It may surprise some of you that I wrestle with depression. Yes, yes, that positive, chirpy exterior sometimes is a brittle façade. It does not help me one little bit when there is no sun for days, weeks and weeks. I pump up the D3 during winter and eat as much dark green, leafy vege as I can shovel in, but we're barely breaking even this year. Then there was the loss of my 'boy', Scrappy. Even though I knew it was coming and had been bracing myself, the reality is a whole other plane of heartbreak. Still, I am the poster girl for stiff upper lips, so - one foot in front of the other. I manage to keep an even keel by focusing on all the good things - and there are plenty. There are my family and friends. There are my dogs and cats, chickens and ducks, sheep and llama. There is the faith I have that kindness, compassion and honesty will overcome all the anti-light-giving crap that we are currently experiencing. When I need an extra boost, I don my bright pink PussyHat.
|(Pardon the blurry pic.) The plaster cast of one|
of my father's sculptures proudly holds the
pinkest of PussyHats until it is needed.
Bertie is gradually meeting the rest of the inhabitants - he met Linden through the fence, nose-to-nose. It's Linden's duty, as Head Sheepie, to check out all newcomers. He took a sniff, snorted and did a hasty retreat. Bertie barked his head off. There are crows and squirrels. There are chickens. There are ducks. There are crunchy treats. As we work him into our routine, there have been some 'bumps'. When I get home from work it is dark (surprise...not). I let everyone out of various crates, put my boots on (careful to put my work shoes on the table), then we all pile out of the back door and out into the chicken yard. While Lovey was never brave enough to squeeze through a dark, open chicken door, Bertie has no such qualms. I managed to snag him before he was totally inside. I left them to run around while I went in the person door and checked for eggs. There is no light in the coop, with the exception of my headlamp. I left the coop, shut the door and headed over to the duck house and closed them in. As I walked toward the deck, I heard some kerfuffle from the coop - nothing new there. I called Bertie. And called. And called. No Bertie. (Sound of the other shoe dropping) Coop!!! I beat a hasty path to the coop and there he was - having silently slipped in behind me - with chicken in mouth and one on the floor. OMG. I shooed him out and checked the hens - both were alive but damp and more than a bit traumatized. I put one hen in a nesting box so she could recover and the other hopped onto the roost, apparently no worse for wear. In the morning, both were fine. He is not a vicious dog, but he is very BUSY.
While there is definitely more work involved, now that Bertie is one of us (the hall rug must be scrubbed this weekend, shoes and boots are no longer handy by the door), he is definitely worth it. I am hoping to get a video (then garner enough technical skills to upload it to the blog - haha) of the two dogs playing. It's like watching a baby hippo on a mad trot, chasing a gazelle.
Potato Leek Soup is on this weekend's menu - leeks were sliced and frozen from my organic bonanza at the best farmers market EVER in South Portland, ME. I'm having a friend over for dinner on Sunday, so I am fishing out a small turkey breast, making mashed potatoes from my stores, and creamed corn from my frozen corn. I've got lots of bits and bobs in the freezer that I need to use up, so this week's meal planning should be fusion at its weirdest!