Friday, May 23, 2008

Excerpts from "Farm life for City kids"





This is a couple of excerpts from my short story based on farm life for city kids, I hope you enjoy it.


Living on a farm isn't all work, as my kids soon discovered. They anticipated hard, laborious work, but soon learned that living on a farm can be fun as well. Suddenly the television did not seem so important. Sure the Saturday morning cartoons still play an important role in their growth and development, but all of a sudden the out of doors was luring them away from that as well. Ordinarily I would wake up on Saturday mornings to the noise of three children fighting over a remote, or which channel to watch, or even more frustrating, which character did they wish to see outwit the other the most - the road runner or the coyote? Occasionally the morning fight was over which child ate the other child's share of froot loops. Since moving to the country, the fights seem to have dissipated. Now when I wake in the early hours of a sunny Saturday, I hear silence. Wondering if an alien abduction has occurred, I creep about the upper level of our 15 room house peering out windows wondering which direction the children have gone in today. Most often I would see my son, dressed in full army uniform borrowed from his step father's hand-me-downs, B.B. gun tucked under his arm, in hot pursuit of a nasty little pigeon. Normally I would frown on this, but lately the pigeons are outnumbering the farm animals, and they have been entertaining themselves by playing that game called "bombs away". Tired of pigeons pooping on my head and my hay, I approved the hunting expeditions. At the price of hay today, a few lost pigeons certainly were understandable. My only rule, one shot, one kill. I did not like the little bombers, but I did not want them to suffer.
Looking out another window, I see my daughter brushing her horse, enjoying a moment of peace and companionship. The horse munching at my lawn, my daughter dreamily brushing her black silky mane, maybe she is using the horse to mow the lawn so she does not have to. I don't care, as long as it gets done; it makes no difference if the horse decorates the lawn with a few recycled hay plops. My youngest is most likely to be firmly planted in front of the tele, munching away on a dry bowl of froot loops, most likely mine, watching every cartoon program available. Our rule is if you are going to let your mind rot, at least do it folding laundry. Some days she folds laundry, other days, she sits with a pile of laundry in front of her and one item in her hand in case she gets "caught", so she can suddenly pick the item up and fold it. She thinks I fall for that one, but after she picked up the same item several times that day, I figured her out. Oh well. Running a farm is very busy, and hard work, and you have to learn to pick your battles, and fighting over laundry is not my idea of a battle worth fighting over. The animals don't care if my clothes are wrinkled.


My daughters love the idea that they can shoot a bow and arrow. Andrea has gotten pretty good at it, and laughs that she is better than the boys in her school. Andrea has always enjoyed doing things better than the boys, and used to wear her lime green t-shirt nearly everyday to express that thought. It said, "You pick the toys, I'll beat the boys" and she often got scolded by her father for using the phrase, "boys drool, girls rule". She was always my competitive one. Now her little sister has inherited those sentiments.


Another form of entertainment on the farm is mud wrestling in the spring. Of course when you think of mud wrestling you think of two people, but in reality, on the farm mud wrestling usually involves a child attempting to catch a lamb or goat. In the spring when the mud is at a premium and the rain never stops, it is inevitable that a lamb will escape the fencing seeking that first luscious blade of grass. All hands on deck are required when in pursuit of a lamb capable of performing triple flips in midair. I thought cats were amazing at falling and landing on their feet, well this one little lamb made our cat look clumsy. Combine five humans chasing an agile lamb in a muddy yard, and you have an out and out mud fight. The kind where every one involved except the lamb is covered with mud from head to toe. The shower takes a beating that day; as it is too cold to hose off outside.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

The Green Grass Grows




May 22 - I sit in my window gazing across acres of lush green grass. Less than a month ago the snow was to the roof of my barn, it is such a relief to see green after such a long winter. Like everyone else (less the ski hill owners), I couldn't wait for this winter to end. I thought it never would. Never in my life had I seen so much snow, and I never remember being snowed in so bad I had to send my dog and children through a window to put them outside. Yes, I had to climb through a window to go outside on some mornings. Several times we had to dig out doors, and having several barns full of animals, meant a lot of mornings shoveling snow from in front of doors. It got to the point that we needed to carve stairs out of the snow banks to go down into the holes we dug in front of the barn doors so that we could feed the poor sheep, goats, and cows. Eventually the snow was so high the sheep were climbing over the snow banks to get out of their pens, then all became captive in the one spot I could keep them after adding fencing to a sheltered opening.
Thank God spring is here! I anticipated great oceans of puddles in my barnyard due to the amount of melting snow, but miraculously God had intervened by not allowing the ground to freeze beneath all that snow, so drainage was quick. Amen. I had not looked forward to trudging through mud all spring. So, I look out over green fields of timothy and grasses blowing in the wind, waiting for the sheep and cows to converge upon them, growing lush and sweet. Oh, won't the animals be happy next week when I send them into their version of heaven.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Happy Birthday!


May 10th - My 43rd birthday, and now the birthday of my beautiful baby boy! Berenger (Bear) Garrett Oliver arrived at 2131h in a blaze of glory three weeks early! Actually, I would have to say that it was the birth from hell from my perspective. I have never had a bad, or painful delivery. I would say that this one was intended to be sure of preventing me from ever thinking of doing it again! A week before Bear arrived, I had two fillings done without novacaine - without pain, and I always thought I had a high pain tolerance, but nothing prepared me for the seering pain that I went through in the last three hours of my birth experience with Bear, or the last three horrendous minutes that I can only describe as Satan himself coming through the birth canal with fists full of razor blades!!! Never again! I am cured. Enough of that, now for the important stuff. My pregnancy with Berenger can only be described as long, and full of little problems along the way. I had conceived him only weeks after a horrible miscarriage in July of 2007, and my doctor had dubbed my pregnancy "high risk". Throughout the pregnancy it seemed everything was going wrong. At least from my perspective. I had wanted a home birth, but developing diabetes and a group B Strep infection destroyed that idea. In retrospect - thank God I was in the hospital. Thought I'd never say that. As it turns out, Bear was born grey and with a very weak cry - I remember him lying on my belly greyblue and heard my voice urging him to cry. I just wanted to hear the healthy wail of a new baby and Bear could barely muster the energy to take a breath. He was wisked away to the neonatal unit while I lay exhausted in the bed. I prayed that he would be okay, I could not bear to lose him. Well, the long and short of it is, that after a few days in the neonatal intensive care, he is home with me, healthy and beautiful! What a good baby I have. I have waited a long time for this child to come into my life. I couldn't be any happier.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Home



I grew up in Colchester Vermont, but the Pleasant Valley is my HOME. Never have I felt such a connection, or a love for any place. That connection was immediate. The house was not listed on the market when a potential employer called me and suggested I see this house. I had told her I wanted an old farm house, and a hobby farm. When I drove into the yard to see the home, I was sure it would be out of my price range. Still I viewed the home. The minute I walked into the house, it seemed to comfort me, and I immediately fell in love. The barnyard would need a lot of work to make it functional, but the house was over a hundred years old and seemingly in good condition. Later, an inspector confirmed that the house was sound and safe, and I made an offer. Well, if I told you what I paid for it, you would not believe me. Let's just say, it was a steal! So now, seven years later, I sit in my office window, and look out over my 30 acres of field, trees, rivers, pastures, and my barn yard. A feeling of peace intermingles with pride. I love it here, even in the winter. My closest neighbors are 10 acres away, and the solitude is refreshing after living in Boston. Outside the chickens cluck and squawk as they comb through my spring gardens, not yet planted, looking for the first bugs and worms the gently warming soil produce. I pray that they eat the weeds too. I love to garden, I hate to weed. The occasional blat of a heavily laden ewe draws my eye to another part of the yard, lambing season seems drawn out this year. Perhaps complicated by the fact that I too am heavily laden with child. I have empathy for Gretel, heavy with twins. Her discomfort apparent in the hot sun, still fully clothed in her heavy winter coat of steel blue grey wool. My baby is large, my belly huge, and bending is not easily accomplished, and as much as I want to sit in the sun, the heat is too much. Yes, it is only 18 degrees celsius, but the heat is too much for a woman or beast at the end of her pregnancy. Soon this crazy farm will be home to another little beast, my boy child, eager to enter this sometimes unloving world. My prayer for him is that he will become a caring, productive member of society, one interested in protecting lands such as this, untouched and home to wildlife and a place where one can find peace, a child who loves this farm as much as I do, and maybe someday this will be HIS HOME. A place to always love, and return to, a place that brings peace, comfort, and pleasure. HOME.

LUCY
My farm is home to many breeds of sheep, all on the rare breeds list of Canada. Shetlands were the first to make this previously unused farm land home, then came the Jacobs with their many horns and brown and white spots. Later the Leister and Cotswold came, and the Romney. My favorite beast on the farm at present is Lucy. One of my first aquisitions. Lucy is a Angora goat, she produces enough Mohair in a year to keep my busy fingers happy, best of all Lucy has personality. Capable of making me laugh, and always a good listener, Lucy has become a good friend. She is wise with age, and leads the barnyard. Lucy no longer has teeth. A gummer. We almost lost her this winter. One morning I went to the barn to feed, it was nearly minus 20. I opened the stall door to feed the selected sheep that wintered inside this year to help them grow or maintain weight for various reasons, and Lucy was laying near the door, barely breathing. I reached in to pull her out of the stall as the other animals were stepping on her, and she lifted her head attempting to stand. I helped her to her feet and moved her to another stall, and quickly retreated into the house to get my oldest daughter to help me. Andrea is a natural with animals, and is destined to be a vet, but she is a bit of a tree hugger and wants to study environmental studies. I not so secretely hope she becomes a vet, that is where her talents are. Andrea mixed up a warm mash of oatmeal, raisin bran, shredded carrots and diced apples with just the right touch of molasses, donned her winter attire, and headed for the barn declaring that no animal was dying on her shift. Over the next few days Andrea prepared her mash and nursed Lucy back to health. Now three months later, Lucy once again rules the roost. Andrea grins with satisfaction, knowing that her efforts once again prevented an untimely passing on the farm.

A beginning May 6, 2008



May 6, 2008 - This is my first attempt at blogging. I thought I would give it a whirl. It is 1 am in the morning, and the baby is busy kicking and making it impossible to sleep. My due date is fast approaching, and I am looking forward to finally seeing this little child that grows within me. It has been an interesting week. I am trying to adjust to being on maternity leave, and not taking it well because I can not physically do all the work that needs to be done. The sheep are lambing, and so far we have had five lambs born this week. This has prompted me to start writing another chapter in my future memoirs - this chapter would be called The Pregnant Shepardess. I am an active person and being unable to perform all the normal farming duties has begun to make me testy.

Andrea, my oldest child, graduates from high school soon. We spent an awful lot of time sewing the most amazing dress for her to wear to the grad grand march (parade) and prom! It is a purple and green taffata tartan with lace underskirt... very pretty and unique! She looks like a princess in it. There will soon be photos of it on my face book page (kimberly peer- if you want to look it up). Well - I am going to make another attempt at sleep, if only the baby will cooperate. Take Care.