Cowfeathers Theme Song?

Youngest has a new favorite song, which he sings -at least the one line, repeatedly, with choreographed shoulder shrugs and right leg forward skips. Very active. In any case, now familiar with the song, I'm considering his petition to have it named as the official Theme Song of Cowfeathers.
Pro: Catchy tune
        Chicken prominently featured
        No other Theme Song has been suggested

Con: We don't fry our chickens, we name them
         Our dog is rather docile when it comes to poultry
         The dog also does not drink Beam, nor does he use a mason jar- toilet is his preferred vessel
        

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-swPh4mJwMY&feature=related 

We'll have to take it to a vote this weekend.

New Year's Resolution Project- November

Just in the nick of time, I'm done with November's project.
We put an addition on the house in 2007 that included a master suite and.......3 closets! 3! Now, keep in mind that this is so remarkable, because our house, built in the 1820's, expanded in the 1850's predates the notion of a closet. When Cowfeathers was built here in the windswept valley, your closet was mobile- a wardrobe. And, likely, early on there was probably no wardrobes here, just some pegs.
The current Mistress of Cowfeathers cannot seem to limit herself to a work outfit, a Sunday outfit and a sleeping gown. Pegs aren't going to cut it.

I am, although a country girl, also a bit of a clotheshorse. And my Huz doesn't get rid of anything. So, the need for closet space is great. Unfortunately, I had not gotten around to really utilizing the space that we had wisely created for closets, and they were a mess. A great source of angst for me. So, mundane as it is, closet reorganization became the project for November. And I am so thrilled to have our clothes organized and my stuff visible. Yippee!

The walk-in closet in my tubroom. Scarves hang on the wall behind the door, shoes on the wall opposite the shelves, and an adorable window in the closet for natural light. Huz also has space in this closet. (Please, Please, keep it neat!)

The closet outside the bedroom. This is where all my things were previous to the reorg. Now, Huz' sweatshirt collection is housed here so I had some room in the tubroom closet for tops and pants. It is nice not to have to leave the warm sanctuary of my tubroom to hunt down the base layer. (dressing  in Ohio from September through June is like constructing the perfect ski conditions. You start with a  base, then multiple layers until you put the final layer on top.)

Okay, so to recap the New Year's Resolution for 2010. It was a good one, very productive.

January- Paint Wedding painting for Pastor Tina and Joe

February-Complete vintage quilt begun in 2001

March-Spinning Border Leicester wool and then knitting a scarf.

April-Finding, buying Oslo

May-Getting the house alarms back in order

June- Complete last third of the border garden

July-Fence in middle pasture

August-Build fence and driveway gate at top of the lane

September-facelift for 181 year old livingroom

October-Plant hundreds of tulip, muscari, allium and daffodil bulbs

November- Closet utilization/organization

December- ?

Thank you!

What a wonder is a winter ride, when it is sunny, and you find yourself stripping off layers until you are in your last few. Add to that a pleasant mount, happy to be out and about, brave and forward.(Thank you Oslo!) Top it off with a friend to ride beside, chat with, share confidences (Thank you Carly!) and you have a recipe for an afternoon of joy!
I took my horse to church with me this morning. Not to the sanctuary, but near the church, to my friend Carly C.'s farm, and left him there. Then, I walked back over the river and through the wood to our cute little church. Advent has begun. After church, I collected a grilled cheese from the youth group Soup and Sandwich in the basement (Thank you, kids!) and walked back to my horse. Now that I think about it, nary a mention of my church attire, which featured leather-seated breeches. Hmmm. (Thank you Hopewell for your discretion).
Then tidy up my "pony" and try out Carly's new indoor arena. So amazing. Great footing, no wind....flat! After causing Oslo to break a mighty fine sweat, we headed out for a road ride down a wide, flat, empty road in the sunshine.
Then, Carly's Mom served up a delicious bowl of vegetarian chili, ripe with the taste of garden tomatoes, divine. (Thank you Mom!) A fine Sunday.
Thank you, Lord!

Thankmas

Thanksgiving 2010. Middlest did the table this year!

Thanksgiving passes so swiftly as there is no after Thanksgiving gap of reflection on the holiday. Perhaps Abe L. should have named September the official month of the holiday. Maybe in 1863 Christmas didn't start in October. But now, we eat, we groan, we wait for there to be enough room for one more crescent roll. Then, we clean up the dishes- to Christmas music. Already? How about some harpsichord Pilgrim tunes, please? Nope. Time to start thinking about decorating for Christmas, getting out the cards, the invites to the Christmas Musicale, gift decisions, wrapping, creating for family and friends, cookies, chocolates, parties- oh my!

Youngest picks the bird= great boy job! Grease, meat, bones....fun.

But, this year, I am seeing my kids taking more of a lead in some of these things. While I worked yesterday, the rest of the family was home and Middlest started decorating for the holiday. The felt wreaths in the sunroom, the wool trees on the table, the snowman collection on the kitchen mantle, the christmas books near the woodstove, the candy countdowns on the back of the dining room door... she put up favorite highlights everywhere. Even Daddy's office got a baby pine wrapped in burlap.

Saum's Tree Farm

Then today, we went tree hunting. We neglected to take the checkbook with us, so scraped together enough cash for one tree- a 9 foot tall Canaan Fir. Lovely smell, soft needles, deep green color- my favorite. Huz killed the tree and the kids towed it back to the sale cabin for shaking and trussing. After lunch during the Michigan-Ohio State match up on the football field, the kids and I made our way back to the hunting grounds to bring home tree #2, a 6 foot tall blue spruce- Huz' favorite- for the sunroom. The girls laid down in the mud and D sawed the selected beauty down, then took it back to the cabin, and then loaded it in the truck. I had to pay.

Wow.

Then, youngest sorted lights and the family got the trees in their stands. The house is now filled with the smell of fresh pine. Divine.

And Advent begins tomorrow the Christmas season has begun!

Old School, new school style

The barn party pictures, set to an excellent, short video. Really fun. Thanks Eileen!

http://animoto.com/play/491IfSsEWmoVc8qGbn0nmw?utm_content=escape_link

Thanks! To the Six.

Frozen Fog on the asparagus garden

Hey, you Cowfeathers readers! You six are so dedicated! My tally says that since I began this blog in August you have opened the blog 4218 times. That is 703 times per follower! That means that you have each read the blog nearly 7 times a day.(One of you slacked off and only read it 6 times one day. Must have been one of my more boring entries). Still, I can't help but be thankful that our lives at Cowfeathers have been found interesting by someone other than....oops, one of you is Huz. But there are still 5 of you out there who find our lives interesting. And, not to be presumptive about your time management, but I would be thrilled if you even read it once, so 7 times... well, it's not that interesting.
In any case, along with my precious family, extensive menagerie, paradise farm, a job, a job for Huz, the texture and depth of life, breath and death, I am thankful for my friends. Let's celebrate with food.

My ideal Thanksgiving involves putting before us a meal harvested from our farm. Unfortunately, as stated in a previous blog, I buggered the harvest this year by being a terrible homesteader. If we followed this ideal, we could have sweet potatoes, white potatoes, beets, and a late fall lettuces salad. And popcorn.
We have grown no wheat, so flour is out, no crusty pie, we have no lactating critters currently, so no milky smooth mashed taters. We don't raise turkeys, and have not the stones to club our chickens and lambs. Vegetarian thanksgiving. We have no nut trees (must remedy this), and the apple trees had a measly crop, which fell to the ground early, green and bitter. We have no bog for cranberries, our onions failed (remember we tried from seed instead of sets, dismal) and our carrots never appeared either. So, thankful for grocery stores in 2010. A turkey for my meat eaters, cranberries, flour, sugar, butter, apples, nuts, chocolate, and the unidentified perfection of "what in the heck is" a crescent roll? - all the essentials for a modern Thanksgiving meal. Most importantly, I have a Huz who is making it all. And, a God whom I can thank for this whole opportunity.
Ah, thankfulness, here everyday in the Cowfeathers blog. As you Six know.

Huz and Bourbon, pecan, chocolate heaven.

I know! Yum! The best part is it is so alcoholic, the kids don't like it- more for us! 

Wordless Wednesday Thanksgiving style

2009

2008

2007

Their choice..

It is a windy November morning. The wind carries a chill, but it is relatively warm outside and my Grampa's sweater is all I need for warmth. After D.J. built cement ramps to stalls 1 and 2, I put both horses in paddock 3 to give the cement time to solidify. There is only one stall, but it is huge, so I hoped they would share. I think they are, but we had rain last night and both horses are wet- so I guess their choice. I let the sheep out into the poultry yard- ever hopeful they will stay. They did not. D-lo goes first, followed by Evelyn and Eli and Everest. Dancer and Eleanor currently don't jump out, so trot around frantically baaahing they are being left out of the marauding. The jumpers then began running back and forth around the yard and the gardens, through the orchard, over the drive to the patios and back like the hounds of hell were on their wool. Since there is nothing chasing them, I am content to let them run- their choice. But, must keep an eye on them, because once the play is over they get down to the real work of defoliating all things flora. So, I attack the iris beds. My Mom clipped back the iris in the Anniversary Garden in October, but I haven't gotten to the iris in the border garden yet, and it is time, before they're buried in snow. I have mobile iris. Not "walking iris", just iris that moves around alot. Well, for iris anyway. Two years ago I had iris borers. Nasty little buggers. So, sister Stephanie was here visiting, and attacked the job with me of digging up all iris. We then soaked them in buckets of dilute bleach, then I dried the corms in the sun. I replanted the iris in the border garden and did my least favorite thing to the areas in the Anniversary Garden where they had been invaded- I spread toxic iris borer killing poison. Ugh. I did that! I must have been really irritated with the iris borers. The iris are pretty special. See, about 12 years ago, my Mom hosted an iris bed for the World Association of Iris Obsessed Flower Children (okay, that's not it, but these folks are serious about their iris). She had to have a special set of beds dug, with specific size, soil, etc. She had to sign a contract that she would not take ANY iris from the beds, care for them a certain way, keep careful, meticulous records of bloom time, bloom tenancy, color, shape,etc. She would do this for two years. Then, she would host an army of international members of the WAIOFC for tea and refreshments in her iris beds daily for weeks. This is so they could see all the amazing new varieties of iris. And, they were, are, beautiful. And, yes, my Mom is a bit crazy to have said "Sure, I'll do that". (I'm so my Mother's daughter). The excellent thing is just before the vultures from the WAIOFC descended on the iris beds to pluck them clear of any speck of corm, they told my Mom she could choose some favorites! It just so happened that my parents would soon be moving, so she gave some iris to me, some to my sisters, and took some for herself, not wanting all the eggs in one basket. These are the iris she entrusted to my garden. Only, it was my garden in the Big City. Because that was before we found Cowfeathers. So, they grew there first, then moved here. Then moved beds again because of the borers. Moving iris-see? Not their choice.

The Iris when they lived in the Anniversary Garden.

So, I clipped them back this morning, filling most of a garbage can with the clippings (NOT to go into the compost remember!) By then the marauding jumper sheep had become bored and were divesting the Korean Spice Viburnum of every reachable leaf. Back to the barns with you Bad Sheep! Also, not their choice, but since I bribed them with cracked corn, maybe kind of they wanted to go in.

Beautiful Eleanor, photo courtesy of Eileen Nixon Photography.

A different era

Equus Magazine, December 2010, page 13;
"In a different era, bran mashes were fed to hardworking horses on cold days to ward off colic, increase their water intake and warm them up. However, modern research has shown that bran mashes don't actually offer those benefits.."
So it has come to this. I am of a Different Era. Ouch.

Bran mashes were part of our winter horsing routine growing up in Connecticut. It was cold there. And, the bran mashes were especially festive on the holidays. We made a terrific one on Christmas Eve with warm water, molasses, chopped apples and carrots. It smelled divine and the horses all tucked into their feeders. I never really thought it medicinal, but a treat. Now, years later, in a Different Era, I still make bran mashes in the winter. Samantha is not a fan. She has always been a bit odd about things other horses would consider a treat, so I dismissed this. I gave it to her anyway as her poop tends to be too runny. So, in this way, I did begin to use it medicinally. But mostly, I like the comfort food aspect for the horses. I'm sure I could do the same using their normal pelleted ration, and that is still their main feed even on bran mash days, but bran feels better to me. It is from my Era.

Thankful for Help

"The Help", a fantastic book, has a title that puzzled me at first. Of course, when I began to read the book, I did get the gist, but before that I wasn't clear on what "Help" might be. Was it "self-help"? Emergency services; Cat Stuck in a Tree? Dr. Phil? No, "The Help" are the help that work in the homes of southern women mid 20th. As I read it, although the situation "The Help" were in was pure trial, I did find myself thinking longingly of someone doing ironing- any ironing as I do not. What if I had some one to vacuum the house? Do the laundry, the shopping, the cooking the bathrooms???? And then, I hit upon a real doozie of a wisheroo. What if I had help in the barn? Whoa. Now there's a great idea. So, I started hoping and planning. The ticket was to get D.J.
D.J. is Dave Junior. He's in our 4-H club, and a terrific kid. Plus, he's a worker. Self starter, whiz-bang doer. So today's Thankful is for D.J. who showed up, put in 5 hours of work, and accomplished many tasks that have been on my "to do"list for ages. He rearranged fence to start another manure composting area, he built concrete ramps to the horse stalls, he moved all the horse stall mats (heavy, floppy, uncooperative huge mats), evened out the floors and replaced the mats. He repaired the door to the third stall, and built a gate. He moved the winter water trough, put the picnic table benches away and got rid of our destroyed Dorothy'd gutter. And.... he cleaned up after himself. Put the tools away, put the wood scraps on the burn pile.
What a luxury to have hired some Help. He said it wasn't too bad, so maybe I'll get another chance to be Thankful... (Please D.J. come back!)
The other great accomplishment of the day was a family photo session with friend and professional Photog- Eileen Nixon. I can't wait to see the pictures! For those of you who have received Christmas cards from Cowfeathers, you know our annual Christmas picture is usually the family with a collection of our critters. The horses nose at the sheep who jump and startle the chickens who flap uncontrollably in someone's arms. The cat digs claws deep into the shoulders of the poor cat holder, the dog stares adoringly up at the family, his tail framed in the shot. The gander lunges at anyone within reach, leaving nipped horse noses, bruises on the back of kid heads and the holder always looks a bit chuffed. We've taken the picture on warm November days, and on sleeting November days (the kids all had their eyes squinted, noses squished up and the animals all turned away from the sleet coming straight at them- that was a great picture) and many of these photos have been taken by Kendra. Our willing Kendra. I would set up the shot and then tell her to just keep shooting until animals left.
So, on the down side for poor Eileen, we wanted another family shot with menagerie. On the up side, we've had practice. She bravely shot photos of the family, even hazarding the wrath of the ram to get a shot of the kids on the bridge. (Tod and I ran ram interference so no one was crippled).

Such a treat to have such a beautiful family, and now I'll have the pictures to share. So, also Thankful today for Eileen!

So Excellent!

From the creativity of my friend, Eileen  comes these fantastic pictures of the 2010 Barn Party!
What a great memory.
All of her wonderful photos are on her website:
http://www.eileennixonphotography.com/
Thank You Eileen!!

Rain?

For the first time in months, we are getting a bit of "real" rain on the farm. "Real" rain is the kind that comes down softly giving a drink to the ground. We have had furious, angry, drowning rain, that just washes everything on the top away, and leaves the high ground dry again in hours. Now we are having the grey, wet November days. These days are the tide of winter, rising up and pulling me where I don't want to go. The horses have had a wonderful time rolling in the mud, encrusting their coats so they are colorless. To groom Oslo, I really should have safety goggles. He is so tall that currying the mud off his back and rump send dust and clumps raining down, coating my skin, clouding my eyes. But, must be done, like the dishes and the laundry, to be done again tomorrow.
I have my Youngest home from school with a fever, so poor mite is being dragged along to my work, errands, etc. He can at least be curled up to heal tomorrow. Middlest reminded me she needs to dress like a lass from the 1500's in the morning, and have a speedy costume change to be a Renaissance Duchess- and if it's not too much trouble, could you bring some sheep to the middle school by noon?
 Scarily enough, fashioning a Renaissance costume is not too difficult in my closet. Cotton camicia, brocade bodice, sottana(dark petticoat type layers) and berrettino silk overskirt. Even fashioned a light velo. For the duchess, simply add an angora balzo to the hair, a wool ground sweeping cape and a Brocchetta di spalla (brooch on the left shoulder) . Voila. White and silk being very expensive at the time, and berrettino(dark grey) being fashionable even a believable choice for a young aristocrat.

Renaissance lass

The Duchess



Now, for the sheep?

 Now, if I just had several dozen cookies in my closet.... Middlest needs those by Saturday morning, packaged in groups of three for the Girl Scout Booth at the Holly Happenings Bazaar at the high school.

Fragile Flower needs a Moth

A rainy day, for the first time in a long time. The pastures are a dead mess. I haven't had the heart to keep the animals in, so they have been going out. Normally you could rotate pastures to keep any one pasture from being overgrazed. But, after two months without animals on it, the barn pasture hasn't grown a smidgen.
So, on this rainy day, the poor critters get left in the dry barn, which makes me feel bad. They aren't getting wet, but they aren't out having fun either! And now that it is wet, I'll have to be cautious about letting them turn the pastures to mud.
I retreated to the house, too, for the wet day. I am working, diligently on my New Year's Resolution Project-November. I will likely be done before the weekend and be able to post pictures - a show and tell! Due to my continued stubbornly uncooperative disc in my neck, I am relying on the help of Middlest, Youngest, and perfect strangers at the home improvement store to load my cart, and then my car! I will have to even ask Huz to unload 240lbs of concrete in the back of Denty that has been there for 3 days. What an experience. I am so unused to asking for help. I am a Lowe's regular, in my coveralls, loading my own concrete, choosing lumber, filling multiple carts with appliances, slate tile, plumbing fixtures, then popping it all into Denty. I usually get hit on in Lowe's- the sight of a makeup-free, coverall-clad, gal with power tools providing flame for somebody's moth tendency. Now, in my guise as a fragile flower, I just smile and wait for some nice man to offer to load my cart and then my car. Thank God for the kindness of strangers, and the humility I find in not doing for myself. When I am sound of spine, I resolve to be the flame offering help to the moths, or the other fragile flowers. For now, just doing what I can, keeping my petals dry.

On the wings of the wind

I have mentioned Cowfeathers is windy. Maybe I should say, Windy. We get awfully accustomed to it, but it still is a source of amazement at certain times. I wickedly enjoyed watching Travis, the youngest on the framing crew for our addition try and walk across the lawn with a piece of plywood. The other framers were not going to make themselves out as fools, so required Travis to move all the plywood. He looked just like one of the roosters on a windy day. They aim at where they want to go, start off, and find themselves blown well off course.
The wind should be harnessed here, but as our windmill is not currently functional, the wind is mostly just a maintenance problem. It blows stuff, around, off, away. We lost half of the gutter on the back of the house, just twisted off and blew into the field. Great blasts take off the occasional slate tile from the barn- the slate on the house seems more stable. The barn slate will burst off the west side of the roof, tomahawk over the peak and bury itself 3-5" into the ground on the east side of the barn. Not a good place to stand on a windy day. I have mentioned the outhouse doing a yearly "Dorothy" until I bolted it to posts sunk in 2' of concrete. No promises that that will do the trick.
A few weeks ago, the farrier was here to replace one of Oslo's shoes, and the wind started up, fierce. I brought all the animals into the barn and waited. At one point, the farrier thought he might go out to his truck, only we couldn't push open the door. Maybe you should wait. When the fury calmed, and the rain subsided to rain, not tsunami, we parted ways with the barn. I surveyed the damage, and the rest of the gutter had gotten flighty. Sigh. Slate roofs and gutters are a financial drain ( punny!). So, I have hosted several insurance folks and estimators of the inevitable. We will have to put on new gutters. This means taking off a row of slates, applying the appropriate half-rounds and replacing the slate. Yes, Ick! Perhaps, "Merry Christmas"!

Not my childhood hunt.

This isn't my childhood hunt, but it could've been.

There are few measures of time more poignant than repeating an occurence from your childhood as an adult. I hunted with the Fairfield County Hounds as a kid, or as they term it in hunting, a "junior". I usually was on Frostfire a.k.a. Frosty, Fella, @$#%&^$## JERK! (See "lucky girl" entry, 9/10/10). Epic battles for control, always lost by me ensued at each hunt. I can mostly recall freezing- hunting in Connecticut is not a warm endeavor, and trying to stay at the back of the field. Juniors ride in the back. Last. Frosty preferred to be at the front. First. But I went, and I took him, because he loved it. I could fake him out when I came into the barn late at night by baying like a hound as I flipped on the lights. He would charge forward in his stall, blinking madly, ears so alert they nearly touched. Then, the moment of recognition that it was only me, and he was in his stall, and the ears would go back, he'd give me a grumpy look and return to sleep.
When we hunted we were so far back in the field that the only time I got to see the hounds at work was during check (when you are standing quietly), and the hounds came back to where we were. Most all of the hunting went on in the woods, so large vistas weren't part of the natural feature of a Connecticut fall foxhunt.

Fast forward 30 years. I am the eighth in the field. All grown up now. They let me ride with the adults! We are in the woods, but I can see the Huntsman easily. She is casting the hounds out again and again, they work in circles around her and her mount, noses working madly. I love watching them work, and she calls them and trots off to cast somewhere else. A few hounds pick up their heads and look at her call on the horn, but you can see they are reluctant to leave their spot. Then with a leap over the nearest deadfall, off they go through the brush to join the pack. And we do have large open fields, wide vistas to watch the hounds work, with the Whippers-in posted around in the distance- there to keep hounds from straying. Vistas=opportune galloping moments, it seems.
It was Oslo's second hunt, and first time hunting in a fast field. I had about 1 1/2 horses too many underneath me today. He was wonderful in between moments of sheer energy and madness. I need more wonderful and less madness. We stuck with the field for wild dashes across fields and flying through the woods, moments of control were more than those without, but eventually the moments of no control wore us down. After one fine gallop( a no control moment) and the discovery that he's pretty solid, and fairly fast, managing just barely to not fly past the Field Master (a NONO),  we dropped down to third field to gain some perspective. Third field is the "walk-trot" group. Except today. We proceeded to have the fastest third field ride ever.

So, with shades of Frosty gripping my memory for epic battles over control,  we made it back to the trailer. As with Frosty, I will keep taking him, I think he had fun. I only hope he'll start taking it in stride, and that stride will be relaxed.

Raising Clostridium

Nothing grows in the horse paddock. Should anything green attempt to venture forth from the ground, inquisitive and bored lips explore the small tender shoot, bite it off or completely yank it from the dry dust. Hooves clomp back and forth, large piles of horse manure fall from height and smother any small cellular attempts at germination. But, our paddock does produce. From the depths of the earth's core, perhaps, certainly a legacy from the generosity of the previous inhabitants. We're raising Clostridium tetani. On the pounds of metal that work their way to the surface, the nails, fence bits, twisted metal clumps, sharp little points, is the bacteria that causes "lockjaw". Tetanus. Cruel and horrible way to die. The reason you had tetanus shots each time you stepped on something in the back yard. Tetanus. The reason I called the pediatrician office when Youngest stabbed Eldest in the leg with a pitchfork. Tetanus. And it is happily harbored on all the bits of rusted metal. Walking through the paddock, sweeping the magnet on a stick that my father in law (brilliant gifter) saw would be so useful, yields a magnet head crowded with a tutorial on "Nail shapes and production since 1800". After a powerful rain, our paddock crop really abounds and one pass from the poultry yard gate to the barn door, keen eyes trained on the ground, might discover 14 nails. I spend time walking back and forth, slowly moving the magnet over the ground, listening to the telltale little "clicks" that signal a find. Swipe the catch into the feed sack trash bag and with the magnet clean, start over, eventually not hearing frequent "clicks".  In 7 years, I have not seen our paddock yield diminish. I would offer the kids a nickel for each piece, except I can't afford it.  It seems there is a never ending supply of gifts bearing Clostridium. I always marvel, and thank God for what seems like a daily miracle; no damage to our terribly susceptible horses. They are vaccinated regularly for tetanus, and I keep tetanus toxiod in my fridge, dosing it for all suspicious scrapes. But with a bounty such as this, can't discount the hand of the Lord for his assistance!
I do wish the previous human inhabitants of this much loved patch would have been more careful of their metals. They probably still thought bleeding evil humours would cure disease.

Today's crop.

Veterans behind me.

Sometimes I visualize the history of my family as this band of light, as from an old fashioned movie projector. I am no longer right at the front next to the apeture opening. My children stand there, but behind me the light gets wider and wider. Standing in this light are all the little figures that had to live and die in order for me to be there, in the front. As the light band gets wider, the dress and costume of the ancestors change. The depression, the Great War, the industrial age, the pioneers, the immigrants. At the widest part of the band are a suprising number of folks whose names I know. Laurens Janszoon Coster born 1370 in Haarlem, The Netherlands.  Johann and Anna Susanna Koster -1641, Richard Warren, born in Queens, NY in 1641. He married Lydia Aderly, born 1650.  Johann Ludwig Kister, 1723, Christian Lauffer, 1730.....
And they came to the New World. The Warrens were of Plymouth Colony. The ties go back to the start of our country. And they fought for it. Many of the people behind me are in uniform, some died that way.
George Phillip Keister, served as a Corporal in Captain Thomas Stokely's Ranging Company from Westmoreland County in the American Revolution. Frederick Warren, living in Western PA would have been in his 30's when the Revolution began not sure how he was involved, Christian Lauffer nicknamed "The Pioneer" would also have been of fighting age. Captain Thomas Warren was prominent in the Indian Wars in Western PA and commanded a Company of Calvary at Tippecanoe under General William Henry Harrison in the War of 1812. His Grandson, Samuel Harvey Warren served in the 6th Regiment, Pennsylvania Vounteers 1864-1865, fought at Burkes Station in the American Civil War. Philip Keister served in the War of 1812. John L. Keister, born 1845 volunteered twice in the Union Army and during the second tour was wounded in the Battle of the Wilderness, dying in 1864 in a Confederate Hospital. James D. Keister, born 1846, volunteered in 1864, was wounded at Hatchers Run and mustered out in May of 1865. He later died of the wounds sustained there. Henry Keister volunteered in the Union Army, but made it out and had a long life. Phillip George Keister joined the Co. H 36th Iowa Infantry in 1862. Robert D. Humes born 1833 was wounded at the Battle of Fredericksburg. My Great, Great "Uncle Bill', William Park Humes Keister, born 1887, died in 1984 and was a communications expert, pioneer of radio in WW1. My Great Uncle Raymond Wentworth served in the Navy in WW2. My Father, George Thomas Hamilton graduated from West Point Military Academy in 1963 and went to Vietnam. How many have I forgotten? How many do I not know about? Lots. Certainly. But I am so proud of those behind and the gift they have given those of us in front.

James D. Keister, taken before leaving for service of the Union Army, 1864

John L. Keister, died in the Battle of the Wilderness, 1864

I sit.

Tried this last night. It was mild and beautiful yesterday, as my friend Dave S. said "wish we had a few months of this weather, I could get caught up on the farm". As the sun went down (before 6!)displaying its rainbow colors, I sat in a chair on the barn hill and watched. Now, sitting has not been a talent of mine. I can sit when I'm doing something, eating, writing, riding, spinning, etc. but not just to sit and look. But, I found myself with an opportunity, filling the goose pool and the sun had gone, leaving the streak of red on the horizon with the melding in of the orange, yellow, green, blue and violet into the night sky. Hanging over the acacias was a sliver moon, the shadow of the orb visible behind and a few early stars up overhead. The sheep had picked the chair up and left it next to the fence, so I drug it into a flat place and sat. I felt a tingle of pleasure of the idea of just sitting in the quiet. The ducks had headed into the barn for the night, Middlest and Youngest were distributing hay. For possibly 3 minutes I sat and enjoyed the sky and the reflection of it in the pool of water. I could count the lights from other homes into the distance, from right to left there were 12 lights. Serenity, peace, a moment right there.
Then Youngest arrived, shimmering with energy, and the gander needed to be herded up from the car (his second love now that his mate is gone), and then the pool was filled and the hose needed to be put away and we needed to load up and go to 4-H.....
But, I sat. I'm going to try it again sometime. I might even become a sitter.

Farriery

I don't have a manicurist, I have a farrier. I am very thankful to have a farrier. My farrier comes out to rotate and balance "the tires" on the horses every six weeks- in theory. In practice, the poor man has been here every couple weeks since May, when I got the big black monster horse. He is a big, heavy horse and his feet were not in terrific shape when I purchased him. They were short. And they are huge. He weighs a lot and it puts great friction on those feet. I have been giving him gelatin every day for 6 months to help him grow more hoof, and we have kept his shoes on to help him not wear it down. But, he wears the nail heads down on the ground surface of the shoes so quickly, that sometimes they need to be replaced every other week. And, my farrier doesn't complain. He just promptly comes over, unloads his stuff and carries it up to the barn. Today he arrived with newly acquired shoeing nails with extra large heads...hopefully it will take longer to wear the heads of the nails!



Shoeing nail

 The process of putting on a horse shoe has a wonderful rhythm. You pull off the old one, you pare down the hoof where it is too long, shape it and inspect it in all it's amazing usefulness. You select a shoe to make a custom fit, heating it in a forge, pounding it on the anvil, cooling it, testing it for fit, tweaking it until it is just right and will do exactly what you want it to do; protect the foot, change the way the foot breaks over, slower, faster, change the forces that go through the leg and into the foot to give the horse comfort, or fix problems. Then, nail it on. Tricky! You're putting a sharp metal nail into a living structure that will bear 1000 lbs or more of weight.  If you think about the force in the foot has to be a lot! If force= mass X acceleration,  and Oslo weighs about 1500 lbs, or 682kg and if he is cantering at his pace, about 300 meters/minute then the force through the foot, (since a canter is a three beat gait, during each stride one hind foot and then one forefoot bear all the weight, while the diagonal feet share in between) should mean Oslo's foot bears the force of 204,600 kgm/min. Okay, well that's probably not quite right, as acceleration and speed are different. Hmmm. Okay, well, if acceleration is m/s2 then, he canters at about 5m/s2. So....how about 3410kgms2, or 3410N.
Doesn't mean anything to me either, but when he steps on your toes, you know it.
Today, I am thankful for my farrier.

This is CJ (Crazy Jane) cantering through my pasture. See her far hind is the only one down? Next to hit will be the far front and near hind, together. Then, the last part of the stride will be the near fore bearing all her weight. Pretty neat, huh?

Musical pressure of due darkness.

The crack of dark.

I am listening to quite a lovely rendition of   "Carol of the Bells" on the piano. Eldest took a break most of the year from the piano, but it ready to start back, and an evening where dark descends by 6pm seems like a nice opportunity for practice. Ah, darkness fills our evenings now, as well as our nights. Barn chores at 5, in order to locate all critters before luck is necessary for progress. De-icing has begun, and finding its way to barn radios and children's bedsides are the songs of Christmas. Leaking into my peace? Okay, well, not always peaceful here, but still. CAROLS? ALREADY? Now, normally this could be simply avoided. I do not tune in or seek out Christmas music until Advent. But, I do not control the tastes of my chil'ren. Youngest, in particular is ready for "Jingle Bells" in July, and in fact, avails himself of the freedom of voice year round. But, too,  even the other two are playing the music on the piano. Darkness falls and Christmas Carols settle into the crannies of time- too soon. Pressure builds to create "Christmas", the heavily burdened season of tradition. I have learned to be cautious of doing any "new" thing. It then becomes "When are we having the Caroling Party?" "When are we making the gingerbread village?" "What do you mean, we are only having spice, candy cane cookies, wedding cookies, black and whites, dark korova cookies, decorated sugar cookies, 6" gingerbread snowflakes, cranberry-caramel bars, creme de menthe bars, hounddogs, bearclaws, thumbprints, cashew crumbles, double peanut butter, millionaires and Mississippi mud bars? We have to have peanut tuiles, they're my favorite!" Only one Christmas tree? Nope, at least two, and the tallest one on the lot please. Plus, one in the barn, as the Lord and we, too, love our animals and they should feel the magic of a Christmas tree. Gifts for generous neighbors, dear friends and beloved family- none of whom live in a three state radius leads to a giant effort of shop, wrap, box, tape, address and lug to a post office to be brought inside in loads and pushed along on the floor until the front of the line is achieved and the dismay to all behind me is palpable. Decorating the mantels, doors, creches, bells, stockings, spotlights, it gets daunting to think about! So WHYWHYWHY can't I avoid the inevitable until after Thanksgiving? Because, I guess, I've done it well enough that the kids anticipate the coming season. We will shop for a family not our own, wrap presents for kids who have little, and bed linens, and blankets. We will buy coats for the folks at our soup kitchen. We will glow with the special promise that comes with Christmas. And, yes, we will have Christmas morning. And parties and too much rich food. I will make it happen, somehow, again this year....but for now I'd like to escape those pressures and enjoy - November!

LOOKIE LOOKIE

I told you I would let you know when the photos from the hunt were posted on Eileen's site, and they are there and they are marvelous. Now, there are a lot of photos, 408, I believe. But, if you get your cup of coffee and put on the slide show you will enjoy the flavor of what surrounds the hunt. Plus there are some really terrific pictures of Peaches, Oslo, and their riders. There are even a few in the 225-230 range of Samantha, looking wonderful.
Thank You Eileen!!!

http://www.eileennixonphotography.com/

Go to the Gallery, click on the Blessing of the Hounds and .......enjoy.

Undecided

It is easier to be outside than to leave the house. What I mean, is, leaving the warmth of the mudroom, with it's little propane heater chugging away maintaining a balmy 50 degrees is a bit torturous. It is damply cold out, hovering around freezing, and little bits of moisture sting your face. Frozen rain? Snow? Undecided. It smells like early winter. There have been years when it smelled like this just before Christmas. Lovely years with a late arrival of the deep cold. Pair that will early spring, and you'd have midwestern perfection....
But, that is getting ahead of the game. My tromp out to the barn leaves me thinking maybe a Saturday spent on the trail with the big black horse could be chilly. Should we venture forth? Undecided. Since I have no partner with which to ride tomorrow, I'm not already locked into finding the layers necessary to ride out.
Honestly, I have not tried too hard. Middlest has a commitment, and my reliable trail riding friend is welcoming, but going out with a group that will be too swift and go too far for the big black. We'd likely hold them back.
The goose/duck pool is not frozen. Odd. But it is very dirty. They love clean water, but pick up dirt in their beaks and spit it in the water until it is brown and a thick layer of silt lays on the bottom of the pool. I will start morning chores with a clean pool. The water trough is getting low, but should I fill it, or get the modern trough out, with the heating element in it, and fill it up? Undecided. We could have a few weeks left of the big trough before it gets too cold. Maybe?
I think I will  need more straw this winter than is in the loft. But, I'm undecided. Big surprise. I weigh the options, and think perhaps, my best option is to do what needs to be done and leave the rest for another day. One in which I'm more decisive!

Lancastranded.

Today was quite pretty. As it turned out my load at work was light enough that I wasn't needed. So, I could've spent the day cleaning the paddocks, rigging the new improved back stair door-closer, putting the newly created door handle on the kid's bathroom door and getting caught up on a my behind, behind, behind in all fronts. But, I am also behind on getting the oil changed in "Denty" the minivan. About 3000 miles behind. Plus, the shocks were suspciously unshocky. The technician estimated 3-4 hours for the repairs. Hmmm. Hate to lose the morning, but kinda need the car to work. So, after putting Youngest on the bus, off to Lancaster to leave my car in the doctor's hands. I went to Wal Mart to get the pictures from our trip to China developed. An hour and a half later, I had chosen all the photos, edited, etc. and the computer dropped my order. Sigh. Repeat. 5 hours after arriving at Wally World, I exited with too many photos and some Burt's Bees Night Creme on clearance.
Now, thinking that surely my car is done, or nearly so, I hoofed it back to the Honda dealer. I walked in the back door of the garage, and noted Denty, up very high with no tires on it and a fellow in a welding mask weilding a spark happy grinder/cutter of some sort inside the wheel well. Sigh. Not done.
So, back on the hoof I wandered my way down the main drag to the mall. Ew. The best thing about a mall is it has ice cream. I occasionally forget that my food handling system doesn't do ice cream. Today, I remembered, so, the mall was.... urging me to get out. So, further down the road. The wind is picking up, the sun is getting low. My kids have all arrived home on their various buses, to an empty home- well, they have Tucker to greet them at least. And I am Lancastranded. Hopeful, I call the dealer, and find that my car is nearly done! They offer to pick me up when they find out I'm a few miles down the road, and a young man chauffers me back to the dealer. I note on the way that application of the brakes causes much sqeaking. So before I drop a lot of zeros on my credit card, they have to take the tires off again and loosen the brakes. Sigh.
I am now home. Poor, and not a thing done. But, I have some horses to go hug, with the kids in tow, so my day is sure to improve now that it is night!

P.S. Find that after the photo-saga, I didn't get the photos from the Middlest's last volleyball game! I dread to go back.... maybe after Christmas I'll feel strong enough. :-)

Yes, We Can?

I'm not a very politically motivated gal. Politics scare me. For one, people get really hot, but I'm often unsure what, exactly, they are hot about. Sort of like reading a tax return makes my brain shrivel and my adrenals start leaking, hearing politispeak makes me feel like a slug under a rain of salt. I have to say, though, I'm a bit disappointed in the "Yes, We Can"ners. What exactly did that mean? Because there is a lot of things we can do. Like, put up Christmas decorations in October and breed a Chihuahua to a Poodle, call it a Choodle and sell it for the bargain price of $1500.  But perhaps "Yes We Can" was left a bit open to interpretation, and it seems that the believers seem to have their knickers in a twist. I'm, again, unclear on what exactly it was they thought we could do, but apparently, it wasn't done properly.  I was sort of hopeful that the group that was so confident in the last election that their elected officials were on the same page would stick by them, give them more time, not expect "drive-thru" service, but be faithful to their candidates. I was not a "Canner". But I was truly hopeful that this was at least a stand, instead of a blame-game. How were the democrats supposed to take a tanking economy, in a consumerist society and fix it- immediately? The Great Depression did not begin on an October morning, and lift on a September night. It lingered. Suffering of long standing, and learning how to sustain your life and that of your family became each person's personal responsibility. Of course, the people of the 1930's may have had a leg up on us there, because they still understood that food did not come from Wal-Mart, and they didn't define suffering as not having brand new...cars, clothes, homes, electronics, crayons....we are terribly spoiled. I'd like to think Americans are voting for something, but I'm afraid they are just voting against. I can't see how anyone wins there. Can We Now? Still, I am hopeful. Is that audacious?

Hunt photos

From my friend Eileen, a few teasers on the photos from the hunt!

November!

If October is for scary, things that go "Bump" in the night, ghosts, and such, November is for preparing. Preparing for the cold winter to come. Barn repairs need to be finished, the wood is now stacked and ready, and the last of the giving from the garden. Traditionally, we must give thanks this month for the food on the table, because it will soon be more scarce. Indeed, not anymore, having fully transitioned from a society of growers to a society of consumers, we now just see Thanksgiving as "turkey day". I am guilty this year of falling into the ease of getting most of our food from the store. It lacks the taste and satisfaction of "real food". I knew it was bound to happen, the pace of our life has continued to accelerate, and then I accepted the challenge of working more frequently in the spring- planting season- and all of the sudden I was a Mom of three, with too many critters, living 40 miles from work and working like I meant it. The kids need what they need, the critters too.... but the garden cares little whether I show up. If I don't plant it, it won't grow (well, except for the volunteer tomatoes, unknown hybrid squashes and occasional tough bean from the icky bean crop of '08). I actually suggested to Huz we not plant the garden this year. "I don't have the time" was I believe my sentiment. His was "NOPE, we're planting." Which, largely meant he was planting. Now, when one gives up the reins, so to speak, one has to allow changes. I still ordered seeds and labeled stuff and got out the books where I keep records of what was planted, when, and how it performed, and rotation plans, prices, yield..... only no one filled them out. I think that was how the beets got planted directly over the beans, but.... changes. We have nothing recorded, but I think learned a few things anyhow.
 1) I was correct. I did not have time for a garden this year. It did not stay weeded or in any form of control, and we lost a LOT of produce because I wasn't picking it, or preserving it.
2) We still stink at caging our tomatoes. We still have no clue how to stake our tomatoes. Our dog is still happy to steal our tomatoes.
3) Onion sets are definitely the way to go. Normally we plant sets (small onions with shoots already on them) but they are relatively expensive, so with the garden facing certain neglect, I ordered the much less expensive seeds. They did not work well. At all.
4) We are having issues growing corn. Of all things. Need to rotate the corn next year.
5) Mutt squashes are not necessarily better than purebreds. (okay, I'm a fan of mutt dogs, but think maybe the crossbred squash is a curse)
6) We do have Irish blood, both sides of the family. Huz is a Mahoney two generations back. I'm several tree branches, way down the trunk...plus German, French, English, Swedish, Scots and surely many other European parts mixed in there- mutt through and through...but in any case, we are good at potatoes. White ones, purple ones, sweet ones, potatoes are our speed.
7) I love  having a garden, but a neglected one stresses me out, and this year ALL my gardens have suffered. I'm not working as much anymore- thanks be to finished maternity leave by another Doctor- but the pace of life is still fierce. Or maybe I'm just lazier. In any case, I'm hoping to do a better job of it again next year.

Middlest. I'd like to pretend she is weeding, but she is picking up a clue in a goosechase for her birthday present from her siblings. This was June. you can see the peas I planted are producing, and the spring lettuces in the foreground are bolting. And the lambs quarters are happily choking all.

So, there are not rows of tomato sauce and pasta sauce and paste and apple sauce and jams/jellies-blackberry, strawberry, raspberry, hot pepper, there is not a basement fridge full of corn off the cob, snapped green beans and peas, zucchini and squash, rhubarb and carrots. We do have a few bushels of potatoes, a few butternut squash, spaghetti squash, and some frozen beets. We will continue to have eggs, and we have a lot of a cow in the downstairs freezer (I'm not eating meat, so not too exciting for me, but the rest of the family will enjoy winter roasts). If we were better farmers, we'd be moving in on the lambs to put the wethers in the freezer too- but we're not lamb fans. November will see the end of all our veggies, save the potatoes which will last us through most of winter. So, I can be thankful, this November, not for the bounty we have harvested that will keep us fed through the winter, but for Grocery Stores.

There is no "I" in Marchng Band

Well, the second season of our first team sport is done. I am discounting the park and rec soccer teams the young version of Eldest joined. Little kids don't seem to really get "team". Plus, Eldest liked playing goalie most of all "because you don't have to run". Our second team sport was the volleyball team Middlest played on this fall. Volleyball is done, Marching Band is done. Phew. Look around and see if we can be a family again! Naturally, altho' I'd like to fantasize that this means each night actual dinnertime will occur,with thoughtfully planned soups, crusty homemade sourdough bread and a slice of warm pie, followed by the family around the fire, playing cards...it is unlikely. For now, we get back to the much neglected piano lessons, the beginning of Middlest's Destination Imagination team, and the start of the 4-H year. The 4-H club is headed by the Huz, with occasional support from me, and tons of support from the other parent advisors, but with 50+ kids (we'll know soon just how many) in the club, it is a job for the whole family. It seems fitting that the family take a turn in activity, as the earth around us makes its turn into winter. The goose pool is iced over this morning, and with the sun getting stronger, the grass is shedding its white. I am thankful that our evenings of sitting on cold bleachers, hunkered down against the wind are finished, but am extremely thankful that they occurred!
The State Band Finals for our Marching Band were held in the big city on Saturday night. Our band performed at 6:15 and did a fantastic job. Their show was entitled "Joy" and featured wonderful classical pieces, including the namesake "Ode to Joy" by Beethoven. The field that evening was dominated by wind. Fierce wind that gave the poor colorguard fits! Tossing around flags and wooden rifles in 40 mph winds looked, um, difficult. I can imagine the poor tubas had it rough too.  One band whose colorguard was suffering in the wind got a flag stuck though a trombone slide. Lots of band members got beaned with flags, and lots of tossed up things landed on the turf. That aside, you do your best, and I think they did a capital job. The whole business was exciting. I don't understand the intricacies of judging. I don't understand the intricacies of Marching Band, but I sure did enjoy the shows.
The band was disappointed with their final rating, I think. They earned a "2" which is "excellent", instead of the desired "1" which is "superior". The scoring has a bunch of bits and pieces to it. In any case, I believe they should be very proud of their effort and their commitment, as it was fierce. I am glad that not every band was given a "Superior" rating. I believe our societal efforts to make no one feel bad have left no room for actual hard won accomplishment either. So, something to strive for next season! Bring it on!

Holding on to big purple flags. Go Girls!

Eldest is in the middle of the shot, not playing her flute? You can see a judge, in the red coat, infiltrating the drill.

Exciting rifle tossing. Helmets would be nice.

The last formation in the show. Spelling out "JOY".... see it?