Christmas Date

Let me start by pointing out how proud I am of myself that instead of baking another gajillion cookies, or decking one more section of hall, this night I went out with my Huz!

First, before my date, I asked Eldest to show me how to take a "selfie". This is useful as in order to stay current one must learn how to take pictures of oneself. It turns out my phone has a button that makes this procedure simple!

Step one: learn something.

 

 This is the way we left our children as we departed for our date. As I said to them, you'd think we had a really small house.
Step two: Say Au Revoir!

 Huz took us downtown to Milestone 229. It is right on Bicentennial Park, and the river. The park was lit up with colorful lights and there was a psychedelic screen in the park projecting "holiday" images.
Step three: Restaurant

 The restaurant is fairly small, I counted 15 tables, and then another dozen in the bar. We were on the edge of the bar/main floor. I considered it bar because my feet couldn't touch the ground.
Step four: Martini

Dinner was delicious. I had the special, scallops on the creamiest polenta, ever. Pesto, microgreens, balsamic walnut reduction, something spicy... all came together for a fab plate. Huz had a pork chop. My vegetarianism (pescatarianism?) has led us to having very few meals that have "meat". So, when we go out, the rest of the family nearly always chooses MEAT.
Step five: Eats!

 Our way back to the valet stand was very pretty!
Step six: Shiver a bit while valet finds car.

 Then, on to the Palace Theater. It is such a beautiful old theater, I never get tired of looking around.
We had tickets for Flashdance, the musical. Again, amazed at the talent on the stage just there. Singing, dancing, acting, the whole enchilada. It brought back memories of seeing the movie for the first time, well, a while back. I was still too young to see "R" rated movies!
Step six: settle in and read the Playbill.

 After the show, we were photobombed by Marie Antoinette?!
Step seven: Demonstrate acute hipness with both "selfie" and "photobomb".

The folks leaving the Palace Theater. Into the cold! Until next time....
Step eight: Home! Date, accomplished. Excellent job, Huz!

Chicken State of the State 2013

Chuck Up-Date ( vastly better than Date Up-Chuck).

Chuck, Cowfeathers Farm Blog faithful will recall is the little "chicken-duck" hatched out by a duck this fall. Which, yes, makes the duck Chuck's mother. Biological mom was evidently an Ameraucauna chicken judging by Chuck's physique, but Duck is definitely his Mom. He has learned how to preen like a duck from her, and we have had to teach him how to roost, as ducks do not. We are out of the woods as far as letting him out with duck unsupervised, because he's too big to drown now if duck decides to take him for a swim. And, as you may have surmised by now, Chuck the Chicken-Duck is a rooster! He has started to crow in a "my voice is changing" kind of way. Not really a cock-a-doodle-doo, it is more of a "Er Er Roooooooo!"
He and Duck still spend all their time together, and even though he is a little thing, the geese are curiously cautious of Chuck. Perhaps they are unsure of the chicken/duck status. Looks like a chicken, acts like a duck?
He is getting very pretty, mostly black with streaks of tawny red/brown feathering. In the past, our more hand-raised roosters have turned out to be terribly aggressive. I have discussed this with Chuck, and advised him to remain faithfully kind to his humans.

We have also gained a new hen. Victoria is her name. She is a deep black Australorp hen, and named after the famously black-clad Queen. She is the remaining hen from one of our graduated 4-H'ers who has gone to college, and her flock has been slowly reduced until Victoria was alone. Hens don't thrive alone. So, she has come to live at Cowfeathers. She is very sweet, enjoys being held when we go to the barn, and is an accomplished singer. She chortles and coos happily.

And, we lost Margaret last week. Margs was 9 years old, one of our senior hens. An Ameraucauna, she was an unassuming member of the flock. I noticed her listing to one side, and picked her up. She had an enormous baseball sized crop, as hard as a baseball too! I couldn't massage it into softness atall, atall. So, I put her in Chicken ICU, and slated her for crop surgery the next day. She went to work with me, and I could tell from her odor, she was very unwell. It turned out the enormous crop was all just a very dry abcess. I won't describe it further for those who are disinclined to hear about truly nasty medical conditions. In any case, I decided it was kindest to euthanize her, and she died quickly and peacefully. We are now reduced to Junior, Ebony, Imelda and Poppy from our original flock born in 2004.

The Chicken State of the State, end of 2013.

Creativity undriven.

Albert Einstein is quoted as saying "The key to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources." I can see this as a truth. I look at magazines and get ideas. I go to my mom's house and I get ideas. I think this is the truth on which Pinterest rides. But, I think my greatest creativity comes from really, really, really NOT wanting to leave my farm.
Today, along with waiting for the new dishwasher to be delivered (yes, my status as dishwasher-fixing hero is greatly diminished having declared the dishwasher "unfixable", and ordering a new one), I wanted to take advantage of the amazingly temperate weather and get the outside of Cowfeathers decorated for Christmas.
Sure, I could have gone to town, and bought a wreath, and roping, and great big colored ornaments. I could've shopped for the ribbon I wanted and the glittery spray paint. And, then I could've created holiday decorations. But...that would mean starting the car.
Thus my deeper well of creativity. It started with the flowerboxes on the mudroom building. I had envisioned green with green and more green. Shining and glowing and green. What I got was a pair of gardening shears, some sticker proof gloves and muck boots and a walk. Branches of pine, cedar with berries, the huge seed pods of trumpet vine, Russian sage, cone-shaped umbels of hydrangea and digging around at the bottom of seasons of rejected Christmas decorations yielded some glittery garlands of frosted fake fruit.

My Christmas present from my parents is a tall, wonderful handcrafted (by Dad) tuteur for my garden. I have it placed in the center of the perennial bed, visible through the doors of the mudroom building, centering the beds from perennial through the kitchen garden. I love it! So, I have wrapped it with white lights for the season.

And then the front of Cowfeathers. It is so pretty, and in an antique-y, 200 year old way, kind of grand. I didn't have a vision for what I wanted. So, I just strode around cutting stuff and before I knew it, I had the urns full of greens. Yew and cedar and holly. Just natural and green. Then, for the front door, a wreath. Hmmm. A walk down the lane in pursuit of grape vine headed me instead to the willow trees, and in a few minutes I had a simple braided willow wreath. Not grand atall, atall.
I added a small stuffed pheasant culled from the fall decorations, and then a plaid ribbon left over from wrapping Christmases past.

Simple and sweet. I may have to make a trip to town, and get a bigger wreath form and then make a fragrant evergreen wreath, cover it with ornamental colored globes....ribbons, glittery branches... or maybe I'll just enjoy the simple-ness of the willow?

The Sunroom tree was treated to my collection of nests gathered from all over Cowfeathers, when ever they fall to the ground. Tiny birds found in various shops over the past few years perch on it's branches and then, because it needed some ornaments, I added goose eggs  Huz and Youngest and I blew out last spring and hung them with ribbon.
The main tree will get the traditional family diary of Christmas ornaments. Read like a book of where we've been, who we are, what we love.
And the car remains undriven, I remain happy.

Mammograms- just squish 'em!

I made my annual mammogram appointment this morning.
While that seems to be a somewhat personal thing to share on a family farm blog, part of that is family, and I'm important to my family, my farm and my blog! It always amazes me when I hear of peers who I think have their act together, but skip this annual ritual. Why? Are they waiting for the promised government health care support? If so, I'm worried prayer for more than just healthy boobs is in order.
Or, are they doing an imitation of the mythical Ostrich?

Now, I'm not an ostrich Veterinarian, but I have dealt with these huge birds a few times, and while they move really fast, and stare at you like they want to poke your eyes out, I have never seen one bury it's head. So, after some investigation, it turns out that they do not "bury their head in the sand" atall atall. That notion probably began with Pliny the Elder, who, judging by the name was old, even when Rome was more than "where The Pope lives" or  "lots of cool ruins to pose near for your Instagram".
These enormous, intimidating birds usually escape prey by running at a sustained 30 mph. But, if they are nesting, running away is counterproductive to the continuation of the species. So, instead, they proactively drop their heads to the ground where they are nesting if a predator is near. Which means they resemble a big black blob, like a boulder on the landscape, instead of a tasty egg dinner-hider.
So, while we might like to ignore the presence of danger to our bodies and boobs, Ostriches don't share our predilection, just the blame (damn you, Pliny!)

So, turning to the current Romans ( Italians, now), a current paper out of Bologna, Italy in the Annals of Human Biology estimates that there are 3.72 x 10superscript13 cells in the human body. This would be 37,200,000,000,000 cells.
Now, cells come in an amazing variety of types, many of which confound me when I see them under a microscope and try to identify them as they are causing a lump/ bump/mass on a dog/cat body. Because dogs and cats get cancer too! And if you are a person, with approximately 37,200,000,000,000 cells, odds are one or two of them could get a notion to go rogue. They then start recruiting other cells to their cause. It's not democratic, (the large lymphocytes don't send delegates to meet in the spleen and have a vote) and it isn't evil ( no premeditated skinhead attack) it just is the way it goes. And no wonder. If we pull our metaphoric social mythological Ostrich head OUT of the sand and look right into the beady eyes of our lives;
we present these cells with a LOT of work. Pick the way we poison them. The organs that are tasked with cleaning toxins from the body are the slaves in the sweatshop of our bodies. We present them with "food" that for thousands of years in our human development didn't exist in it's current form. We assail them with all sorts of challenges from tanning beds to butylated hydroxytoluene (found in jet fuel, embalming fluid and Fruit Loops). Did you ever wonder why petroleum makes our cars go and our lips soft?
Can we expect our bodies to deal with these challenges day after day and control the rogues?
Well, we shouldn't. There are literally hundreds of ingredients in our consumed products that are known toxins. And are permitted in those products because each product has less ppm(parts per million) than it takes to cause recognizable disease. Our liver, skin, kidney etc. can handle that small an amount without causing currently measurable distress. But, consider what happens when you use 10 products in the same day that contain the same toxin. You are now exposing yourself to 10 times more toxin, and that happens constantly. If I count how many "products" I use just to get out of my bathroom in the morning; HORROR!
I'm not a "high risk" for breast cancer. To be sure, if we're thinking about breast health alone, I only have about 1,116,000,000,000 breast cells to worry about. My mom, grandmoms and great grandmoms seemingly have been breast cancer free. But those women also did not seem to possess the "selective" digestive tract I claim so there are already 7,440,000,000,000 cells there that don't agree. I hear the sentiment "with all the food allergies, and diseases we're seeing today, even amongst children, something has changed in the last few generations." And I ask, "What hasn't?" Not all is bad. We no longer use DDT, Alar, arsenic to make our lips red or lead to make our coins....but that is because we didn't go the way of the mythical Ostrich on those particular ones.  Was there an arsenic lobby plaguing FDR's Congress to allow the continued use of arsenate of lead as an insecticide instead of the newly discovered DDT that would soon replace arsenic as the go-to for protecting us against wormy produce????
So, going for the annual boob squish. If  it turns out rogue cells in my boobs have gathered and multiplied-  I get to deal with it, and battle my inner mythical Ostrich.
It's a chance to get a choice for a chance.

The Last 10 Minutes- a poem of morning.

In the last 10 minutes I am warm.
Every part warm, and this won't happen again today.
Only my nose pokes out of the covers, testing the cold of the bedroom air.
The last 10 minutes are the precious ones
Ahead is hot PG Tips with a dash of white
a cherry red sunrise, and mint green hills like frosted gumdrops
thick plumes of horse breath and the radio relay of gravely Netanyahu
the sentence dips of President Obama; Iran, Syria, Afghanistan.
In the last 10 minutes I wonder if I will fix or replace the dishwasher
And decide to drive the truck because scraping the minivan will take forever.
In the last 10 minutes I listen.
And they are gone.

Salem House!

We are in contract to buy a house!

Cowfeathers is still where we live, well, 4 of us, anyway.
The other house is to house Eldest and a few housemates. It is tucked into an adorable little neighborhood near Ohio State U. Now, keep in mind, OSU is a ENORMOUS campus. It is smack dab in the thick of things in TBC, the 15th largest city in the USA. So, there are some inner-city issues to consider. Part of the area surrounding the University is pretty sketchy. So, my house search was thorough and deep; I picked the neighborhood I wanted and looked at two houses.
I have been known to watch the HGTV show "HouseHunters" and think "How in the world could you look at only three houses and choose one? 17 is more like it." I guess three is more than I needed in this case.
I have started calling the house "Salem House", as it is #1692. It is a Cape Cod (also a Massachusetts origin- like Salem, where a bit of a stramash happened in 1692) style home built in 1942, as are all its neighbors. It has sweet little bones, a nice back yard with a large silver maple, wood floors throughout, and an unheard of 4-5 bedrooms and 2 full baths. It has everything it needs, save charm. And I'm accomplished at adding charm.
Thus another project will begin after we close on little Salem House. I will blog the changes, because I think it will be fun to do and fun to share.
Salem House as it looks today.


The back patio (yawn) with a hot tub? Anyone want a hot tub?

The kitchen is where I will put some effort to make it a nice place to work, as good food helps your brain, and these kids need to study.



I relish the moment I get to relieve the walls of the wallpaper border- I opine a particularly outdated movement in American decorating. But, not the only thing needing a bit of polish here! Those cabinets! That fridge! Hello...ceiling fan (not a fan.)
In other areas there are red walls with black curtains, pressboard "pine paneling" and carpeted stairs. These things don't deter me, atall. There are closets in every room, a linen closet, windows, light, and will be a really lovely place to live. The neighborhood has a playground, tennis courts, a garden, and a mix of students, young families and older people, although I would guess very few original owners!
Stay tuned for a transformation of Salem House!

Catie Bradshaw

Every so often, I leave the kids to their own devices by going off on a lark (one cannot watch soap operas and eat bonbons all the time).
Every so often I pretend I'm Carrie Bradshaw.
So:

As I tried to come up with ways to make sure the things that need to get done while I am not here are done by my children.....I couldn't help but wonder; is there any way to keep the children off the computer, and away from the television long enough for them to complete their tasks?
What if the basic problem between kids and their moms is that Moms expect too much? Or, could it be that kids are just not responsible enough to control their own desires?
I ask the question: "Will we ever find common ground?"

I thought about punting off this question to the one person designed to know the answer to everything: Huz.
But, first I had to find some jeans that look beat up but that are really expensive, my Chanel (ahem, well, Chanel inspired) jacket and some really high heels. Probably a cigarette, too. Could I be taking this Carrie thing too far? Certainly need to drop the cigarette idea, as Huz won't appreciate it, and they are stupid expensive. Plus, I don't want to make my "Chanel" stink.
No way can I achieve Carrie curls, I've a much more Samantha set of hair. But, she's not as introspective, couldn't answer this question with anything but "Send the brats off to Swedish boarding school and be done with it. Besides, everything on that list could be done by a really handsome barn boy."

Maybe what I need to do is leave a list and trust it will get done. But, it wouldn't hurt to hide the remote and the mouse.

Kids are washable.

I was just making myself my third cup of tea, and musing on the blessings of a quiet morning at home. The hardest part was getting the ram to go out of his stall, when all he really wanted was to be with me. Tricky, that, as he is happy to have you scratch his back or rub his head, but he is equally happy to ram you with all 250 lbs. Imagine having an NFL linebacker in your barn who can put you through a wall at will. OR, he may be content to let you pat him on the nose. In any case, other than the trip to the barn for animal care and ram scratching, I have been at loose ends. I could've, for instance, spoken on the phone for an hour, while sitting at my desk, taking notes. Or, sit here at the computer, typing a blog post. And it wouldn't be a management nightmare. I say this, because I was thinking about another time in my life. The time of small children and acute attention to their every breath. The time when they never left my side. Not for school, or band practice, they were extensions of my arms, and the subject of my consciousness.
When we were moving from Oklahoma to Ohio, I had to negotiate the details of the close on our new house. It was midday, and in expectation of the phone call, I had to plan a safe diversion for my two children (Youngest was not yet in my awareness). I hoped for 20 minutes of uninterrupted time, where my focus could be on something other than my girls.
So, I set them up on the little cement patio outside our back sliding doors. Door cracked, but not open, girls in art smocks, Eldest "in charge". The easel had fresh paper on it, and the paint tray was equipped with an array of bright colors to tempt their imagination, and retain their interest- hopefully for 20 minutes. I explained to them that "Mommy needs to talk on the phone, so you need to stay right here and paint pictures until I come back outside. Okay?" Solemnly they both agreed to this slice of independence. The phone rang, I released them to entertain themselves.

There are my beauties. Eldest already fashioning a tree, Middlest working on her color mixing skills. Never forget that they were not completely without supervision, as I did post Hannah- our trusted "yellowdog", to prevent most tragedies, and she was there, on patrol. She would keep the girls on the patio, and all squirrels at bay. I took a picture, so pleased to see them ready to give Mommy a few minutes.

The entire moving process had been a whirlwind. From the moment Huz had walked into our room (we had a living/dining/kitchen in one) and loosened his tie, informed me that he wanted to go interview at Ohio State, to the moment we moved into our house in Columbus was only a few short months. He had interviewed, gotten the job, I had listed our house, which sold in 3 days, found our new house (with my Mom's help, I had house looked and picked a new one in 3 days), we packed up, drove around in circles for 2 weeks, and moved in. Okay, so it was a bit more complicated that that, but still. It was speedy.
And, with my children's help, and a blessed patio/paint diversion, the negotiations went well. I pretty much got everything I wanted, other than my chosen time for closing, which would be two whole weeks after our Oklahoma closing. This is why we were homeless drifters for two weeks, but it couldn't be helped.
The girls had been quiet for the entire phone call, and I was very pleased with them when I opened the screen door to see what kind of art they had created.











20 minutes for myself meant an exchange of clean up. But, this is how it is for mommies of young'uns. And they were so proud of themselves. I never did find out if they did their own, or each other's faces. Luckily, kids are washable.

Hocking Hills Anniversary!

This November, Huz and I set aside time to go to Poland, where he had been asked to do some teaching. Optimism led me to be excited about the trip, and start some research, but as I continued to plan it became clear that the Continuing Ed seminar was not going to happen and Poland was off. Unless we just went to Poland. In November? Hmmm. The distance of Poland from the Equator is roughly the same distance as Miami to Greenland. Not. Warm.
But, I did want to go away together. So, I decided to go for something closer, and plan it around our 19th Anniversary.
Just when I thought I'd have to recruit Eldest to fly back to the Cowfeathers nest to be the AOR and referee, my parents graciously accepted the invitation to be the AORs. (Adults of Record).
So, off we went to a two night stay in our sweet little camper in the Hocking Hills. Now, when I thought of staying in the camper for a little mini-vaca, I didn't think it would be difficult to find a place to park the camper. Who vacations in Ohio in October? Apparently, lots of people. So, a few weeks before the trip I was scrambling to find a camper spot. I found one in a private campground in Vinton Co. about 15 miles from the Hocking Hills State Park. I also didn't think a dinner reservation would be tough, but two weeks before the trip got the last reservation at the Inn at Cedar Falls. Lesson learned- plan ahead!
I realized after arrival why everyone vacations there in October. It was Gorgeous. The leaves were all turning, and it was cool. Great hiking weather, and amazingly beautiful sights around every corner. I don't know why I was surprised. We have hauled the horses down to ride in the HH for years, and I am always enveloped by the beauty of the area. I must've given too much credit to the horses for my enjoyment. It was amazing on foot as well. Although, my parents were right to wonder why a woman still limping from an injury last spring would choose a hiking vacation. I've got no answer, except maybe climbing a few miles everyday might help?

 This is the sunrise view from the bed in our camper. Unfortunately, it was too cold and damp to leave the sides down and enjoy the view most of the time. But when it was nice, it was very, very nice.

 This was a church near Hue, Ohio. We were sent past this church in our pursuit of a letterbox. It was such a sensational morning, and the church reminded me of the Congregational Church in Redding Ct. The folks that settled the now dwindled town of Hue are buried here. Mostly the Steele family. We have friends here in our own little now-dwindled town that are also Steeles. Probably all tied together somehow!

 The sun makes it over the hills in Cedar Falls.

 And down in front of Cedar Falls itself.

 I took a lot of pictures (nothing new there) but I decided since it was an Anniversary trip, I should work on being in some of them with Huz. So, I took the time to find spots to set the camera and get the self- timer working.

Still, Huz is the featured human in most shots. This is us on our way in to Ash Cave early on Saturday morning. We hit the trails early in order to try to avoid as much of the expected rain as possible. Upon arriving in the cave, we found a large group of folks already there. It turned out to be a wedding (which explained the "Julie and Adam" signs in the parking area). Ash cave is enormous, but the acoustics are dandy. So, I was able to eavesdrop on much of their vows and ceremony.

 Julie and Adam and wedding party with guests marry in Ash Cave. You can see the small trickle of water coming over the edge.

When you get up above the cave, this is the little creek that drains over the edge. Doesn't look very far, does it?




And, I couldn't resist the nature photos. I am always fascinated by what is just right there, in color and texture, and life.

 

 

 

 At Cantwell Cliffs. It was raining lightly for our whole hike here, and the moss covered rocks were a tad slippery. So, we stayed away from cliff edges. Not everyone does. in 2013, four people have fallen off cliffs in the park. One of them did not die in the fall, I'm not sure if she's still alive. But there are no protective barriers or anything. If you want to wander off the edge, you can. I like that. And, have no desire to get close enough to fall.

 Our last hike of the afternoon was out to Rockbridge. It was pouring rain when we arrived, so we sat in the truck and ate lunch, watching drenched hikers return to their cars. We eventually pulled on plastic ponchos and set out in the rain. It was a beautiful and solitary hike. When you get there, it is a surprise. And you can walk out across the bridge- I stayed well away from the edges!

 Such vibrant, true colors. Deep greens and intense reds, and the beautiful shades of brown and gray.

 This is called "Fat Woman's Squeeze". For real. It is a stair between enormous boulders at Cantwell Cliffs. FYI, you'd still have to be pretty fat to not squeeze through. But, unlike the Circleville Pumpkin show, very few folks hiking around the hills were obese.

I grew up in the woods. But, I live in the open farmlands. I miss the smells of the woods, and the leaves, and the pines.  I feel soothed by the sounds of the creeks, the coolness in the summer of the deep woods and the deep quiet in the snowy winter. It was in a way, like visiting my childhood.

 

It was a lovely trip, and certainly we celebrate our 19 years of marriage!

 

Media Man.

For a few years I have had periodic problems with inexplicable exhaustion. This, when I'm awake, is frustrating for me, as my personality is not one that has a tendency towards sitting, let alone napping. So, last week, when Youngest hesitantly asked if I would sign his permission form to try out for the "Media Club", I wisely asked why he needed permission. The permission is required because the parent needs to know the media club meets before the sun has a thought of popping over the horizon, and they meet at school, and someone has to deliver the child at that hour. As I mentally calculated the time I would need to get into bed in order to safely drive at that time of the morning, he kept looking at me, his face screwed up apologetically, skewering me with the guilt of inadequate parenting. I asked to see the application crumpled in his hand. As I read the typed questions and his written answers, my heart kept swelling.  The question: "What position do you wish to hold in the Media Club?" he had answered "Nwsr eProters" Which I translated to News Reporter. The next question asked him to give his strengths and weaknesses as it relates to the job.
He had written " PubclisPkaK ing is a strentghs." Very clearly under that was neatly written;
                         "Spelling is a weakness."
How could I say "No" because of my own weakness? My sweet, smart, engaging boy knows himself, and he wants to do this. He doesn't ask to play baseball, or football. He gets REALLY excited about working at the concession stand serving 1350 people hotdogs and Mountain Dew. And, all he's asking is for me to get him to school a few hours earlier than my "functional" period so he can write news reports and tape them for the lunchtime newscast.
I tell him "Of course I'll sign the permission. And, I'm proud of you for going for this! Would you like some help with the spelling?" He tells me he can ask his English teacher for help, he has already asked for references from three adults, and the club meetings start next week.
I then try to figure out if I can actually get to bed that early.

Youngest giving a talk about "The History of Letterboxing" at the County Public Speaking Contest last spring. He's a firecracker at this, funny, comfortable, and easy in front of the crowd.



This morning I saw the sunrise. After delivering the kids to school. After making tea and ordering a few necessities from Amazon. I got to do my yoga sun salutes to the actual rising sun, as it sent prisms of light through the chandelier and over the walls and ceiling. I got to take the horses out to the front pasture with the mist of the morning still on the ground. And fix the middle pasture fence, and fill the front water trough. Clean a bathroom, wash some windows, launder the dog beds and eat eggs with red peppers from the garden (accompanied by some mashed purple taters dug up and roasted by Huz for dinner last night). Four cups of tea later, I'm ready to start my day. Thank You, Youngest- it has already been productive. My doctor thinks my exhaustion is explicable because I live on "Go". I remain unconvinced that my battery has just run down. In any case, I've created a life that doesn't allow for much in the way of "chilling". I will continue to try to figure out the solution to my "Stop". For today,  I may be snoring and drooling on the floor by noon, but I got to see the sunrise, the morning mist and prisms of light. Fair trade.

Sending out "The Cowfeathers Signal".

My version of "The Bat Signal".

Calling my family back to Cowfeathers.

Sunrise and the Joy of Friendship.

 

We here at Cowfeathers have not been idle since my last blog entry. No, rarely idle. We have seen the sun rise...

 

 

 

 Collected the "I Scream You Scream We ALL Scream for Ebstein's" team for the Congenital Heart Disease Walk, raised money, walked (me-limped) 5K....

Eldest's Team: Dad, Youngest, Duty, Eldest, Cassady, Middlest, Nisha and the photog....

 all on Eldest's TEAM. (She has Ebstein's Anomaly, a congenital heart disease) I did spot a small child on the walk, with blue tinged lips, smaller than she should be, drawn in the face, and asked her mom if she had Ebstein's. She does, more severe than my own eldest baby, but I was able to point out my tall, healthy, beautiful 18 year old daughter and give that mother hope.

 A tad wet, but a beautiful fall day with my family. The red leis are because we are walking in honor of someone still alive. The groups with the white leis walked in memory of a child, and I cried a lot.
One mother was there, walking with her friends, in honor of the daughter she lost at 6 weeks to a hypoplastic right ventricle. But for the grace of God there go I.

 We weren't a speedy team, but we kept each other company!

 

And, I gotta say, Eldest has friends that are good sports, know how to have fun, and will line dance. Even if they are the only ones out of the thousand present.

 

 

 

 

 We watched the sun rise on the way to Middlest's Pony Club D3 rating,

 

 That's her and Nelle in the center of the photo, having had formal inspection and answering questions for the Examiner.

 Then watched the sky turn gray, and the rain come and go, and come and go.....

 But Nelle and Middlest didn't melt, and did perform...

 On the flat and over fences at beautiful Redtail Ridge Farm.

Where I spotted this chipper Amanita 'shroom in the grass,

 
 
 
 
 
realized how very much I want to dig a pond,

 and got to congratulate Middlest on being awarded her D3 Rating and Certificate for the United States Pony Club! Along with Ry and Val, the trio worked hard all day showing off their riding skills and horse knowledge. Quick- name 6 horse breeds, 5 draft breeds and 4 pony breeds. Got it? Okay, well, how about 6 rules of feeding, or the most efficient way to cool out a horse? Can you apply a polo wrap- to USPC standard? Identify conformation faults of the head, neck, back and rump? I tell ya, poor Middlest had conducted the band at the high school football game the night before, managed about 5 hours of sleep and then worked her tail off to earn her D3. She is starting to understand the old analogy "burning your candle at both ends"!


And, even with all this wonder and amazing achievement in our little family and our little farm, perhaps the special moment for me came earlier in the week, with a visit from an oldest and dearest.

This photo was taken, circa 1986. Home for Christmas from college, my besties from high school would get together each year for our own family celebration. This one was at Ames' house, and I shot the photo. ( Had Wenders taken it, it would be a better photo. She was yearbook photog, and went on to become a professional behind the camera. Still, there is a photo.) These girls are the best thing that came out of the 47 days I attended high school. (Okay, that is exaggeration. I'm sure I went to more than 100 days. At least part of them. I was the original "burning my candle at both ends" girl.)
My friends and I are spread apart these days. Well, since high school. Pennsylvania, California, Kansas, Ohio  and Tanzania are now our homes. We are a mix of professionals, mothers, wives, changers of life. But rarely do we see one another.
Back in the mid 90's, feeling too far apart and disconnected from these girls, I started what became known as "The Fat Letter". No, not a comment on the expansion of body size, but a description of what the letter became. Too fat for most envelopes! What we did was; I wrote a letter, to them, about my life, loves, aches, what we would share were we in a room together, and sent it to Ames. Then she read mine, added hers and sent it to Cath, who added hers and sent it to Wenders, who added hers... on to T. ....get the idea? Well, when it came back to me, I would take out my old letter, write a new one and send it on to Ames again. In this way we counseled each other through pregnancies, job changes, marriage issues, saw pictures of our children and families and homes. I looked forward to The Fat Letter in the mail every few months. When the Internet became the go-to for communication, The Fat Letter faded out.  Unfortunately, so did our communication!
We did make an effort to come together in the "aughts". And in 2008 those who could manage met in Pittsburgh for a weekend together. It was wonderful.

We swore we would do it every year. But that stretched as time does not, and we have not managed to be together since. We have seen one another periodically as we pass through each other's states. Wenders and I are only 3 hours apart, and she is whom I've seen the most, getting to enjoy her amazing children.

But, I was blessed by that kind of effort early last week when Ames, on her way back from a retreat in Michigan came here for the night- "on the way" back to Philly. YAY! YAY! YAY!!!

Like it is with all dear friends, within 30 seconds, we were right back on the same page, and didn't shut up until she left the next morning. So very good for my soul. I love this strong, smart, funny woman.

Once again, when with these girls, I'm so "in" that I nearly forgot to get a photo.

Lucky I remembered. Lucky I know the joy of friendship.