Divine Discontent

     Suffice it to say, my year has not started out as I envisioned. Matter of fact, it hardly feels like it's taken off at all...
     For the record, January 1st is my favorite of all holidays. I block it off for silence. I pile up with new planning calendars, new journals, new Sharpies and flippy charts to brainstorm my fool head off. I LOVE blank pages and lined notebooks that invite me to list everything swirling about as my crazy head attempts to capture on paper what most needs doing, or contemplated...or scratched off the list all together.
     But a funny thing happened on the way to my new year...
     Life happened.
     For starters, goat babies started coming at odd intervals. (You've got to stop when new life comes in; they can't help it that their mom's waited 5 months to deliver in the midst of holidays, snow days...whatever days.) Not all of them made it. With these I lost a day to raw grief; with the survivors I lost more days in humble gratitude. (Either way, I was losing days to goat babies...Or, viewed another way, I was living my days with a more prioritized focus. It's all in the perspective I'm learning.)
     Second, not one, not two, not three, but FOUR of my friends died...People I love...People who touched my life...Some I knew were sick, but most I had no warning. One day I'm leaving a message; next day I'm seeing a Facebook post. I know it's life. I've got no monopoly on losing people. (It happens even more often as you age.) But it seemed a sucker punch to the gut to have so many in such a short window. I finally just kept my black skirt folded across the tub for easy access. (Honest to God, it's there right now.)
     But more than anything external (deeply affecting my internal), I began to notice something else was missing: my drive. For some reason, my desire to get things done had taken a nosedive. Some days I was hard pressed to get out of bed...(It's why I keep goats and cute puppies around. Walking Prozac. No time for pity parties when there are mouths to feed, plus, nothing lifts your spirits like the innocent creatures or Roz's precious face. I had no choice but to show up.  I was just moving slower than usual and I was digging deeper in the silence of my morning routines...listening for answers...watching for clues as to what the heck was happening?
     Could this be Depression? (I didn't want to check out, I was simply indifferent...noncommittal...non-motivated.  Projects that once consumed my creative drive were now met with a wall of overwhelm, leaving me to ask "Why bother?" or "Do I really feel up for that today?"
      In talking with friends, I'm discovering I'm not alone. I've got friends battling cancer; friends who've lost jobs; friends recovering from surgery... Others (most all) voice concern for their finances, if not the economy on the whole. No. This isn't just me. I think there's something in the air and like some sort of mental flu, it's contagious. Only nobody seems to want to acknowledge the elephant in the room.
     To process it all in one fell swoop is mind boggling. It was too much to handle. No. I was forced to tackle only the things I could handle in one day and leave the rest for later. For the first time in my life I decided NOT to make a list as lists now served to depress me seeing how much of them DIDN'T get crossed off.
     Then it hit me. De javu all over again. I had been here before. A long time ago...freshly out of college. I was eager to embrace my first job in a career I had trained for...a gig I had bragged about. I moved into my first apartment...Met all new people. A lot of change, and one day: splat. I was miserable...I had miscalculated. I felt guilt for not loving what I was doing as much as I thought I would; I felt tired for working against the flow of my usually upbeat and creative life force just to keep my head above water; I felt lost.
     Thinking back on my twenties, I was reliving those very feelings (if only we could tell ourselves then what we've come to learn now) when I turned the question forward asking "What advice would your 70-something self tell your 50-something self today?"
     The answer? "Brace yourself Evins. This isn't depression. What you're feeling is CHANGE. And the odd thing about change is it packs with it, a total loss of anything familiar...(If it was familiar, it would not be change now, would it?) What I was feeling was what I've now come to call "Divine Discontent" meaning, "Something's about to give."
     If I've learned anything from life especially since moving to the country, it's that life lives you. You may THINK you're going to the store today, but if a goat's in labor or you need to wait on a vet, you can get by another day on crackers. You may THINK you're heading into the city for business talks, but if a snow storm leaves cars strewn up and down I-40, you're gonna heed those anchors who say "If you don't absolutely HAVE to be out in it, stay home!"
     Most of all, I've learned to be forgiving. I'm fairly good at it with others. (Takes too much energy to hold a grudge and I've got better uses for that energy.) But I haven't always been so forgiving with myself. But today, for the sake of my sanity, I must.  I don't have enough energy to be lost, be present AND beat myself up for not sticking to "Today's To Do's" or for breaking more than half of my resolutions one month in.
     So here's to February 1st. New month. New days ahead. New attempts to figure it out.
     One thing I know for sure...One thing I recall from my 20-something encounter with this "funk energy" ...get uncomfortable enough and smart people will stop and allow the change....invite it, even...WELCOME it. You can only walk with a pebble in your shoe for so long before it forms a blister, at which point you WILL have to stop and take off the shoe. Why not stop before the blister forms? (Surely SOME wisdom comes with age.)
     Perhaps it means what you THOUGHT you wanted to do, isn't what you are REALLY supposed to be doing...or what you intended to tackle, you're actually not even GOOD at (so get ready for another new one Evins...how 'bout this time you ask for help? Or better yet, ditch those items from the list all together.)
     Life, I'm learning, is about adjusting our sails. Were we to set out on a sailboat, headed straight to some tropical isle, it would not be one solid, locked-in-place rudder that would get me there. It would be an endless series of back-and-forth, back-and-forth moves of the rudder that would navigate me home.
     To those of you who've reached out, shared similar sensations or are feeling it too...May you take comfort in knowing you are not alone. This feeling I call "Divine Discontent" begins in a space that doesn't feel quite right anymore...Maybe you've outgrown it. Or maybe what you were doing was training you for something yet to come. Either way, the fact that it forces you to dig deeper to find out what does bring that bliss thing back around, I'm all for digging.

Roz's First Day of (Obedience) School

     I begin with apologies to my friends whose kids with major life accomplishments, I feel I have not adequately emoted...
     Thinking over my closest, one's daughter just completed nursing school, with job lined up and life moving swimmingly. Another friend birthed an artist...a sculptor to be exact. A deep-thinking soul whose work is amazing. (I know I've said I'm proud. I just don't think I've said it enough.) I have another, whose daughter is a school counselor...PhD in psychology, works with troubled teens...increasingly on call for the traumas and tragedies that too often lead our newscasts. Another friend's daughter is a brainiac...newly engaged, she just aced the bar...Former president of her last school's student body she may someday be president. (If only we could plug her in now.)
 

    In short, I have some seriously gifted girlfriends raising seriously gifted daughters. And while one can never brag too much on these things (after all, they've had 20 plus years to perfect their profession) I now touch my toe into the shallow waters of their ocean, for only now have I felt their pride (on a microcosmic level mind you, but a mother's pride is a mother's pride)... This week we began . . .
     Puppy Obedience Class. (Yes. I realize it's a stretch here. But stay with me.)
     Leaving 4 big dogs behind, Roz squirmed in the passenger seat, her water in one cup holder, a Red Bull in mine. (Save your judgment; it was early. We needed it.)
     Pointing Jeep towards Nashville, Roz was more confused than anything and at first, not nearly as excited as I felt she should be so I sang to her, trying to pep her up for what was to come...(Our radio's been broken now for nearly a year; this is our time for bonding.)
     Within the hour we offloaded her from her co-pilot perch, leash attached; dog confused. (The co-op she recognizes...She's a hit at TSC...She's a regular at our local pet supply store. And she especially loves when we pull in to Room in the Inn to see all her friends. But today was different and she knew it. This was an all new experience. This was BIG (literally--as in parking lot, people, hustle and bustle) ....Lots of strange sites,  smells, and even strange dogs ....(What? DOGS? Insert Scooby-Doo "rut roh " here)
     What time I wasn't singing, I had been reflecting ... on what I'd gotten us into...what I had committed this little fuzzball to. To be clear, it is not lost on me my own subconscious desire to add a little more discipline to our lives--Never trained a dog before, but I knew "I" could use some structure. My life has become one endless cycle of re-routing plans ever since farming. A goat born here changes an appointment there.  A morning lost in writing alters the afternoon game plan for errands. At first I blamed Mother Nature where changes in weather can rule out an entire crop and an unanticipated storm can re-work your day. But there's plenty of this that just comes from working with creative energies for a living. Be it writing, producing or co-venturing on another's project, there has come the need for me to stop and regroup...Intentionally adding something of discipline into my day to day felt in order.  And since they don't have obedience school for people, I made Roz my excuse.

Roz...Gearing up for an evening at RITI

     Never have I taken a dog to obedience school; most plan this around a need, such as the puppy that keeps tearing up your pillows or the one that suffers from panic attacks when you walk out the door. Such were not our reasons. No. Roz's reasons involve a newfound career move born of an incident that took place last November. It was a conversation with a homeless man that instigated an entire whole chain reaction. (Can we agree? The Lord can use anyone to get a point across.)
     A little background...
     I hit the campus of Room in the Inn as I do every November. Some faces are familiar. Some faces are new.  I was downtown reuniting with fellow volunteers and guests alike--folks I had not seen since March (when our regular season ends). It's not uncommon for folks to ask about the farm...the garden...the critters. This year I had something new to share, that being Rosebud and her pups that were at the time of our season's launch, about 5 weeks old, so I was sharing cell phone pictures, clips of nursing pups and the goats they're born to protect. I had also confessed that I was trying hard not to keep a pup myself as 4 grown Pyrs is a lot in anyone's book.
     In talking with a new guest I had not met before, he took a glance at the pix and said "I'm getting one of those!" (I was pretty certain he was confused or hopeful or both, but I had to ask: "Are you sure? These are Pyrenees. They get pretty big."
     "Yeah, I'm already on a list...They're assigning me one as a service dog."
     (Again, I'm sad to say, my initial response was: you must be mistaken. A quick mental picture of Rosey as a seeing eye dog ended abruptly as I thought of how quickly she bolts at deer...Could not imagine a Pyr in service training...I couldn't imagine training a Pyr period.)
     But the service dog he was describing had nothing to do with eye-dogs...nothing to do with drug sniffing. Seems when I wasn't looking, someone out there spotted that Pyrs are among the best breed going to assist someone who might be suffering from something psychological ...challenges such as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
     My new friend went onto explain that as a returning soldier he had been diagnosed with PTSD, and once his housing came through, a dog was next...but not just any dog-- a Pyrenees. And a trained one at that. First I'd heard of this; clearly I was gripped.
     Back home, I spent the rest of the night and half the next week, googling organizations, studies and the like. I watched videos; I called friends in high places asking "Whose idea was this?" and "How can I help?"
     To be clear, Pyrs are not known for being "trainable" as say ...a German Shephard or a seeing-eye dog. You google their heritage and you read words like "stubborn" or "strong-willed"... these adjectives usually come after "exceedingly large" and "expensive to feed" and the all famous "nocturnal" (meaning they bark all night and sleep all day...Trust me on this one. Then again, there is a great peace that comes with those nocturnal barking rounds.)
     So here I am with Roz...13 weeks old and newly vaccinated so as to enter this class. They say the ideal age is somewhere between 10 and 14 weeks for starters. Suffice it to say, despite the large breeds she's in training with (the Rott and the Weimaraner in particular) Roz was already head and shoulders above them in size...her laid back attitude in 180 contrast to the other, more "trainable" breeds. ( Roz was so laid back it was comical AND ironic given the shoes and ribbons she'd torn to shreds the night before, but at least this left her tuckered out by the time we got there. Not a lot of anxiety going on with Roz...even in a room full of strangers. Like Granny-Rosey, Roz is very much her own dog.)
   

Roz's Next-Chair Neighbor and New Best Friend

 The PetSmart classroom is located center of the store, so that onlookers and those considering the same can witness just what takes place. Last to arrive (yes, we know who needs the discipline) Roz and I took the last seat available, which stationed us between an 8-week old Weimaraner (talk about energy) and a teeny, tiny Yorkie (equally rambunctious; also known for yapping). Between the two --a mountainous Roz...30 pounds of fluffy white cloud only heavier and a face that said, "Who are these people?"
    First order of business, we were handed a clicker, sounds for which are to become synonymous with such things as her name, good behavior and eye contact, all of which, (once you click) mean a seriously tasty (read: expensive) doggie treat. (Note: same doggie treats are handed out to the Yorkie are were handed out for Roz...That she didn't go AFTER the Yorkie's to me, should've netted her a ribbon, if not additional treats, but what do I know. Roz was being such a good gurrrl. Quite frankly, I was amazed.)
     The name thing she got in spades. (Of course we'd been singing it all the way there.) The sitting part (if it meant a treat) she got equally well. ("Can I get two if I go ahead and lie down?") The clicker thing made her cock her head sideways with the cutest confused expression, but in time she gathered that the treat wasn't coming until she acknowledged it, skills for which don't exactly come naturally to one who's never taken a dog for training before. (Eye contact THEN click? Or click to get the eye contact. This took us a minute to coordinate. May've been a blonde thing. Roz, on the other hand was there to do whatever. The clicker part was more confusing than anything but saying her name, getting her to look eye to eye, that came naturally. Then again, she comes from a long line of eye-gazers...Plus I was holding a treat. Ok. What's next? )
     Next, we took a break in which we were led on a guided tour of the store. Leading the entire class through a Canine Candyland of Bouncy Burrows and Holee-Treat balls and indestructable KONG toys and game-playing things,  we were taught things like why a $30 elk antler is a better investment than a $.99 rawhide chew (if you account for the potential vet bill). All in all, highly educational, if nothing else I'll know where to find our aisle on future visits without having to ask for help. On the other hand, given the puppy-eye-level placement of this smorgasbord of delights, I felt it slightly inconsiderate (if not downright abusive) to expect a 10-week old pup to be still while being taunted by all the temptations.

     But more amazing yet, was Roz (who just the night before had pulled out EVERY toy she owned --and a few of mine--as in one last hoo-rah before the disciplining began). In total shock to me, Roz was not phased in the least by these things...Instead, Roz, who was closest to the door when leaving our training area for this little tour, (we were last in if you'll recall, thus nearest to the door) Roz held back...allowing everyone else to follow the leader first. Even when a fellow classmate offered to let us go before him and his Snickerdoodle, Roz remained poised, her herding instinct kicking in. Once everyone was in the aisle (and a long aisle it was-- long enough to host a dozen dogs, each with 2 or more family members) Roz observed her flock, strategically parking herself between the entire group and the rest of the store.  Roz (back to the group) had assumed her position and parked her body so as to serve as lookout, for this, her newfound substitute of a family.
     Back in the class area, we practiced clicking again before being asked to sit in a large circle. (This one was a new one on me, and one I feared might be our undoing.) Side by side with our beloved pets in front of us, we were to pass our babies to the person on our right, so that each of us would meet each of the other dogs (while watching our dogs look back in confusion). On this, Roz (at first) did not do so well; but halfway in (i.e. directly across the circle from me, watching her mama make over an adorable Rottweiler pup), she started to grasp the concept...they were moving her back my way. She would be coming back around before it was all said and done (big sigh). Her mommy would not be leaving without her. So long as I didn't walk out that door, she was cool and began to make friends with the other doggies' mommies. (Good gurrrl Roz. Good gurrl.)

Mommy's On a Bathroom Break. Gotta Guard Her Door.

     After this, we were given the opportunity to ask final questions. (I have to restrain myself in these moments; I asked only my fair share.) We were given some homework, a folder of things to read later and "suggestions" as to what things we might invest in next for new areas of training that are to come.
      Roz and I said adieu to our newfound friends ... and left the store with $40 worth of an antler and some treats. Exhausted she slept all the way home. (This time I didn't sing.)

How Not to Blog

Roz ... Before the week began

     I am glad I did not state specifically for the world to see, my New Year's resolutions, as two weeks in and I've already broken half of them... Anything that started with "daily" (as in "incorporate more of this into your routine") hasn't fully been incorporated and in reflecting on why it's pretty simple: my days were packed already. (What was I thinking?) Between farm commitments (may be no garden going, but the chores are forever) ...the goats (now entering another round of birthings) ... a new puppy AND puppy obedience school)...work projects...church projects...volunteer projects...friendship maintenance ...writing...living...being...Well, I don't think I'm alone when spotting: "To add ANYthing new into your life Evins, you're going to have to delete some things first."
     Sadly, as our houses grow more cluttered with each Kmart run, our closets overflow from one too many trips to the mall, our phones unable to store more pictures till we clear out our clouds, so go our lives...And yet mindlessly, endlessly we take on one more thing, meet one more person (and face it, most of us don't ditch our old friends just because we  make new ones)...We commit to one more project...At what point will we stop and realize we're manifesting things and activities and events in our lives quicker and quicker these days, and yet no one since Newton has stopped to remind us that "for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction" meaning for each new thing, each new invite, each new person met, each new activity tackled, come new set of responsibilities stemming from responses requiring new RE-actions, which in turn need responding and re-acting to, and so on and so on...
     Sad our lives aren't wired like our cell phones where before we hit the wall we're told our capacity is up only to be offered a plethora of monthly options to buy more storage.   If only there was a 99-cent-a-month plan so we could just tack on more space when we've run out of what we were originally given. In our increasingly noisy lives there is no such option. But does that stop us? No.  We just keep adding and adding and adding to our overextended lives anyway. And then we question our memories and our sanity wondering why we have the attention span of a gnat or can't remember where we were last Tuesday night. (Something I have lots to say about, but right now is not the time, lest I get further behind on this week's activities.)
     I titled this one "How Not to Blog" because each and every day this week deserved a blog all its own AND in real time. Had I stuck to my plan, there'd be four here by now (adding guilt to the overall mix of things).  So new, so eventful, so gripping some of this week's lessons (not all of them happy ones btw) I was too busy LIVING my life to write about it. So busy was I in questioning (be it instructors, be it myself, be it God) I found myself utterly exhausted by the end of each day, and as a result my body's need for sleep won out over my mental desire to live up to my commitment to a piece of paper made 2 weeks ago.
     So I'm making up for that today.
     Rather than updating you in real time...I'm updating you all at once; 4 days after. The good news is, a bit more reflection is now added to the mix. (Hoping that'll make up for me breaking my New Year's resolution of blogging here daily.)
     So forgive the "week-in-a-day" series of blog entries you're about to receive. Other option was to make one long entry, but given the differences each day held, the former option feels a more organized one, (organization and elimination of things being high on that resolutions list, and one I HAVE stuck to. Of course the year has just begun so I have miles to go before I sleep...)
     First up: Roz's first day of (obedience) school. (Brace yourself. This was one of the precious ones... I know everyone thinks their child special--and each one is-- But Roz, doing something SO off the beaten path for anyone ever from this family to attempt...well, it was an adorable thing to behold... a total unknown for the both of us. But may I just say she was a brave little pupster to have tackled it with such grace and charm.)
     Next on my list:  build some fold out steps for the Jeep so as to get her there by the end of the run or else by end of season she'll be driving...#growingbytheminute)
   

   

Video Blogging 101

     It would help when posting about a new venture into the world of blogging, to POST said video ... (yes, we actually hit a wrong button, which I am only now seeing)

     To make better sense of the afore mentioned (so called) feral cat blog ... I offer you 2 versions of what was meant to be a first... ( video attempt)

Next up -- video editing, and/or updating all systems (which I loathe as I shall lose several days figuring out where the Apple people moved everything)

     (Let us see if THIS allows the clips to show...If not, perhaps I'm best returning to long hand, written journal formats ...)

(Post Script: Rule changes and upgrades are easily lost on one not so technically inclined...Will consult my tech-y-'r friends tomorrow to figure out where all the other video posts of days past went...(Clearly, going forward, all must route through YouTube...that is, assuming the two above actually show up. I won't know until I back out and start again as a viewer.)

While grateful for technological advances, being force to upgrade sucks as there's  not a lot of excess time in our days as it is to stop and figure out what they assure us they've done to save us yet more time~  (which seldom if ever it does) ...Hoping these clips post... (And apologies if perhaps, for some of you, they posted twice. I can't see it from my end until I back out and start again, as clearly things I can see quite clearly in preview...don't make the final scene for you, the viewer.)

Going forward perhaps I'm best to stick to the written word accompanied with the occasional still shot ~ (assuming they haven't forced an upgrade there as well...)

Dear Lord, I miss analog.

So much for my simplified life :)

   

There 'R Blogs...(and then There 'R Blogs) Advancing to the World of the V-log (but not really)

   

More written words to come on my New Year's Resolutions (I actually DO have a lot to say about this, but my dog ate my homework...Literally)

     So may we shift to the "other" version of a blog...which is to say, the "video blog" also known as the "v-log" (which I'm pretty sure was the term 2 years ago...I haven't updated my technology since then, so please allow me this moment)

     To be clear, we are nowhere near ready to claim victory to the video-blogging thing by way of vitae,  but our attempts and excuses as to why ... should be more than self evident here.

     Case in point: please keep in mind, Roz, (cute white pup) is not the only critter taking up real estate in these parts ... In case you just joined us...may I introduce "Gracie" my (so called/not-so-feral) feral cat. (You'll have to scroll backwards if you don't know the history on my vast research into feral cats...why we need them...how all farms/barns should have them...How you should never name them for they will never let you close...)

     (For those of you who know me ... Well, here's the rest of the story. Yes. Gracie's now inside the house.)

     If you are only starting your own personal research on 'ferals' ....you might find this particularly helpful. (Just to let you know, it took two attempts to tell this story. Clearly going forward I need either  a)  to stick to writing or b) to hire a "for real" video editor ... (Pretty certain Steve Jobs is rolling over in his grave about now; surely he never intended his i-phones to be used for such foolish purposes, but hey ...  at least it's in real time :)

     How this all will end...
          well...
                 I'll share as long as I am able...

     Here's to educating the masses as to the pitfalls of the dangerous (so called) feral cat!

Meet Rosamarie (a.k.a. Roz)

   

     Ok....Not exactly the blog I planned for this day... (3 months off, the list backs up, but clearly, living in the "now"  means "today's surprises" move to top of the list.)
     So for those not following on Facebook, mid-hiatus, came a bunch of puppies...
     For those not so familiar with my familiar-farm-family, I am the mother of 4 big white Pyrs (as in Pyrenees dogs)...Rosey and TJ were my first (bro and sis); Rosey had one round of babies before being fixed (11 to be exact; we kept 2--Rosebud and Hix). Rosebud is my most recent mother--all babies (including the one I kept) are today on farms protecting everything from sheep to goats to chickens to people. In keeping with the Rosey/Rosebud line of things, our latest family member is named "Rosemarie" a.k.a. "Roz" a.k.a. "Rozerini" a.k.a. ...anything that comes out of my mouth when she's chewing on something or otherwise looking very cute.
     So, in keeping with the tradition, RoseBUD (are you following this? She's Rosey's daughter...Roz's mother) did a super job as mom, but is now more than happy to be back at her duties guarding goats. Baby ROZ we kept for 2 reasons: 1) Rosey's line we plan to continue; Roz is 5th generation goat herding/working dog so one female in each generation we keep for sake of the line, so in time Roz, too, will birth a litter of pups. But for now--no rush, for Roz is the perfect puppy who showed up at just the right time, (i.e. Nothing like a puppy to snap you out of your exhaustion or dysfunction or any other kinda funk; nothing will snap you into the "now" like a Pyr puppy, although I dare say most any puppy is capable of the same. I just happen to be particularly fond of Pyrs.)
     But the greater reason I opted to take on a fifth pup, is I have recently discovered Pyrs are now being trained as service dogs for returning vets suffering from PTSD, and well... I applaud whomever made the connection and I want to help.
     So I have a different plan for Roz.
     For starters, my goat to large dog ratio is well taken care of around here. We've basically got 1 dog for every 4 - 5 goats. (Technically "One will suffice" especially when factoring the food bills, so the goat-guarding duties are covered.)
     No. I'm interested in seeing just how trainable these dogs really are. And while 12 weeks is the recommended start date for basic obedience training (Roz turns 12 weeks tomorrow) she has already shown great potential as a greeter and volunteer (if not a mascot) tagging along with me at Room in the Inn. (In fact, it was one of our homeless guests who, upon hearing I raised Pyrs, shared that he was about to be assigned one.)
     "Assigned one?" I was curious...Surely he was mistaken.
     "Yes. As a service dog." (I'm thinking, "They're kinda stubborn and they aren't cheap to feed...are you sure you have the right breed?")
      Answer: Yes. (Turns out he was right. I had to know more.)
     I came home and started Googling and lo and behold, Pyrs are being ranked one of the best breeds out there for vets dealing in post traumatic stress disorder. Why? Because of their temperament...Because of their loyalty...Because of their instinctive protective nature...Because you don't want to step foot between a Pyr and whatever it is that Pyr is there to protect. (I would personally like to meet the person who came up with this one as I think it's brilliant.)
     So for starters, we'll see if Roz is trainable. (FYI Pyrs are known to be stubborn (we like to say "independent minded") i.e. difficult to train if you don't start early. Don't know that this would work with Rosey or TJ; Hix and RoseBUD are definitely out of the question, so set in their ways are they; but in starting Roz out early, we are eager and hopeful to see what training can do.
     If she takes to it, (and so far, she's socializing well in large group settings) who knows, Roz may make it to a VA near you. If not, we'll at least report back on the experience.
     Pyrenees do (sadly enough) wind up too often in pounds and shelters...(If you've never had one, read up on the breed before falling in love with this polar-bear-looking pup.) They DO grow quite large and will require space. (Think Saint Bernard only solid white.) They are also nocturnal (meaning they bark all night to keep things away), and in the summer months, they shed and some drool.
     On the other hand, these dogs are fiercely loyal, instinctively protective...truly "gentle giants" when it comes to injured animals and kids (both children and newborn baby goats).  But don't let the label fool you. In these parts a Pyr will flat take out a coyote or a fox and mine are particularly rough on buzzards and hawks. In short they are on patrol at all times and live to protect the things they love, be it goats, sheep or their owners.
     The thought of this breed being of aid to returning soldiers warms my heart no end. (Then again, I'm pretty nuts about these dogs.)

Ok. May I just say, this was the "not so great" part of my day
when Rosey dragged into the yard the skeletal remains of a
possum, leaving it for Rosemarie to find~
 (Think it's safe to say, this one's not faking)
Fortunately, Roz is (as of today) still small enough to fit in the shower~
(ugh)

   

In the words of that little Poltergeist girl...

     I'm Baaaaacccckkkk!

     Hardly the silent, sensitive way I entered this new year, but high on my list of New Year's resolutions was "Resume the Blog" ~ And so, I am. Here's announcing that it's back.
     First, may I begin with my sincere (and kinda overwhelmed) thanks to those of you I discovered had been following it. As I've mentioned in prior posts, my original intention in starting a blog in the first place had nothing to do with keeping score or upping my following. Rather, it had everything to do with sharing what I'm learning as I go, for the sake of saving time.
     For starters, I don't know what I'm doing. I've been learning from day one, but since more and more people seem to be resonating to such things as home grown veggies and sustainable living and simplifying their lives and novel new concepts like tiny houses and (fill in the blank), I get a lot of questions. (Namely: WHY are YOU doing this, Evins? Answer: Well...it started out as a cookbook idea--a project I decided to research first hand, which meant "Grow it yourself, which turned into Farmer Thurman showing me the old fashion way, which turned into "to be organic, you gotta have critters that poop," which turned into cute goats, which turned into Pyrenees to protect the goats, which turned into... You get the gist. And if you haven't noticed, I never got that 3rd cookbook on the press, why? Because despite those enticing magazines at your grocer's check out, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A HOBBY FARM~ (So if you're thinking of this as a hobby, let me dispel that little myth right now.)
     So to those of you curious or pondering the same, I was more than happy to share, yes, the fun and fulfilling elements of my first hand, neophyte, investigative approach to things...but also the "Whoops...Didn't quite think that one through" moments of which there are many. (Actually, most of them...If I stop to add them up.)
     Bottom line, I love the farm. I love gardening. I love my goats, my pups...I love this life. But attempting to manage all of these things with the hope of doing any one of them reasonably well (not to mention, run a book company to pay for said "experiments") well, it left something to be desired.
     So end of the last season, (August always finding me exhausted and usually in the hospital for some stress related weak link that gives way), I once again found myself steeped in stress. My mother faced a critical surgery and needed care taking; my own health was weakening. (Exhaustion will do that to you.  No vacation in 4 whole years, will do that to you. If I wasn't going to logically recalibrate my energy expenditures, my body was going to do it for me, and I could hear it asking, "Could we please hit pause and review?")
     Answer was: yes. Experience in life is only as good as our ability to reflect upon it once it's happened, and for me that came with some very serious soul searching as to what parts of this we keep, and what parts of this we say "Nice experiment; I think I'll leave that to the pros."
     So I enter this year, having taken the time I felt I needed to regroup, re-organize and re-prioritize a few things (starting with my own health, and that of my mother, who came through things with flying colors...Thank you God, and thanks to those of you who prayed)...In other words, those pesky little events that otherwise culminate in "Life" ...Complete with the lessons that will slow your jets down for you if you keep adding layers to the stack cake you're baking in your own little kitchen there.
     I enter this year, and this blog in particular, with more questions than answers...More uncertainties than ever before, and yet more hope. I still feel strongly that interests in such things as sustainable living, clearing our lives of clutter, making more space for what matters and using that space efficiently (i.e. tiny homes are on my research radar this year...Love that Tiny Home Nation, but what I want to see is where these folks are in 10 years...Did they last? Are their marriages are still in tact? Are they tired of living in a cute closet on wheels or did they really use all they'd saved to experience life more fully? Again, uncertain, but hopeful.) I feel strongly our interests in these things are happening for a reason...that I'm not the only one asking "How do I slow this train down?" and I'm not the only one wondering "How did it get this crazed in the first place?"
     Seems everyone I talk to these day (be they Thurmans, be they corporate execs, be they entrepreneurs) are dealing in some aspect of the same. Something's going on here. We've got more luxuries, more technology, more access to information, more HELP by way of things to save us time, and yet no one seems to have any spare time to show for it. (How'd that happen? Or are we using these things improperly, after all, every phone, pad and gizmo comes with an instruction booklet, but none comes with the booklet to warn you how having all this nifty new gear might one day affect your sanity.)
     So that's me. That's where my mind goes when I'm not blogging...(I'm still writing mind you, just silently, in a journal long hand, but to give you a clue, that's where my mind has been.)  I enter this year still searching for answers on how to prepare the proper soil, but more than getting beneath my garden's soil, I want to dig beneath the surface of my own life's dirt to see what root rot may've set in when I wasn't looking.)
     So if you're curious (or just grateful someone decided to be the self-appointed guinea pig here), bookmark me. I got halfway done with a new website that will allow you to ask for a notice with each new blog, but until I get the other half done, just bookmark it. I'll be here most everyday, Lord willing.
     And get ready for the pictures. Got goat babies due just any day. Rosebud (Rosey's daughter) had a litter of pups smack dab in the middle of my mom's surgical ordeal, so THAT was a high and low kinda roller coaster...Life on the farm is far from laid back, but there's a lot to keep you smiling (if not downright laughing)...And still, there's plenty to make you think (and feel...and ask).
     So...here's to a brand new year, with some brand new resolutions, starting with "More silence...More meditating... More intentional focus to life's little decisions, that eventually account for the big ones...More sharing of what matters most (assuming you find it...to me-- this one's the biggie. If we could each but figure this one out, why wouldn't this be a swell place to live? )
     Here's to the journey. As my friend Richard Bach once wrote,

          "Here is the test to find whether your mission on earth is finished:

                                                                                                        if you're alive, it isn't." 

(From Illusions...My favorite book. Ever. If you haven't read it, I can't recommend it highly enough. Bach is my kinda author, my kinda thinker...but that's another blog for another day.)

     So Happy New Year, kindred spirits and kind-hearted souls...

     Be happy.  
                            It's New.  
                                                 You're Here.

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