Climate Changes

Polar blasts…Flooding…

Tornadoes out of season…

It doesn’t take an Al Gore movie to tell you something is happening here. I don’t care which side of the political aisle you’re on. There’s something going on with our weather.

I gave up my political mic years ago and have zero desire to spark debate, but you spend any time at all watching the weather so as to know when to start planting and you too will be convinced. (I don’t care who you voted for.)

These days I’ve been interviewing more farmers than politicians, and I’m here to tell you…Strike up a gardening conversation and you’re going to get a nod and an “You’re tellin’ me” kinda response when you go to talking weather. As far as their politics (and this is not a scientific survey), it varies. Been my experience tat the older they are the more conservative; those newer to the scene are often are perceived as “tree-hugging” green, but since “tree-huggers” are all about conserving things, even that label gets confusing. Bottom line: Mother Nature doesn’t have a party. And if you don’t think something’s going on with her, well, you’re clearly not paying attention and you're certainly not growing gardens.

This year will mark year 3 that I’ve ventured into these uncharted waters of planting a garden (waters, being the operative word this season). First time out, I started in mid March. Last year, first plants went in the ground in April. This year, it’s May, and already we know it's going to be mid-May if you're planting by the signs. (Why? Because my garden is a mud pit, that’s why.)

Not one to fuel conspiracy theories by any stretch, but when Thurman calls to say “Sorry…not this weekend either; ground’s too wet.” we could not help but comment on how much later and later we’re starting things, (nor could we help but speculate on how much hotter and hotter it will be when the full planting begins, so winter crops are out for me this year).

I listen to peers from my former profession “poo-pooing” those spotting the obvious (as if I have reason to tell the world “The sky is falling!” To the contrary, I’m the most positive person I know…)

Which is why it’s easy to say “I am POSITIVE something’s going on... The weather is changing.  I’ve not been at this all my life as some have, but I have been at it a couple of years and even those two were as different as night and day when it came to the plants and as to what this one holds is anybody's guess. 

Case in point, first year, my corn was pathetic… I thought it was me. Turns out it was the drought. The lack of rain prompted me to investigate well digging, which I’ll be doing this year for sure. But then last year, it was too much rain, and my corn grew like Jack’s beanstalk. (Seriously. Even Thurman said, “That ain’t right” as some stalks reached 14 feet.)

Now, as to what we can do about it? That’s another story.

Less fossil fuel consumption…yes. (Less consumption period, I say.)

But more than stockpiling food, fuel or ammo to me the thing to stockpile is information…Not just “Can you grow a garden?” but “Do you know a farmer?” or “Could you make a meal from scratch without a can of something to get you going?”

No matter your political views…No matter your religious beliefs, “sustainable living” is a phrase that’s popping up more and more in my conversations these days. And if you’re not talking about it, you might at least want to listen, as mocking the notion or calling someone wacko for pausing to consider that we might not want to take our food supply for granted is not only wise, it’s downright respectful. Show me someone who doesn’t think sustainable living is a topic worthy of discussion and I’ll show you a person who’s naive, who takes too much for granted or has never grown a garden (and most likely all three).

Mapping/Planning . . .My Kinda Day/My Kinda Company

            Some days…

                  A picture really is worth a thousand words . . .

            Lovin’ the creativity of this day…

                 Planning is fun . . .

                       Visioning, even more so.  . .

           

            Be it business…Be it gardens…

                                   

                                                   It all starts with a chart and a dream.

                          (This is how K. Rose rolls...Here's welcoming the new team captain.)

Miracle Monday

Dear Diary,

Let’s see…Where to begin?

So my first call of the morning was from a close friend calling to say his doctor just called…That diagnosis about his cancer spreading? Seems they got that wrong. (Thank you, God!)

My second aha moment was when Minsky, my 14 year old lhasa poo that went lame last week (yeah, the same one I was told wouldn’t make it without surgery)…Well, she walked by herself up the steps today. And she spent a good deal of her morning after that chasing a ball. (Something even I was convinced she might never do again.) Again, just goes to prove…

So my biggest problem after all this was an a/c unit that went out 2 days ago. Next call came from a contractor friend who (now that I have you on the line, might you know someone…?) Turns out…yes, he did. That same someone was able to work me in before the storms hit, fixing my little problem to a tune far less than what a replacement unit would’ve cost me (“replacement” being the word the last repairman used last fall).

Meanwhile, yes, there were storms. Yes, tornados (even now) threaten. I’m not saying everyday comes up roses. But what I am saying is that there are forces greater than our human abilities to comprehend at work. THIS I believe with all my heart. And when things look dire, more and more I am learning that if I can wait them out…if I can but override my human tendency to fear the worst, that these too come with a blessing tied in there somehow; my job…to wait for the hand to play out.

Karen Carpenter once sang of Rainy Days and Mondays (and today was certainly a rainy day). But I’m here to write about Miracle Days and Mondays. For I have come to accept that there are clouds and there are linings. More and more I'm convinced a lot has to do with how you view it and what you're looking for.

Spirituality of Ironing

             Strange as it may sound, there is nothing I love more than a quiet day with nothing else on the agenda, and a big load of ironing in front of me. Call me crazy, but I find this routine task so rewarding that I actually look forward to ironing day (which in my world happens about every 3 - 4 weeks).

            Something about the mindless routine of taking a thing that’s all wrinkled and crumpled … and making it look brand new again really does a number on my head. Add to that, my own Pavlovian reward system whereby I allow myself the indulgence of watching my favorite shows back to back and it’s my own little mental vacation, after which I have a whole new wardrobe to savor.

            Granted I do wash my clothes on a more regular schedule. (Lucky for me, goats and dogs could care less if my jeans are pressed.) But when I really want to feel I’m doing something without committing much thought to the equation, well, I find it relaxing, yet productive at the same time. Matter of fact, I seldom watch a movie at home that I’m not running an iron back and forth over something. (I think my remote control thumb is tied to my ironing synapses. Pick up one and it triggers the other.)

            I get the same sort of charge from washing dishes, (which is a good thing, given the number of goat and dog bowls I clean on a daily basis). While most folks hate these menial chores, I have come to view them as mental holidays. The real work for me comes when I have to add something, or focus on problem-solving, or organizing things (now THAT requires thought).

            But give me the mindless chores any day. A dog bowl here, a prairie skirt there. What’s more, given the gap factor (that break between all the thinking we do in the course of a day) and I’ll come up with a bevy of new ideas just for having pulled out the laundry baskets.

            I recall an overwhelming urge when Katrina hit, to organize my closets, and ironically began to note when talking to friends, I wasn’t alone. Granted, many of us were drawn to donate things as we watched those helpless people lose everything to the floods. In my own mind, I decided it was all I COULD control…as if my mind saw the chaos and sent a trigger down to my little hands to “do something…ANYthing” and best I could come up with was “organize my closet…toss out the unneeded…give things to those who could use it.”

            To me, these moments can become downright spiritual when I stop to reflect. Maybe it stems from those early Sunday school lessons about idle hands becoming the devil’s workshop. Hard to say.

            All I know is when I really want to pick myself up and feel better about an otherwise, lazy day, nothing brings it out in me like fresh laundry, newly ironed…just waiting for that day when I’m running behind and will be so

glad I have clean clothes awaiting as this scenario happens far more often than laundry day.

You're So Southern If

…You spent your weekend scoping out falling down barns so you might have "real" wood to help build your own

…You crept down Sparta Pike today (a.k.a. Highway 70)  both in laughter and in awe of how (SO not a mile) that Watertown Mile-LongYard Sale thing really was

…You find yourself instinctively flipping up your left hand (from the steering wheel of your vehicle, no less) waving ever so slightly at the cars coming at you in the other lane

…The first thing you heard waking up this morning was a rooster; the last thing --a hoot owl

…You actually Like washing dishes by hand (cause it gives you time to think)

…You can't wait to get home to hug something (be it your husband, your pups or your kids--be they 2 legged or 4-legged) cause at least it means you're home.

For Tracy

            I met her 2 days ago.

            Having spent so much time on business things/farm things/garden things…

It really was time to let Nashville ties go, which included leasing/sub-leasing if not totally selling out the condo I had there on West End.

 So I sent a message to a handful of people I knew...

            Couple weeks later, one response stood out…”Would I consider leasing my place to a girl who was going through chemo who needed to be near Vandy.”

            Something in this note struck a cord.

Forget business…Forget storage…Forget moving things. So what if I needed to lease my place “as is” …Turns out “as is” was not only simplest for me. It was simplest for Tracy in her latest walk of life.

            What happened beyond this (as I once used to voice as the tag line to a radio show) is “Beyond Reason”

            In time I shall blog about “Tracy” …(a girl deserving all her own of a blog)

            For now, all I can say is “Tracy” is my walking “angel” on earth.

            As I watched her today (coming straight to my farm from radiation; mask covering her mouth to prevent germs, yet longing to memorize every goat by name) all I could think was “This is the sister I never knew.”

            Little does Tracy know that when I was 6, my best friend’s name was “Tracy”.

            Little did she know that Tracy (my 1^st grade/best friend pal and companion) and I used to tell our teachers in unison “We Twins” (…that’s how much we resembled; how much we longed to be real life sisters)

            Little could my newfound Tracy know that my first (and best friend ever) Tracy, died in a traffic accident when she was 16. (I was also 16) ...The loss of which, I never got over.

            But today I'm convinced...

            Sometimes God gives us a second glimpse of what could have been...

            All I can say is whatever/whenever/however Tracy wants to spend her days from here going forward…I’m in. I'm here to help. (And may I just say, fair warning:  Tracy dreams big!)

            So today: Fair warning.
            World, Get ready.
            Tracy and I have a few things coming.

           

           

Pooh to the 2 ~ ( s%*t happens)

           Most everyday, thanks to Facebook, web posts and bloggings, I receive messages from those asking to come see the kids; come pull some weeds; come experience the farm’s peaceful environment. And while I love that my pics are so enticing, the journalist in me worries that I am not properly conveying what Paul Harvey would call “The rest of the story”~

To be clear, there are two sides to this and every story…as for the darling critters I often share, please know there are many facets to this farm living thing. (And the less palatable ones, I dare not take pictures of.)

            For starters, there are the days that bring sadness. I wrote of these particularly in the winter months, when goats had still births and Rosey lost babies (4 out of her 11 to be exact; not uncommon for this breed of dog). I’ve been delicate in posting pics of things Rosey’s drug in (though it was just too tempting not to take a picture of the “claw” of the buzzard she’d been stalking for 3 months—I hate to say it, but the poor thing deserved it; one does not taunt Rosey when it comes to her pups).

            Likewise, out of courtesy, I dare not write too terribly much about bathroom habits around here, but may I just say, some days, it’s the brightest spot of my day, especially as it pertains to my sweet (14 year old) Minsky, who has been in the ER twice here of late for problems relating/affecting thereto.

            (OK. I’m laughing, for as she sleeps (sweet thing); she would die to know I’m writing this about her, but I’m going to just the same. Thank God she can’t read.)

            I had to laugh this morning at how very excited I was in what a friend created a song about in “Minsky-the-pooh” ~ (yes, we now sing when my dog poo’s…Go ahead and save my space at the funny farm…)

            Then again, “poo” is a big part of farm life, and one most everyone around here will talk about once you get to know ‘em well enough.

            While never proper fodder for fine dining experiences, this is where farm life differs, for poo in these parts is downright sacred.

            First off, poo is needed for the garden. When people ask why I have goats I neither milk nor sell for meat, I tell them “They have a job to do.” (In truth, there is no greater garden fertilizer than goat poop; before these guys, Thurman used to loan me poop from his cows; you gotta have something pooping…especially if you want to call yourself “organic”. Around here, we even know which animal's poo is better for what plants. After all, not all poo is created equal.)

            Second off, there is no greater barometer for the health of your critters than to watch out for their poo. For you know instantly when you need to de-worm something, cut back on something or flat out quit giving them something, for they’ll be the first to let you know (not always by telling you, but ALWAYS by way of their poop).

            It’s become a way of life. You step into the pen and if you notice when something/anything is not quite right; you shift your eyes to start looking for the culprit. (Not that the culprit has done anything wrong, but that the culprit might need some help.)

            Yes “poo” was never something I’d dare mention, though here of late (and especially as it pertains to Minks, who is on umpteen meds, which yes, affect her poo-ing habits) “poo” is a topic of much interest both to me and those who know her.

            Changing her diet has helped tremendously. (For those who might likewise benefit from this tidbit of info, turns out pumpkin is the perfect laxative. [Who knew?] We mix hers with kale, to add fiber.)

            As for the goats, if I go too long between “drenches” (i.e. dewormings) they let me know by way of coats that lose their luster or poo that isn’t up to par.

            As dyspeptic as it may seem, you also want to keep an eye out for young puppies as well, as one round of missed meds could net you dehydration beyond repair. In other words, poop not only happens around here, poop matters. (See how I cleaned that up?)

            I find it so typical of our Western, proper mindset to love the cause side of the equation and seldom the effect. Talking about your goals is en vogue; sharing your misses, not so much. Talk about your diet, is all the rage. Talk about the aftermath-- totally uncouth. But on the farm, life is different. We recognize that what goes in, must come out, and it’s not only no big deal to talk about it, it’s downright helpful to keep an eye out for it (not only so you don’t step in it, but moreso, because you care).

            I’ll just come right out and say it.

When it comes to life, s%&t happens.

            And here on the farm, we’re glad it does. (Otherwise, how would we know when to jump in and help?)