One Part Inspiration...

Meet Tiller.  He is my husband's answer to the fact that our venture in borrowing Grampa's rototiller didn't work, and the weeds are winning in the new area we have designated for the garden.  Tiller's job is to eat the weeds, fertilize the area and get the clay-laden soil ready for us to till next year. Henrik is very curious about this new pet.  He has spent endless hours trying to nip Tiller, lick Tiller, bark at him and race him up and down the fence line.  A few times he has even figured out how to get into Tiller's space and terrorize him.  The funny thing, is, Tiller is a very social animal.  I half believe that he thinks he is another dog.  He willingly races Henrik as far as he can around the perimeter of the fence, and then squeals and snorts and calls for Henrik when he disappears out of sight. They have conversations together.  Henrik is louder than Tiller.  He has a very LOUD bark.  And he gets overly excited about T...

It was such a busy day!  I had to help load the sheep into the trailer, so my people could take them to market. At least, that's what they said they were going to do.  I kept busy running through the tall grass, and figuring out how to crawl through the small spaces in the gates and the fence.  PHEW! That was harder than I thought.  After the sheep were loaded into the trailer, I lost interest and ran through more tall grass and dug for moles. They were gone for a very long time.  When they came back I welcomed them home with sloppy kisses.  Soon they left again.  They talked about going to look at weed whackers - whatever those are, and a tractor.  While they were gone, I looked after the place.  I found a tree fungus and chewed it off the tree and carried it to the front yard so my people would see it when they got back.....  What a treasure! Then it got hot, so I crawled under the front porch and lay in the cool soil until ...

And now, boys an girls, we present life lessons in a minute and a half.   There are times in life when things are not working. At those times, it might be worth turning things over, to see if there is a reason for it.  You might need to replace a non-working-busted-up part with a new one.  You will have more success with the job, and less frustration with the process.

Thursday: I am watching four errant lambs munch their way through to the front of the fence.  They are in the wrong field.  I am all alone, and feel some what helpless to know what to do, because they can run so much faster than I. The electric fence is working, but they got out a few days ago when it wasn't on, and have just reappeared.  Who knows how many neighbours they have visited in between?  I have very mixed feelings about being a sheep farmer.  My boots have well-worn marks from putting them on to go chase the silly things from all the places they have broken through.  Just because sheep are a fairly quiet animal, doesn't mean that they don't know how to break every rule and do all the things they know they shouldn't.  Following Saturday:   I am feeling a bit better now, because my husband and son worked on the fence.  The electric fence now has a short in it,  and has been trampled, but the back corner is more secure....

One of the things the shearer required was ten large garbage bags in which to put the wool. I am not a spinner. So I have no need of it. I decided to advertise it on Craigslist. It has been entertaining. I put it on the "Free" list. Apparently, a lot of people read the Free list. It was great fun reading all the responses: [ My thoughts in italics] Hi there, Just checking to see if you still have the wool? We have a weaving group that would be interested in having it cleaned and processing for traditional weaving . Hi.. do you still have the wool from your sheep to give away? do you know what breed your sheep are? Yep. They are (were) woolly sheep. I am with the Local Spinners and weavers and would be interested.Please call me back. - OK, but wouldn't it be easier if you left a phone number? i would love to take that wool off your hands! when and where ? I don't have wool on my hands...I think... will call in the morning. Al can pick it up just after 4. he works ...

My husband and I have been catching up with "Letters from Wingfield Farms" on T.V. It is a one-man show. Ron Beattie does all the characters. And yet there is no mistaking which one has taken the stage. We enjoy watching because it is almost as if there is a video camera hidden on our farm and they are using us as material. The show is about a stockbroker named Walt Wingfield who scales back his job in the big city to do some part-time farming on a hundred acres in mythical Persephone Township, an hour north of Toronto. Walt gets to know his neighbours - all of whom have lived in the county for most of their lives. They endear themselves to Walt with their quirky ways and perspectives on life. These are the kind of people who have your back, in spite of their sometimes unconventional ideas on how to go about it. It is great entertainment, and making us want to be the kind of neighbours Walt enjoys. In many ways, it feels like we have landed in such a neighbourhood. Last year ...

[With apologies to Sesame Street] Greetings. I am zee count. Do you know why they call me zee count? Because I lo ve to count things. Hah! Hah! Hah! Today, I am going to count sheep. Hah! Hah! Hah! One! Count them. One woolly sheep. Two! That's two woolly sheep. Three! Three, fat, woolly,pregnant sheep! Four! Four, fat,woolly, very pregnant sheep. Seven! Seven cute little lambs, looking for their mamas. Hah! Hah! Hah! I lo ve to count sheep. ZZZZZZZZZ ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZz

The maternity ward is busy at The Pokeaway. I know, I know - seen one, seen 'em all, but honestly, you could just eat them up. O.k. not really - not yet. It is definitely a great way to meet your neighbours. One Sunday afternoon, my daughter and I stopped in to look at the building progress there. We poked our head in at the sheep, and found a mama in distress. She looked like I felt when I was in labour. I know nothing about being a mid wife. So I went and met all the neighbours. First, I stopped in at the neighbours closest to us. He has been very kind to us and said to my husband that if we needed him to feed the sheep if we couldn't get there, we should just let him know. So I didn't feel bad at all about seeking his advice when we drove up the driveway and saw a lot of cars there. Obviously there was a party going on, but all I wanted to ask was if he thought I should be doing something more about the mama than stand by. By ringing the doorbell, we met all h...

Well, the family photo session has come and gone. Everyone got ready themselves ready for the pictures. I didn't have to lay out their clothes, check their shoes or smooth down their hair. All I had to do was make sure that I didn't have spinach in my own teeth. The photographer arrived with a friend who was going to assist her in finding the best shots. And for the next two hours or so, we tromped through the farm and picked out favorite places on the property to showcase our wonderfula family. They made us shine in the spotlight of their cameras. And to boot, they were very good natured and put up with all our idiosyncracies. With just a few instructions, we found our poses and tried to look our very best. [I had checked with the photographer if she might be able to PhotoShop me into looking like Cindy Crawford, but she wasn't sure that would work] Even the dog and the cat and the kittens got involved. Kola followed us out to the field where we sat on the big green marshm...

These are my new barn boots. Whenever I wear them memories of my days as a mom of young children crowd into my mind. As long as we've lived here, wearing the boots has been a symbol of being out one the farm. The following is one of my stories.... I remember the day my #2 son got lost. He was tall enough to reach the door handle. But he was too young to remember that he needed to call back to mom when she called him. Out he went. On a big-kid adventure. I had no idea that he was gone. Except that after awhile, I heard the silence. When I realized that he wasn't in the house, I began looking for him. I went upstairs and downstairs. I looked in the garage and on the driveway. I called and called to him. No answer. I put my boots on and started out into the field. There's a creek at the bottom of the hill. I worried that he'd gone down there and fallen in the creek. More calling. More silence He wasn't at the creek. We have a lot of acreage. I began to panic ...

At the beginning of the fall, I promised to do a photo essay on the tree in the field. Hands up who remembers that? O.k. never mind. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Living on the farm has its advantages. There's lots of room. There's scenery. And there's animals. A dog, chickens, cats, rabbits and COWS. This morning the cows were bawling. It is often that way on the one morning that you can sleep in a bit. They begin bawling and wake you up. Such was the case this morning. I was muttering away to myself in my half sleep about the fact that I wished they'd be quiet. I half-heartedly looked for the extra pillow to put over my head to cut out the noise. The thing that really bothered me was that they sounded like they were right underneath our window. Unfortunately, there's no mute button for cows. Once they start, they just keep singing. Finally, my husband got up to look out the window to see what was going on. There was a reason why they sounded like they were underneath the window. They were. And probably had been for a while because there were cows a plenty in every corner of the yard where they shouldn't be. ...

Although I love him dearly, my father-in-law is a scary man. I don't mean scary in a "hide-behind-this -wall-and-jump-out-at-you-when- you- come- around-the-corner" type of scary. No, it is more that he likes to keep us all in suspense about whether or not he will make it out of the scrapes he find himself in. One of his famous sayings is to repeat "WHOA" five times. It sounds something like this : " WHhoa,wHOa,whOA,wHoA,WhOa ". This usually comes out of his mouth about the time he looks to see what disaster he's just escaped. I am composing a book in my mind about it. One day I may publish the stories of how many times we've thought he was a goner. Or that he should have been a goner based on what he did. The other night was one of those. To protect the innocent, I won't go into much detail. But I will say this: What he did gave me a quotable quote. " You can't drive forwards when you are looking backwards " . Had ...

"Grampa???!!!". That's all I heard before the hay bales fell over and my daughter disappeared. She had been sitting on the top of the "Tower of Babel" of hay that we'd stacked up on the trailer. It was the last of the 120 or so bales in that field. Much to my chagrin, she refused to hop down (I think she was a couple stories high) once they were piled up. Grampa went behind the wheel of the truck and put it in gear. I couldn't watch. I had just said to my youngest "Let's pray" and then, it all went down "boom". All though, hay bales don't really boom. They just tumble silently over one another. She emerged with a sore wrist. Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition. This, folks, is what makes farm life. Life's ups and downs. (no pun intended) As I was wandering about the field gathering the bales into piles, I was thinking of how being out there with the birds singing and mosquitoes biting and the breeze blowing make this ...

One of the additions to our pet collection was a pair of kittens. I have already blogged about how I was hoodwinked into getting them in the first place. So I won't repeat myself - that would be redundant. However, I do want to tell you a little story about what has happened since. Actually, the story is split into two bits. The first one is very short. One of the kittens was run over as it made a mad dash across the road to get to the other side. This is proof that before you start a dash, you should be sure you are not going to change your mind. As I might have mentioned, cats are the expendable crewmen of the farm. They come, they go, and their memory fades. Sad but true. Don't report me to the SPCA. The second bit of the story is a little longer. It is about the other kitten of the pair. As you may or may not know, we have come to have the reputation of naming our animals after foods. We have Burger (cat), Kola (dog), we had Sundae (cat), we've had Broccoli (cat) and so...

"Mom, can I have a kitten" she said. "Yes" I said. I admit, it was a moment of weakness. We don't need any more cats. We have two. We used to have four. At one point there were five. Cats, as you may know, are the expendable crewmen on a farm. Don't bother to get the cat neutered. As soon as you do, it goes out in the road and gets run over. And as my husband would say - "that's a mighty expensive pond-liner you got there ma'am." But, the time is drawing near, when I won't be hearing the desperate plea from my brown-eyed girl that we need kittens. So I gave in. We have picked up kittens in the most bizarre ways. Cats who have been abandoned by their mothers. Cats who were on their way to cat heaven if we didn't adopt them. Cats who were advertised by signs on the side of the road in a shady neighbourhood. This probably explains the bizarre cats we have had. One, climbed up a tree and stayed there for 12 days meowing for us to come...

Last night, after I blogged about how nice it was to crawl under warm blankets, I had another sleepless night. Not because I was in Seattle either. I couldn't settle down and fall asleep. So I solved the problem by going and crawling into the bed in the basement. I fell right to sleep - only to be woken up about 20 minutes later by a banging sound (hollow...sounded like something in the flue). That freaked me out, so I went back upstairs and crawled into bed there. Fell asleep again...only to wake up 20 minutes later by the wind blowing my son's B/R door open and then shut. So I got up and propped it open and crawled back into bed. Only to wake up 5 minutes later by my son wrapped in his sheet saying that there was a bat in his room. So there we were in the middle of the night trying to figure out how to trap the bat in the room. A sawed off hockey stick and a thick sock blocked the way. My son went and slept downstairs. I still couldn't sleep, so I read. Then I got up an...