Monday, June 30, 2014

Picture Perfect Plants

   
     Let the record reflect...
     Seldom does the produce you purchase at the grocery look as perfect when coming straight off the vine...There are things used to up its color, keep it from wilting...keep it perky ~
     It was one of the bigger gardening lessons I learned (though I must say, it comes with a big reward as the flavor far outweighs the look of things) as plants from your real garden most often (like the rest of us who aren't airbrushed in real life) have flaws born out of having survived life and elements...
     One learns this especially much when photographing straight from your garden or your oven for a cookbook's page. You have ways of cutting around, turning it over...i.e. "circumventing" the more natural blemishes of what happens to a plant between planting and plucking. At the end of the day, there will be flaws, thanks to dirt, bugs, birds, nature..."life" ~
     But I have to say, for once in my life,  I walked out into my garden and pluck the most picture perfect, absolutely gorgeous and (dare I say) flawless veggie I'd ever seen... A plant whose seeds were given to me as a gift (something I'm learning to cherish more by the minute, especially from folks who've been doing this for longer than I've been alive)...and a plant I barely know how to prepare short of steaming it, olive-oiling-it and (as every Southern girl is taught to do early on) "casseroling" it (Ok. I can't believe my computer didn't spell check away my attempt at making a verb out of casserole, but I guess I've done this long enough my own spell check has learned not to fight me anymore.)
     Ladies and gents, I give to you, the Spaghetti Squash...Otherwise known as Calabash ~ A first for me in my little garden, but a plant I dare say I'll be sharing for the rest of the season (as I tend to over plant, and under calculate just how many little squashes one plant can yield... (So far, it would appear, "quite a lot"~)
     A keeper for the next cookbook for sure~ For now, I'm off to see if it really comes out resembling spaghetti after I cook it~ (Gonna nuke one; boil one; bake one...heck, who knows...Will report back~)
     All I can say is, if it's as tasty on the inside as it's looking on the outside, well, I could possibly learn to become a vegetarian after all... (But don't commit me quite yet.)
   

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Let the Solar (Panel) Games Begin

     Ok. This one's already uncovering more than I bargained for...

     Solar panels on barns?  (On grid or Off?)

     Solar paneled dog houses? (Don't get me started.)

     Solar panels as replacement roofing for tin roof? (Almost unheard of.)

     Just when I thought I'd removed myself from politics...

     oy vey~

     
     (Good luck trying to simplify this one...)

     More to follow~ 


   
     

Saturday, June 28, 2014

On the One Hand...

I know...I know...

I keep writing about the dog...

   
     On the other hand....

     When you see a creature this beautiful (and this size), who has lived through this much pain...

     Who not only allowed you access to his raw and open-wounded, vulnerable self ...

     But then reaches out with doggie paws to thank you for it...

          Well, to me it speaks to a level of trust that I'm not sure we as humans can even relate to...

     So here's to you TJ~

     Thanks for believing...
                             and trusting...
                                    and reminding me of life lessons at every turn.

     And thanks to so many of you out there who took the time to send loving thoughts both to me and  a pup you've never even met (and most of all prayers to God above)...

     I'm happy to report...

     The healing has begun!

     For awhile there it was a toss up~

     Turns out: Tails~ He wins!

     Teej and I are both grateful~

Friday, June 27, 2014

When Boo Purrs

     ... I swear the whole house purrs.

     Yes, it could be the whole tin roof thing...
     (All does sound louder on rainy days.)

     Yes, I used to think it happened only when he curled up near ...

     But that's not it.

     To be fair...

     When Boo purrs....

     The whole house (literally) purrs...

     (As I type....I am hearing him a whole floor away.)

     Such is the power of my mystical kitten, ka'BOOdles ~

     Ah, the muses....
   
     Such forms they do take.

Thursday, June 26, 2014

On Life and Change and Saying Goodbye

     Several blogs have I devoted to neighbors, for when it comes to farming...heck, when it comes to life, it takes a village...
     I have been blessed beyond measure out here in the country with some of the finest folks to walk the planet, not the least of which has been my next door neighbor, Trish.
     It could've easily not been so, after all, my first contractor (read: EX contractor) tapped her water line and took electricity from her pole without asking. Later I had an electrician accidentally cut her cable line costing her phone and cable service for a day.  Fortunately she was forgiving...and once we got past the technical challenges, we both came to realize that friendship was a God-given gift and having someone support you through some of life's toughest challenges is worth more than gold.
     We've shared a lot as neighbors...I dare say most every emotion...
     We've cried for dogs we've loved and people we've lost. We've gritted teeth and vented anger when losing goat babies (and nearly 2 mamas) because some idiot allowed a standard goat to breed pygmy girls, bringing so much pain and grief we could hardly take it. We've encouraged each other through our own dark nights of the soul, and come out laughing at memories of better days (like when the surveying team showed up unannounced only to be met with not one, but two pistol packing' mamas coming from two separate driveways).
      She's helped feed babies, birth babies and yes, bury babies (from pups to goats). She's had advice on everything from gardening to unstopping toilets. In short, she's been a fountain of help, the epitome of a neighbor...but best of all, she's been a true friend.
     Sadly, this is her last day here on the bend. And to say I'm going to miss her would be an understatement.
     Life doesn't always turn out like you plan it, and as sad as it is to see marriages end and people you love move away, I cling to a silver lining knowing that what lies ahead is the peaceful and prosperous and good life she deserves.
     May your next new chapter bring you all the joy in the world, Trish.
     And may your new neighbors (whoever they wind up being) appreciate the gift they too, will get to experience in knowing you~
     Godspeed and God bless you my friend...
     Promise you'll visit.
     Promise you'll call.
     You are loved.
   
   

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

First Fruits

     Meanwhile, back in the garden, things are slowly starting to appear... Trick is to keep on the lookout, as slowly turns into quickly in no time flat--some veggies can double in size literally overnight. I'll never forget ignoring this bit of advice two years ago, only to have birthed a zucchini the size of a small toddler. I named him Zacharini Zucchini and stuck a cap on him and took him to the lake, then to the park, then to a ballgame. We had a grand time before he began to shrivel and rot.
     While not to such stages yet, the first fruits are starting to happen, and so eager am I to start eating things fresh off the vine that I couldn't resist gathering my firsts, even if leaving things would net me a cuke twice this size or some peppers, slightly fatter...But that's ok. It's the same reason I usually eat my weight in fried green tomatoes this time of year (cause you have to wait so dang long for 'em to turn red~)  But we're getting there...Thankfully, the cherry tomatoes are already there!  
      I've long admired the ritual of "first fruits"~ For those unfamiliar, the notion is Biblical, though the tradition was practiced by ancient Greeks and other cultures as well.
     But for the children of Israel, we're told in Exodus 34:26: "The first of the firstfruits of thy land though shalt bring unto the house of the Lord" (It also goes on to say don't boil a baby goat in its mother's milk, which I also adhere to...Not to worry kids, no one's boiling anyone around here.)
     Proverbs 3:9-10 states: Honor the Lord with thy substance, and with the firstfruits of all thine increase: So shall thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst out with new wine. (If that's not incentive enough to honor an offering, I don't know what is. I don't have a vineyard, but I am building a barn, and I like the thought of it filled with plenty...)
     In other words, garden tithes are as scriptural as monetary tithes, not to mention it's just good karma. For the children of Israel, tithes of vegetables and livestock helped keep the priestly tribe fed (priests being busy with the spiritual duties and not growing gardens themselves). Technically, harvest would come in the fall, but since I graze out of my garden all summer, I go literal with the interpretation and like sharing actual first fruits, preferably with someone of the Jewish faith. (Since the closest thing we have to a temple in Lebanon is Temple Baptist Church, I shared mine this year with a dear Jewish friend who is launching a new business venture soon. She's a priestess in her own right, plus I want her barns to be filled with plenty and her wine overflowing as well.)
So here's to this season's firstfruits~ 
G-d's blessings on your gardens, families and businesses ~ 
I say, "Let the picking begin!"
 
   

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Going to the Dogs

   
     It's official.
     Between aging Minka and tail-torn TJ my vet and pet med bills are running higher than my propane at this stage. Bit if ever there were an incentive to keep a girl working, my babies' health would be it...
     Money can't buy happiness, but if it helps alleviate pain in what does make you happy, well, I'd say that's a fair exchange...
The TJ prognosis is one very bad hot spot...(We actually can't get close enough to determine if there was a snake bite involved, but the vet thinks not, which is a big relief.) Still and so, getting relief to Teej has been the challenge of all challenges, and we're not out of the woods yet.
     We did manage to get a couple of shots in him...some antibiotics and some itch relief meds, which so far, don't appear to be putting a dent in it. Meanwhile, bless his heart, you can see in his eyes that he SO wants them to work. You've not lived till you've seen a 150 pound critter whose been curled up under the porch, gnawing at his tail for days, come stoically out to greet a man toting shot needles, so desperate is he for anything to help. Nor has your heart melted till you see the same giant-headed creature slowly roll over, belly up, when he sees you coming with the grooming brush (and let's you brush every inch of him BUT his tail --because he so loves that daily brushing proposition).
     Talk about trust.
     It's been painful for all of us (most of all Teej), but to see him eat again brings me relief. And as much as Thurman would not approve, I'm looking into air conditioned dog houses, as I don't think the dusty underside of a porch is helping matters when it comes to hot spots on dog tails. (Why can't someone make a solar doghouse, I ask you? If my little garden lights can crank out light all night from having absorbed sun all day, why hasn't someone put a slightly larger panel on a dog roof to charge a battery to cool things down?)
     Perhaps someone has. If so, let me know, cause I'd love to find one. Until then, I guess my electric bill will just have to run high cause when it comes to innocent creatures enduring pain, relief is my number one priority.

Monday, June 23, 2014

There's Love...and then There's Love

     I'm aware I have friends who look at my life and ask "Seriously Karlen? What gives?

They're dogs.

                  They're goats.

                                    It's a garden.
                                                       
                                                         Get a life . . .

     Some go as far as to suggest that to truly know love, one must find a human with which to share it ... (anything less is a cop out...or so I'm told) ...
   
    Yet I have other friends ....who get questioned as well...

     They are asked: "What's it like? To love something so deeply..so passionately... that your heart can break over something incapable of speaking its pain....And yet, you can literally sense it/ hear it/feel it/ know it... (And some nights you can't sleep for wondering how else you might've altered the equation...)

     While the outer world separates the R's from the D's ...
          the "haves" from the "have-not's"...
             the boys from the girls...

Others experience this love ...different, if not deeper than the love we humans call love...(i.e. the love depicted in our movies or scratched out on our greeting cards)...as it is so unconditional. We'd let everything else go, just to be in its presence a minute or two longer....(be it the snoring of a pup or the purring of a cat)

     I hear (and believe there to be) those blessed to experience love in the form of a human soul mate...and I marvel at and admire these people...But like the mythical unicorn, I've read about it, but have yet to spot it personally.

     As for me...while I ponder just which love best depicts the truest, deepest, sincerest level of love we as humans are capable of knowing/experiencing/feeling (that love we would call "unconditional") ... all I can say is this:

     For me personally, I have only found unconditional love in its truest form, comes from nature... For me total unconditionality in love has appeared in innocent life forms...those devoid of ego...so vulnerable... that any opportunity to interact on my part was not a "got to" proposition, but a "get to" opportunity for this soul to evolve...It was a joy beyond joys to be allowed into its sphere of consciousness ~ even if briefly.

     Nights like this bring out the deepest and richest (and sometimes the saddest)  moments in my life~

     But I'll accept the melancholy  ...in exchange for the gift that invariably comes with it~

     (For those reading this post in real time, please pray for TJ...and innocent life forms everywhere~)




   

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Amazing How Much You Don't Care

....when something/someone you love is hurting.

Please pray for TJ...


We think a snake bit his tail...
We're hoping not worse.

(Amazing how quickly whatever you once thought important can vanish into thin air.)




Saturday, June 21, 2014

My Meaningful Garden

           

          In honor of throw-back Thursdays (or Sentimental Saturdays) I’m reminded of what led to me writing in the first place—a little segment from a local radio show that became a book, then a newspaper column called “I Didn’t Know That” ~
          Tracing words and phrases back to their origins I am reminded that my love of gardens goes back a ways, to a day when I only knew what the word meant (as opposed to how much joy it would bring me in the living)… From “I Didn’t Know That: Why We Say the Things We Say” I share:
            Deriving its name from the Old French word, "jardin", the first gardens were created by medieval monks. These plots were set aside for food and flowers, in tribute to the garden of all gardens: The Garden of Eden.
            Providing both food and serenity for the active, yet meditative disciplines of monastic life, gardens soon became a staple of every abbey and monastery throughout Europe.

            As walls and fences were erected to protect these sacred plots, these “guarded” lands soon became known as “gardens” …a word that still today represents a piece of earth set aside for life and all things growth.

Friday, June 20, 2014

As God is My Artisan

           So I had to laugh…At the same time I’m wondering “What’s wrong with us?” (cause I don’t think I’m the only female who is wired like this…)
            With friends dropping by from out-of-town, I ran to the grocery for burger fixin’s in case we opted for grilling. I have a deck. I have one (very lame) grill. I have a picnic table hand made for me by a friend and painted by me. God provided the weather.
            What I didn’t have was a clue as to how long it had been since I’d hosted anything on my deck…Granted, I've had good reason for avoiding that deck. For the past couple of years I’ve had a snake love that deck just a lit-tle more than I do, so out of respect, I’ve let him have it all to himself. He’s a black snake…The kind country folk tell me I'm supposed to like. (As if women ever like any snake.) I named him Joe Black (as in Meet Joe Black (Snake)….but even trying to make light of things, well…, he’s no Brad Pitt…And even when he leaves his little snakey clothes behind, it’s not working for me.)
            Having seen hide (definitely no hair) from the big guy for several months, I decided to tidy up said deck in case we opt to eat there, starting with sweeping off leaves and scrubbing down my picnic table when I noticed the paint job --It's a total botch. It’s peeling. It’s chipped. It’s stained. I debate whether I have enough time to sand it down and toss a coat of something on it or if I should just cover it with a tablecloth and be done with it. While pondering, I go for bleach and a scrub brush, thinking maybe in the process it'll become obvious as to what I'll do.
            Mid scrubbing it hits me just how nifty God's weathering worked out. Heck, I paid good money for this look back in Nashville. I’d seen cabinets done this way before, and despite the fact that the used ones I’d bought at the Habitat Store were perfectly flawless, I paid an artisan painter to come make them look precisely as this table was looking this very instant. On top of this, I'd paid good money for my favorite picture frame now housing some of my most cherished memories because I liked the feel.  Why now... for my genuinely flaking table, did I view this a design flaw as opposed to God's own version of antiquing?
            Why would I take perfectly good cabinets and make them old, while bemoaning an old table I longed to make new? What does this say about human nature? (Or perhaps I should ask, what does it say about me?)
            There’s no doubt the expression “Grass is always greener on the other side of the fence” holds true for goats. (Mine want to bolt to my side every single day.) But I’d never considered “The paint is always chippier…” (when you didn't opt to make it that way)
...until now.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Trimming Out the Middles

           Anyone farming here in Middle Tennessee will tell you we had no Spring. We had one of the coldest winters on record, and are now entering one of our hottest summers ever, but that breezy period in between where we once were granted the gift of transitioning was scarcely a blip on the radar…
            By the same token, it seems as with the weather, so with our worldly climate (i.e. our political state of affairs). In observing the rest of the world (ie. the world beyond my garden rows) seems most everyone in my circles these days fall into one of two categories. I’ve got a few acquaintances who are richer than rich, having invented something wonderful, mastered the art of business or have flexed their entrepreneurial muscles so masterfully that they now enjoy luxury houses, cars, boats, pools and debt-free living, and while I don’t see these folks as often as I see my farming buddies, I applaud their success and respect their right to live their lives so fully—surrounded by whatever they wish to spend their hard earned dollars on. They are what many folks in this great country of ours aspire towards and I do not begrudge them this…to the contrary, they serve as great reminders for those who might likewise seek such lifestyles.
            On the other end of the spectrum (speaking of those I DO interact with more regularly as a day-to-day proposition), seems everywhere I turn, these folks are barely making ends meet (or worse…they are so far behind the 8-ball they’re not sure if they’ll ever catch up). These are the Ramsey-ites, who are struggling to pay of credit cards, wondering if their insurance will hold out, looking for second jobs (if they’re lucky enough to have a first) hoping to pull out of a dive like a single engine plane trying to avoid crashing into a hay field…
            What’s missing between these two?  A solid middle class. Like our lack of springtime around these parts, seems the world is ever dividing into two camps—racing for the extremes. In financial terms, there are the haves and the have-nots; the “got it going on” and the “not so much happening” …In short, and again like our seasons, seems they run either way hot or way cold…Anymore there’s very little spring…very little grey zone…very little in between.
            So what’s to credit for this dichotomy that seems to be ever expanding?
            From my life experiences, I blame (or credit) the media, and more specifically, 24/7 news cycles. As one who came from this world, it’s a very obvious pattern to follow when you break it down. Take for instance a producer (be it TV or radio) whose job it is to take a topic, nail it down, then go in search of a point and a counter point to argue both sides of the equation. Add to that the very finite amount of time said producer has to fill with such a task (i.e. 60 seconds or less) and, well, the quickest way to snag some points is to reach for the extremes. Find a vastly conservative stance and pit it against the most liberal of liberals…It makes for great broadcast fireworks, but seldom does it represent where the majority of us live—somewhere in the middle…somewhere in the grey zone. Not fanatical either way, most are just trying to understand the arguments in the limited amount of time we have to consume news and figure out some way to contribute in whatever small way we might to the conversation. Problem is, no one goes for the grey zone when producing a segment. Grey is equated with boring. Boring gets you no ratings. So you go for the hot stuff. The vibrant “out there” arguments…in short, the extremes. And because you present extremes, the rest of us sitting at home taking it in, start to question our own passion for a topic, or else we unplug entirely thinking “Who has the time? I’ve got a garden to grow, a house to run, kids to feed…I can’t afford to spend my emotional capital getting bent out of shape over a political topic that I’ll have precious little say in by the end of the day anyway...” (And then politicians and media types marvel at why so few of us make the effort to get out and vote.)
            This is not a rant about voting. It’s not a rant at all. It’s one girl’s observation of extremes that are creeping into everything from our weather to our news to our worldly political environment which cannot help but have a lot of us feeling disconnected to the world. The good news is extremes DO grab our attention. Be it weather or politics, polar opposites generate talk. It’s why producers go for the extremes…their job is to keep the talk going.
            But most of us I dare say, would prefer not live our lives on the fringes of extremes. We’d like to live passionately, yes, but not controversially. Most people I know (both rich and poor) want to live and let live…be appreciated for their perspective on things, but not be badgered into becoming fanatic one way or the other.
            So as I observe what to me at least, appears to be an evolution toward extremes, I ask myself, where do I fit in? Who out there represents me? As a journalist, I was trained to see both sides…to seek out both sides…As a writer, now home focusing on sustainable, peaceful living, I have found but one way to approach this dilemma and that is to redirect my prior search from “out there” to “in here” if I hope to stay sane.
            While it is not my goal to side with any extreme (any more than I’d want to live my entire year in a polar blast or my entire year in this ungodly heat), my goal (and I dare say most of our goals) is balance…an ability to appreciate both ends and hopefully wind up somewhere peacefully in between.
            For me, that only happens when I’m not in the midst of it. In the same way that I reserve my gardening time for early morning hours (before the scorching heat, so as to max my energy), I now make conscious decisions to stay out of the heat of arguments, not because I don’t have opinions…but because I now weigh whether having those opinions approved of by either extreme is worth the air it takes to voice them.
             I can’t help but go back to scripture when the world as I view it (at least through my jaded tv) makes no sense (which is more and more these days). When Jesus said “The meek shall inherit the earth,” what MUST he have been thinking? “Who ME? Home gardening? I think not. There is nothing powerful about this kind of living by the world’s definition.” Personally, I’ve never had less political sway in my entire career, but I can speak to the feeling of empowerment having pulled away from the worldly arguments.
            What I do have is a sense of rekindled energy that is mine and mine alone to place where I would have it go. I can put it toward those people, events and causes that I can personally see/feel/experience as good and worthy by my own perspective. Or I can put it toward something so seemingly insignificant as a well-weeded garden row, but the energy preserved from NOT having exhausted my fuel debating (or just digesting) the extremes is worth the world to me. In fact, it DOES feel like an inherited gift. After all, time may make you money, but money will never make you time. One can never buy back a day once spent, therefore it seems it would behoove us all to spend a little more thought in deciding just where the energy of that day will be directed before we ever let it go in the first place.
            Then again, what do I know?

(Guess it depends on your definition of power.)

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

The Comfort Zone is Not Our Friend

It’s an odd dichotomy being a spiritual being in a physical body…
On the one hand, the animal in us craves certain basics, common to all. We require food, shelter… familiar things that both sustain and comfort. (We even call them creature comforts.) As humans we equate familiar with security. At the end of the day I want to come home to find my place the way I left it. I want my critters safe and secure; my stuff where last I left it. Even anticipated end of day routines bring comfort…things like unwinding with the book I was last reading or hugging my babies all over again as I say goodnight to another day.
The soul of us, on the other hand, lives for change. To feel alive, to experience life, the soul requires a bevy of differentiating activities for stimulation. Unlike the comfort that familiarity brings the body, the soul bores of routine. It abhors the  mundane. You go on a vacation to remove yourself from the familiar. Learning something new means you broke the boundaries of the old. Any spiritual awakenings or “aha” moments in life, come in stark contrast to the routines we may’ve found ourselves living. In short, the soul is wired to aspire …to live bigger…grow larger…to reach out and become something beyond ourselves.
And between these dueling polarities lies the rub.
Growth, by definition, means change. And change, by definition, means something different than it is right now, which means, it’s not gonna be comfortable. After all, if I stay precisely where am I, as I am, nothing changes. And while the creature side of me takes great comfort in that familiar little notion, the spiritual side begs for (and even attracts) the exact opposite. So in order to assess which way we’re going in this thing called life, we have to assess which part of us holds greater sway? The human side-- common to all…or the spiritual/soulful part by which we individually identify and differentiate ourselves from others?
Seems the older we get, the more resistant we are to change…after all, change involves the unknown, and the unknown is unfamiliar, and unfamiliar, by definition is not comfortable. It’s foreign, and without a map, foreign turf can be frightening. Yet when something is known (i.e. familiar to us) it’s not change. It’s quo. As in “status quo” (fyi, “status quo” short for “status quo ante” from the Latin, translates: “the state in which before” or “the state of affairs existing previously”)…In short, it’s no place for growth, though it may bring temporary comfort (at least until you get bored).
All of this to make the point that uncertainty is a good thing, and while it may not feel so comfy at the time, I like to remind myself in such times, that the good news is, there’s growth happening there (and in that notion alone, I can usually find some glimmer of comfort). It may be uncomfortable to be uncertain, but hey-- it’s not stagnation. To crave the familiar, is to request an end to life’s growth moments, and as my garden has taught me, if it ain’t growing, it’s dying. There are only two options. Nothing in life stays the same. (There’s no such place as “quo”.)
As I think about life and change and the unfamiliar feelings of the unknown and how to embrace them, I’m reminded of the lines credited to theologian William Shedd:

              A ship in the harbour is safe…

                  But this is not what ships are for.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Minimalist Living

Let the record reflect, I am now on target to minimalize/simplify.
So somewhere between what happened to Heff (read: what I “did” to Heff last weekend) and walking past big piles of clutter in my home, I’ve come up with a new mantra: Everyone/thing must have a story….Or else, it’s outta here.
For instance: if I bought you at Pier One because you were on sale, “no story”... But if you were that thing I  bought in England…at the poorest of markets, with my godchild beside me and my best friend in mind….YOU stay. Or ….if you were that goat I went after, after all else had failed… …Well…YOU have a story. Therefore, YOU stay too! With this, I began my introduction to “minimalist living” …Living only with things that matter…Things with stories. Everything else…I am dedicated to clearing out.
(Ok. Just to be clear, let me explain…I plan to move on this theory any day now…Right now, I’m just testing it, though I think it will prove worthy…Well, at least so I thought…until tonight...)
So I’m heading out to put babies to bed…freshening water buckets…handing out last treats…Great time to posit my theory, starting the goats of which I have too many….
Those of you with stories worth sharing…well, clearly WE have a bond. Those with none: I shant send you to market, but you could be my next post on Craig’s list.      
I’m bending over to hug on Rosebud (Rosey’s girl pup I kept…who looks just like her mother) when Angel-Goat (who never saw a flat back she didn't like) jumped squarely on mine. Of course, Angel’s a keeper. She’s here for life. She’s been jumping on my back ever since I pulled her, front hooves first, out of her mother one cold January day. Such a bond we share, Angel and I…Such stories we've lived. But my test is still open for interpretation, after all, I DO need to thin my herd  (having been purely awful at it last week)...I am still mindful. Tasks must be done to maintain the farm.
I head in for the night,  just as sweet Cupid follows me all the way to the gate. Cupid -- one of my first eight—is also THE first to come from a goat farm ( if not an auction) and the first (how much I remember) to allow herself to trust humans again No way would I ever let go of Cupid.
Next up (and slightly more skittish than Cupid) is Vixie (short for Vixen…again, one of my first 8, all named for reindeer, since they all looked alike)…Vix should be an easy release, save for the fact that she contracted pink eye, from a goat I bought at auction two weeks after her arrival…As a result, she kept going to the opposite end of the fence for 2 weeks, meaning for 2 weeks I made special trips with a bowl just for her…No. We’ve got a history. She too, learned to trust again…No way I’d let Vixie go.
Vying for attention ever since Angel was born, is Stella. She’ll probably never have babies. Heck, Stella IS a baby. For life I think she’s assigned herself a baby role, so small and precious is she. Stella was MY baby. Born on Mother’s Day (last year)  no less. Can’t let her go…Plus…Stella’s named for my grandma. Stella’s my girl.
So maybe Gabby (my fawn) who birthed (and all but ignored) her one and only (and my most recent) baby—Charlie…Much as it troubled me then that Gab’s seemed not to be cut out for the whole motherhood thing, well…turns out, Gab’s was not to blame. She was raised to be a circus goat. I babied her. I promised her a better life. What did she know about kid-raising? Can’t blame Gabs. She was raised by me. To let her go just for being a bad mother would reflect poorly on my mothering teaching skills…after all, she was wonderful with goat tricks when she was small…If anything , I caused this. I did.
Which means I also can’t blame Elsie either ..After all, Elsie’s the mama to Stella…and Stella was the one who taught Angel that people are safe…Elsie may have other babies. She was good at that…And they too, will need to be taught (which means we can’t get rid of Stella OR Elsie)
And then there’s Heff…My gosh. How much more can I write about Heff? Heff’s going nowhere. He’s in for life (stench or no stench…God I live for the no stench days)…but Heff’s got a lifetime pass after last week’s episodes…
And Charlie…latest kid on the block…Why he’s the child of Gabs…How could I let Gabby’s baby go? After all…Charlie is where Gabs learned to be a mother…You can’t rob a girl goat of that…or a goat grandma who was there to witness…

Bottom line—leave me here long enough and I can tell you Any and Every goat’s story…and I can justify just what they did and why they are deserving of life itself and why no one (and I mean no one) should rob them of the privilege of living…as in here...forever.

So at the end of the day, all I can say…is I hope I do better with Inanimate objects than I’m doing with animate ones…Cause so far, I’ve got a story tied to everything I love…Even the slightest of memories carves out meaning for me…(If it doesn’t…If I have it here just because I spotted a sale…well, that’s my next yard sale item. And I’m way cool with that. But so far, I can’t imagine what that might be…But as of now, I’m pretty sure it won’t involve critters…We’ll work on the tangible (inanimate) objects tomorrow.)

Matters of the Heart (an update from the girl who's had open heart surgery)

         Seems a good time for a blog...      I am happy to report I am home from the hospital, new ticker in tact...resting and on the ...