farmette life 5

And the waters leapt,
And the wild winds swept,
And blew out the moon in the sky,
And I laughed with glee,
It was joy to me
As the storm went raging by!
(Paul Laurence Dunbar)

It's pointless to follow weather reports and try to understand what's pounding at the boat with the five sailors out on the Atlantic right now. You could have furious winds and stormy seas in one place and they could be in another. And so I imagined I'd block his voyage entirely from my mind and hear details of it once Ed (one of the five) comes back.

But we live in an age of information. Incomplete, selective information that can be as misleading as anything and yet it can stoke fears within you, as if deliberately, to make you quiver.

And so I come across someone's report of a storm over the Atlantic, with crazy winds and torrential rains pounding France right now. And I read about the storm that's crossing over Florida, moving toward the Carolinas and the Atlantic. And I stumble on stories of the fierce winds that are right now causing so much trouble in the Northeast. And I think -- man oh man, if Ed's not in a stormy point, it must be the only calm place on the whole Atlantic! The guy is surrounded by storms!

Or at least that's the way it appears to me. Are you really laughing with glee as the winds whip your boat crazily over the waves?

I do not understand sailors.


The weather has to be the big story here, in the upper Midwest as well. It's such a cold November! We're not (yet) breaking records, but we are monstrously below average readings for the month. And in the weeks ahead, it's only going to get worse. Winter came the day after Ed left.
 

I go out to feed the cats early, by yesterday's clock. I want to spend a few more minutes with the sheep shed seven, but in fact my efforts to play with them backfire. I pick up the rope Ed left on the floor and wiggle it in front of Dark Blue (the only cat in the bunch that stands out with her Maine Coon hair). She freaks out and leaps for the door, as if forgetting that this is not her exit path, banging her head full force on the glass. The other cats, spooked by the noise, hightail it out of the shed, crowding the cat door in their effort to get out.

I coax them all back with cat treats.

I don't know about cat memory, but I'm fairly sure they still have an image of me carrying Yo-Yo out last night. Dance has a huge amount of trust in me, but even she scampered out when Dark Blue crashed into the door.

Breakfast, cas, on the couch.






I do have some good porch news. I know! We're in need of good animal stories! Stop Sign finally brought her three kittens today and though one seems to be shivering a bit, they appear fine; they eat ten cats' worth of cat food. And then snuggle on the heating pad I'd put into their "lair." At least for a few minutes. After that, Stop Sign leads them out again, to hide wherever it is that they're hiding these days. Unfortunately, I'm fairly sure it's across the road.






Things are not so perfect with the grandkids. Snowdrop is under the weather and I insist that "Sunday dinner at the farmhouse" be moved to Sunday dinner at their house.

Before heading out with my pots and pans, I look in on the shed cats.

What's this? Really? You killed and dragged in a squirrel??  Perhaps I should have left the hunter to his prey, but it seemed likely that much of the fur would either be scattered around the shed or regurgitated in some gross fashion. It takes trickery and treats to distract the bunch, but I manage. I pick up the dead animal and bury her behind the garage. Who knew that I'd be taking on the role of an undertaker this week! Oh, cats! Can't you just chase away the mice and be done with it??

(I'll spear you the photo of the poor squirrel.)







Evening. Time to feed everyone under my care. The cheepers. Done. The shed cats. Done. Big Mama and her babies, who are back on the porch. What's this? You're playing with something. What is it? Oh my. A dead mouse. Well, at least you are earning your keep. This is the first time that we're entering November without a single mouse sighting in the farmhouse. Still, I'm sure there will be the remains to clean up. My life right now is dealing with the remains.

And one more lot to feed, a lovely one at that: the young family.  Not at the farmhouse but  at their place.

Snowdrop rests, Sparrow, prancing about...






Dinner. Snowdrop is reviving. (I'm hungry, gaga! My stomach is feeling so hollow!)





It's a superb ending to a not too easy weekend.

All ready for the week ahead. Bring on the adventures! The ones without the ocean spray and sweeping winds!