Cabin Fever

The days start to blur together like my vision at the end of the day as I peer blearily at yet another page of some random novel as the light fades to gloom.

Those big January projects that have accumulated for years spend another winter neglected as I crouch in front of the ancient woodstove shovelling more damp wood and huffing another cigarette while trying not to ignite the latest paperback in the other hand.

The laptop has even taken up a semi permanent home a mere two feet away from the stove, waiting for pages to load on a backwoods dialup connection, kept company by a teetering stack of disintergrating cookbooks.

Butter for that days baked goods softening on the shelf behind the stove-bread, cornbread, peanut butter cookies, scones, oatmeal cookies with dates or raisins, sugar cookies. The creeping cold creating havoc with the metabolism, causing cravings for carbs, sugars and fat to remain unfullfilled no matter the volume.

Finally last week a few days cracked the freezing mark, and I emerged with the 100 foot cord and the power drill to spend several hours putting 12 taps into the nearest sugar maples.  The trees took advantage of the break in the weather, too, and every empty jug suddenly became filled with beautiful clear maple sap.  I started burying jugs of sap in the huge snow banks, no way could I keep up.  I spent two days and eight hours reducing four gallons of sap on the gas kitchen stove, the house smelling of sweet sugar.  We promptly devoured half the hot syrup on a double batch of homemade griddle cakes, mixed with jumbo fresh eggs from last spring's chics, now just starting to lay with efficiency.

All good things come to an end, another twist in the jet stream has plunged our lows around 0F and our highs won't top freezing for the foreseeable future.  The sap is frozen solid in the buried jugs, frozen in the collecting buckets, and frozen mid drip in the taps.

Even afterschool sports have come to an end for the Firebird, who participated in indoor track this winter, his first.  I think his teammates that had encouraged him to join were kicking themselves after he beat their times in high hurdles and their distances in long jump.  He qualified in all three of his events for regionals and placed well, but not enough to qualify for states. Still an amazing performance and quite an athlete.

So now he is riding the bus home in the aternoons. Not really home, since the bus drops him off a half mile down the road.  I decided that Peko and I could use the exercise to work off some of those accumulated cookies, and started hustling out the door to meet the Firebird at the end of the road.

The first day Peko and I were trucking along, well not really trucking.  Peko came to us housebroken but not exactly leash trained.  His idea of a walk has me at a half jog, until he finds somewhere interesting to sniff, and then we come to a screeching half while he manages to squeeze two or three drops of urine on whatever it was he finds worth smelling for three minutes. Then we're off again.

On this particular afternoon, we were well along the wild wood zone.  We have two neighbors between us and the end of the road- one practically next door and the other at the end of the road.  The rest of the stretch is home to the turkeys and rabbits and deer and moose and squirrels and the occasional bobcat or coyote or fox- if they have managed to escaped the locals that like to run them down with dogs.

We have very little traffic, and it is not usual to make the walk up and back without encountering any vehicles on the road.  Anyhow, I spotted a silver SUV coming towards us, and I thought it was the near neighbor, an nice older lady that I had been meaning to visit.  I peered nearsightedly at the windshield as the vehicle approached, and at the last second I realized that it was, in fact, not my neighbor, but some good-looking young man that appeared half my age. My eyes went back forward and the mismatched battered work glove on my left hand came up in the standard, "Hello stranger, I see you" greeting that I employ in such cases.

The SUV passed, and Peko and I kept going, me half jogging and stopping and proceeding until several 'have to drip pee on this spots' later, I thought I heard an aircraft overhead.  So while Peko was sniffing and trying to summon forth the obligatory drop of urine, I swiveled my head like a turkey in a rainstorm trying to locate the source of the sound.

Then I spied the silver SUV coming back towards us.  In the intervening span since it had initially passed I had realized my personal appearance.  I was wearing a pair of size 12 Kamik snow boots of the Firebird's that were so large I had to put on a pair of afghani slipper socks to keep my feet from sliding around in them.  I had on a pair of jeans I had been basically living in.  The aforementioned mismatched tattered leather work gloves.  Several rattie hoodies topped with an old navy blue goose down nylon snowcoat, which had suffered enormously from contact with bits of pasture fencing and was shedding feathers and down like a goose caught in a weedwhacker.  And my hair hadn't seen a comb and I think my head must have resembled the fur on an orange persian cat that got too friendly with the strand of christmas tree lights.

So I did what any self respecting woman would do in such circumstances, I stuffed the unruly mess of hair into one of the battered hoodies, wiped the drip forming on the end of my nose on the back of one of my gloves, turned an about face, gave Peko a yank. and kept going.

It seemed forever for the SUV to come up behind us, perhaps I was really building momentum in my horror of the situation.  I could suddenly hear the bass speakers thrumping along, and as the vehicle came abreast I hazarded a look out of the corner of my eye to see the passenger window half down and the driver leaning over.

Then I heard the music.  LEd Zeppelin, Whole Lotta Love, Robert Plant in the midst of belting out, "I just wanna make LOOOOOOVVVEEE to you!"

Well, the driver must have got a good look at my face, perhaps it was my smirk or maybe I had cookie crumbs stuck to the snot on the end of my nose, but he then accelerated to the end of the road and turned left.

I guess Cabin fever only goes so deep in February.

Happy Birthday

Funny, the Willow just looked over my shoulder and asked, "why are you on google docs?"

Because since the resumption of the school year, I have become aware of the fact that everything a child in the public school system does is part of the google enterprise, or the apple enterprise.
.docs on the Ipad.
and of course the privacy notice states that those companies can do whatever they want with the information.

Which is one of the reasons that I have become unreasonably quiet online.

But, give me enough dandelion wine and I can still recall a password and a place to run my mouth.

Dandelions picked at the height of spring, on hands and knees observed by a herd of thirty cashmere goats, their seconds.

For although the field at a distance was blaze of golden yellow, on closer inspection the blossoms were average size, the goats having taken the top choice blossoms as soon as they opened.

I think my shoulders got sunburned that day, as I crept along with the the dreaded plastic shopping bag, snap, snap, snap, the goats a few dozen yards away on the knoll chewing their own morning's accumulations of blossoms.

I may have stripped down to a bra, but can't recall as I was caught in the moment, snap, snap snap...

I hustled the blossoms home, already starting to wilt in the heat, and put them on the stove with fresh drawn spring water, orange and lemon zest and juice...blond raisins, heck, a little of this, a little of that, I tend to be a cook that flies by the seat of her pants or the cup of her bra as it were in the height of the spring solstice...

I converted gallon water jugs by melting a hole in the cap that fit the airlock...one of my knife steeles was the proper diameter after a few trial runs with various screwdrivers over the propane burner.



and they sat on the shelf for several weeks and then were racked, or siphoned off and re-jugged and topped off with more spring water...and eventually bottled in sanitized beer bottles for the winter solstice.

when they were passed out as gifts to a select few- although bottled a little late they were not quite ready at the solstice.

But now, a month later, it is summer and spring in a bottle, clear and sweet and intoxicating.

Polar vortex I moon you with my bottle of springtime,

last week we had a bit of a warming trend, a few days above freezing, and I took the opportunity to get 3-1.2 gallons of birthday beer on the brew,  3 pounds of amber malt, about a pound of corn sugar, a pound of dark crystal malt for the boil.,.1/2 ounce of goldings hops for the boil, the other half ounce for the ferment,

Huddled around the second floor stovepipe with a scabbed hot water jacket and some aluuminum flashing
(my place is cold in the winter for brewing an ale)

took off like a bast***** racked and bottled in six days and could have done it on day four..

and hoping that the prime completes in a week.

because it is called "birthday beer" and I plan on cracking it within a week.

because the dandelion wine is going fast...

:D

Putting stuff by

Well. Lots has been going on, more than usual, and I was lucky to remember my password since I seem to have misplaced my cheat sheetwhile  swapping rooms with the Willow.

Tonia, if you're still reading this, I haven't been able to post comments on your blog, but I love your posts!  Your last one on the cayenne tincture with apple cider vinegar was very interesting!

I just started playing with tinctures this year.

I had a huge patch of Motherwort that I got sick of last year and tried to eradicate.  Then I realized I could be making tinctures out of it which is good for hysterical complaints, stress, and toning feminine parts such as easing cramping.

I used 100 proof vodka-stuffed several jars full of Motherwort and topped off with the vodka.  I shook it whenever I rememebered but it has since been pushed back in the pantry and is ready to strain and bottle!

A friend picked up 2 dozen brown tincture bottles with droppers so I just have to get a plastic funnel and a stainless strainer to put it away.

I also put up Yarrow tincture which I have used already. The Willow came complaining of a spider bite on the top of her foot, and I dipped some Q tips in the tincture and applied to the bite. She howled and said it stung, but it took care of the itching and swelling.


Or, she didnt' dare complain again. ;)

I infused some mullein flowers in olive oil for earachesl

I harvested herbs like mad this year, and have put a lot away in zip lock bags instead of leaving it hanging from the rafters all winter,. I hope to transfer them to glass jars now they have cured.,  Coltsfoot, mullein, lemon balm, oregano, margoram, heal all, spearmint, catnip, yarrow....

The Firebird had the unwelcome task of pulling yarrow from the farm field, and I had him bring several giant bags full home, most of which I never attended to and ended up composting. But I have a large amount still hanging from the rafters; which I plan on making Yarrow Beer and saving the rest for tea.

I just unbottled all my blackberry juice, since it was too heavy on honey, and tossed in some champagne yeast, hoping to get some blackberry wine.

I simmered the few elderberries I had on the property to make a "rob" and look forward to sipping on that in a cup of hot water in the throes of winter.

I put up several jars of zucchini pickles and relish from the monster zucchini I keep forgetting to pick.

I decided not to waste our tomatoes this year, and tried to can 5 pints this afternoon.  One didn't seal, and one jar broke. Grrr. 69 cents a can at the store, they really don't want people fending for themselves because after all that work and the cost of the gas and the jars and the seedlings...that was about 10 dollars a pint.

A dozen pepper plants have so far yielded two ripe chili peppers which went into the zucchini relish.

I have a ton of greens, turnip, collards, mustard, and I am going to try and make kimchi. Fermented greens.  I am just waiting for the weather to cool down a little more.  I won't be canning that, since the heat destroys the good bacteria.  I don't want to dig a hole and bury it, as is traditional, since I don't think I will feel like digging it up again.  So I still have to figure out what to do with it if I make it.

Carrots failed, spinach failed, beets failed,cukes failed, morning glories failed.  The purple beans did well, but I stopped harvesting them because I want to save the seed for next year.  The two packets of green bean seed yielded two bean plants, one of which produced four beans the other two beans.  I am going to save the seed for next year.  They are in another part of the property from the purple so I hope to have two varieties for next year.

I had lots of extra 8 ounce jelly jars, so I bought 6 pounds of butter and canned that. I found a recipe online.  6 pounds made 15 8 ounce jars.  You sterilize your jars and lids as usual, bring the butter up to a boil and simmer 5 minutes, jar it, and when they ping shake every few minutes until cool, then stick in the fridge and shake every 5 minutes until hard and it will keep on the shelf a long time. Just make sure to wait until they ping, which miss impatient here did not do.

I pushed the lids down, thought that was good, and shook to have them squirt hot melted butter all over me.  They ended up good anyhow, all sealed ok, but a couple are not as full as when I started. 

Mugli the kitten was quite happy to lick the pan and clean up the overflow.

Blackberries

My earliest memories of Blackberries date back to the winter I was 11 years old.

We didn't get a lot of snow where I grew up, so sledding opportunities were rare and relished.

One early dusting of snow some kids at my elementary school took advantage of some scrap cardboard and a small hill on the school grounds to make a muddy mess of themselves.

The school grounds bordered on some private woodland which in turn bordered on a very large parkland.

Just outside the chain link fence bordering the baseball diamond the ground slopped rather sharply into the borders of the woods and the base of a tiny stream.

That particular winter, I redevouzed with some classmates from the neighborhood with our metal runner sleds.

The location wasn't ideal- some pricker bushes at the bottom had be be avoided or risk a slash across the face.

We watched enviously as a pair of older sledders recovered an old v-shaped car hood from the woods, and flew down the hill several times before abandoning the hood at the bottom of the hill.

More than 5 adolescent girls could resist, good thing, since it took all of us slipping and sliding and tugging to get the thing to the top of the hill.

We all piled in, myself dead center up front in the V, on girl in the back wisely bailed off before we were halfway down...

Because, it order to avoid the pricker bushes, we ended up heading for the stream, and we shot out over the top of it to land in a blowdown across it....a very sudden stop which scar I still bear today across the bridge of my nose which hit the edge of the hood on impact.

Fast forward six months, same location, midsummer, just myself and the family dog, I stumbled across a mass of juicy purple berries.

Having been warned by my mother to have anything ID'd by her before tasting (although learning that nightshade and daffodil were poisonous didn't stop me from tasting them-and it was easy to see why they were poisonous because they tasted sooo nasty!)

"Blackberries," said my mother.

"Are there many more there?"

"Oh yes, lots," I replied.

She put up almost 40 jars of jelly out of what we picked that year.

I was a very fussy eater, but I knew I loved blackberry jelly.

A couple of years ago I learned of a good place to get blackberries.

Folks don't go wild harvesting blackberries too often.  That year I was 11, I was living in the suburbs of a major metropolitan area, and no one else gave a hoot about those blackberries we found. (you'll see why in a minute)

A friend clued me on this patch.  A rock quarry. 

The quarry has been very quiet this summer, and once I saw a patch of berries ripening on my road I couldn't resist going on a berry hunt.

Willow and I went about high noon for an hour and a half. and picked two gallon jugs nearly full.

I processed one batch of of jelly that night.

The next afternoon I went alone.  I saw a pretty good patch and all I had to do was step in on a rock, which was a bit slanted.

Well, I slid off the rock down into I don't know what-I am in a quarry so there are some nice scoops of earth missing..

and I was saved by the blackberries! three or four good sized canes grabbed my arms and legs and just sort of hung me up there...

I disentangled myself and continued picking...realized the poison ivy liked the blackberry patches on that side.

Circled back up to the high ground and down the other  picking one side and saving the other side for the return trip.

This is what I looked like when I got home:

and this is what I ended up with...

6 jars of jammy; 1 liter plus of syrup; 6 bottles plus 2 quarts of juice extracted from the seeds and pulp...

and nearly flayed alive, looking like I was attacked by a trio of bobcats.

But., worth it, here's some of the benefits of blackberries:



"Blackberries Nutrition Facts"


When the plant antioxidant story became public a few years ago, one of the first fruits to rise to the top of the ORAC charts was the blackberry (Rubus ursinus).

A member of the rose family (Rosacea) and Rubus species of brambleberries (also called "caneberries"), the blackberry has become one of Oregon's most important fruit exports. Blackberries have an exotic nature to them perpetuated by the culinary fame of the famous Marionberry, a species of blackberry first bred from two cultivars of the Evergreen blackberry in Oregon's Willamette River Valley, Marion County. Marionberries have exceptional shape, aroma and taste that make them a worldwide favorite of gourmet chefs and specialty food manufacturers, paving the way for common use of brambleberries in today's kitchens.

Drooping with drupelets of goodness

As with other Rubus species, blackberries have a unique structure that actually contributes to their nutritional value — it is an "aggregate fruit" composed of many individual drupelets, each like a small berry with one seed, surrounding a firm core called the receptacle. These individual drupelets contribute extra skin, seeds and pectin with dietary fiber value to the nutritional content of blackberries, making it among the highest fiber content plants known.

Where do blackberries grow and what characteristics do the berries have?

Blackberries grow wild and are cultivated in temperate zones from the mid-south US to near-Arctic latitudes of northern Canada and are cultivated mainly in northern US states, particularly Oregon and Washington State, and southern British Columbia. Blackberries are commercially grown on every temperate continent, including Africa and Asia.

Marionberries are the most widely cultivated blackberry specie in the world, especially favored as a popular fruit crop in many countries of Europe. Russia, Germany and Poland are major producers of blackberries. The state of Oregon harvests some 33 million pounds of blackberries each year, whereas the worldwide production is close to 1 billion pounds.

A tasty and long defensive history

The genus Rubus contains over 740 species as perennial, deciduous, woody shrubs with long vines ("brambles" up to 20 ft long) covered by firm thorns that made blackberry brambles useful as a defensive barrier along English land borders during the 16th century.

Rubus also includes roses and diverse other major fruits, including strawberries, apples, pears and peaches. While it may be difficult to see common characteristics among such diverse fruits and the blackberry, there is one important botanical similarity: the flower. All these Rubus plants typically have 5-7 white/pink petals around a central cluster of yellow stamens.

What is a "bramble" and is this the same as a "cane"?

A bramble is any plant belonging to the genus Rubus, of which the most commonly known — and enjoyed — are the red or black raspberry and blackberry, each having numerous hybrids. There are also some cross-cultivars between the red raspberry and blackberry, such as the boysenberry and loganberry.

Saying "bramble" is just a simple way to say "raspberries, blackberries, and related berry plants with thorny vines". Mainly in Oregon, these fruits are also called "caneberries" because they grow on woody bramble stems called canes.


What is it about blackberries that consumers most like?
Known as the "cabernet" of berries for their earthy, wine-like taste, blackberries are an easy and healthy addition to anyone's diet. This fruit has multiple macronutrients — high dietary fiber (up to 20% by weight), carbohydrates, heart-healthy polyunsaturated fats (especially in its numerous chewable seeds), low overall fat content (<1 a="" and="" antioxidants="" are="" blackberries="" br="" calcium.="" combined="" good="" high="" levels="" micronutrient="" minerals.="" of="" particularly="" potassium="" protein="" source="" vitamin="" vitamins="" with="">
Rich in antioxidant vitamins A and C

Possibly the most promising benefit from consuming blackberries is their substantial quantity of phenolic acids which are antioxidant compounds known as potent anti-carcinogenic agents, as well as having numerous other potential health benefits.

Phenolics in blackberries include anthocyanins, ellagic acid, rutin, gallic acid, hydrocaffeic acid, p-coumaric acid and cinnamic acid, plus excellent contents of the antioxidant vitamins A and C.

Nutritious blackberries are a great addition to recipes or as a healthy fresh snack by the handful. Blackberries don't have to be fresh to be nutritious, as quick-frozen and canned berries retain most of the fresh fruit qualities.

Flash freezing, which is used to make IQF (immediately quick frozen) blackberries, helps trap nutrients and plant chemicals soon after harvest and provides for a healthier fruit. Increasingly seen in whole foods stores across the US and Canada, blackberries (especially Marionberries) can be purchased frozen in one pound bags year round.

What is the antioxidant strength of blackberries and what chemicals account for it?

Due to their rich contents of the phenolics mentioned above, blackberries have an ORAC value (oxygen radical absorbance capacity) of about 5350 per 100 grams, making them near the top of ORAC fruits. Cranberries and wild blueberries have around 9350 ORAC units, black raspberries about 12,000 and apples average 3100.

History of uses and folklore

Because blackberries have grown in Europe for thousands of years and were in use by native Americans when the US and Canadian West was opened, historical practices and folklore have survived on both sides of the Atlantic.

European blackberry juice was used to treat infections of the mouth and eyes until the 16th century. In the Pacific Northwest, the powdered bark of blackberry brambles was used for toothache relief. A tea made from blackberry leaves is said to aid digestion or arrest vomiting according to First Nations tribes in Washington State and British Columbia. Blackberry root concoctions have been used to remedy dysentery.

Blackberries contain relatively high quantities of ellagic acid, tannins and cyanidin glycosides. These are antioxidant phenolics that have a wide range of potential health benefits under current research.

What does medical research say about the health properties of blackberries?

The following anti-disease properties have been isolated in experimental models during studies specifically on blackberries. With their close relatives — red or black raspberry and boysenberry — medical research among all the Rubus species likely applies to one another. Accordingly, see this section in other essays on the red raspberry and black raspberry.

Although there are no clinical studies to date proving these effects below in humans, medical research shows likely benefit of regularly consuming blackberries against:

pleurisy and lung inflammation

anti-thrombosis (inhibition of blood clotting)

several types of cancer

endotoxin shock

cardiovascular diseases

diabetes

age-related cognitive decline.
About The Author:
Dr. Paul Gross is a scientist and expert on cardiovascular and brain physiology. A published researcher, Gross recently completed a book on the Chinese wolfberry and has begun another on antioxidant berries. Gross is founder of Berry Health Inc, a developer of nutritional, berry-based supplements. For more information, visit http://www.berrywiseonline.com.

I could post

I haven't been logged in to blogger in forever.  I thought I should post since I am here. :P

What should I post about?  The beautiful flatbread my daughter mixed and kneaded and rolled out-the falafel I made and served with the flatbread? The lettuce the Firebird picked out of the garden? The delicious spicy pepper relish that made up for the blandness of my falafel?

That I accidentally killed one of my six guinea hens/cocks moving them to a bigger pen, and have no idea what happened except maybe it had a heart attack?

The great fishing expedition the Willow had a couple nights ago or all the others she got skunked on?

Wondering why the three goats I put on the lawn in a light drizzle lost all their guard hair with in a week?

The parade of deformed vegetables I have come across in the food chain this summer?

Why the weathermen forecast heavy rain and thunderstorms for the day and evening and I have yet to see a raindrop or hear a grumble?

Why the clouds look so high and strange, information is scant on Ison and Fukushima, 100 meteors an hour from the Perseids worked out to be two in a half hour (for me)...

Actually, that was pretty cool, laying a thick fleece on the lawn last night, the grass (meadow) being so high I had to pat the top to find my coffee cup in the dark, but the stars were brilliant, the milky way trailing...the amount of stars visible with my "nocs was breathtaking...

The mosquitoes weren't even biting.

I saw more satellites than meteors.  I saw one satellite that was letting off little flashes and I wondered if it might have been the space station emptying the garbage chute.

Happy Birthday Mr.Boss and Willow's schoolfriend, Happy Full Moon too.

Well, as usual I have had a busy week, helping out in a small commercial kitchen making delectable Maine made products.

I spent one day having some cars repairs; the aging Subbie having been making protesting noises out the front end, a CV shaft needed replacing and I was praying it wasn't also the Ujoint going.

Thank goodness it was just the rattling heat shield, which my mechanic removed by cutting my electric fence wiring job I kept improvising.

The CV joint was another adventure-the passenger side is apparently impossible to get to and they threw in their share of improvising, causing me several moments of panic before I decided to retreat into the pile of yesterday's news I had picked up for the brooding guinea keets.

***

Today I had agreed to work at the goat farm for girls enjoying the holiday weekend.  Piece of cake, right?

Well, B&B guests left both Mr. and Mrs Boss busy, so I was left with Mr. Boss' share of the chores, which include feeding the wethers.

Wethers are neutered bucks, and it is my opinion they never stop growing.  Those boys are huge.  Several of them could easily be ridden to the capital and back, although by the time they reach that size they are rather elderly, they don't lack in spirit when the grain hits the trough.

Mr. Boss, being a tough man, even though into his 70's, chooses to feed the wethers en masse, putting down two window box style feeders on the fence. Inside the wether pen, meaning one has to go into the pen to dump the grain.

This has never really been an issue for me, the boys are pushy as is the wont of goats in sight of anything yummy, but despite being eligble for AARP myself, I have managed fine in the past.

Mr Boss over the years has had his share of tumbles, and Mrs. Boss put me in my place when I once defended a repair I made to a hole when I explained I was worried for Mr. Boss.

"He can take care of himself," she had replied.

This past winter Mr. Boss had a huge gash in his forehead which the Firebird had noticed-when I was in the barn he kept it well covered with several caps until he bent down to pick up the dog dish, the hat slipped over his eyes, and he pushed it back over the gash and I saw it.

He looked at me and I said nothing, (for a change, I am known all around for my big mouth as my reader can readily understand)

Shortly after that, I had asked him, because the chore was falling to me, how he fed the wethers, and he described how much grain, where to hang the feeders, and then said, and "then you just try and stay on your feet!"

So I presumed the gash was a result of the boys and the ice and so on, in my own head.

At any rate, now you have the background information, today I had to feed the wethers.

I suppose I made them wait a bit longer than they are accustomed-I had asked Mrs. Boss if I should feed them right away or clean first, and she had said to clean first.

Well, being dandelion season, also known as "pis en lit" or pee the bed, the barn was soaked, and I spent some time before I got around to feeding the boys.

I went through my usual routine, and when I dumped the grain into the feeders there was a crush of 6 big- well over 200 pound-boys with horns... with me in the middle.

One of the places a feeder is hung is a two foot high bit of hog panel. One or more of them gave me a big shove from behind, and I went head first over the hog panel and saved my head by catching my palms on the cement on the other side.

Then I was in the inglorious position of feet on one side, hands down on the other, feeder under my stomach, and ass up in the air, with 6 hungry horned wethers trying to get the grain.

I couldn't go back with them behind, so I decided to pull my legs over the panels.

The first leg immediately became entwined in horns.

It felt like two separate goats' horns, and they were fighting over the grain under my stomach and here I was on my palms over the fence, ass up in the air, leg stuck between horns.

I thought of the guests having breakfast in the gazebo, "oh, breakfast AND a SHOW!"

Finally my leg was released and I finished crawling over the fence, picked up the grain can, and hobbled out of the pen without looking back, trying to laugh and not limp and muster as much little dignity I had left.

Mr. Boss seemed quite cheery when he poked his head out later...a nice little birthday present, Karma for calling your 70+ year old Boss unsteady on his feet.  Took awhile, but I think we are even now.

I told Mrs. boss what had occurred later, and she said, "no one said anything!" but then added, "It was quite the mob scene!"

I noticed the guests taking photos and video with some high-end equipment as they were leaving later, so I may "end up" on You-Tube in the future.  Literally.


****

Once all the farm chores were finally finished, I had to hurry home to take the Willow to a birthday party, which had come with the instructions, "bring bathing suit and boots."

The Willow is not a strong swimmer despite my efforts, nor had she had much riding experience other than one trip on the farm mare when the grandchildren visited,

"hold the reins like a hamburger," I told her-as I  had been instructed.

So I was a bit apprehensive.  I have found that a lot of parents were not subjected to the same safety standards to which I was growing up.

We have had rain all week, and rain today, so I called before the party for directions and to find out if bathing suit and boots were still necessary.

I introduced myself over the phone and asked to whom I was speaking and managed to find out it was indeed the girl's mother, whose name I was never  able to obtain.

I got directions, was left feeling a bit out of sorts, but attributed it to the fact there had also been a slumber party the night before and assumed the mother was short on sleep.

I thought I was lost, but we did arrive and I went in and introduced myself to the group of adults, never receiving a name in return, but being assured that was the party location and the girls were in another part of the house, I left promising to return at the time directed on the invitation.

At the appointed time I arrived and picked up the Willow, and she was no sooner in the car than she had her own tale of woe, involving another party-goer.

Several of the girls had gone to the barn to see the horses, and the Willow, being an experienced farm girl,had put on her boots.

Another girl, who had spent the night, had soaked her boots the night before, and today went to the barn in flip-flops.

The girls went into the stall.  The nervous mare stepped on the foot of the girl in flip-flops and tore the toenail right off her toe.

The birthday girl's mother did not, nor any of the adults, go to the barn with the girls, and one of the other girls carried the injured girl back to the house.

The other girls tried to call the injured girl's mother on the phone, and after several attempts, finally reached her and she said she would be there AFTER she went to the store.

The injured girl was still there when I left with the Willow.

Then I learned that Willow had, at some point, been on the back of BOTH the mare AND the stallion-with no saddle or halter, while they were in the barn.  No hard hat.

I was thankful I had told her that if she did get on a horse, to take a handful of mane and hang on, that it wouldn't hurt the horse, and if she fell off her butt or feet would land first, and no matter what, not to save herself with her hands (as I had done earlier in the wether pen).  I had a friend break an arm falling off my mare because she put her arm out.

So, call me an old stick in the mud, but I was taught, by professionals:

1.  ALWAYS wear a heeled shoe or boot in the saddle.

2. NEVER get on a horse without a hard hat or helmet.

3. NEVER get on horseback in a barn.

4. NEVER get near a horse with open toed shoes or barefoot.

5. If you have to walk behind a horse, speak and stay as close to their behind as possible, because if they try and kick you they can only bump you with their hocks.  You don't want to be three feet or more away because that is the impact zone.

6. Don't feed a treat to young ones from your hand, they will become nippers.  Put it in a bucket and let them eat from that.  If you do hand treat, keep your hands FLAT and fingers out of the way.  Fingers look like carrots!

These are safety rules for a REASON. Right now there is a young girl that will have a permanently disfigured toe because those rules were not followed.  And it is only luck that is the only girl to limp away with an injury.

***

Happy Full Moon

Blessed

What else can I say?  Two artists and an brainy athlete, although the artists will argue they are also athletes. they are beautiful and I am blessed,.  Gracias.