveled from the heat. Usually they last a couple of weeks. The regular tulips have grown, formed buds, and opened, all within less than a week. Our pears are flowering and I fear they will freeze if the temperatures return to what they normally are this time of year. Our last freeze is typically May 15 or thereabouts so we have a couple of weeks to go before we can consider ourselves really safe.

Meanwhile I have finished planting my birthday roses, which included antique varieties as well as English roses, and have also found new homes for the peonies my dad dug from his overcrowded beds. I got a few kinds of lettuce planted and am situating new perennials, as well as transplanting tomato seedlings (which aren't seedlings anymore) to pots. The hardening off process is always tough on them and they tend to look miserable for a few days.

The kitties have enjoyed being on the screened-in porch, batting at flies and chattering at little birds. They won't want to stay in when the temperature goes down, as it's sure to do. I've enjoyed having the windows open and smelling the fresh air and the occasional waft of cow manure from the neighboring farms. I washed the windows downstairs but when the sun came through I noticed the smear marks and was less ecstatic about my handiwork.

The kitties are also up to their usual bad behavior; Crim has taken to flinging eggs out of a bowl, rolling them off the counter, and delighting at the resulting splat. He is such a bad person. He's been sleeping in a felt bowl that is several sizes too small for him. The kittens continue to race around the house and Sushi eats everything in sight, including dead flies. Not that our house has a lot of dead flies but they do turn up on the window sills occasionally. Nori has become such a little love bug and sits on my lap and sleeps between my knees at night, when she's not racing around and boxing with the other kitties.

We had night visitors a few days ago. I came out one morning to find a scoopaway bucket that used to contain chicken scratch all busted up. Mystified, I asked Shreed about it and he said it had not been broken the evening before when he'd fed the chickens a treat. I was wondering if maybe the UPS man had come late and run over it. Later I went out to the garden and gasped sharply at what I saw. Dinner plate-sized divots everywhere! It all fell in place. We'd thought we'd heard voices very early in the morning and I had noticed a light outside, but figured it was the neighbors' headlights as they left very early. Neither of us was conscious enough to get up and investigate. It turns out the mules had come visiting again. I thought I had problems with rabbits in my garden. Never a dull moment around here.

Back From Outer Space

2009-04-14T05:48:00.001-07:00

Sorry, faithful readers, that it's taken me so long to get back to blogging. My internet was down for almost a week, which was beyond frustrating; I realize the extent to which I'm an internet addict and if I can't check my favorite blogs or see the latest fashion faux pas on gofugyourself.com, I'm like a caffeine addict during withdrawal! Anyway, here I am, after nearly two weeks.

These past two weeks were not all that eventful. We had a visit from Shreed's family, sans the sister-in-law who is terrified of cats. If she'd come she would have thought she had died and gone to hell--like that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where Harrison Ford finds himself in the snake pit! In any case it was a nice visit, even though the weather was horrible, as it is every time Shreed's folks visit. They must think we have the worst climate in the world, which isn't far from the truth, at least for half the year.

Things are beginning to green up and daffodils are out; nevertheless the temperatures remain chilly. Yesterday it was 21 when I got up! That is unacceptable. I have planted three bare root roses. Actually I planted them five times because I didn't think I'd planted two of them deep enough. Roses are a real pain to plant because they need to have a hole that's about two feet by two feet. My biceps are getting stronger by the day. I only have seven more to plant!!!

Meanwhile the animals have been up to no good, as usual. I was doing some painting and dyeing, which required the use of paper towels and when I went out of the room for a few minutes . . . well, you can see what happened. Remember, everything is a toy.

Entertainment

2009-04-02T05:33:00.000-07:00

Sorry I've been gone for a week. I have some sort of virus (I guess)--my head hurts, my back feels like it's on fire, and my arms feel as if I've had tetanus shots. Of course it might have something to do with the fact that I can't move in bed. It's worse than being on an airplane. Nori sleeps between my knees, sort of hammocked, and I don't like to move and bother her. Not to mention the wall of cats on my left side, and Oscar next to my head. And Crim at the bottom so that I can't stretch out. Shove them off the bed? Never!

Anyhow, I wanted to tell you about why we don't miss TV. People ask us (especially students), how we survive without it. Surviving without the internet would be a problem, but I never miss television. I have lots to entertain me around here.

For example, the boys are now confined to a small paddock so that their main pasture can transition from mud pit to lush, graze-able grass. I do have an alternate pasture (mainly weedy) that I can let them into if it's not too wet. If the ground is saturated then they destroy it very quickly. So one day this week it was dry enough that they could go out. They always get excited when they know they're getting their freedom so they try to crowd me when I lead them over, and I have to get rather strict with them. So I lead them one by one in a particular order: Levi goes first because he's the top man, Tenzin goes second because he freaks if left alone, and poor Camin has to go last.

Levi is the one to instigate play. After everyone has been led to the pasture he will toss his head, donkey-kick at Tenzin (no contact made--it's just goofing around) and then they all take off at a gallop, bucking, head tossing, and stopping so suddenly at the fence it takes my breath away. So they did that, and usually it doesn't last long and they are grazing. Levi had his head down, nibbling away at the tender shoots of new grass, when he let out a very loud two-note fart that startled him such that he took off galloping again. I guess he "fartled." I was doubled-over laughing. Such dignified, noble creatures.

Back at the house I set a pot of water on the stove. Before I turned on the burner (fortunately) Wabi was there. She looked at the surface and then stuck her paw in and fished around. She took it out, shook the water in my face, and then stuck the other paw in, took that one out, shook it, showered Bella Jane with droplets, who took off in disgust. This went on for a while.

During my bath Sushi thought the soft, fluffy surface looked inviting. It turned out not to be what she expected, and after launching herself into the tub she scrabbled out in a panic, then set to licking Burt's Bee's shower gel suds off herself.

Later in the day, just before I set to making dinner, I sat on on the front porch petting Miss Char. There was a loud squawking from the chicken yard. Slowly a rather ratty skunk came into view, making his (her?) way through the front yard, stopping every so often to dig out a worm. She seemed oblivious to my greeting, and kept on coming. I thought she was going to come up on the porch and eat Miss Char's food. But she kept on moving up towards the hayfield, where she disappeared into the tall dry grass.

It was quite a fun day; never a dull moment here on the farm.

The Garden Season Starts

2009-03-26T08:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was spreading manure on my flower and herb gardens. The rabbit damage to trees and shrubs is heartbreaking. Japanese holly, Hinoki cypress, Japanese maple, several fruit trees, half a dozen roses, all the raspberry plants, a bunch of perennials--these are all damaged beyond hope. The trees and shrubs really get me down because they grow so slowly--a whole year of growth is gone, not to mention money spent--those aren't Walmart garden center plants. Many of my small bulbs were unearthed by chickens. But one thing gardeners learn is starting over, often from scratch. It's a good thing I like annuals.

But down in the dark basement is the Tabletop of Hope--all the little vegetable and perennial plants started from seed. There's nothing like looking at a well-developed yarrow plant and thinking, I grew that from seed! And then there are the plants from friends and family, dug out of too-crowded gardens. I remember how discouraged I was last year; as late as June I thought our back yard would be a wasteland forever. But it turned out to be the most beautiful collection of flowers I've ever grown. And like all gardeners, I'm learning lessons--like how to look for the little rabbit-resistant symbol in the catalog. Live and let live is my motto.

The chickens are now confined, albeit in a large area. Chickens and small seedlings cannot coexist. Lately I have been tossing fresh manure into the chicken yard and watching them break it up in a matter of minutes. Horse turds have a way of maintaining their integrity, so to speak, in the colder months. Once spring comes birds come and pick them apart very well. I still have a lot of horse apples in the area where I planted grass. I can't wait to witness my in-laws' reaction to that. Sometimes I am just too eccentric and impatient!

Caution, Rant Coming On...

2009-03-23T04:46:00.000-07:00

So here I am on a 20 degree Monday--there's that moment you wake up and think, "Ugh, it's Monday." You can tell how much I like my job by the fact that I'm counting the days I have left to teach, the number of times I will have to walk from the parking lot to my office and try to avoid getting run over by a bicycle, a skateboard, or a commuter bus. It's not that I dislike my students--not at all. In fact this semester they are very good for the most part--I'm glad to end on a good note. But I'm mostly sick of myself talking, or trying to talk, feeling like I have nothing more to say, and if they don't have anything to say either then it's really awkward. Often the discussion seems to morph into personal anecdotes and while I do find those interesting on some level, I have this vague uneasy feeling that it's not what we're supposed to be doing.

My sister-in-law, who is my colleague, just found another job. I'm sure we're both so relieved we won't have to leave each other behind. We won't have to be treated like untouchables anymore by the English department. We won't be reminded every day and every paycheck that we are worth less than the "real" professors, though in many cases we have the same credentials and have even been published. We won't have to be reminded that we are just "somebody's spouse" and are there as a favor. We won't have to be told that we can't eat at our desks and are welcome to paint the walls of our offices in approved colors (I am not kidding). We won't have to be reamed out by staff support for rearranging our furniture. We won't have computers from 1998 and won't have to beg for software that's compatible with what our students use. We won't have to share an office with three other people. We won't be told what books to use and we won't be forced to take a two-semester how-to-teach course with first year graduate students when we've been teaching already for decades. We won't have to pay for our own photocopies.

Yup, it's Monday. Five more, including this one.

It's Spring and It's Cold

2009-03-22T07:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning, 13 degrees, to be precise. But this morning it was 24, woo hoo!! Thanks, ya'll, for the birthday greetings; I had a nice day--it was actually quite warm and we went out to dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town. It's the only restaurant that lists the prices of the food like this: Portabella mushroom and new potato gratin with artisan prosciutto . . . . . . 18
So no decimal points after the price. I guess they figured if you had any more numbers there you might faint. I made up that appetizer, by the way.

On my way to the restaurant I passed many students wearing green tee shirts and beads and some stupid leprechaun hats; many were three sheets to the wind, to put it nautically. The next day I asked my students why they do this and the answer was something like "school spirit," which seems to be their reason for doing things they like to do. I always associated school spirit with high school; needless to say it was something I did not have.

Anyway, the rest of the week was more hectic and involved more driving than I like to do. That's one thing I don't like about living in the country. I remember one winter when Shreed was in Antarctica and we lived in town, I filled the gas tank up one time. Once, in two months. Now it's once a week. But we're trying to offset that by growing our own food and returning our land to a more environmentally-friendly use--before it was in corn and soybeans, soybeans and corn. And Shreed is now commuting via motorcycle, which takes very little gas.

I did find time to ride and work in the studio. Friday I rode Levi and he was fantastic. Despite the potentially terrifying/fascinating distractions of a guy on a 32 foot ladder fixing our roof, and Elam driving a team of mules with a manure spreader, Levi managed to control his urge to bolt to the next county. I really love the work Anita is having me do with him. Every time he takes his attention off me I disengage his hindquarters (for you non-horse people, it's not as bad as it sounds--it's sort of like making him bend his neck around and move his butt sideways). He's a smart boy and pretty soon he starts making the right choice. As Anita said, he thinks he's training me. Yesterday my hips were hurting and I realized finally that it was because Anita had me sitting on my thumbs and that caused me to open my hips more and improve my position. I'm sure most of you would not like to canter a horse whilst sitting on your hands. It is a rather disconcerting sensation. How often are we told to sit on our hands?

So that was my week. March is two-thirds over, and yes indeed I have some crocuses, but I think the chickens are digging them up at this moment. This isn't a very cohesive essay. I give it a C. "But Dr. Bright, I worked really hard on it!!"

Signs of Spring . . . Not

2009-03-17T05:25:00.000-07:00

Jan wondered at the lack of signs of Spring and wondered if it were normal. Sigh, yes, this is usual. Nothing really greens up until April, and we don't get leaves on the trees until mid-May. I can see a few little signs. Snowdrops are blooming and some folks have winter aconite. The maple trees are also showing their curious red blossoms. It's still too early for crocuses, though if we get a few sunny days those could come along before the end of the month. Often we get huge snowfalls in March; since we've lived in this area we've had several, one that was almost 4 feet! But now we're probably past the point of that, though we could get a dusting as late as April. Last year there was snow on Easter, but it was early, in March, I think. March can feel a lot like winter, and technically two-thirds of it still is.

But even though it still looks like winter, the day length makes a huge difference, at least for me. My mood lifts in a mysterious way. The birds are singing crazily and those that winter in warmer climes are returning. When the swallows return and the goldfinches start dressing in their bright plumage we'll know spring has really come. I've seen bluebirds and mockingbirds all winter. It's interesting how in town you see catbirds (starting in Spring) but not mockingbirds. Out in the country there are a lot more mockingbirds. I guess they prefer the open country. In Alabama they were so common, like robins here. They make more noise there too, often at night. Here they are pretty quiet.

I hope you've enjoyed my Spring trivia. Today is my birthday, and believe me, I'm no Spring chicken.

Chicken Palace and Horse Hair

2009-03-15T04:49:00.000-07:00

I'll bet not a lot of blog posts have that title! Thank you all for your supportive comments. Jan, I appreciate your advice on being a redneck. In the summertime if we fill the back of our truck with water we'll have a hillbilly swimming pool too! Margret, thanks for your compliments on my art! I actually would like to design fabric. And Calico Quilter, Merle was a mistake! We weren't supposed to have him! One day we may yet take him down to the Amish Auction! He is one mean sucker.

Yesterday the chicken palace was completed and as you can see, the flock checked out their new digs as construction wrapped up. The siding was left over from the house construction so it matches nicely. How many people have a chicken coop that matches their house?! Better not answer that! In the evening after the chickens went to bed in their old coop Shreed and I carried them over. At dinner Shreed asked me if I was up for it and I said sure, as long as you grab Merle! The hens are sweet. Anyway they are ensconced in their new home and had room service this morning. They will stay in for a day or two so they don't try to go back to their double-wide.

Meanwhile the boys have been fenced out of the main pasture, which has been seeded. Horses are very rough on pastures, especially in the cooler months and when it's wet. I hate fencing themout but it's the only way they'll have pasture in the spring and summer. This means I'll have to lead them back and forth to their alternate pasture for short periods (or they'll ruin that one too), which is a pain because they get pushy and can escape and if there's one thing I dislike more than chasing horses all over creation I don't know what it is.

They are shedding like crazy as you can see from this brush. I like the textures in this photo.

Spring Break

2009-03-14T05:24:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not in Cancun! Actually last Friday when we went to dinner with my parents our favorite waiter said, "I thought you all would be in Cancun by now!" What a jokester. I have been enjoying my time at home sewing, painting, reading, running, lunching with friends, playing with the boys, and of course photographing cats cats cats. It's really not that different than my usual week except that I don't have to teach. I have gotten so far away from it mentally that I've kind of forgotten I have to go back on Monday. But only seven more weeks and spring is coming. Next week, actually.

Shreed hasn't been home very much though he did take one day off to build the Chicken Palace, which will be move-in ready today. Last night he told me the plan for resettling the chickens and since it involves his taking charge of Merle I am happy to participate. Merle has been a real pain in the butt (literally) lately and Thursday evening he chased Shreed all the way from the coop to the house. Shreed was panting from exertion and I was doubled-over laughing as I had a ringside seat from the French doors. I noticed that yesterday he left the chickens in the coop. When he got home Thursday evening Shreed had asked me whether I had retrieved the eggs. I said, "Nope." After he escaped Merle I told him that now he understood why I hadn't gathered the eggs!

Small signs of spring are emerging. Lynda has snowdrops blooming. I planted some but probably the chickens dug them all up. This is one reason why I keep bugging Shreed about creating a proper chicken yard because I am afraid that pretty soon our place will be a dusty patch of bare ground except where the horses have created a mud pit. Maybe we should just add some pigs for a wallow here and there. And then we can smoke our corncob pipes on the porch and see how far we can spit tobacco juice.

Party Pictures

2009-03-10T18:00:00.000-07:00

Here are a few pictures from the party. These were sent to me and were not taken by the professional photographer, so there will be better ones to come. The dance photo includes our niece, Archana, in the pink. The group photo with extended family is left to right: My father-in-law, Shreed, Uma (Ravi's wife and party girl), my mom, Ravi, my mother-in-law, me.
The third photo features the Anandakrishnan boys, Shreed, Ravi, Satyan, and Ramu. Ramu is the eldest and Shreed (known as Tikku en famille) is the youngest.