Life of Poo.

Sorry.  Couldn't help myself.  A more apt title would have been, "My Life of Poo".  Yes, this past weekend was all about poo - septic system, manure spraying, barn cleaning, hoop-house digging.  And let's not forget paper-changing.

Friday they came to check out my septic system - there had been 'whiffs' of a problem.  I am so glad I called the local, family-owned service, as they are just great.  One of the sons came out and, after much poking around, discovered that the septic tank is not square with the house, and that the hatch is a mere three feet from the steps to my deck!  I am also lucky that there was NOT a problem and all I had to do was get it pumped out.  Hallelujah!

While that was going on, the farmer who leases the field next to me started sending a steady stream of manure sprayer trucks to cover the cornfield.  Hey - why not?  While there's no denying that it's manure, it isn't that bad (IMHO) and fades away after a few days.  Last year, however, it seemed that they sprayed the bottom of the tank on that field and it was STRONG!  Like eye-watering, nose-running strong.  This time is wasn't as bad.

I managed to get the barn cleaned out, the rest of the fencing done, and had my little patient outside for a while.  This is the white Jersey Giant chick that suffered some sort of neck trauma (we think) - possibly was at the bottom of a chick pile.  While she has made some progress, I'm not sure she will be able to thrive.  She did seem to like being outside, although she peeps like mad as soon as I'm out of sight.

Did you know that Sunday was National Llama Bean Day?  No?  Where have you been?!?!?  Melanie and Marianne knew about it  -- and brought lunch!  We started digging out the old hoop house bed and, one large tub, two feed bags, and over a dozen 5 gallon pails later, we had hardly made a dent.  I am going to try to see if my farmer neighbor and a few strapping young fellows would be able to lift it and move it, so that digging would be less uncomfortable.  It is brown gold, I tell you.  And we didn't even tap the fresh supply of llama beans that Apria so thoughtfully leaves me on a daily basis.  I really enjoy working with the Ms - there is such a wealth of good, creative thinking there.  I toss up all my dilemmas and they find solutions.  Perfecto!

The Little Lucky Farm goat family is due back this weekend.  Just in time for their herdswoman who is missing them something fierce.  I had stopped up this morning on my way to work (prepared, this time, by bringing my work clothes separately...) and did a little kid snoogling.  There is lamb snorgling and kid snoogling, in case you didn't know.  I sat in the hay and Willo trotted over, climbed in my lap and went to sleep.  Apple tried climbing me and squeezing onto my lap, too.  Chickie just got jealous.  Sage let me scratch her back without bolting for the door - progress!  Trouble is, I didn't want to leave.  Will I be able to tear myself away when I have 24/7 access?  Give me strength....

It's not as though I'm naming a bridge...

I have been studiously avoiding naming the doelings.  Every time I started to think about names, some part of my brain (the loud part) rolled in - " LALALALALALA".  Honestly?  I HATE having to name things.  I am of the mind that the perfect name will appear to me in the middle of the night: the room will get cold, I will be surrounded by a light green mist with spooky, but benevolent, music in the background, a deep, booming voice will say, "Go ye and name yer doelings...".  It hasn't happened yet, and I'm feeling the pressure.

Do I name them both in the "A" group, defining their arrival as 'firsts'?
Do I name them after herbs?  (Been there; done that - Sage/Chicory)
Do I name them after trees? (See above - Linden/Hickory/Banyan)
Do I name them after deities? (Ditto - Juno/Freyda)
Do I name them after deli sides (Pickles - hehehe, Carolyn)
Do I go into seclusion for three days and come up with:  Daisy Matilda Freeborn Shepherd?
Do I scar them for life and name them: Piznut and Crumbsnatcher?

I decided to go all, "I am the breeder of goats, sit up and notice my farm-iness".

Runners up:

LLF's Beatrix Queen of Holland
LLF's Kumquat Kuteness to the Light

Actual:

LLF's Apple of my Eye (Apple) - dark ears

and

LLF's Will 'o the Wisp (Willo) - white ears

Of course, my balloon was quickly popped when a friend pointed out that Gweneth Paltrow and Will Smith beat me to the punch.  See what happens when you don't watch the Toobe?  Well, all I can say, G and W, is that your versions will have to stumble through life knowing they will never be as cute as mine!

Isn't it a relief that I never had to name actual children?

(and where are all these highly annoying links coming from?  Blogger?)

What did you say? I couldn't hear you...

... the silence is deafening. 

The Pearlies and I parted company on Tuesday.  As much as the noise made me grit my teeth (Kay's hubby said, on Sunday during fencing maneuvers, "what equipment is your neighbor running?"  To which I answered, "Those are the Guineas." - Need I say more?), the final straw came when they decided to gang up on Marie-Claire.  She is my rescued chicken, an older girl with a funny gait due to being raised and confined to a plastic tub in someones living room.  She has worked her way - painfully, at times - up from the very bottom of the pecking order to somewhere closer to the middle.  Somewhere where the rest of the girls ignore her and let her be-bop around unmolested.  Enter the ill-tempered Guineas.  Last week, I caught them cornering her and pecking her head bloody.  That explained why she was loathe to leave the nesting box and was getting pretty skinny.  I had to act as her body guard in the morning and evening, making sure she got food and water, and then delivering her to the safety of the nesting box.  Enough already, as they say on Longuyland. 

A very nice young woman who lives with her husband and daughter on 150 tick-infested acres an hour north of me, came down and we had a Guinea rodeo.  It was ... interesting.  I have the scars to prove it. 

The chickens, who have been clinging to the perimeter of the yard to avoid the dreaded Guineas, raced back and forth and did little feathered versions of the Happy Dance.

I hope the Pearlies enjoy their new home - lots and lots of wide open spaces.  I should have offered their new family my hearing protectors.

My new wallet. And a muse.

If you think I have a hard time deciding on names for my goats, you should have seen me deciding on a new wallet.  It was a painful process.  It was more that I know what I DON'T like than what I do like.

Finally, weeks later, I have a new wallet:

Isn't it nice?  A Friend/Fellow Blogger was exceptionally kind and decided to brighten my day/life with a gift certificate to Etsy!  How fortuitous, this being the year of "I will buy as much handmade as humanly possible..."  I poured over the lovely handmade wallets forEVER, until I saw this one.  It is perfect and I love it!  And it's cute and pretty and extremely well-made.

It's the Holly Wallet by Sarah Schofield (HandsFullDesigns).  You should go check out her great stuff.  I have my eye on a couple of her bags as well.  Perfect summer fare!

Now I will think of my friend every time I look at it.  Which is almost every 10 minutes - just to make sure it's still there!

*********

I do believe you reach an age - whether you're a man or a woman - where the term "flattering shorts", becomes an oxymoron. And I believe I've reached that point.

What was/is going on.

Another whirlwind weekend has zipped on by -- I do swear that Weekend Time is faster than Weekday Time.  I come home Friday, all TGIF - go to sleep, wake up and then lots of things happen, then it's Sunday night and what the heck?!?!

This weekend was all about fencing.  Saturday morning I did a quick trip up to visit the babes (still unnamed, but I am closing in on them...), then some fast errands, then -- my Check Engine light came on.  Again.  So there was an unexpected 'pause' of two hours, as I sat in the waiting room at Midas while they ran even more diagnostics.  And because I am still adjusting to the loss of my wallet and am a complete creature of habit, I was sitting there with my tiny purse with no reading glasses.  Which was fine, since I had nothing to read or knit.  I just twitched.  It turned out to be a cellanoid (sp?) and they cleaned it off, reset the computer and replaced a hanger on my exhaust system.  By the time I pulled in the driveway, I was already behind.  I did manage to pound in all the t-posts before dark, so it wasn't a total loss.  Here are some "fascinating" fence pix...

Every move was supervised.

Reinforced fence line between Sheep/Goat areas.

Sunday was sunny, cold and windy - perfect weather to work outside with big, heavy rolls of metal fencing.  I am dripping sarcasm here.  I got the fence line that divides sheep/goats reinforced, then started on the new fence that bisects the goat area.  Then I ran out of fencing and had to wait for Kay's hubby to show up.  Luckily, they had an extra roll of fencing that I was able to buy - and Nick helped me run the new line along the trees and we finished the bisecting fence.  Then I disassembled a gate to create two new ones, came in and collapsed.  There is still a little nit-picky stuff to do but it is pretty much done.

Bisecting fence with 'housing' area.

New fence line along tree line.

Nifty, thrifty PVC gate.

Good thing, because these two are growing like weeds!  When I asked A about Sage's progress, she said (diplomatically), "Well, we are making progress.  She's a challenge."  Her feeling is that Sage's jumpiness is fear-based, which is easier to overcome than just orneriness.  Let's hope.

Under Uncle Chickie's watchful eye.

"Cute?  You want cute?  Well here I am!"

The Mujere Mojo Lives On!!!

My cell phone rang at 11PM last night - luckily, I had decided to put it on the nightstand, right next to my ear.  Otherwise, I would have missed the crickets (my ringtone).  Sage had her kids!!  Two doelings!!!  The LLF Female Mojo Rules!!!  The midwife - extraordinary herdswoman that she is - had been checking on her every half hour and, of course, when her back was turned and it started to pour, Sage went into gear.  She said that she was inside, with the television on, rain hitting the roof and STILL heard the kids.  Apparently, they inherited their mother's vocal chords.

I present Sage and her Stinkin Cute Kids:

At first glance, they are identical, although on closer inspection, one has black ears and one has white ears.  They are beautiful, with great confirmation and ADORABLE.  Sage let me pick them up - although, after 10 minutes I think she thought I was not going to give them back.  She was very close to being right.  She even let me give her a good back scratch without bolting out the door.  Chickie, although dazed, is being the perfect Uncle.  Everyone is nursing well and Sage is a terrific first-time mother.  I am dazed myself.

Patterns - no directions needed.