from the depths

Yes, it has been a long time since I’ve made an entry. I have deliberately avoided posting any words (though I have made some adjustments to the photos and layout) because I was afraid you would not want to read them.

I created this blog to document my life in the country. I wanted to track my progress, my growth and adjustment to this different lifestyle, and I think I have really done that. I have looked back to reference dates, or to re-read my reaction to mice or other disgusting things, when I am particularly proud of how far I have come. It is very effective.

Unexpectedly, the past ten months of blogging has opened my eyes to how cathartic writing can be. I don’t claim to be good at it, but putting my thoughts into writing is very therapeutic for me. Reading the words is final. If they are spoken (or written) then they are out there and they have been said. Sometimes I think of the blog as an entity of its own—I will be doing something, and I will make a mental note that I have to “tell you” about this experience. And ultimately it has been good for me. I have a record, I have benchmarks, and I have proof of my growth.

I have avoided making many personal postings, unless they have related to the farm. I posted some comments about a friend’s sad situation, and I tried not to be specific, but I ultimately noted how I was consoled by my home and surroundings. I have mentioned B’s and M’s disabilities, but always in that context.

A month or so ago I posted a little survey asking whether I should let my kids read my blog. Overwhelmingly the comments were that I should, that they should be allowed to read what I write, and I was leaning toward letting them. But then a friend suggested that if I know that my kids are reading, then I will censure my writing. It will be written “fit” for them to read. Not that what I write is NOT fit for them, but I will always write it so that it is. Already, I am cognizant of friends and family visiting, and while I have nothing to write that would offend them, I do bear them in mind when writing.

There are several blogs I read faithfully. One of them is dooce . I admire her so much because she does not censure. She knows that her parents read her blog, as do her friends and other family members, and someday even her baby will read it. And it is not always nice. But it is TRUE. And it is WHOLE. There is nothing left out, nothing left unsaid because it’s not fit to hear. It is out there. Said. Final.

I have aspired to be like that, but I know that I am not. I have hid behind the notion that I am writing about the farm. I have chosen not to say things that don’t relate. Maybe I wanted to say them, or needed to say them, but I decided that they were not about my life here, so I didn’t say them. Truthfully, I was afraid to say them.

But, again, I think of dooce. And House In Progress.H.I.P. is a diary of home renovation. Just like mine is about living in the country. Both of those women have spoken on their blogs about life, the reality, the good and the bad—and sometimes the context is outside the premise of their blog. I have admired that from my corner of the world, and aspired to do the same. It’s time I was honest.

Like dooce, and like JM at H.I.P, I suffer from depression. There, I said it.

It has been a somewhat recent thing for me, though I think I have been teetering on the edge for a long time now.

M has Asperger’s Syndrome. It’s a form of autism, she is very high-functioning, which means that she will likely grow up to be a productive person like everybody else. But it means that it will take a lot of effort and support from her familiy to get her there.

I have always been a control freak. Control has been my friend. Even when I was out of control, (remember the post about the military?) I would think up scenarios to cope with things. I would say, “Okay, if B gets discharged right away, this will be our plan. If it is in a year, then we’ll do this.” I was always focusing my energy on being ready, being in control.

And I have lost control. I feel have lost control of my daughter. I know in my head that she looks up to me, and she respects me. But on a day-to-day basis, as she just begins adolescence, and she is making both of our lives a living hell. She has made shocking choices this summer, and screams when she receives her consequences. She constantly badgers us about her punishments, and about what is fair. I don’t have the control of her behavior, I can’t help her understand and control her thoughts. They are out there, untethered, straying and erratic. My logical head may be able to make sense of this, but it has no control over my distraught heart.

The words in that paragraph are so superficial, you could never get a sense for the despair that hangs over our home. I am sad from the hair on my head to the soles of my feet. My bones are sad. Everything is out of my control, and it is terrifying.

My house is in disrepair (yes, by choice, but disrepair nonetheless). I recently uploaded the photos of my old house to flickr, and I was looking through them. Everything is coordinated, everything matches! The furniture is perfect for the rooms, all the windows are clean. Even the corners of the rooms are dust free. I look around now, and because of the gravel roads, the surfaces I dusted on Saturday are thik and white. You could write your name in them. Walls are stripped of wallpaper, but not patched. There are no pictures on the walls, and there are still boxes in the living room that contain knick-knacks and pictures that can’t yet be unpacked and placed.

The barn and pasture need repair. We have made the most progress on that area, and it feels good. But there is always more work to be done. And when that is done, the animals always need attention. The work is cathartic, though, it’s within my control, and it is back-to-basics.

Work is good, I love my job. But with my increasing work load after my promotion, it is becoming more difficult to finish all of my projects. However, it is a good outlet for my control issues. I am good at what I do. My client just signed a contract increasing payment to my company by 22% for next year. Not only did they willingly sign the contract, they gave my company a bonus for the work that I did for them. And on a day-to-day basis, the more organized I am at work, the more effective I am. As you may imagine, my office is practially sanitary. I have client files color coded, everything computerized, ultra-organized.

I set a goal last year to complete a certification in my job by the end of the year. As I look at my calendar, and anticipate the back-to-school season next month, followed by three back-to-back meetings between September 22 and October 15 (in London, Des Moines and Cedar Rapids), I cringe at the lack of control I will have during that time. All of those tasks and responsibilities that will fall on someone else’s shoulders. I have no idea when I will obtain the CEUs necessary to apply to sit for the test. And I have no idea when I will study.

In light of all of this, I am tired. I am spent. No more energy, no more creativity, no more reserves that harbor extra patience.

So, today, I met Eileen. She is my therapist. M sees a therapist, and does well, and gains strategies for coping. I thought I should do the same. I met her today, and she is amazing. I know she will help me straighten this out inside of myself.

I told her about the joy I found at the farm. I told her how I saw God in the hugging trees and the faces of the animals. I told her how this house, despite its chaos, is happy. I shared how I can feel the footprints of all of the families before us on the soft hardwood floors. I told her that I have great kids, despite our issues. I told her about B, and the amazing relationship we have. I told her that he is my best friend, hand-picked by God, just for me. And that I am thankful for him. I told her that we can see the satellites from the hammock when we go out in the evening.

And she wept.

And she told me that I struck her as a happy person. She said that she could see in my face that I was a thankful person.

And then I wept.

And I left Eileen’s office feeling that it couldn’t be all that bad. I am sad, I am depressed. I have been assigned a label of “adjustment disorder” and “depression.” But my happiness and thankfulness are still evident, even to someone who is virtually a stranger.

And I am thankful for that.

I see Eileen again on Monday. And I saw God a few more times today.

consolation?

NOT!

The high temperature in Des Moines today reached 95 degrees at 434 PM CDT. This ties the warmest day so far this season... it reached the mid 90s with heat indices topping out at 101 degrees.

It's supposed to rain tonight. Pray for rain, do a rain dance, cross your fingers, whatever it takes. Our soybeans are half dead, and we are wilted, too.

Wednesday it's supposed to be 97.

I'm thankful for A/C in my car. :)

just call your m-a-a-a-a

well, leave it to the critters to provide content for the blog...

baby animals are endearing. the goats are especially endearing when i come into the barn and they call me m-a-a-a-a-a!

they are usually pretty quiet, unless it's feeding time. so today, we are enjoying the 94 degree heat with the 101 degree heat index (and no a/c). we are all lounging around in front of the fans, trying to move as little as possible. if you get up for any reason, you break a sweat and have to sit back down to cool off.

(okay, i'm exaggering a bit, at least, but cut me some slack, it paints a good picture...)

so we are lounging around, and suddenly we hear M-A-A-A-A!! from the barn. we are surprised, it sounds very loud and urgent. of course, when someone calls for ma, she always goes.

i head out there to find ernie in distress. he has somehow (??) caught a bucket on his body. it is hanging from his back, down from his stomach. he has put his front legs and head through the handle.

i have no idea how to get it off, and he is screaming M-A-A-A-A and running frantically around his pen (in 101 degree heat index weather). i console him and talk sweetly to him, which seems to work but doesn't really get the bucket off. i calmly tell L to go get B and bring some tools, as we'll have to cut the thing off. i have no idea how he got it on, and he is not going to stand still to get it off.

b comes, and he speaks the word "sawzall" and i instantly figure a way to get ernie's legs out of the fix. voila, he is freed, no traumatic sawzall necessary. can you just imagine how he would have reacted to a sawzall 2 inches from his side??

the trials of being a m-a-a-a-a.

back to the couch and the fans.

cats

click on the picture below to start the kitty slideshow...

Stolen from another blog

Ring the bells that still can ring;
forget your perfect offering;
there is a crack in everything;
that's how the light gets in..."

"Anthem" by Leonard Cohen

One of those weeks

What's to tell? Nothing really...

I had a migraine on Sunday, and have been nursing the remnants of one each day since then. So I haven't had too much energy to do anything adventurous.

I took some pictures of kitties inside the house, and I'll post them later.

Ernie is not well. He is having tummy troubles, and just isn't himself. Fortunately, I have some things on hand that might help him. Did you know that you can use Pepto Bismol for a goat with a tummyache? You can. I also bought some ProBios, which is live beneficial bacteria that helps ruminents keep their digestive systems in order when they are physically stressed. I think Ernie might have to get a dose of that. The breeder from whom I bought the goats gave me some "potion" that her vet made up. She thought they might have a digestive reaction to the stress of the transport and new farm. They never did, but I did keep the potion and some penicillin on hand, should something arise. I'm glad I did. I already gave him the potion.

I think he will be fine, it's just one of those things! Maybe he's having sympathy pains for my migraine.

Cleo is being a pistol. She really has an attitude. With parents like Major and Kitten, she was sure to be born with an attitude!! She will now stand still for her fly spray, but recently has been avoiding letting me put on her fly mask. No fly mask=no outside. Today she was not happy when I didn't put her outside, but it's just cruel to have those flies congregating around the corners of her eyes. It did Pecos good to have a break from her outside anyway-- she always tears his fly mask off. He got to eat in peace today. But when I got home, she had an earfull for me!

Bubba's daughter and her cousin came over today to play with the kids. I didn't let them play long-- it was just before dinner. But they went into the barn (I said they could, and then watched them like a hawk from the kitchen window). B said she asked him if we had any kittens. Like we're going to tell them!! Our kids overheard us tell the sad story of Mark's kittens, so they know that Mark has kittens, but they don't know where they are (though it's so obvious!). I was bracing myself for the conversation where L told her we were going to shoot the dogs or something...

I think this weekend we are going to construct windows for the barn. I have to think long and hard about how to do it, because I want them to open up, but yet they have to have a guard over them so the horses don't break them out. It will let so much more light in there, and if we can open the window, so much more air. Right now we just have an east-west opening, but this would allow some air to come in from the south. The north windows are intact. There are already (south) windows in the barn, but they were broken out when we got here, and we just boarded them up. It's time for some barn improvement! I have also been meaning to do my annual spring powerwash of the barn (as it IS summer already!) but I want to be able to open it up and air it out so we don't have to inconvenience the animals too much as it dries out.

We have a serious fly issue. I am not sure why. I am vigilant about cleaning the stalls each morning, and usually the horses are out all day, so the stalls aren't too dirty. I am wondering if keeping the horses in the dry lot (the pasture goes unused becuase they are tubby and will fatten up if they are on pasture all day-- hence the goat solution) is making the fly problem seem worse. The manure collects in their favorite poop spot, and maybe that is why there seem to be so many more flies by the barn. Out in the pasture, it is spread out, and dries in the hot sun, so it is not as prime of a fly breeding ground. The manure pile itself, while it would SEEM to attract flies, is not really the fly attractant that you would think. It generates too much heat to be desireable for them. Truthfully, it smells very earthy, and not stinky at all, and I see very few flies around it.

In response to the influx of flies, I have bought some fly predators. Hopefully this will help to solve the problem. I also bought some fly traps. They stink to high heavens and attract the flies to drown in the water inside. It's really gross, but it's very effective. My dad also told me that the neighbors at his house hang plastic bags full of water, and nothing else, and the flies avoid going around them. I had actually heard that just the day before from a completely different source! So I tried it. Well, those Arizona flies must be stupid, and the Iowa flies must be geniuses. Because they are not phased one bit. You can just imagine them saying, "Thanks, lady, for the drink. It's mighty dry out there in that poop."

I think I am losing this battle, and it's a nasty one.

Visit

I drove the 45 minutes yesterday to visit Major at his "new" barn. He seemed happy to see me, especially because my pockets were bulging with treats.

Interestingly, when I used to ride him during my lessons, I would get there on a Saturday, and he would seem annoyed with me. He would be mean, or at least dismissive, and very impatient (Why I loved him in spite of that is another story. Maybe I'll tell it later...). I was wondering if he'd really remember me. I mean, I know they can remember, but I just wondered if he would treat me differently because I was not his caregiver anymore. But he seemed happy to see me, and he remembered the tricks I had taught him.

M called me a few days ago and said he was really angry when she brought him there. She said he was biting the bars and everyone who came into his stall. I told him that she should take out the bars, or somehow let him hang his head out. He doesn't have bars at my house, and can hang his head over and see what is going on. So she did, and he stopped biting! Here is his picture-- looking over the side, of course. (forgive the quality, it's my cell phone cam)



We saw the rest of the gang: Ace, Kitten, Sonny and May. I hadn't seen much of May previously, but I spent a little time with her yesterday. M gave a handicapped boy a lesson on her, and then drove her a bit. She looks great! She's a Shetland Pony.



I'll definitely have to go back.

Terror

I have been following the news of the bombings in London very closely. Many of the folks that read my blog know that we lived in England from 1996 to 1999, and visited London often. B was in the Air Force, and we were stationed at RAF Mildenhall in Suffolk.

I am planning a meeting in London and will be traveling there in September.

My first thought when all of this came to light, was to want to build a big wall around our farm, keep my loved ones inside and never go out.

But that would be feeding the very definition of terror. And the terrorists would win.

When we lived in England, the U.S. government would issue guidelines for Americans living there. They would remind you that before you started your car, you should walk around it to check for trip wires. They would randomly search cars coming onto the base with mirrors and dogs. A security police officer was positioned on top of a humvee vehicle (sorry, B, I keep forgetting the name of it!) with a big gun, pointed on every single person entering the base. Imagine going for groceries, and passing through a checkpoint where a 22-year-old routinely viewed your infant in his carseat through the scope of an assault rifle. It was very surreal. We had reminders about speaking on the phone and emailing to family back in the States. It was said that the biggest breach of security came about through those conversations being intercepted by the "enemy." The old "loose lips sink ships."

While I understood the necessity of this all, I never got used to it. Some things became routine, however, or just a matter of fact. I remember this one time I was searching for a particular outfit for M. I suddenly remembered that I had packed it in the bag that we were instructed to have ready at all times. We were supposed to be prepared to leave the country with 15 minutes notice.

It was never so noticeable as when I actually moved back to the States. I realized that a huge weight had been lifted. It took me a while before I realized what it was. It wasn't necessarily that it was any safer here, but I felt safer-- it was my home turf. And I was angry with myself because I allowed the terror to take over, at least in some fashion, while I was away.

One thing I remember being particularly frightened by was the nearby proximity of the American Elementary School to our house, when we lived on base. Our housing area was not secure, nor was the school. One time, M was home from school (she went to British school) and we were outside playing, and I saw all of these children running through the housing areas to their houses from the school. I immediately called my neighbor who had children who attended the school. It seems there was a threat made to the base and they sent all of the children home.

One time B went on the base for a late night snack (Cadbury chocolate, his favorite). This was in the days before our family had cell phones! Anyway, he was taking forever. What was typically a 20 minute trip turned into nearly 2 hours. I was worried sick. Come to find out, the shoppette was evacuated and the base locked down, and he was unable to come back home until "Threatcon Bravo" resumed. Seems there was a car parked outside of the base, but near enough to the shoppette to be worrisome, so they closed it down. If I remember right, he didn't even get the chocolate. ; )

We aren't safe anywhere, I suppose even at home. And I know that. I just didn't need to be reminded today.

An Open Letter to Bubba

Dear Bubba-

I have truly enjoyed your patriotism these last couple of days! It seems that this holiday has really brought out the party animal in you!

I have especially enjoyed your music. Despite all I said about you, you really do have great musical taste. It’s great that you can play it loud enough so that we all can hear it. I’m sure you know about the echo in the valley, so you must be enjoying the fact that it’s being heard for miles around! Madison County must be impressed with your stereo system!

Having said that, I am curious about the folks joining you for the celebration. Are those folks your kin? What about that shirtless boy walking along the road picking up wood for your fires? We weren’t sure what to make of him, and given the fact that we’d never seen him before, we didn’t automatically trust him, as he ambled down the roadside collecting firewood like a nomad collecting cans for money for his next meal. We had to run into town, so we left our dogs loose in the house, just in case. We didn’t notice until we came back that he was part of your celebration.

Speaking of dogs, I have been meaning to chat with you about your dogs.

Bubba, did you know that the law here in Iowa says that if a dog is harassing livestock, that they can be shot? So, yesterday, when I was riding in the north pasture, and your dogs came barking at Major and me, that would have been grounds for a little target practice.

I know that these legal terms are confusing, so let me help you:

ha·rass vt : to persistently annoy, attack, or bother somebody

Now, I know you know what annoy means! And I know you know all about shooting, I heard you a couple of weekends ago! Persistent means on and on, again and again. You know, like how many times your dogs get out. Those dogs sure are persistent!!

Back to the livestock subject, we have goats now. I saw your dogs with your landlord’s cows—they think they have finally found a job herding their own cattle. But did you see how that one man chased your dogs on horseback? He was not practicing his cow cutting, Bubba, he was actually trying to keep your dogs from destroying his livelihood! And while these goats are not our livelihood, they are our friends, and our property. So we would appreciate it if you found a herd of your own for your dogs to mind, or better yet, CONFINE THEM.

Defending is an instinct for your dogs. Did you know that? That might give a good explanation for why, the other night, when we were dog-sitting MK’s dog, and B took her out for a walk last thing before bed, that your dogs decided to run from the depths of our property and bark at him like he was bringing some stranger on their land. I realize that maybe you think that your dogs are helping me out by keeping strangers and their dogs from my land, but I think we’re okay in that department.

I did a little searching on the internet, Bubba, and I found an Iowa law that might interest you:

Citation: I. C. A. § 351.27
Summary: This Iowa statute makes it lawful for any person to kill a dog, wearing a collar with a rabies vaccination tag attached, when the dog is caught in the act of worrying, chasing, maiming, or killing any domestic animal or fowl, or when such dog is attacking or attempting to bite a person.

Statute in Full: It shall be lawful for any person to kill a dog, wearing a collar with a rabies vaccination tag attached, when the dog is caught in the act of worrying, chasing, maiming, or killing any domestic animal or fowl, or when such dog is attacking or attempting to bite a person.

Oh, and in case things are a little fuzzy today after your “celebrations” the past few days:

lawful=okay
domestic animal=goats, pigs, sheep, cows, horses, other dogs, cats (pretty much anything on our farm now and in the future)

I think it’s clear that your dogs have worried my animals (Major seemed quite concerned Saturday), and Cleo hates dogs.

I’m actually not clear about where the law stands on dogs “frequenting” our fields. I have seen them in the hay field, and in the soybeans. This might surprise you, but horses won’t eat hay that’s been pooped on. And I don’t know if the dogs dig, poop, or just run through the soybean field. But it would be great if they stopped any and all of the above. Both of these ventures are not going to make us rich, but they will provide more income if they were not hindered by the presence of your dogs!

Now, that’s not to say that we will kill your dogs, as we are generally peaceful folks. But we will definitely be invoking that law to ensure the safety of our animals, especially the goat kids that, unlike Kitten or Cleo, don’t have large hooves and back legs with which to defend themselves. I’m sure the Madison County Sherrif would be pleased to come out and see your dog setup and chat with you about the necessity of keeping your dogs on your property.

Maybe you can offer him some of that moonshine while he enjoys your illegal fireworks show!

Also, I am not sure if you know this or not, but we have our own dogs. So, not only do we have two that keep us company—and we don’t need yours for that—we have two that make enough of a mess in our yard to keep us busy cleaning it up for a long time. I imagine that your yard is quite tidy, given that you send them over here to do their business. But give us a break! We have the poo of at least 10 animals to clean every day! And yes, we do notice when 3 more animals show up.

Well, Bubba, other than this several-times-a-day, colossal nuisance, and the recent shifty kinfolk roaming the roads, we have truly enjoyed the entertainment that your family has provided. It would just be grand, however, if you could keep your dogs away from our animals and out of our fields.

Do you like my new slogan: It’s not just neighborly, it’s the law! Let's say it together!

And we’re making a pact now to uphold OUR end of the law, which means, if you like your dogs, you should uphold yours!

Love,

Your neighborly neighbors

Nurture and Nature

On the nurture note, Major is gone. I wasn't as bad as I was Friday when L left on the plane for AZ! And L won't be gone as long! : ) I can't wait to see Major at the show.

What I didn't know is that M is planning to ride him western (we ride English) for the Bob Riley trophy. Bob Riley is a legend in the Morgan Horse World. He has won the American Morgan Horse Association's Man of the Year and Hall of Fame induction. Bob died in 2001 at the age of 92, and he was a spectacular trainer and Morgan horse enthusiast. He began training at age 65! M got to know him when he volunteered with her handicapped riding program, and he was the one who trained Major.

I rode Major Saturday morning-- it was amazing. We were doing turns on the forehand, which is hard for me to get him to do because I just need to "find the buttons." I found some this morning! B was watching, and it always nice for us to talk while I ride. I can show him when I am excited about something that I just figured out, or to vent to him when I do something stupid (like this morning, when I didn't take up the reins when I asked for a trot and nearly wound up riding the ground!).

I missed him this morning when I went to feed and didn't hear his sassy nicker. I also habitually dodged his teeth today when I went to close the barn door-- he usually tries to grab me when I get close to him to latch it closed.

Six weeks and counting...

On the nature note, I have saved more kittens. I am convinced God put me here to watch over the cats of the world!

Friday, Mark was walking around the barn bellowing, obviously distressed. She meowed loud and long like she does when she wants food, but her food and water dishes were full. I noticed that she did not go back to her babies immediately. In hindsight, on my way out to the barn Friday afternoon, I noticed that there were turkey vultures circling the barn, and thought immediately that something might have happened to Bert or Ernie. When all seemed well, I thought nothing of it.

Saturday, after I got back from my ride, I was grooming Major and decided to look in on the kittens. I noticed that they were in a tight ball, and didn't seem to be moving. Upon closer inspection, I saw that they were tangled in the bale netting of the bale next to which she had had her babies! I grabbed some scissors, and cut a large piece of the netting off, circling the kittens, and dragged the whole mess out and away from the bale. What I found was so sad.

One of the kittens was dead. Dead for days. Decomposed and stinking, with flies all over it. It had been strangled by the netting.

Another kitten was close to death. He had been strangled by the netting, too, and was barely able to move. He was not able to meow.

The third kitten had his paws stuck in the netting, but not his neck. However, the netting was very tight around his paws and was restricting his movement. All of the kittens were tangled into a huge ball, and could not easily be extracted from each other.

Of course, I cut them all apart, and disposed of the dead kitten (thanks, B, my hero!). B cleaned up all of the loose hay and netting behind the bale, but we decided that it would likely just happen again. Kittens that don't have their eyes open just grope and stagger around blindly, and that is what got them tangled in the first place. We couldn't get behind the bale to remove all of the netting that might pose a threat.

So we got a cardboard box, with sides high enough so they couldn't climb out. We lined it with hay and put it back where we found the kittens.

Mark came back, and we watched her notice that something had changed. She frantically grabbed one of the kittens, and ran around the barn, as if she were drunk, zigging and zagging, looking for a safe place for her kitten. She finally settled on the tack room, as the door happened to be open from my ride earlier. She plopped down on the cold, dirty cement, and seemed content to let her baby nurse. I brought the other baby in, in his box, and left him there. She did not get him.

I continued to check on the family for hours, and finally, after about 4 hours, she had retrieved the other kitten.

By the next afternoon, however, she was gone again. The tack room door is noisy in the wind, and she is skittish. I bet she was too uncomfortable with that setup. However, I did find them behind some wood we keep in the barn. All still seems well-- she was gone, and the kittens were sleeping contentedly.

Those kittens will make four that I've saved! I had thought about cursing Mother Nature, but then realized that in all four cases, it was the human influence that caused the issues, directly or indirectly.

It's not easy saving cats, but somebody's gotta do it! : )

Happy Fourth of July!

Our Excellent Adventure

Yesterday we went to Omaha to take L to the airport. He is spending a week with grandparents in Phoenix. M is staying here, as she has summer school.

On the way back, we encountered construction and congestion on I-80, as it was the holiday weekend and there were a lot of cars on the road.

Before I could realize that I was turning into my grandfather, we elected to get off of the interstate and take a side road. We found our way through Avoca, and onto Walnut, through Marne, Atlantic (the Coca-Cola Capital of Iowa!), Anita, and then back onto I-80. After we had travelled a ways, and had several discussions, I decided that I would keep track of the conversations. The comments went something like this:

"Wow, look at that barn. They've really kept it up here."

"Look! Someone's buildling a new pole barn!"

"All the farms are really tidy out here."

"How many cattle do you think that guy has on that land?"

"The corn has really bounced back from the cool, wet spell we had earlier this summer."

"Look at those deer in the field! I wonder how much damage they're doing to that farmer's soybeans."

I can't believe what an "agricultural" conversation we had!

Sigh. Saturday.

Well, the day has been set when Major will leave. It won't be permanent, but it will be for about 6 weeks. I am not sure how I will handle it when she comes on Saturday to pick him up.

Of course, he is not my horse. Of course, I have known that he will be leaving at some point.

But it doesn't make it any easier.

He is such a good friend. He challenges me, he argues with me, but we always part friends. He has his quirks, which I have taken the time and effort to figure out-- and vice versa.

I will miss seeing his face three times a day, hearing his voice each time I enter the barn, and dodging his gaping jaws as he attempts to take a hunk out of my arm about 6 times a day. : )

If you are an Iowegian (that's what they are called here), come and see him at the Iowa State Fair on August 17. That is why he is leaving-- M is going to enter him in both driving and riding, and she will be working with him for the next few weeks up until the fair.

If you are not an Iowegian, and watching the Major General is not enough to draw you to Iowa, consider that our fair is the best in the country!

P.S. While I was researching a link to prove this claim of being the best fair in the land, I came across this information from the Iowa State Fair website:

In 2004, USA Weekend magazine named the Iowa State Fair as the number two place Americans go to have fun. The Fair followed Las Vegas and bested New York City’s Times Square, Cedar Point Amusement Park Resort in Sandusky, OH, Cape Cod, MA, and Disneyland in Anaheim, CA, on the Top Ten list. The June issue of Esquire magazine included the Iowa State Fair as “best state fair” in its list of “15 Superlative Things to Experience Before Labor Day.”

Additionally, the Fair, which has twice been named Tourism Event of the Year, was named one of the Top Thirty Things Every Midwesterner Should Experience by Midwest Living magazine. Plus, our event has been featured in the New York Times best-selling travel book, 1000 Places to See Before You Die. The book is described as “an around-the-world, continent-by-continent listing of places guaranteed to give you the shivers.” The Iowa State Fair is listed as the only Iowa destination and the only state fair in the country as one of the world’s must-see events. In May 2003, The Wall Street Journal ranked the Iowa event among the top three fairs in the U.S. and Canada. Attendance last year topped 1,053,000.

Breaking News.

Breaking news here at the farm:

After an exhausting collaborative summit, the goats have names.


Ernie


Bert

Our work here is done. Time for bed.

Monday at my house

click on the picture below to see Monday's photos...

And XX was his Name-O

Yeah. We don't have names for the goats. Any good suggestions? Too bad they aren't llamas, we already have some good names for them.

The people from whom we got the goats did not name them, either, in anticipation of selling them, so we don't even have names we inherited.

I want to name them Chaos and Havoc, but nobody else likes those names. The kids are voting for things like Lightning and Sunshine, which seem boring to me.

So bring on the suggestions!

I'm Tired. No time to blog. Must.... have.....sleep......

Click on the photo below to see what transpired this long, busy, exhausting weekend!!

There it is folks. In Black and White.

This statistic was quoted from an article published 8/23/2004 regarding the Coalition to Support Iowa's Farmers. I alluded to similar numbers before, which I just gleaned from conversation regarding farmers. Now I have some statistical evidence to back it up.

Also, FYI, I live in Madison County, but Dallas County is just north of me a few miles. Our counties in Iowa are very small. So this is "my neck of the woods."

"The median household income in Dallas County is $48,528. A farmer must sell 1,427 head of 750-pound feeder steers or nearly 6,700 farrow-to-finish hogs annually to equal that income, based on the 10-year average return for each commodity."

Folks, do the math. Even I, math-challenged as I am, can see that it works out to:

1 cow (profit, in 2004)=$34.00
1 pig (profit, in 2004) = $7.25

Firstly, if you have a "feeder steer" that means that you keep the momma cow, and she has a baby. That baby costs you nothing to buy. So here you are with this baby. You feed it until it's fat enough to go to market-- that is usually from the spring until the fall. Your costs are vet bills, any feed you need, the cost of keeping the mother healthy, shots, etc. Secondly, the acreage required to keep those two cattle-- the momma and baby-- is about 2 acres (conservatively) per pair. So you are going to get 1 feeder cow per 2 acres. Which means, for those 1,427 feeder cows, you need to have about 2850 acres on which to graze those cattle. That is a LOT of land.

Never will I complain about the cost of meat again. That is a killer way to make a living, and such a tight margin.

Let's all have steak tonight!!

Good Friends

Shameful Case of Animal Abuse

And all my talk about Bubba.

Poor Rocky. I should be reported for being a bad dog mom. Every year I shave his fur in the summer. He has that coarse lab coat, but underneath he has the wispy, thick, fleecy hair that must be really hot. It's also the kind of fur that travels in packs, banding together in herds of dust rhinos, plotting to gang up on my vacuum.

So I shave him.

It works for both of us. He has to be hot with that fur, especially today, when it's 95 degrees and we don't have a/c.

Usually I use a 1/4" guard on the clippers, but it just "combs out" the fleece and gets in the way. This time I just did without the guard, but I didn't expect his fur to grow all kinds of ways. Some hair was cut short, other hair was cut bald. He is a MESS! He looks like a brindle dog, like he was bred that way.

The funniest thing was that when he was finished getting shaved, he ran all around, really fast, attacking Raven like he was some sort of superhero with special powers that he didn't have before! It's like when you used to get new shoes as a kid, and you were convinced that you could run really fast!

Here are some photos of the carnage. Call the SPCA!!

Trauma

I just hung up from a dramatic emergency and rescue call. M called, and it seems that Bub got her head stuck in a peanut butter jar.

Now, lest you think we have dirty peanut butter jars lying around our home, you should know that this particular jar's purpose is to carefully measure out the exact amount of dog food when feeding the dogs. While I have asked for it to be kept IN THE DOG FOOD BIN, apparently it is better kept in the kitchen. FOR CATS TO GET THEIR HEADS STUCK IN!!

So there I am at work, a fair distance away, mid-project, talking my child through emergency extraction procedures. She keeps telling me that she can't get it off, she doesn't want to hurt her. I am envisioning myself having to tell my boss that I have to leave to remove the cat's head from a jar. Or to tell the police that I am speeding home to save my cat from suffocation. Or to have to pick up a dead cat with its head stuck in the peanut butter jar.

Thankfully, I calmly talked her through the procedure like a seasoned 911 operator. She extracted the kitty and PUT THE JAR BACK IN THE DOG FOOD BIN!

Where it will STAY. Right, B?

Happy Monday

The sunrise this morning at our house. Today I was reminded what a gift the day is!

R&R Sunday

Yesterday we baled nearly 6 tons of hay. Yep, that's right, even my math-challenged self can calculate that 239 50-pound bales of hay equals 5.975 TONS of hay.

We baled and stacked it on the hay racks, then brought it into the shed and restacked it all on pallets.

Michael Knight came over and helped-- what a friend! When you ask your friends to help you move, it's kind of that "dreaded favor." You know you'll sacrifice your weekend to be paid back in pizza and beer. But this, THIS was a HUGE sacrifice for any friend. And he volunteered!

B and MK worked their butts off, and though I worked hard, they worked circles around me.

Surprisingly, none of us are sore today. We are all feeling fine, but just tired. That's good, I think we were all bracing ourselves for the pain and stiffness to remind us that while we think we're young, we are really too old to be out in 90 degree weather for hours straight lifting TONS of hay.

Actually, I think it was the roast and potatoes I fixed for supper that made our bodies forgive us. : )

In the greater scheme of things, our tiny 6-acre hay field is nothing compared to some farmers' operations. I can't imagine square-baling any larger of a field, yet there are people who do it quite often.

***

Happy Father's Day! What did you get your dad?

We got B some car wash stuff. I have been driving his car a little more lately (for various reasons) and he doesn't like me to drive fast on the gravel in the morning (like over 20 mph) because it makes the dust stick to the dew on his car.

Well, for a perpetually late person like myself, driving under 20 mph is just not possible.

So, hopefully this will help him and his dusty car out!

Off to the hammock for some recuperation!

Friday Night Entertainment

Two hours of continuous seat dancing.

473,372,370 Seconds

473,372,370 seconds ago (or fifteen years and a few hours) I made a promise to my best friend that I would be there for him until the day I died. We have been through so much, and I can't imagine, as all the shit came our way, holding anyone else's hand through all of it.

He has a strong hands, ones that fit my hands perfectly. He has a great shoulder, and I lean on it often.

He supports me in my crazy ideas, like selling our suburban house and moving to the country. He's my hugest fan, he's always interested in my work and does whatever he can to make things easy for me.

He is the best dad any kid could ever have. My kids are so lucky to have him as their father.

I'm just so glad he's put up with me for 473,372,370 seconds so far.

Four Legged Toddlers

I was home today, enjoying the cool air-conditioned-less home (not being facetious, it was cool) and M came running in, "Pecos is eating a cord!" What??

So I went outside, and sure enough, those brats had torn off the cover of the waterer, snatched out the heat lamp and smashed the light bulb to smithereens.

I have decided that "farmer rigging" is really not such a bad thing. When I first moved in, I was mortified at the amount of things that were tied together with baling twine, wired together, or just cobbled in some fashion or another. Well, I have since realized that it's about getting things done. Have you ever set out to do a project, and then couldn't find your supplies or tools? And then, after rounding up what you needed, you went to do it, and something else was wrong or missing? And by the end of the day you didn't get anywhere near finishing what you set out to do?

Well that happens here a lot. And it's hard, because the nearest hardware store is 20+ minutes away (and the selection is limited), so you could waste a lot of time if you had to run back and forth for your supplies. So, you just grab the nearest fix (and most of the fixes are free or nearly free) and you move on so you can get something done!

Anyway, I digress. But you have come to expect that from me.

So we had this waterer farmer-rigged. It has a heat lamp on it, which keeps it from freezing. I found this handy gizmo that is an outlet converter with a thermostat on it. So if the temperature gets below 35 degrees, the outlet comes on, thus turning on the heat lamp. I left it plugged in over the summer, as I don't expect it to get below 35, so it should be just as we left it until winter.

OR SO I THOUGHT! I didn't count on some overgrown toddlers with hair trashing the cover, tearing out the cord and stomping the light to bits.

As if there isn't enough to do with 3 acres to eat!!

We really, really need some llamas. Or at least some goats. Somebody's got to eat all of this pasture. I bet the goats would eat more than the heat lamp, though.

Now, back to enjoying my cool house.

The Answer

Well, it's a darn good thing that Michael knew the answer, since he was the ONLY one who posted a guess! I can't believe that all of you other 45 people that stopped by yesterday didn't even give it a try!

The noise I heard the night before last was a Barn Owl. Actually, I thought it was a Screech Owl myself, but come to find out, Screech Owls don't really screech! Barn Owls do. They are endangered in Iowa, so it is nice to know that one is living at our house. He is quite welcome here, though I wish he would contain his screaming to daylight hours.

It really sounded like some sort of crime had been committed outside of my window.

Chills

On Sunday, we got home from the airport at 5:30 am, after traveling all night. Needless to say, we were exhausted when we hit the pillow last night. Imagine, then, being jolted out of a dead sleep by this at 2:13 am!!

Post a comment if you know what it is...

I will tell you tomorrow!

Belmont

Did you watch the Belmont Stakes? I hope you got to see Afleet Alex win! B and I were busy trying to get the kids' rooms done, but we took time out to watch Alex go. And go he did!

I wore my cool t-shirt to the airport.

Go Alex!

It's been too long.

Yes, I am still around! Forgive me for being so bad about blogging? Please?

The kids visited grandparents in the southwest US for the past couple of weeks. It was bittersweet-- B and I enjoyed some amazing time together. He is truly my best friend in the whole world. : ) We had so much fun, and wish the time had gone on forever.

However, we missed the kids terribly. I know they were having a great time, so that part was easy. But we missed them not being around. So it was difficult not to wish the time away.

Of course, we picked them up at the airport, and the bickering started all over again. Then I remembered those words, "Be careful what you wish for!" But all is back to normal at our house, and that's a good thing!

One of the things we did at home while the kids were gone, was to re-do their rooms. We tore out the gold carpeting to reveal some really cool (albeit scratched) hardwood floors in L's room. He told me yesterday he hated the floors because they weren't nice and finished like the downstairs. I reminded him that each of those scratches were from a boy or girl playing with toys, or a dog settling down to lie by his boy's bed, or a mom stepping on a lego when she tucked her kiddo in. He decided he liked his storytelling floors.

M's floor has a "Congoleum Art-Rug" on it. ( 1, 2, 3 ) It doesn't quite match the pastel pink walls and sheer drapes, but it doesn't look all that bad. We have a little more work to do-- scrubbing the carpet padding off of some areas, pulling staples, etc. I will definitely take photos when it's all done. And Mike, I haven't forgotten about the photos of the house I promise to post! I will do it...

I haven't ridden in quite a while. Our pasture grass is long, and Major is spooky-- which makes me spooky even before I get on. When I'm spooky, he's spooky, and then he's doubly spooky from the grass and from me. So I need to just get over it and get on his back. : )

It has rained so much here! Our crops are not doing well. K was supposed to put soybeans in our hayfield, but first he baled the hay and was going to put roundup on the field. He hasn't yet put the roundup on-- it's been so rainy. I don't know if it's too late or not for the beans. We may have to wait for next year.

And we will be having our other hayfield baled in square bales this year. We will pay for it, but it's worth it. We can store the bales inside (making much more of the hay usable), and small bales are so much easier to handle. Even paying to have it baled we will save so much money. The only hitch is that the man baling it just had back surgery-- he will drive the tractor, and that is all. We will do the rest of the work. Can you say big, big pain in store? I think we will be totally exhausted after stacking 200 bales (and that is a small field!!). We'll stack them on the rack, then unload them and restack them in the barn. I'll have biceps of steel next week! (or mush)

Happy Monday. Mine's manic-- hope yours isn't!

Did You Sing?

Did you have a spring in your step this morning on your way to work? Do you usually?

Do you sing in the car? If you do, do you sing really loudly with no regard for how horrible you might sound (like I do) or are you one of those self-conscious singers who just silently mouths the words? I have to be a silent singer when I am riding with someone (unless I can enlist them to "sing with me!").

Michael said he was seat dancing and was caught on a cell-phone cam by a passer-by! Do you seat dance? Do you worry that people will see you? (or take photographic evidence of your insanity?)

I got a new iPod this weekend. I spent the weekend transferring songs over to it, and I played it this morning on the way to work (with the FM transmitter gizmo I bought). I was seat dancing, singing along, as I enjoyed my breakfast of wheat thins and pepper jack cheese, washed down with a Coke. (Breakfast of champions, don't you know?)

Happiness is contagious, so I'm trying to spread some of it around to you.

What is new at our farm? Hmmm, lemme think:

1) I have decided that having children keeps clear boundaries between adults and children in the home. Friday night we didn't go to bed until 2 am, we slept until 10:30 am, and only did what we wanted to do on Saturday. Dishes were dirty in the sink, junk was left around the house, it looked like a bunch of kids lived there! Thankfully, on Sunday I got the cleaning bug and tidied up. When M&L get back home, we'll get back to that routine!

2) The horses are sick. They had their vaccinations on Saturday, and moped around yesterday, and are still not well today. It hurts me to see them in such pain! : (

3) It's going to be 90 degrees today! B said he would open the windows in our house (they have storm windows that have to be removed and replaced with screens). He didn't. So maybe he'll have to take me to a movie this afternoon! I think we are the only people in Iowa with no a/c. No, I take that back, Bubba has no A/C.

4) Speaking of Bubba, did you know that he got a new dog? That's right, when you kill your first dog because of neglect, be sure to run right out and get another. Shameful. However, I do have to say that he tidied up his yard, put up a hammock, put in a garden, and for the first time in a while, his dogs have not chased my car. Maybe he HAS turned over a new leaf?

I promised pictures of all of our adventures, I know, I know. But the ones didn't turn out (no, not because of naked deer!), and we really haven't been anywhere adventurous to take photos! I'll be sure to post some if we do go somewhere photo-worthy.

Happy Monday. Be sure to sing loudly on the way home! Think of you and me doing a loud, off-key duet. : )

What Freaky People Do When They Have Too Much Time On Their Hands.

Most young couples sit around and pine for children, dreaming up names for their sweet babies.

Not us. Being the freaks that we are, we are dreaming up names for our future llamas. Llamas are cool, and we hope to own them (or, more accurately, be owned by them) someday.

We have come up with the following names:

Yo Llama
Como Se Llama
Dalai Llama (or Dolly, if a girl)
Nacho Llama

Do you have any suggestions?

Feeling Naked

I feel like I forgot my clothes, or my purse, or something else important. L left Tuesday for a visit to B's parents, and M left on Saturday. So we are "temporarily child-free by choice."

It's a weird feeling, the house is quiet, there is not an abundance of dirty clothes, dishes, shoes, toys, computer power supplies, or all of the other things I am usually complaining about! Thank goodness for the animals, because if it was any quieter around here, I think I would have to stay at work until B got home!

We went to Roseman Bridge on Wednesday evening. We saw about 25 deer on the way, a relatively short drive. Deer are everywhere! I took pictures of the deer and the bridge, but it was dusk, and none of the photos turned out, even after attempting to work some iPhoto magic on them.

Last night we got steaks and stayed in. I am not sure what our plans are for this evening. I would like to go to Prairie Meadows (a racetrack) to see some live horse racing. But there are a million other choices for things to do as well.

And as much as I hate to admit it, there's something to be said for hanging around here and saying to each other every five minutes, "Hey! Listen! Hear that? Me either! It's quiet!"

Happy Day! TGIF!

Please people!

Come on! Vote Early, Vote often! and let me know if you think my kids should read my blog!! click here
and let me know if you think my kids should read my blog!!

Presents

Okay, before I bump it down, I have to be sure that I call your attention to my previous post about my kids seeing my blog. Help me out!

I am pretty lucky in that my birthday usually falls on the Memorial Day weekend. When I was younger, I was a baton twirler, and I usually led the parades in my hometown. I always joked that I led a parade in my honor, as many times Memorial day fell on my birthday.

But I digress.

So I celebrate my birthday weekend. My dad is never very good at remembering birthdays. Well, let me say that he has always called me on my day, and never actually forgotten the day. But he's not a big birthday advance planner (sound familiar?). So the day gets here and he is always apologizing all over the place because he hasn't sent me a card or gotten me anything. And I really don't care.

In fact, I really don't care if people remember late. It's not about hating my birthday, it's more about dragging out the celebrations! If you get all your presents on one day, then the next day is a little weak, right? So if you get your presents spread over a few days, you get a new toy, and then when the shiny wears off, you get another one!

I didn't get toys, but this year was the year for flowers. First, B got me these:


(and this was taken today-- they are just stunning, the calla lilies smell as good as a baby!)

And yesterday my friend Jen came over and brought me these:



And today, my boys went for a walk down by the creek and L brought me back a bouquet of tiny purple flowers. I don't have a picture because the cats immediately knocked the bouquet over and scattered them everywhere. But it was a wonderful gesture-- he woke me up from my nap (which should have been over anyway) with a bouquet of flowers he had just picked. : )

And later I saw this guy on my back step. (An Eastern Meadowlark)



I gave Major a bath today, he was damp when I put him in his stall. I will be sure to take a picture of him when he is dry, I hope he is really slick, black and noticeably clean. I am sure he will immediately find his way to the dirt pile for a good roll when he is next out in the pasture.

I can't remember a day this good in so long. Happy Monday, Happy Birthday, and Happy Memorial Day.

Help Me Out

(Yeah, they have been there, though I don't think they'v spent much time there. L has asked me questions about things I wrote...)

The Day After

I had a great birthday. Thanks for all of your birthday notes!

B gave me a really beautiful bouquet of flowers, it is really pretty. It loads of flowers, but I especially love the calla lilies-- they smell heavenly.

We did try some stargazing, and it was magnificient. However, after about 10 minutes, Bubba's dogs started barking. That in itself was not the end of the world, but then he came out and started shouting at them to get back inside (yes, you can hear all of this as it echoes through the valley in which we live). When they wouldn't come in, he got in his truck and proceeded to drive all around to get them back in. After about 15 minutes, I was so irritated with the dogs' barking, his headlights flashing on my house, on me, all around, and then finally something caused the motion light to go on. I'd had enough, so we went inside.

I did see a satellite in that small time period, and a bazillion stars. : )

P.S. Bubba is not his real name. It's just a name that, for me, conjures up an appropriate image of the man behind the name.

Happy Birthday to Me

I'm 29.

Again. : )

B didn't want to stargaze with me last night-- the stars were spectacular, and no moon! Maybe tonight. I'll report back on how many satellites we see!

A Long Way

I can't imagine having so much distance between my nose and my eyes. It's a long way up there.

Scooby Stallion

Remember when you were little and you watched Scooby Doo (I think it's still on, even)? One part that I always thought was funny was that part when they would be in the haunted house and they would walk by the spooky old portrait, and the eyes would move and watch them walk by. Like someone was behind the wall, looking through the painting with the eyes cut out!

Well, we have something similar at our farm. The spooky stallion stands in his stall, and he has a boarded up window in his stall. The board must have had a knot in it, and the knot deteriorated, and so there is this hole. He puts his eye up to the hole to watch the horses outside (he can't be outside in the pasture with Cleo). You can just see this big brown eye looking out, with some hair over it.



So I go outside to take his picture. Of course, it took forever for me to get him to do it, and even then, his eye isn't up close to the hole. But he is extra-willing to stick his nose out of the hole:



Then, as I am making this fuss about "something," the other horses notice, and they come up to see what is going on. Pecos had to stick his nose into the situation:



The situation went downhill from there. : )

Isn't this a great picture of Don Pecos' eye? You can see into his soul.



A neat picture of Cleo and Pecos just dozing and hanging out together:


Cleo has this fascination with toes. She had never really seen toes, because most people who come into the barn are wearing boots or sturdy shoes. Well, at my house, there have been occassions where I have had to run into the barn on my way to somewhere. I recall the first time, I ran out there in black strappy sandals, we were on our way to a wedding. She put her nose down (she could see my toes under her stall wall) and was like, "Oh, my goodness! You don't have a hoof! What are those goofy, wiggly things??? Ever since then she has been really fascinated with shoes and toes. So today I had on some garden slip on shoes, since I was just running out to take a photo (yeah, right). She was investigating my shoes, and I slipped my shoe off and wiggled my toes at her:



Now off to stargaze in the hammock.

Afleet Alex

Did you watch the Preakness? It was amazing! We were rooting for Afleet Alex. I was happy when Giacomo won the Kentucky Derby, just because he was a longshot and nobody thought he could do it. But for the Preakness, I wanted Afleet Alex to win. His name is Alex, named after the owners’ kids. Between them they have several kids named Alex. There are 5 owners, just “regular” people, who pooled their money and bough Alex for $75,000. What an investment!

And the best thing of all is that some of the money that Alex wins goes to help Alex’s Lemonade Stand. If you don’t know what that is, visit this site, you’ll be amazed. Plus, you’ll root for Afleet Alex at the Belmont!

We bought some Alex t-shirts, too. : )

Starry Eyed

For the last two nights B & I have gone out and enjoyed the night sky from the hammock. It is so fun! We can see so much, although while we truly enjoyed the magnificent harvest moon last night, it proved to be quite bright and a hindrance to some of the dimmer stars. But we saw 6 satellites last night!

I looked them up on www.heavens-above.com and found out that we saw the Tropical Rainfall Monitoring Mission Satellite, and the Cosmos 1263 rocket (which B dismissed as “space junk”).
I think I am turning into a geek.

Anyway, it has been quite fun, and we have not suffered any effects of mosquitoes or any other wildlife, though we do hear things sneaking around in the trees and the coyotes in the pastures.

I have also used the hammock to turn dreaded tasks into more pleasant ones! : ) I didn’t mind working on a RFP for work this weekend nearly as much, when I took my laptop out to the hammock! However, I can’t get a wireless signal from its current location, so no blog-ability.

It is a big one, so the whole family can fit in it. The kids and I have had fun chilling out together.

It was a great, great present. Talk about some quality time doing some cool things.

*******
Both kids are going cross-country next week to visit grandparents. M is visiting my familiy in Phoenix, and L is visiting B’s family in San Diego. They are so excited! This is their first time flying alone, and they are really looking forward to it. I am, too, as we have some fun plans for while they’re gone, but I know I will miss them terribly. Our house will not be the same without them.

I will take pictures of all of the fun places we visit.

Farmers

This article speaks volumes. I blogged before about the plight of the family farmer.

My cousin Mike brought up a good point after that post. He said that many people are losing their jobs because of technology and outsourcing. He noted that not just farmers, but people everywhere, are looking at the destruction of their livelihoods and incomes because employers are sending jobs to other countries and utilizing sophisticated machinery that can work cheaper and faster.

And his point is well taken.

However, I've been doing some thinking, and I think that it's very different with farmers. There are farms here that are century farms (and I don't think it's just in Iowa). They are properties that have been worked and lived in and farmed by the same family for over 100 years. I was talking with our insurance agent, and he said that people take out life insurance policies, typically sons take the policies out on their fathers, and when the father dies, the policy pays the son and he buys the farm. (Maybe that's where the expression comes from??) Generations of children grow up on farms, and in rural communities, and they take farm-related courses in school. Their communities revolve around 4-H and Grange. They coordinate their social lives around the county fair and harvest times. This is not just a job; it's literally their entire lives, their family histories. Getting a "regular" job isn't about learning a new skill, it's the equivalent of moving to a new country.

And it's so different than a 9-5 job. It's such a different mentality that I can't imagine it would be easy to move from one to the other.

Farmers typically take out a large loan in the spring, buy their seed and fuel, make their repairs, put their seed in the ground, and then pray. Smaller farmers diversify, so they are busy over the summer with cattle and other livestock. Farmers are at the mercy of Mother Nature, they study the weather reports, and hope that no insects infest. They survey their land, watching it thrive or fail, knowing that there isn't one thing they can do except watch it do what it will. Livestock are susceptible to disease, to birth defects, to predators. I even saw in the news today that half of a farmer's herd of cattle was wiped out by lightning. For 16 cattle, he was out more than $15,000. He had insurance, but it didn't cover acts of God.

They endure the stress of the unknown-- will they reap enough to repay the loans in the fall? What if they don't? What if they have all or part of last year's loan to repay also?

The entire family helps. Our neighbors K&F both do the work. They are both in the field at the same time, each operating a different machine. They both move cattle, they both do the chores. They both stress when Mother Nature is in charge, and they have no control.

They have to wear so many hats. They have to be good at planning, good at finance. Every farmer I know is a good mechanic. They know about the moon cycles and phases, and the weather. They know about weeds and insects and sicknesses and vegetables. They are veritable chemists, veterinarians, conservationists, nutritionists. It can't be just a hobby-- their existence depends on being good at all of these things.

There are jobs in this world other than farming that are stressful. There are jobs that are nobler. But a farmer is in a completely different mindset than other jobs. It's not a 9-5 thing. He can't just go out for a beer on his way home from work and forget about his day. His problems don't go away by just getting a promotion, or a new boss, or a raise.

And they work so hard. They work rain or shine. Rainy days are good for fixing broken things. Sunny days are good for making hay, moving animals, working in the field, and a host of other things. No days off for a farmer. They probably make a few cents an hour, as it all works out. And of course, there is no extra pay for overtime and weekends and holidays. No vacation time or personal days, or even sick time.

And, when the season is done, all they want is the ability to pay the loan back and the chance to do it again next year.

I wanna be a farmer when I grow up. When that will be is anyone's guess. : )

Thanks, Mike, for making me think. : )

P.S. I asked K a few weeks ago what he would tell his 9-year-old son if he told him he wanted to grow up and be a farmer. He said, "I'd tell him to get a job in town." That's so sad. : (

Bubba's Dog

Well, I am sad to report that Bubba's dog has died.

I am VERY sad to report that it hung itself on the fence. It was one of the three Great Pyranees that he had, and it was the one that he kept tied up. Recall that he kept it tied up so the other dogs (2 Great Pyranees and 1 Border Collie) would stay close. Uh huh, sure. Right. The dogs never stayed home, they were over here half the time.

Anyway, it was a cruel, brutal way to die, and Bubba should be subjected to the same pain. I drove by and saw the fence pulled down, and the dog lying over it, and not moving. I thought I should go back-- nobody was home at Bubba's house. I had a phone call when I got in, and then I grabbed my binoculars and looked over while I was on the phone. About 5 minutes later, while I was still on the phone, Bubba came home and rushed over to the dog. He tried to revive it, but it was already dead.

I am sad for the dog. But Bubba is so incredibly cruel, just by reason of his stupidity. Anyone who puts an 8-week old kitten outside in the middle of winter to "make it an indoor-outdoor cat" or who gets 4 dogs and lets three of them run loose and leaves the other tied up, just doesn't get it. I believe that they love their animals, but when it's not convienent for them, they just toss them aside. Or they think that by letting them be loose and wild, that they are giving the animal an ideal life. They feel that rescuing an animal from a shelter and bringing it home to BubbaHaven is a walk in the park for the animal. They used to come looking for their dogs when they got away. They don't anymore, they just leave them loose to chase my car, or chase B when he runs on his morning jogs.

I hope that he feels lower than a worm's belly. I hope he has a hole in his heart because somewhere in it he loved that dog. I hope this makes him think that he should do things a lot differently.

Unfortunately, I bet he's the sort that will just go out and get another one to replace it. I'd be overjoyed to proclaim to the world that I am wrong on this one.

I hate people.

I wonder what he'll do with the 100 pound dead dog-- if he takes it to the vet, he'll have to explain that one. Maybe I don't want to know what he'll do with it...

horse people

I saw this list of items on another website, it struck me funny. All of them apply, and what’s the funniest is that 18 months ago, NONE of them would have applied!

You Know You’re a Horse Person When:

• You get to the checkout at the grocery and the only things you're buying are 5 gallons of corn oil, a gallon of vinegar and dish soap (to make fly spray).

• The photo Christmas cards feature the horses.

• Your car is the only one in the company parking lot that has an inch of dust INSIDE and when you open the door, a swarm of flies emerge.

• You get a little whiff of manure smell and breathe deeper to get the full impact. That goes double for the smell of leather.

• Suppertime is generally at 8PM, and everyone has been home since before 5.

• You RUSH to the front window to watch the horses run & buck in the pasture, even if you're in the middle of a meal. Good, clean fun!

• The concept of sleeping in on the weekends has long since faded from your memory.

• You know more about equine nutrition than human nutrition and it shows

• You cannot imagine why anyone would think it kinky to own whips

• You show up in city clothes dressed for appointments and when you get there people reach over the breakfast table to pick alfalfa out of your hair.

• You dress like a lawyer on weekdays and someone who needs a lawyer on your days off

• No one wants to ride in your car because they'll get sweet feed and hay in their socks and purses...that's ok because then you'd have to rearrange all the tack to make room for them, anyway!

• You’ve considered moving into the barn, since it is cleaner than the house.

• You drive up in the yard, get out of the car and inhale the perfume of the manure pile.

• You talk to the horses like they were kids.

• You leave work feeling stiff, tense, with a stomach- or headache, and all those feelings disappear the minute you get home and see the horses waiting by the fence for you.

What a Small World

We live near a river, which is sort of the dividing line between our "neighborhood" and the others. We don't really drive toward the river, and the houses over the river are also over a large hill, and are too far away for the kids to walk to, etc.

Our road ends abruptly as you go in the opposite direction, so we think of our "neighborhood" as anyone between our house and the end of the road, or anyone you can see from our house. So, all told, there are 10 houses in the neighborhood including ours. Mapblast says that's within 1.1 miles.

Having said that, we know everyone who lives in all of these houses, and who owns the land that no houses occupy. Some people we've only met once, when they were driving by and introducing themselves shortly after we moved in, others (like Bubba) we know all too well. Some we just met when Pecos got away a few weeks ago.

Except for one. Their house sits back from the road, in some trees. I actually forgot it was there until yesterday.

I was at school. Since it was my vacation, I decided to go to school and have lunch with my kids (which was a blast, I highly recommend it). While I was saying goodbye to L, there was a man waiting for me to finish. When I did, he introduced himself and asked if I lived on XXX road. I said I did (well, not XXX, that sounds like a red light district!), and he introduced himself as a teacher at the school. He knew me from a function I attended as the parent of a child with autism, but he had not put that together with the neighbor thing. He then told me that his father lived around the corner. Sure, I know him, I wave to him every day when I leave for work and come home! He has a big ol' farm, and some of his land extends to behind mine.

Small world. Especially here!

I think I now know ALL of my neighbors.

Sneaky Stallion

So I walk into the barn last night, and I am greeted at the door by Major. He is quite calm, with a mouth full of hay. He has torn up an entire bale of good alfalfa-- never touched the crappy grass hay, of course.

He has also knocked the top off of the pellet feed. It's not as enticing as the grain, so he didn't pillage that. It's a good thing we keep the grain in a 50 gallon metal drum, with a locking lid. But then again, that's exactly why we keep it locked up.

He looks at me casually, like I am just a cat walking through or something. I calmly say, "Get back in your stall" and he does. He moseys over there like it's no big deal.

This is now the second time that I have been negligent and he has gotten out. Or so I thought...

This has happened twice, but those 2 times have been in the last 10 days...

And he now has a new "neighbor" next to him...

PECOS!

Yes, Don Pecos has been able to get the latch open. I have had to tie Major's latch closed with some baling twine. This weekend we will have to work on a more permanent solution.

But I wonder what he is thinking. Was he thinking, "If I open Major's stall, he'll go over there and bring us all some hay" or "If I open the dork's stall and let him out, it will be funny to see him get into trouble" or maybe "What does this thing do? Oooh! Fun!" ?

Then again, maybe he was just up for the challenge of manipulating the latch with his lips.

If you think that they can't, read this great article: What was that horse thinking?

Struggle

The year is 1995. It's March.

The man wakes up one day, and he can't speak. It's like bells palsy: sudden, definite, debilitating, unexplainable.

But, unlike bells palsy, it doesn't go away. He has no recourse, but to hope and pray, and wish it gone. No insurance, no job, a child and a wife to support.

Fast-forward two years.

The man has two children now. He lives in another country. He is in the military, struggling daily with his inability to be understood. Torn always between wanting to learn to live with it, to stop dwelling on it and learn to accept it and himself, and between seeking a reason for this. An answer, a name he can type into the internet and order pills to cure.

The oldest baby has problems. The man doesn't know what is wrong with her. His job is always in jeopardy because of his speech. He focuses on being a good soldier, doing his job well, doing everything right. His commanders wonder what is wrong with him. He tries to be a good husband and father and soldier. It drains him.

The wife is distressed. She has a toddler with problems, a newborn also. Her family is far away, thousands of miles across the ocean. She is an outsider in so many ways. She doesn't fit in with her new neighbors off base, because she is American. She doesn't fit in with her military neighbors on base because she is too liberal. She finds one or two people she can trust, but spends the majority of her time inside. She treasures the moments she spends with her husband, her best friend. She is worried that she is becoming agoraphobic. The couple has no money; the man is enlisted and makes just over $1000 per month after taxes. It's difficult for a family of four to subsist on that amount. They are lucky to have an extra $20 to last 2 weeks until the next payday.

The wife takes her toddler for appointment after appointment. The couple is told that they could be better parents, and a parenting class is prescribed. The mom is told that the toddler is bright, but testing may reveal more. So testing dates are set.

The man's commander decides that it's time to figure out what is wrong with him. The doctors determine that they can't perform extensive testing in their country, so they must send him back to the US for tests. Inpatient testing, for at least one month.

The man is distraught. He must leave his family in crisis. Will they be okay for a month without him? He will be so far away. What will his tests prove? Will the doctors find some dread disease? Will the military use the findings to discharge him? How would his family make ends meet if he were discharged?

The day I watched my husband leave RAF Lakenheath on a MedEvac flight was probably the worst day of my life. I also was given the news that day that my daughter would never be "normal."

"But I thought you told me that she was a bright child! How can you say that she has an IQ of 75, when you told me before that she was bright?!"

"Mrs. X, everyone thinks their child is bright."

I will never forget that day. When I hear about people that are suicidal, people that are desperate, and I can't imagine their pain, I always think back on that day. I had nothing left, no hope whatsoever. I was so incredibly sad, with nowhere to turn, nobody to even hug me. I cried so hard coming back from the runway observation area, that I had to pull over because I couldn't see. I was like a wrung-out rag. Limp, no energy, not a thing left in my soul for me to use to go on.

But somehow I got up the next morning. And I put one foot in front of the other.

It is amazing how strong people are. How one can make their destiny. How God can use those rock bottom experiences to mold you into someone new.

Worry is no longer my enemy. When he used to come around, I would be unable to cope, only able to focus on him. Now I can just ignore him. He still comes around, but he's like a stray cat, I just push him out of the way with my foot and get on with my day.

B's condition caused him to be discharged from the military in January of 1999. Because we had the sense to fight the military, he was discharged with disability pay. He has a small pension each month now. He was discharged with a lump sum, and we used it for a downpayment on a new house.

Our daughter was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. Finally, a name to put on her. Symptoms we could identify with. A network of other parents, siblings, and those themselves coping with AS. Prescribed treatment, a path worn by other families. Footprints laid that we could easily step into until we were strong enough to forge our own path.

Strength came quickly. It came exponentially with an increase in confidence, cash, assistance from the school, access to good healthcare, and battles won.

It's amazing, because I rarely remember those times. In fact, I don't often recall how rock-bottom I felt that horrible day.

But I am who I am today because of that very day.

Our family is strong. Bring it on-- we can take it. Not only can we take it, but we'll be better for it.

And that is why I am so grateful for our farm. For the peace that it brings, for the hard work that it requires (and thrives from). For the dream come true that it represents. For the unique blessing that it is. How could I have ever known in 1995 that this is where I would be in 10 years?

Jumping Beans

Remember Bubba, and his trampoline? Well, "Annie" called the other day and told L that her cousin came over, fell off of the trampoline and "broke her head."

You know, we always wear helmets when we ride. I would say that even riding has to be less risky than jumping on a trampoline. No broken heads yet, and no plans for any, either.

Today

Chicken Coop


Chicken Coop again


Standing at the far edge of our backyard, looking beyond the fence at the creek. Past the creek is our east hayfield, which extends to the brown (tilled) ground. That hayfield will be planted with soybeans soon!


My composite "panoramic" photo of the "new" backyard. It's taken from the exact spot I took the previous photo (of the creek), I just turned around the other way. This whole section, from where I am standing, used to be filled with weeds taller than me. We mowed it a few weeks ago, and have had a lot of fun with the firepit, and the Safari Party, etc. We want to overseed it and clean it up a bit more, put a horseshoe pit in, etc. It will be great! The hammock is going to the right of the garage (the brick building toward the right of the photo), between the garage and the trees.


This is an old picture, before it was mowed. It was taken a little further up, so I am looking across the (now) mowed section, down past the grass to the trees. When I took the panoramic picture, I was standing at the post that you can see in the middle of this picture. It's taller than the others.

Happy Mother's Day! : )

raison d'etre

One little boy who came over today for the party came with a warning from his father: "My boy is allergic to horses. He can't get near them. If he gets anywhere near them, he'll swell up, he'll have a hard time breathing-- it will just be bad." I gulped, "Um, okay! We didn't plan to "play" with the horses today anyway. No horses on safaris, you know!" But hey, little kids are drawn to them, and they love kids! It's such a hoot to see Major begging for a tootsie roll or something... He adds, "Oh, and hay, too. Can't come anywhere near hay."

This reminded me of my friend in England. That poor soul gets the worst migraines from eating either chocolate or cheese. So, naturally, she avoids both of them.

Aside from B and my kids, and all of my brood of animals, I can't imagine anything I love more than chocolate, cheese, horses and hay. When one is having a baby, they tell you to think of a calming place. You spend many hours in childbirth class picking out your place to "visit" and imagining the entire sensory experience. Then, when the event takes place, you're all ready. Do you know where I picked? Not Mexico, not Hawaii, no beaches were involved. I picked the haymow of a barn. I love the wind whooshing through on a hot day, the cats underfoot, the smell of freshly cut hay.

So, please God, if you have to make me allergic to something, please don't let it be someone I love, chocolate, cheese, hay or horses. : )

P.S. The boy was fine, no contact was made with either of the culprits.

I'm Exhausted.

This morning and early afternoon we had a Safari here. Seven 9-year olds came over, and we celebrated L's birthday. It was in Feb, but that was my busy time at work, so we waited until we could have a calmer schedule, and play outside.

They had pith helmets, binoculars, sunglasses, squirt guns, flashlights, compasses and bug pencils as their goodie bags. I hid reptiles in the grass and they had to find them. We had a cool treasure hunt, and even at 6:00 this morning I came up with cool clues:

The next clue won't give you a rest
It's in the tree I like the best.
To figure out which one, you'll have to think.
I can see it from my kitchen sink.
The biggest, the oldest, the roundest you'll see
But it's not the closest, it's far from me.

and

This used to be a place for food
Now it's looking pretty crude.
Since it's creepy, I did decide
To hide the clue just outside.
(I had hidden it outside the grain bin)

We ate bugs made of string cheese and chow mein noodles, spiders constructed of hot dogs, ants on a log with peanut butter, celery and raisins. I made a cool cake in the shape of a snake. We had worms in dirt (gummy worms in crushed up Oreos) and animal crackers.

We played games like animal charades and a jumping relay, plus the squirt gun play and the treasure hunt.

And now I am exhausted. B and M went to the store and bought the ingredients for M to cook us all supper. They also brought me my mother's day present-- a hammock! B says it's big enough for the whole family!! I am tickled pink. I think it's going to be a weekend of R&R-- what better way to celebrate!

Also, I have the whole week off next week! I'm going to work hard on the walls inside. I really want to get busy on them. It will really make a difference in my perspective, plus it will be so much easier to take small baby steps toward being "done." At this point, the next step is so drastic, time-consuming, and requires such a big block of time, that we have put it off for a long time. It will be a big weight off of my shoulders to have this part of the project done.

And I have turned off my email from work-- I actually put an auto-responder on my email! For you who know me personally, you know that was a big, big deal. I'm trying to not be the workaholic that my genetics dictate that I am...

I think I could get used to it!

We saw an oriole today. L said he saw one yesterday, too. We've nailed some oranges to a few trees, and hope to see him around here more often. He's a beauty!

Hope you have a great mother's day weekend. Those who are moms, or those who just have moms. : )

Smelling the Roses

Well, there are no roses blooming yet, but figuratively sniffed a lot of them today.

We went out to the barn to tuck the horses in for the evening, but ended up spending a few minutes out there just seeing what we could see.

And we saw a lot!

We saw bats, two satellites, and a huge, low-flying airplane. We heard an owl that we hadn't heard before. Oh, and a jillion stars.

I love it here. : )

Recently sighted at our house

Hey, THANKS!!

From WHO TV - Des Moines

Madison County, May 4, 2005 - One of Madison County's famed covered bridges is getting a facelift. Volunteers from across the state will help renovate the Hogback bridge today. An arsonist set fire to the bridge back in 2002. Volunteers plan to clean it up and paint the landmark. They will also do some landscaping.

The cost of the improvements will be about $15,000. Hampton Inn is footing the bill. Its part of the hotel's 'Save-A-Landmark' program. This is a national award and only one place is selected each year. Volunteers will also install electricity to the area. That electricity will help power security cameras. The chamber of commerce has raised the money to buy the cameras. Iowa State sponsored the security at Cedar Bridge. Cedar Bridge was rebuilt after an arson fire destroyed it. There have been three notable fires over the past few years, but so far, no one has been caught. The county plans to add security cameras to five famous bridges.

****************

You must have voted early and often, as I asked! Thanks so much! I look forward to "my" bridge being all spruced up.

Now, for some covered bridge facts:

Do you know why the bridges were covered?
They were covered because the timbers on the bottom, the ones that actually spanned the river, were very expensive to replace. Think about it, too: with the bridge out, it was quite an inconvenence, for considerably longer than it would take nowadays. Probably the route was the only route to town, etc. It was much easier to replace the covers than to replace the bridge timbers, so they built a cover to protect them.

Also, they were covered because of the snow. Snowplows did not always exist. In the days of horses and buggies, folks used sleighs in the winter. Contrary to our romantic notions of today, sleighs were not used on grass or other bumpy terrain. They were used on roads, and the snow was rolled flat and packed down. So the sleighs glided right along on top of the hard packed snow.

But all of that snow was heavy, and would place strain on the bridges. So they covered it, so there wouldn't be a heavy layer of snow on the bridge.

What Fun!

What a great day we had. I slept in until 8:00, and did barn chores. Then we went over to the school, where the FFA was selling plants from their greenhouse. We got a good deal on some plants, and helped out the school in the process.

Then we headed over to Pamida. I love Pamida! It's a great store, and only little towns have them. You can get some great deals there.

I came home and did some gardening, and more cleaning up the yard. We have some cement pads in our far backyard, which we have recently cleared and are trying to neaten up. On one of the pads we made a fire pit. We stacked up some bricks in an enclosure, and bought a grate for it. We had to test it out by cooking brats and s'mores on it tonight!

While we were silently eating our brats, all of us over-hungry because it had taken so long for construction and fire-creating, a big owl flew right past us. It came only a few feet from B's head! We didn't hear it call, though. It was beautiful.

We also made May baskets today. We put some candy in them, and will cut some lilacs to put in them tomorrow before we deliver them. I hope neither of my kids gets kissed tomorrow. We made them for our neighbors-- including Bubba. We can't leave anyone out.

Speaking of Bubba, we drove past today and saw that he bought the girl a trampoline. I am just waiting for our kids to ask to go over and play. We don't have good luck, so the answer will be no.

Hope your Saturday was just as memorable!

Clouds

When I was a child, we had a picnic table in our backyard. I used to take a towel and spread it out on the table, and lie on my back to watch the clouds. I could lie there and watch them for hours, puffy and white, drifting by.

I was so in the moment. I didn't have anywhere else to be, nothing else to do, nothing weighing on my mind.

If I did that now, I think I would dwell on the laundry that needs doing, barn that needs cleaning, or a hundred other tasks that haunt me regularly. Either that, or I would fall asleep.

I think I will resolve to schedule some time for myself each day this summer. Like a prescription for myself, sanity time that can't be skipped. Doctor's orders.

Maybe I will ask for a hammock for mother's day.

Clarification

Let me just say, Bubba's daughter did not say that L was the father, when she announced that she was pregnant. She just told him that because, as he said, "She thinks she's so grown up."

Ahh, Bubba's apple does not fall far from the tree.

And wormy, too!