The sweat beads up across my shoulders and draws a line down the middle of my back, tracing some familiar path down prickled folicles to join the pool in the small of my back which adheres to my shirt. The left side of my face is getting unequally burnt as I position myself to get the sun out of my eyes, lamenting the loss of my big floppy hat somewhere between gardens in two cities.
And I have two addresses not scratched out on my list of possibilites. One I've seen and the kitchen is big enough and the street not super hood and only two boarded up houses for neighbors, which means a bit of green space for the dogs. I need a porch. I need my dogs. I need a not terrible neighborhood. I need a kitchen and I need a shower. All other things are just a bonus. One more house to see this Saturday and then my life goes into boxes and bags, in trucks, and up stairs.
The sun is shining and my grapes are starting to tangle themselves together into giant green masses, holding hands and pulling hair of their neighbors as they clamour around the trellis, pushing out tiny clusters of beautifully scented blooms. My tomatoes are migrating from the greenhouse into spots in the ground, surrounded by basil, flowers, and sweet peppers.
I am falling into stringed music, eyes burning with sweat and sunblock, thinking about floating in a pond soon and washing away this sweat and worries. I'm looking at my calendar and then checking it again. And again. and again. The end of May? I still have Bob. It's only been a couple weeks, but I like him and I'm glad that he's moving with me. It's nice to feel a bit of security from having a somewhat threatening male around, even if he's actually just a cuddly sweetheart that only looks big and mean. He eats garbage, but is super loyal and doesn't leave my side. And being completely housebroken is a plus too. I might keep him if he keeps up this good behavior. Except the trash thing. And he chases chickens sometimes. That's annoying.
Time for a cold beer and a book. Something to turn off my brain. Spiritualized's new album on full blast. And aloe for my fresh sunburn...
loving this- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VesyhH8zams
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Saturday, May 12, 2012
West Virginia, take me home
I woke up to a text asking if I needed my potato patch tilled up again. Yes I do, and I can't believe I don't have them in the ground yet.
Then I got confirmation that there's now a mandatory manager meeting once a week for work to be conducted on horseback. Sweet! When I pitched the idea, I didn't think it actually would get approved. That pretty much solidifies that my job is awesome.
The afternoon was spent putting apple trees in the ground, sampling barrels and tanks and saying -what the hell is wrong with that-, and then melting into an evening of tables and chairs all filled up with tables covered with sandwiched plates and wine glasses that kept going empty only to get filled again. The music was this beautiful guitar player from West Virginia and despite being grossly overpaid, he was actually rather enjoyable to listen to. It is hard to not think that all the money I've tried to save in the kitchen or all the bottles I'm pushing hard to sell, all that effort gets wasted on some overpaid guitarist that no one is listening to, no matter how good he is.
The nights have a chill that require a heater still and the days are filled with dogs chasing squirrels into trees (squirrels can really hold grudges!) and sheep grazing on the lush, spring pastures among the grapevines. The lambs are getting huge and I'm gently settling myself back into the lush, green lull of Ohio. I haven't been to a veggie auction yet, but the greenhouse is filled and screaming for water two times a day and the weather has been perfect for doing my late spring dance of planting tender nightshades and wondering if they'll be massacred by the one last frost.
I can't help it now, but on my drive home I look at every exit and think -if I lived there, I'd be home by now. I'm looking at a small apartment on the upper east side where the Akron crime map didn't have a bunch of character burglers, fists, guns, or handcuffs and they allow dogs. I'm not sure my pup is going to transition well from her pond jumping, squirrel chasing, sheep herding, and chicken guarding life into the upper east side of Akron very well, but I think she likes me and hope that love conquers all.
I can't believe that six months ago I was looking for bottle baby calves to keep at High Mill. And now I'm leaving this place that I've spent so much time building the soil, building fences, planting trees... Am I just a terribly irrational, impulsive person? What the hell am I doing?
Jason is talking about moving to the west coast. The idea is appealing and terrifying at the same time. I think, wow, I've never lived outside of Ohio for more than a couple months here or there. That would be interesting to try. But another part of me gets homesick just thinking about it. I love to travel, but I also love to have a home.
Then I got confirmation that there's now a mandatory manager meeting once a week for work to be conducted on horseback. Sweet! When I pitched the idea, I didn't think it actually would get approved. That pretty much solidifies that my job is awesome.
The afternoon was spent putting apple trees in the ground, sampling barrels and tanks and saying -what the hell is wrong with that-, and then melting into an evening of tables and chairs all filled up with tables covered with sandwiched plates and wine glasses that kept going empty only to get filled again. The music was this beautiful guitar player from West Virginia and despite being grossly overpaid, he was actually rather enjoyable to listen to. It is hard to not think that all the money I've tried to save in the kitchen or all the bottles I'm pushing hard to sell, all that effort gets wasted on some overpaid guitarist that no one is listening to, no matter how good he is.
The nights have a chill that require a heater still and the days are filled with dogs chasing squirrels into trees (squirrels can really hold grudges!) and sheep grazing on the lush, spring pastures among the grapevines. The lambs are getting huge and I'm gently settling myself back into the lush, green lull of Ohio. I haven't been to a veggie auction yet, but the greenhouse is filled and screaming for water two times a day and the weather has been perfect for doing my late spring dance of planting tender nightshades and wondering if they'll be massacred by the one last frost.
I can't help it now, but on my drive home I look at every exit and think -if I lived there, I'd be home by now. I'm looking at a small apartment on the upper east side where the Akron crime map didn't have a bunch of character burglers, fists, guns, or handcuffs and they allow dogs. I'm not sure my pup is going to transition well from her pond jumping, squirrel chasing, sheep herding, and chicken guarding life into the upper east side of Akron very well, but I think she likes me and hope that love conquers all.
I can't believe that six months ago I was looking for bottle baby calves to keep at High Mill. And now I'm leaving this place that I've spent so much time building the soil, building fences, planting trees... Am I just a terribly irrational, impulsive person? What the hell am I doing?
Jason is talking about moving to the west coast. The idea is appealing and terrifying at the same time. I think, wow, I've never lived outside of Ohio for more than a couple months here or there. That would be interesting to try. But another part of me gets homesick just thinking about it. I love to travel, but I also love to have a home.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Yesterday I went for a ride. It was supposed to storm hail and damaging winds so my crew begrudgingly went out into the vines to start to control the growth of these crazy vines. By the time 4:30 hit and they all had retreated, I was chomping at the bit to clear my head of the million marbles rolling around colliding with each other with the growing snot and mucus. It was time for a different point of view, and using someone's legs other than my own.
I'm terrible at saddling up. Jimmy's back is so high that I have to hoist the heavy saddle over my head to get it on. He just chomped at grain and sized me up to see how this round was going to go. He's strong willed. I'm strong willed. He weighs 9 times what I do. But I put a bit in his mouth and then proceeded to do the most hillbilly thing I think I've ever done: I lead him over to my truck and jumped on the saddle from the tailgate. Yup. That takes the cake, but usually he wanders away from any bucket, step, or block I set next to him. So it worked this time. Good start
I always love watching those elephants with people saddled up on them. I just wonder why something that size would allow themselves to be brought down by a tiny little human.
I think for that same reason, I like riding horses. I've been riding since I was young, jumping English at the barn up the street until the money ran out and then I would muck stalls for hours in exchange for a short trail ride at the exhausted end.
Cars are boring, despite the exciting possibility that someone else would collide and kill you at any minute. Roller coasters are cool, but you always know which way they are going.
In the heat of the day, watching the sweat lather up the neck as his mane started sticking in between quizzical looks, I like the understanding between horse and rider. I like the thousand pounds of flesh underneath me. I like the kick and the run or the pull and the stop and the way that old leather and barnyard are brought together with heat and sweat.
Jimmy wanted to run. I was sick of staying tight on the reins. And I finally knew that I had the stirrups high enough. (I always feel odd using someone else's saddle that I'm reluctant to change, like borrowing someone's car and forgetting to put the seat back.) So after the first few fields, loosened the reins and let him open up, as Nick would say.
We tore through a newly planted soybean field and then followed the tracks through the briars and into a Roundup ready corn field where my new black hat flew off. I thought maybe that was an appropriate place to plant it for a bit and crossed the street to the vineyard. The storm clouds were gathering, but it was nice to get that reprieve from the heat. We walked up to the rows that were finished today, about 1 inch growth on the buds that didn't get hit with last Sunday's hard freeze. Down into the frost pocket and then back up to the other side to look at the pumpkin patch that needs planted soon and then we took off again, tearing up along the creek and back for my hat.
I'm glad Jimmy and I are on good terms now. Right after my DUI, I might have had fantasies about throwing all cars away and only riding everywhere. That thought was quickly squelched by a terribly disobedient horse and lead to many very unpleasant rides where he wanted to go back to the barn and I wanted to go anywhere but. So we'd just stand there, him pawing at the ground as my thighs held on tight in a pissed off dance of wills.
Anyway, I think I've revised my new fantasy. It's getting sketched in, bit by bit. Yes, it involves a new car (or truck?) I think now along with my few chickens and my well trained heeler pup and my flock of well behaved sheep on some acreage with fruit trees, I've now drawn in the picture of a horse as a vehicle to check on the flock. The sheep may look confused, but then again, when do they not.
I'm terrible at saddling up. Jimmy's back is so high that I have to hoist the heavy saddle over my head to get it on. He just chomped at grain and sized me up to see how this round was going to go. He's strong willed. I'm strong willed. He weighs 9 times what I do. But I put a bit in his mouth and then proceeded to do the most hillbilly thing I think I've ever done: I lead him over to my truck and jumped on the saddle from the tailgate. Yup. That takes the cake, but usually he wanders away from any bucket, step, or block I set next to him. So it worked this time. Good start
I always love watching those elephants with people saddled up on them. I just wonder why something that size would allow themselves to be brought down by a tiny little human.
I think for that same reason, I like riding horses. I've been riding since I was young, jumping English at the barn up the street until the money ran out and then I would muck stalls for hours in exchange for a short trail ride at the exhausted end.
Cars are boring, despite the exciting possibility that someone else would collide and kill you at any minute. Roller coasters are cool, but you always know which way they are going.
In the heat of the day, watching the sweat lather up the neck as his mane started sticking in between quizzical looks, I like the understanding between horse and rider. I like the thousand pounds of flesh underneath me. I like the kick and the run or the pull and the stop and the way that old leather and barnyard are brought together with heat and sweat.
Jimmy wanted to run. I was sick of staying tight on the reins. And I finally knew that I had the stirrups high enough. (I always feel odd using someone else's saddle that I'm reluctant to change, like borrowing someone's car and forgetting to put the seat back.) So after the first few fields, loosened the reins and let him open up, as Nick would say.
We tore through a newly planted soybean field and then followed the tracks through the briars and into a Roundup ready corn field where my new black hat flew off. I thought maybe that was an appropriate place to plant it for a bit and crossed the street to the vineyard. The storm clouds were gathering, but it was nice to get that reprieve from the heat. We walked up to the rows that were finished today, about 1 inch growth on the buds that didn't get hit with last Sunday's hard freeze. Down into the frost pocket and then back up to the other side to look at the pumpkin patch that needs planted soon and then we took off again, tearing up along the creek and back for my hat.
I'm glad Jimmy and I are on good terms now. Right after my DUI, I might have had fantasies about throwing all cars away and only riding everywhere. That thought was quickly squelched by a terribly disobedient horse and lead to many very unpleasant rides where he wanted to go back to the barn and I wanted to go anywhere but. So we'd just stand there, him pawing at the ground as my thighs held on tight in a pissed off dance of wills.
Anyway, I think I've revised my new fantasy. It's getting sketched in, bit by bit. Yes, it involves a new car (or truck?) I think now along with my few chickens and my well trained heeler pup and my flock of well behaved sheep on some acreage with fruit trees, I've now drawn in the picture of a horse as a vehicle to check on the flock. The sheep may look confused, but then again, when do they not.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
cull (k
l)
It's time to cull the flock. The new ones have been born and I only have so much room.
I first cull the trouble makers. The ones that hop the fence. The ones that don't follow a grain bucket.
Then I cull the ones who weren't successful. I keep sheep for lambs and if they don't lamb successfully, they have to go. Or if they have a lamb and it dies. I am about to cull my leader sheep who I have had the longest as she was barren for 2 years, had one successful lamb last year, and lost her one lamb this year. Her personality isn't great enough for me to keep her as a pet.
Then it gets a little hazy at to who I keep next. This is how cows came to look the way they do, or the selective breeding of dogs. The traits we like, we breed. This is how commercial sheep growers are the biggest, fastest eating machines. They cull the smaller ones and keep the ones that get big, fast.
I usually have to wrestle my sheep myself so about 200lbs is the highest I go. Sitting on a sheep to shear it if it's any bigger is like wrestling a wild horse with velcro fur. I usually end up sore and stinking of lanolin, with a weird pattern of wool left on the sheep. (My biggest sheep still has pantaloons on as she wouldn't sit still and did not like getting a haircut.)
So what do I want is the next question. I am selecting for medium size, well behaved, and delicious. Yes, you can select for taste, which involves many grueling hours of taste tests and keeping the mothers of the ones on the grill for hopefully more tasty lamb chops.
Culling my flock this year is especially hard as I'm culling other things in my life too. Living out of a suitcase really reminds me of how little stuff I actually need. I called the dumpster to get picked up and I'm ready to fill it again. I can't keep holding on to these things forever, especially if I'm not using them. I hate clutter and I'm ready for a change.
And I can't tell if I'm removing rejected things, or if I'm just gathering or collecting the things that I want. I think it would be easier to pick out my 5 favorite shirts and throw away the rest of the pile than it would be to go through every shirt that I haven't seen in years (I tend to wear the same 5 shirts, despite their growing holes and tears) or if I should keep that cute dress that I never wore. Or my dreaded interview clothes. Or the even more dreaded substitute teacher clothes.
I've been dreading this day for awhile. My first sheep, how can I get rid of her? It's where the sentimental creeps up ad makes me second guess everything. But my mom sewed that skirt or that was the tshirt I was baptized in. I never wear them, but somehow things tie me back to a certain time of life where things were different and so getting rid of them seems rough, like throwing away old love letters or losing a picture of my dog as a puppy.
I also decided after midnight during a thunderstorm to have a discussion about moving. I'm sick of living in a half finished house with no shower right next door to my parents for way to high of rent. Coming home to a not clean house after vacation, despite being promised it would be cleaned when I got home was the kicker. I think I've just been here too long and I need a change. The lightning all around seemed tame as i plead my case. This is even more difficult because I feel like I invested all my hopes of happiness or a normal life into this house, into building this flock and this family and it stinks to think that it's not what I'd hoped. .
After finding this old blog and reading it over, I realized that I've been bitching about the same things for years. And while things have gotten a bit better, I think moving in together was a terrible idea. But it seems every step in a relationship has barbs like a zip tie and once those are tightened, you can't go back.
So it's not just like, hi honey, I like you and all, but I'd like a little bit more space and for me not to have to worry about money issues by being so closely tied. Actually, I think that came towards the end. I've found myself to be more articulate more often now. He said I was being selfish.
I know this is going to be hard and it hurts like fucking hell right now. But can I keep going back and forth? My place is amazing, but the short circuit for the light in the fridge, the leaky faucet sink, no shower, the insulation in the ceiling falling down, you'd think I have the worst slum lord in the world. But in the morning as I walk through the field with the chickens swarming like a school of fish around me as I walk back to check on the sheep who are peacefully laying in the field chewing their cud with no idea of my culling plans.... this is what I fight with. There's good and bad to everything. I know my instinct is just to keep doing what I'm doing because it's uncomfortable to do anything else. And once I start making changes, when do I stop. And will I regret it?
l)
tr.v. culled, cull·ing, culls
1. To pick out from others; select.
2. To gather; collect.
3. To remove rejected members or parts from (a herd, for example)
It's time to cull the flock. The new ones have been born and I only have so much room.
I first cull the trouble makers. The ones that hop the fence. The ones that don't follow a grain bucket.
Then I cull the ones who weren't successful. I keep sheep for lambs and if they don't lamb successfully, they have to go. Or if they have a lamb and it dies. I am about to cull my leader sheep who I have had the longest as she was barren for 2 years, had one successful lamb last year, and lost her one lamb this year. Her personality isn't great enough for me to keep her as a pet.
Then it gets a little hazy at to who I keep next. This is how cows came to look the way they do, or the selective breeding of dogs. The traits we like, we breed. This is how commercial sheep growers are the biggest, fastest eating machines. They cull the smaller ones and keep the ones that get big, fast.
I usually have to wrestle my sheep myself so about 200lbs is the highest I go. Sitting on a sheep to shear it if it's any bigger is like wrestling a wild horse with velcro fur. I usually end up sore and stinking of lanolin, with a weird pattern of wool left on the sheep. (My biggest sheep still has pantaloons on as she wouldn't sit still and did not like getting a haircut.)
So what do I want is the next question. I am selecting for medium size, well behaved, and delicious. Yes, you can select for taste, which involves many grueling hours of taste tests and keeping the mothers of the ones on the grill for hopefully more tasty lamb chops.
Culling my flock this year is especially hard as I'm culling other things in my life too. Living out of a suitcase really reminds me of how little stuff I actually need. I called the dumpster to get picked up and I'm ready to fill it again. I can't keep holding on to these things forever, especially if I'm not using them. I hate clutter and I'm ready for a change.
And I can't tell if I'm removing rejected things, or if I'm just gathering or collecting the things that I want. I think it would be easier to pick out my 5 favorite shirts and throw away the rest of the pile than it would be to go through every shirt that I haven't seen in years (I tend to wear the same 5 shirts, despite their growing holes and tears) or if I should keep that cute dress that I never wore. Or my dreaded interview clothes. Or the even more dreaded substitute teacher clothes.
I've been dreading this day for awhile. My first sheep, how can I get rid of her? It's where the sentimental creeps up ad makes me second guess everything. But my mom sewed that skirt or that was the tshirt I was baptized in. I never wear them, but somehow things tie me back to a certain time of life where things were different and so getting rid of them seems rough, like throwing away old love letters or losing a picture of my dog as a puppy.
I also decided after midnight during a thunderstorm to have a discussion about moving. I'm sick of living in a half finished house with no shower right next door to my parents for way to high of rent. Coming home to a not clean house after vacation, despite being promised it would be cleaned when I got home was the kicker. I think I've just been here too long and I need a change. The lightning all around seemed tame as i plead my case. This is even more difficult because I feel like I invested all my hopes of happiness or a normal life into this house, into building this flock and this family and it stinks to think that it's not what I'd hoped. .
After finding this old blog and reading it over, I realized that I've been bitching about the same things for years. And while things have gotten a bit better, I think moving in together was a terrible idea. But it seems every step in a relationship has barbs like a zip tie and once those are tightened, you can't go back.
So it's not just like, hi honey, I like you and all, but I'd like a little bit more space and for me not to have to worry about money issues by being so closely tied. Actually, I think that came towards the end. I've found myself to be more articulate more often now. He said I was being selfish.
I know this is going to be hard and it hurts like fucking hell right now. But can I keep going back and forth? My place is amazing, but the short circuit for the light in the fridge, the leaky faucet sink, no shower, the insulation in the ceiling falling down, you'd think I have the worst slum lord in the world. But in the morning as I walk through the field with the chickens swarming like a school of fish around me as I walk back to check on the sheep who are peacefully laying in the field chewing their cud with no idea of my culling plans.... this is what I fight with. There's good and bad to everything. I know my instinct is just to keep doing what I'm doing because it's uncomfortable to do anything else. And once I start making changes, when do I stop. And will I regret it?
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
One time at work I was moving a carboy (giant 5 gallon glass thing) and I set it down on the pavement a little too quick. It shattered and a shard of glass cut my finger straight through down to the bone.
At first I didn't feel it. At first, I was just looking at this flap of skin that was turning white. And then this rush of warmth came over me, drew the blood from all over my body and rushed it to the slice in my finger where it spurted out like a river. I got light headed. My face was warm, I paced around. I couldn't think. My whole body started to go into shock, seeing stars, heart thumping so hard in my head that I couldn't hear and everything went muffled.
All I could do was apply pressure to the wound and kinda retreat off to the side and say, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine... even though I didn't feel fine at all.
That is how I feel right now. Cut deep and slowly going into shock.
At first I didn't feel it. At first, I was just looking at this flap of skin that was turning white. And then this rush of warmth came over me, drew the blood from all over my body and rushed it to the slice in my finger where it spurted out like a river. I got light headed. My face was warm, I paced around. I couldn't think. My whole body started to go into shock, seeing stars, heart thumping so hard in my head that I couldn't hear and everything went muffled.
All I could do was apply pressure to the wound and kinda retreat off to the side and say, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine... even though I didn't feel fine at all.
That is how I feel right now. Cut deep and slowly going into shock.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
same story, different day.
My toes are just starting to thaw from inside my stretched out socks. I had wanted to clean up tonight, but my legs have had enough and are ready for bed. I got my first cow today, a cute little bottle fed holstein complete with a bottle feeding crazy girl who just kept screaming- you're not going to eat him, are you!? - as I dodged the question. He's a cow... kinda big for a pet. And he eats a lot. We'll see. I have no idea what I am going to do with him.
My mom is mad at me again. I guess my number is up to be her least favorite kid. It was a good run, but I guess we all have to pay our dues. It seems like a perpetuating disorder where one thing piles on to the next thing and everything starts building and building and getting thrown way out of proportion. I don't think my brother is fit to bring a kid into the world. My mother thinks otherwise. My dad was caught tilling yesterday. My mom looked like she was going to kill herself. And now my dad is agreeing to get rid of his dog, move to a condo, or whatever she is talking about this week. I'm sick of it. Not like I'm going to do much though. Just avoid her for awhile. Usually the kid the farthest away is the most loved.
I am already worrying about thanksgiving. i don't know why. the weather maybe. the job loosing maybe. just worried about not being able to pay bills or where i'm going to work or what i'll be when i grow up. I think I need to get out more, go somewhere else. right now my world feels pretty small and crumbling in on itself.
My mom is mad at me again. I guess my number is up to be her least favorite kid. It was a good run, but I guess we all have to pay our dues. It seems like a perpetuating disorder where one thing piles on to the next thing and everything starts building and building and getting thrown way out of proportion. I don't think my brother is fit to bring a kid into the world. My mother thinks otherwise. My dad was caught tilling yesterday. My mom looked like she was going to kill herself. And now my dad is agreeing to get rid of his dog, move to a condo, or whatever she is talking about this week. I'm sick of it. Not like I'm going to do much though. Just avoid her for awhile. Usually the kid the farthest away is the most loved.
I am already worrying about thanksgiving. i don't know why. the weather maybe. the job loosing maybe. just worried about not being able to pay bills or where i'm going to work or what i'll be when i grow up. I think I need to get out more, go somewhere else. right now my world feels pretty small and crumbling in on itself.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Full Moon
Holy shit. I am not sure what the hell happened or has been happening or why this week has been so off balance. I think it is the full moon cycle coinciding with my cycle that has made this masterful terrible eclipse of everything good into everything evil.
My brain feels like a bullet went through it and it is scattered on the pavement, dripping. I have been so angry at everyone and everything and, though I hate to admit it, when the goats have been getting out, I swear it is out of spite and the are plotting against me. I get so angry I kick, scream, yell... not much works because the are fucking goats and they do what they want and are assholes so whatever.
And I know I should just save and buy a real fence. The alpaca enclosure is wonderful that Travis built. With recycled posts and a gate that we already had, I don't think it really cost too much. I will not get angry and start making comparisons.
Yes, it is a Sunday morning and yes I am up at 6:30. And yes, I wish I wasn't. And yes, I wish I actually did something last night. And yes, I am feeling rather lame as of late. And yes, I will probably try to go back to sleep in a few minutes with a new rescue dog tied to me ankle so I know she isn't going to sneak downstairs and potty where she's not supposed to.
....................................................
2 hours later
....................................................
AH, much better. Lots of funny dreams. The wind is blowing through the leaves that are bathed in sunlight just outisde my window. It might be a swimming day for the first time this summer. Supposed to be 90 but the wind in the air says they might be exaggerating.
And now with sleep in my eye and a cup of tea in my hand, I am ready to make a list. Maybe the full moon is waning after all...
p.s. if you are wondering where all my happy blogs are, check out high mill happenings
My brain feels like a bullet went through it and it is scattered on the pavement, dripping. I have been so angry at everyone and everything and, though I hate to admit it, when the goats have been getting out, I swear it is out of spite and the are plotting against me. I get so angry I kick, scream, yell... not much works because the are fucking goats and they do what they want and are assholes so whatever.
And I know I should just save and buy a real fence. The alpaca enclosure is wonderful that Travis built. With recycled posts and a gate that we already had, I don't think it really cost too much. I will not get angry and start making comparisons.
Yes, it is a Sunday morning and yes I am up at 6:30. And yes, I wish I wasn't. And yes, I wish I actually did something last night. And yes, I am feeling rather lame as of late. And yes, I will probably try to go back to sleep in a few minutes with a new rescue dog tied to me ankle so I know she isn't going to sneak downstairs and potty where she's not supposed to.
....................................................
2 hours later
....................................................
AH, much better. Lots of funny dreams. The wind is blowing through the leaves that are bathed in sunlight just outisde my window. It might be a swimming day for the first time this summer. Supposed to be 90 but the wind in the air says they might be exaggerating.
And now with sleep in my eye and a cup of tea in my hand, I am ready to make a list. Maybe the full moon is waning after all...
p.s. if you are wondering where all my happy blogs are, check out high mill happenings
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