Gabby's Girl Guinevere

     While most of my girls are synced up to throw their babies in the winter months, my Gabby-girl marches to the beat of her own drum...As a result I almost forgot she was pregnant, even despite her swollen teats and broadening beam.
     But it only took two seconds once we started the morning count for her to let me know she'd be requesting room service this morning, as she had been up all night 'kidding around' ....
     To be sure, there is no sweeter way to start a day.
     Welcome to the world Baby Guinevere!
     You're a sight for puffy eyes and my little Lion King reminder that the circle of life continues~ (You are just what I needed today~ Thanking God for your timely arrival~)

The Healing Power of Nature (Latest on Layla)

   

Layla...Her Inner Puppy is Alive and Well!

    Six weeks ago Layla underwent surgery to repair her broken leg.
     For six to eight she was to remain confined to allow the leg to set, prayer being the bone was strong enough to hold the pins in place. (The rod, to be removed.)
     Five weeks and two days ago, Layla said, "Enough already" letting me know in no uncertain terms, "It's time."

     It doesn't take a Dr. Dolittle to understand what animals are saying... If you'll stop long enough to listen, they'll tell you themselves precisely what they're thinking.

     Back from errands just in time for supper, I open the kitchen door allowing Layla in from the deck where her crate now resides. I've left her crate open for the past few days, to allow her a tad more freedom while keeping her safe from the other dogs. (Hix and TJ, continue to vie for her affection; Rosebud wants her gone. Rosey, the only who's gotten to know Layla, spotted her vulnerability instantly and thus returned to her maternal roots.  Any notion of jealousy or threat to the pecking order is a non-issue with Rosey. Then again, Rosey is a self-actualized dog... a dog comfortable in her own fur.)
     I set groceries on counter; stroke the cat; nuzzle Minsky and begin the supper ritual, as do they.
     Minsky prances her circle dance then assumes the waiting pose by her bowl. Boo swishes his tail as I clink a few kibbles -- a tactical maneuver to get him to quit pawing at me while I work.
     I turn on the oven (Yes, we heat our food.) I open the fridge. Dinner is a ritual around here, anticipation being a big part of things. The entire routine can take anywhere from 10 - 15 minutes, by which point whoever's in the kitchen has formed a circle around the island, perfectly still and keenly attentive. Only this time I hear a different sound; I look down to see Layla, who mischievously cuts her eyes up at me with the corner of the kitchen rug in her mouth.
     I scowl at her, saying nothing. She drops the rug...and then ...
                 "Wraaarrrrr-arrrrrrr-arrrrrrrrrrrrr...rrrrrrrr."
(I've never heard her speak before. It makes me laugh. She sounded a lot like Darby, my Siberian husky from years ago.)
     "You talking to me Layla? You talking to me?" She does a Minsky kinda circle thing, only for her with with leg a-draggin'.
     "Layla, be still" I say, "You gotta be still!" to which she defiantly thumps her front paws downward and grabs the rug again, playfully taunting me to double dog dare her.
     "You want to play Layla? You want to play?" Her tail wags in large circles now. "YES!" She is saying. "YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!"
     Like that red plastic pop-up in a store-bought turkey, Layla's saying  "I'm done! Get this thing out of my leg. You DO know I am a puppy, right?"
     I had almost forgotten. Somewhere in the midst of all her trauma Layla turned one year old this month...She literally spent her first birthday in the confines of a crate with a rod sticking out of her leg. But Layla didn't care.
     I thought of all those sweet children at St. Jude's...All those at the beautiful kids at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital...Souls whose lives were rudely interrupted when they should've been playing and doing kid things.
     For Layla, eyes and tail said it all...Don't know what the x-rays will say, but Layla says "I'm done! Rod or no rod, leg or no leg...I'm ready to play~" and I predict that exact same spirit has hastened her healing. (We won't know till the vet says so, but rest assured that's top of the list come end of this holiday weekend.)
   
   
   
   

Circle of Life (Round Two)

     So I'm two for two on the screams this week...
     For those keeping score, it's Snakes- 0, Mice- 5.
   

     In an effort to declutter and better organize my garden tools I asked Pat to fetch a few bins from the storage shed, so that I might anticipate a yard sale. (If you're having one, let me know.)
     Meanwhile, in case you were not aware, mice love stand alone sheds (as do spiders, and yes, snakes), which has prompted me to create the ritual of clanging doors and announcing myself loudly before entering such spaces so as to allow everyone proper time to scurry to their corners.
     The alternative is to ask Pat to fetch things, which he did leaving three perfect bins right inside the garage. Lifting lid #1 I spot that all too familiar wad of chewed up fluffy stuff, otherwise known as a mouse nest. While not desirable, it is not unfamiliar in sheds and attics though your hope is there's nothing in them. (Let the record reflect, even when anticipating something might pop out, I was not prepared for what was to come next.)
     Propping box on side I reach for the wad when a blob springs forth (and I do mean a blob of mice), which I first thought were mating, but soon recognized as a mother with 4 nursing babies. Screaming to high heaven with mice flailing everywhere, I holler for the second time this week for Pat to "Come help! Come help!"
   

     I don't know who was more startled...the little dude left all alone, standing in the middle of a cold concrete floor, mouth still in sucking mode, or me, feeling horrible for having orphaned a mouse.
     "Awwww, can we keep him?" (for 2 seconds I seriously considered grabbing the aquarium). Instead, we (meaning Pat) picked him up and placed him gently in the area where last we saw the mother load run, only to hear yet a 4th still stuck in the bin, who we placed next to his brother...
     I went to bed thinking at least two have each other...Don't know if they're weaned. Pretty sure they'll be back, but I can only take on so much karma. For a girl who loves animals, I've sure been tough on them this week...and before you say it, I KNOW this is why we have black snakes. I also know karma's a bear (or in my case, a snake, or a mouse, or a ...)
   
     By morning I reach for St. Francis, known for taming a wolf that had terrified the village of Gubbio killing people and sheep alike. When asked for his help, Francis went in peace to the wolf, seeking a way in which all might live in peace side by side.

     By removing the fear in both wolf and people Francis negotiated a peace agreement whereby the the wolf be fed going door to door to locals in exchange for his protection of their city.
     It's a worthy goal and one I contemplate, after all I once ran from bees, and now I thank them each time our paths cross~
     On the other hand, I've never thanked a spider and when it comes to brown recluse, don't hold your breath.

   

It Only Hurts When I Move

   

      We could not have asked for a more perfect day...The weather was unseasonably crisp. Signs were in the breasts, which is the most nurturing planting sign of all.  These are things I now live by. If Miss Duff and Mr. Thurman are planting, rest assured I'll be out in my own...and we were...from sun up till sun down.
    This year marks my fourth go round at gardening. Having wound up in the ER for the past 3 Augusts (about the time I stress out for not being able to pick it all or freeze it quick enough or or block a few days to can it) I'm going with a different model this year...
     Instead of planting my entire 1-acre plot (yes, I know I could've started with something smaller, but the planting and tilling parts I love...It's the "watching it rot on the vine" that wigs me out), I decided this year to break my garden into 4 segments. Several benefits to this one...For one, I get to divide things up...
     --Give watermelon a garden of their own since they vine all over everything...
     --Give corn its own space right where the dogs can keep watch at night and bark at deer who come our way
     --Plant in cycles so it's not all coming in at once. (This one's worth the price of the ticket alone~ What a concept!)
     The good news is, the seeds are planted, the lavender tilled, the garden is laid out and ready to go...
     The bad news is, I could barely move by the time I settled in for the night, and am walking kinda funny today. I texted my right hand man, Pat this morning to see if he was ready to quit only to have him call me a rookie and tell me he thought yesterday was a blast~
     I do have to say, I've been blessed with some great careers in my life, but none is more rewarding than farming.

On Death

     The news of her passing came with mixed emotions... Relief that she's no longer in pain... rejoicing to think where she walks today...sadness for a friend who'll no longer grace my lavender fields (at least not with a hoe...I've no doubt I'll find her spirit here daily for her memory is forever here.)
     I've said more goodbyes in these past few weeks than I've tears left to cry. Maybe it's age...Maybe it's Facebook and Tweets allowing us more immediate access to the intimate journey of loved ones and casual acquaintances alike...Hard to say.
     But one thing is for sure, it's not going away.
     As now another dear friend, brings his battle to the fore, (controversy be damned...John Jay will take his death with dignity campaign to the Supreme Court if his days on earth will let him), I find my thoughts laden with the subject...conversations centering on the topic, and personally, I think this is a good thing.
    I'll spare my thoughts for another forum...My views on the matter for another blog, save to say if we believe as Professor Holland does, that death is but a transition to another room...some winged flight to a higher state of being, then perhaps we've been viewing it wrong...Perhaps we should embrace it...rejoice in it...
    If nothing else, talk about it more openly...
   

Snake in the Grass

     Such a peaceful day...Morning chores all done. Meetings tended to...Errands run. We even stopped for burgers while winding our way back home. Life on the farm in all its glory with Pat, my right hand farm man, without whom I would be lost.
     Allowing Layla her afternoon walk as my other dogs barked their heads off, gunnin' to play with her, Pat asked "So what do you do with YOUR snakes?"
     I thought it a theoretical question before rounding the stairs...

     There in the grass...just clearing the irises that line my deck...
     A girl's worst nightmare (Ok. ok...Not poisonous, but still...)

See the snake in the grass?
(Yeah...neither did I.)

     I went inside to fetch my gun, but as soon as I hit the stairs, I began to have second thoughts...I saw a turtle on Facebook this morning with instructions on how to properly usher him off the road... Been thinking ever since of how life really IS about balance. Ecosystems rock! I was having serious second thoughts and debating things back and forth in my head...But still, I brought the gun down just in case...

     "I dunno Pat...Maybe we should let him live. After all it's just a black snake, right?"

     How many times had I heard these are the good guys...I have (had)  one in the back named Joe Black(snake)...Why it could be Brad Pitt in a snake body for all I knew, out for an afternoon stroll.

     So what if he's 14 feet long, I told myself..They ARE good for killing mice and the yard did have fewer moles...

     Joe Black and I had come to terms with all this last summer...He could have the back deck,  I would take the front.  It was like a divorce settlement between girl and snake...Who needed that picnic table anyway (or the grill or my reading chaise) ?  If  I feel the need to come out back, Joe Black, I'll make a lot of noise...So far this system was working.

     Debating it back and forth, I now leaned  toward photo op over target practice when suddenly and blindly (and very blondely I might add) I stepped around the corner to ask " Where'd he go, Pat?" at the precise same moment that Pat screamed "DON'T ... STEP  ..... TH"


     It was too late.
     SQUISH went my sandal onto his little snake head....

     EEEEEEIiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii came the blood curdling scream as I ran as far and as fast as I could ...(Somewhere in the background was Pat yelling "BE STILL> BE STILL > BE STILL>>Don't RUN!")

     OK. So...Note to guys everywhere, Eve may've enjoyed her chat, but the rest of us are wired to scream like banshees...ESPECIALLY after stepping on one!

     I raced to the safety of my front porch door, grabbed the gun, paused long enough to quit hyperventilating...meanwhile Joe Black (or his brother or his mother or his father ...don't know/don't care) Someone family kin to him (if not him) was was ready to strike...and were I in their skin, I'd be there too....)

     Just then another wave of guilt ...

    "I dunno what to doooooo....." I whined..."He could've bitten me, and he didn't!!...What if it's a sign...May be a test..." (my doubting mind now challenging my female gut instinct)

    "This is true," Pat said (now laughing) ..."Then again, he could just be planning his revenge when you to come weed things tomorrow"

     I hand him my Glock.

    "Do it. Just DO it."

     I bow my head, put fingers in ears and ask both God and snake to please forgive me for what is about to happen. (Pull the friggin' trigger, Pat...Pull the friggin' trigger.)

    I watch as his guts are blown to smithereens... spewing over flowerbeds and trees alike...All I can say is my beautiful flowers will never be the same again...

     (Well, Duh...For starters, they're about to have a lot more weeds.)

 

 

Ready to Go

     My thoughts are a jumbled mess this week, consumed with the passing of a friend who is leaving this world far too soon and not a darn thing anyone can do about it. Like so many things I've been reflecting on, this is another of those  moments where God reminds that we aren't in charge and release is the best possible hope you have of coping (and the sooner the better). Still, it's a lesson I don't relish, but one with a recurring theme, so here I am reflecting on it once again.

     It was a year ago that Dawn got a cancer diagnosis. One of the healthiest people I know (physically, mentally and above all, spiritually) she's lived a mindful and meaningful life of service to others, caring for strangers, walking her faith. She has a husband who adores her and she him...A family she cherishes deeply and friends like you wouldn't believe...A beautiful woman inside and out, living a beautiful life, she lived to serve...literally looking for people to help and doing all she could, with joy and bliss and gusto...Caring for others was her trademark and her passion. 

     Almost a year to the day hospice is called. Visits would soon be dwindling, but Dawn in her ever-present way was open to saying her goodbyes and answering any questions--being as present as a person can be...One thing I'll say for cancer...it can certainly re-prioritize things as time becomes limited...and meaningful takes front and center where it was all along for Dawn. Whatever we once thought important takes back burner status once the clock starts ticking...Suddenly, time spent Being beats the busy "Doing" stuff hands down.

     In my last visit with Dawn, I entered the room with a casual "How we feeling?" Her answer, struck me like a thunderbolt and resonates in me still...

     "I am ready." she said. "I am ready to go."

     It wasn't said in pity. It wasn't said for effect. It was a simple statement of fact. She meant it literally. She was at peace with what was coming (long before now)...had spent her last few weeks in the sanctuary of her own bedroom thinking through her will, her belongings, her funeral, her everything...And now, like planning for some overseas vacation, she is in a word, "ready". 

     And what do you say to a person in this state? All I could think was "Whoa! Wonder what that feels like...?"

     I can think of no greater state than that of "ready." On my drive home I dug deep, trying to find any semblance of the feeling she had just described ...Me? I am never ready to go ANYWHERE...Be it traveling or leaving my house for groceries, I stumble with transitions, going into as well as out of scenarios, (as is evidenced by my perpetual tardiness). It's always well-intended. It's always "just one more dog hug or one more little task" ... Once I get to where I'm going, I adjust to "fully present" fairly quickly, but there's always been this lag time between "where I am" and "where I'm going" or "preparing to leave" vs "actual leaving" ...

     In the case of Dawn, she IS ready...But then again, she's always been ready. In the final moments we are allowed to share by way of physical, worldly communications, it wasn't the words, but the "feel" of that moment that was my take-away gift of a memory...There was this peace about her...this perfect calm emitting from her...For weeks we've all been asking "What can I DO? How can I help?" But in this single moment of clarity for once, my BEING there outweighed any desire to DO something for her, after all, what can you do for a person who's ready? The more I pondered it, the more I think that's the whole point of life. Perhaps she just cracked the code and now gets the prize of going home--no more suffering. You win!...I don't know. What I do know is that just as she's been ready to give, ready to do...most of all Dawn has always been ready to BE, and as a result, she is now peacefully ready to go...(And I can think of no sweeter spot on earth than to be fully present with that notion.) 

     To think that right down to her last breath, Dawn faces life in a state of "readiness" brings great peace to me in an otherwise selfishly sad time. There have been plenty of tears, and I anticipate more...(And my heart aches to fathom the sadness of the husband she leaves behind and her beautiful close knit family.) But I will forever cherish the gift she gave me in knowing my friend is ready. 

     It's not easy for any of us saying goodbye, but as her Hospice nurse pointed out, "This isn't about us. This is Dawn's journey...Dawn's day." And with that, the comfort of knowing she's at peace, is the greatest comfort any of us could hope for in this moment. I personally believe it's the comfort that will ultimately lead her home.

     Sweet travels to you my friend...Thank you for the depths you have added to this journey both in your living and now in your dying...

     Here's to your own new day a-Dawning...

     I'll see you in the stars.

     

What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Stronger (The Layla Update)

   

   

    Yet another one I didn't think all the way through... (Oh the lessons we learn as we go...)
     Today was the day... I've intentionally kept Layla's updates to a minimum since her surgery, primarily because I wanted to make sure she pulled through... which she did, (the surgery part) though let the record reflect, our journey's far from over.
     May I begin this post with profuse thanks to those of you who reached out to help. (Sadly, I don't know specifically who everyone was, so forgive me if you've yet to hear from me personally...They're backtracking the payments, but some did not come with names attached.)
     That said, having allowed three weeks for her to be in their ever-loving' watch and care, she is now back where she'll be fostered till her next procedure when they remove the rod holding her leg in place throughout the (hopeful) healing process.
     Never was I more happy to see a puppy's sweet face...Never did a pup look happier to be back in familiar surroundings...
     But for all the joy that came with seeing Layla (who wags her tail incessantly, which is bound to be painful) what I was NOT prepared for was the rod itself...(Guess I thought it would be covered...or in a cast...Turns out, it is neither, thus it was a wave of bliss followed by an immediate wave of nausea to see this poor baby's shaven leg with a honking' metal rod sticking out at both ends. I know the surgeons know their stuff; I simply did not think through the details of faking my reaction, nor did I grasp the complete mental picture of the maintenance involved in keeping said wound clean, which I am learning to do, after all, SHE's the one with the tough job...(I'll learn to clean it; you focus on healing it, Layla.)
      What's more, I was not emotionally prepared the first time she whimpered from inside her crate where she must stay for several more weeks, save for the handful of times we go out each day for brief walks, pees and poos. (It did not help that I watched that stupid Lifetime Original about those girls who were held captive for 11 years over the weekend; I swear keeping Layla in a crate is tougher than the rod and the wound-cleaning for me, but I've vowed to do it, so I'm doing it.)
     After all, if Layla can do this...I can do this. In her determination, I find my strength...There's a lot of love in those little brown eyes. Her gratitude is palpable.
     If you've ever wondered if you have the mettle in times like these, try sitting idly by while one of God's innocent creatures suffers ... It's clear to me from the reactions to all this, you'd be doing the same. (And God bless those of you who rescue and foster pups on a daily basis.)
   

     In the meanwhile, Layla welcomes your prayers now more than ever, ( as do I...) We've got a ways to go and a few more bills to pay, but the journey has begun...we're well into the race and we're in it to win it.
     My heartfelt thanks to all of you who've reached out. Will do my best to keep you posted as we adjust to our new routines...As for Layla, I'm happy to report, she's on the mend!
   
   

Mother's Day 2015

     Here's to another Happy Mother's Day...
     Here's to Mom! (To the left, my brother, Ed)

     Mother's Day 2015 ~
     Thanking God for family, friends and memories~

It's the Little Things In Life

     Like the day we get our new flea collars for the season...
     Not to be an ad for these people, but I double dog dare you to show me another dog that gets this excited over the seasonal "Changing of the Collars" ~

     That said,
     Into every life a little rain must fall...
     Sadly, TJ's head is too big and we are having to concoct a collar for him perhaps by stringing two of these costly things together. (After much time on the phone with the Seresto people, we are sad to report that they have no "extra large" collar for a dog with an "extra large" head.)
     Such are the problems on a farm with big dogs... ("Pyr Pressure" on a whole new level.)

End of an Era

      I woke up from a deep, deep sleep...out of a dream I did not want to leave, as I was talking with my dad...

     Ever there to comfort, he was hugging me...advising me. I clung to his every word.

     "This one's gonna hurt," he warned..."But remember... YOU ARE NOT ALONE."

      With this in my head and strong feelings in my heart...I entered my day.

     For the last two weeks, the road's been abuzz ...Brazen auction signs left and right...construction crews,  gravel trucks...all sorts of loud noises disrupting the flow of nature and simple country life, not just for me, but for critters ...especially my critters. (Lord, does TJ hate big trucks...)

 

    The last of a legacy...

     My uncle's property recently purchased from his estate, was now being reworked.... reconfigured... subdivided. . .  ("flipped" as they'd say in the business) . . .

     All to be sold  --  in "Absolute Auction"


     That the land had 5 houses (and he, 5 children) ... spoke (to me at least) of wishes and dreams unfulfilled...

     But life and legacies don't always go as you plan. (Another reminder-- that young or old,  rich or poor, we humans are not in control, so let us not kid ourselves.)

     Once again, those all too familiar themes resurface: Release and Detach. These themes that will help you most in life...Sooner learned, the better.

     (Though the theme is the same, I gotta give God credit, for delivering the message in all shapes and sizes...Who knew life lessons would come in small, medium and large. Some days even 'extra large'.)

      I watched young couples, alongside old farmers standing next to cunning investors all equally excited to overlay their own dreams and visions for this once sacred retreat...Can't say as I blame them. To the contrary, I wish them only happiness.

     Came home...Changed clothes...And as is my solace in times like these, I took it to the garden.
Only this time my angels weren't invisible...First two, then three...then five neighborhood kids...came strolling over to play with my own...to see what I was up to...what the dogs were doing... Some came ready to squirt each other with water from the well hose...everyone was open and willing to help... (But each was no doubt clueless as to how their life-affirming energies were helping heal my own.)

     Dogs wagging....Goats jumping...Kids laughing...
             I find great comfort in these things.

     Just another reason why "farm living is the life for me"

     In the end, I'm reminded once again, nothing ever dies...Life takes on new shapes and forms...as it reinvents itself for yet another run at another season...But to be clear, LIFE is forever in our presence. Trick is to be open...ever watching, ever listening...(Maybe that's what he meant by "He who has ears...")

   

New Garden/ New Season

   

    So the writing took a hit...(A week away from blogging is the longest I've gone since beginning this journey.) And why is this? Because it's planting time in Tennessee...
     It's safe to say I am here to stay. What began as background for a cookbook is now a living, breathing part of me: in my veins, in my heart... under my fingernails as I suspect, it will be till the day I die.
     Over the past 4 weeks, I have sold my place in the city, finished my barn in the country...added new drives and mapped out new trails.  The shed that once housed goat chow, is now repurposed for garden tools. We've staked off not one, not two, but four garden plots this year, and added raised beds for a herb garden.
     Meanwhile, we've begun a whole new lavender grove, placing a meditation bench in the heart of the original (where the lavender overgrew itself because I planted the stuff too dang close ...A tribute to lessons learned and things we're still learning.)  We welcomed our first weeping willow, along with 2 wisterias, an apple and a cherry tree...Next up: a wild flower patch for the bees~ (Four colorful new hives having debuted just last week.)
     The goal: sustainable living. The vision: to build upon what we're learning so as to one day, help others wanting to create the same.
     It's a lifestyle I recommend highly... a game plan we've only begun.
     My thanks to those who have poured their love and energy, time and talents into the mix...It's a recipe worth sharing...a creation ever in progress.
     What began with a vision, ends with sore muscles, but all in all, it feels a fair trade... an effort well worth the investment.
     Here's to the honor of living it and loving it another day...
     Here's to life on the farm and life in the country.