taking off!

Question: why am I up at dawn, driving to the other side of town, looking at free if somewhat rotten fencing with Ed?




It is one of those imponderables. Something to mull over. There is not good answer. It just is.

*     *    *

Today is the day when I take off. This is a trip that has been long on the books. I'm not the one who selected the dates nor itinerary. It's all the young family's doing. I'm just a tag-along (though we worked jointly and tirelessly on some aspects of it -- like, for example, where we should stay).

My daughter and her husband have a conference to go to. That event will take us to Belfast. But for now, we're all flying to Dublin. From Chicago. (The economics of travel so dictate.)

We'll be together throughout, though not on the leg of the journey from Madison to the Chicago airport -- they have arrangements to make with their house sitter. I have a bus to catch. But once in Chicago, we join forces and away we go!


*     *     *

All this happens after a very busy morning. Sure, there is the calm of breakfast...





But after, there is the whirlwind of packing, of talking to the docs that are caring for my mother (so far everyone's upbeat), of talking to people about fences, until I can talk no more and Ed sweetly says -- gorgeous, I'll take over. I'll figure this out for you.

He is one sweet guy.

A last look at one corner of my June garden...





And I'm off! Next post? From Dublin!

Monday

Life is full of retreats and corrections. Setbacks and repairs. Most repairs work, some do not. When they do, you breathe a sigh of relief and move on. When they do not -- well, you reset and also move on. There is no room in life for despair.

I was thinking of this today when a close work friend of Ed's set out with his family to drive to the sailboat which was to take them on a year-long journey, all the way from Wisconsin to the Virgin Islands: two parents, two kids, and a dog. In the car, the dog got volatile and angry and bit the face of one of the family members, requiring serious stitches. The family regrouped. The dog was off the sailing crew list. They found another dog to adopt. In a week or two, they'll be setting out again.

I was thinking about this, too, when I talked to my mom's doc. Perhaps you remember -- my mom, who is 95, is having some health issues. She is currently in the hospital as the docs try to figure out what's wrong. Having located the problem (a blocked artery), they feel confident they can fix it and she can go home in a day or so. She is confident as well. They all are telling me to go ahead with my trip tomorrow. The doc says she'll be in a better state than she was before.

And I was thinking about this as I tried so very hard to find someone to build us a fence for the goats. Having watched several youtubes on the process, I no longer think this is an easy thing that someone could knock off in an afternoon. I cannot find a fence installer to do it right. I have wasted every spare waiting minute trying - I'm stumped. If I can't get the fence up, I can't bring home goats.

So many of our days are full of these steps and missteps. The best thing you can do for yourself (and the younger generations) is to learn to use that reset button within you. To avoid regret. To look forward to what's ahead, despite it all.

In the meantime, let me take some pleasure in what's blooming right now: the phlox is starting! If you counted the number of phloxes in my garden you'd be shocked: I love this flower so much! This is the first of the bunch and I am so glad to see its tiny blooms before I take off!







Hi, Happy.






Hi, sweet Ed.






Hi, wonderful friend, in town just in time for us to have a coffee.






Hi, Snowdrop! (The little girl has two mornings of Fairy dance camp. Oh, how she loves this program!!)






(Leaving dance, past that colorful paper store...)






(Arriving at the farmette, paying homage to the sweetest flower of them all -- alyssum, with the incredible scent of honey...)






(our usual shenanigans...)






I'm not ready for my departure tomorrow. But you know what? The suitcase will be packed, the trip will be amazing, and I'll come home to day lilies in full bloom. How good is that!

Sunday

I think it's fair to say that I don't crumble easily when life gets intense. Usually I stay calm, remain clear headed,  barrel through it all, then fall apart at some later date, leaving everyone wondering -- what's wrong with her?

You couldn't call this day cataclysmic, but at the very least, it is crazy. I mean, nutty crazy.

Except for breakfast. Which is normal and cozy.



 



Our weather outside? Twenty degrees below normal and wet. Yuk.

(feed me, feed me!)






(wet)






Some of today's issues are of nobody's making. Others? I take the blame. Ed, too, had his fingers in the pie. In other words -- life, all in one day.

We have before us an early morning appointment on the other side of town. Ed found a kids play structure on Craigslist. He thinks it would be a wonderful thing to put into the goat field: both goats and children could romp! Win win!

Never one to discourage him in his interest in kids (of the human and goat kind), I said -- let's do it!

Do what, you ask. Well, someone was willing to part with an expensive play structure for a tiny fraction of its original cost. All the buyer had to do was take it apart, carry it off, and put it back together again. No instructions available.

Ed's truck is barely holding onto its insides and I absolutely refuse to ride in it, so I follow along by car, ignoring the noise, the fumes, the horrible tilt of the truck in front of me.

It's drizzling and cold when we arrive at the home with the structure. Ed has his tool box. We expect it to take many hours.

We look it over. Ed is excited. Me? Less so.
The goats can't climb this!
We could build a slanted board... And look! If we enclose the downstairs part, it could serve as a goat shed!
I dont see it. It's too low.
We could raise it on cinder blocks.
Then the (already steep) slide would be dangerous.
But wouldn't it be clever?
No.

(Judge for yourselves...)






We were to visit Snowdrop and Sparrow, but now that this project is scrapped, Ed wants to move on with our other tasks. Snowdrop is disappointed. Ed waffles.

But we can't stop. I promise I will drop by later! In the mean time, he and I move on to Menards -- a store that sells home building stuff. And sheds. We are thinking that perhaps the good compromise to the goat shelter is to put up one of those sheds people use for tools.
How would you anchor it?
I'll work that out...

So we're making progress! Goat shelter -- yes, an agreement is reached. We now go to Farm and Fleet to pick up buckets, minerals, goat candy (this is a term used for goat bribes/lures/rewards). Ed suggests I get a Farm and Fleet frequent buyer card. I sweat.

What about fencing? -- I ask.

No good answer is offered. I have watched too many videos on electric fences. I have talked to Madison's expert goat person who believes in the product. I am not convinced. I am at a loss as to where I can find a person to drive a standard woven wire fence into the ground.
You can do it  -- Ed tells me.
I want to glare at him, except that he is already on board with building the shelter for me.

We part ways. He returns home in his rickety truck, I scoot over to my mom's place, tidy things up there, and pick up stuff for her -- she is in the hospital undergoing tests in order to better understand her medicine schedule going forward. She is in good form, but we need a better solution for her issues.

Afterwards, I head over to the grocery store, because I'd left off the list on Friday items that Ed lives on in my absence. From there, I go to the young family's home to say hi, as promised. Hi back at you, gogs!

(she is so into art...)






(he is so into everything...)






(gogs comes with cherries...)






And now I am finally home and it is evening and I take out the ingredients to cook up a pot of chili for us, and for Ed in my absence.

I exhale, trying to ignore the fact that I was to pack today (I'm leaving Tuesday and have no time for it tomorrow).

So, a bit nutty, no? But, the family is fine and the cats were fed and the cheepers are hiding in the barn and the goat project is moving forward. If only I could bribe someone to build me a fence in the next couple of weeks...

animals and good neighbors

It's not that I want to overfill my days. I'm content when they have chunks of down time. But sometimes, the motor within you churns and I find yourself panting and thinking -- how did I ever get to be this busy?

Today was just such a day.

It all started with the cats (and yes, yes, we do have too many because Stop Sign has had too many and yes, she needs to be neutered and if only she'd pause with her reproductive instincts and duties, we'd make an all out effort to get the old girl to the vet).

I go out early. Dance is there. I feed Dance. Then Stop Sign comes. I feed Stop Sign. Then the kittens show up, but I can't feed them because the cheepers are now loose and any food left for the kittens will be eaten by the curious girls. I spend over an hour trying to get food to everyone. An hour!

At least the setting is pretty: a late spring garden is calm, with lots of green still, but it's plenty enchanting anyway.






Breakfast.






A few conversations with my mom, who has had a few more ups and downs but mostly ups now.

And then Ed and I get in the car to drop off something I had mended for Snowdrop (the little girl is on her way to a birthday party not too far from here)...






And from there, we go visit a family who happens to raise goats.

I know, I know. No more goat talk! No more goat visits! No more goat speculations! Don't overfill your plate!

On the flip side -- I'm thinking this is our last chance to bring animals here, to the farmette. (We're getting old, no?) And as Ed questions me about steps I had taken before backing down, I listen more attentively at ideas that he himself had had.

We reach a midpoint, where I am not so hellbent on doing this my way and he's not so hellbent on not doing it at all. After watching youtube clips at 3:30 a.m. on various forms of electric fencing, I'm not so opposed to the idea of this less permanent solution. So now Ed isn't terribly opposed to putting up a shed and thus we are back on the goat boat once more.

We've had an appointment with this particular goat lady for a while. She has sold all her does, but she has some wethers still. Do you know what they are? They are neutered male goats. Their only role is to be a pet and a companion to other goats. And they have wonderfully mild dispositions. And they are cheap. No goat cheese is going to come your way out of a wether.

Insofar as Ed and I are still considering goats (are we? well, maybe...), wethers are a good choice, at least for this year. The investment is smaller. And honestly, I'm not sure I want to take on breeding and milking at all. What do we do with all that high fat goat milk??

The people we visit are not homesteaders. They have day jobs, they have kids and lawns and the animals they keep are perhaps closer to a hobby than a need to put calories on the table.

We learn a lot about everything. And, well, their goats are so well tended and so lovable...






... and sure enough, by the end of the hour, we are committed goat owners.

Meet Smoky, a mini Nubian...






... and Casper, a Nigerian.






The names are chosen by the goat people, but I think we'll stay with them.

But wait, why do I call these folks "goat people," when in fact, what you see more of on their property is... llamas.






They raise them, sheer them, use their wool.

Suddenly, I am surrounded by llamas.






And because I have llama cookies, I am followed by llamas. A lot of llamas.

(Llama butts and a Nina butt)





No! We are not ever considering llamas!

Ah, but it's a delightful time!



During the drive home, Ed offers to build a shed from a kit for the goats and to help me set up fencing.

We call our corn farmers (who live just down the road and who also keep beef cattle and have a couple of playful goats) and stop by to chat with them about getting hay for the goats. Another hour of stellar conversation about corn and neighbors and cats and, well of course, goats.


It'll be a month before we bring Casper and Smoky to the farmette. For now, like expectant parents, we must get ready!

Friday

When you're young, do you ever think about what a day would look like once you retire? I never did that. I may be glass half full in my every day outlook, but in the long run, I did half-believe that if I daydreamed about retirement, I'd jinx it and conk out two days before its commencement.

But then, five years ago, I thought -- hey, it may happen!

A year later, I retired.

People wonder if they will be bored once they let go of their job.

Ha!

Here is a summary for you of a day in the life of this one retired person. Much of it is standard stuff for someone who no longer keeps to a work schedule: getting up without rushing, taking a walk in the middle of the morning, chatting about this and that with Ed throughout the day. But other stuff -- well, it's part of my uniquely crazy setup. My very special and very full template, with some extra excitement thrown in, because days never unfold in a totally predictable manner. A day where I'm left panting, and I didn't even have grandkid care responsibilities!

Panting? How so?

Well, in addition to all that calm retired person stuff, and after a breakfast with Ed...






... I spend time with a friend (I was late... here she is, waiting)...






My friend and I sip a late morning coffee then take that lovely, blustery walk.

There ends the calm stuff.

Throughout the day, I must keep up  with my mom, who had taken a turn for the worse last night, then recovered, then had a set back, then recovered once more.

Throughout the day, I also have to keep up with the cats. Seriously -- the unrewarding cats. I thought that we were currently feeding two. Today I find that there are actually five: Stop Sign, Dance, and then three babes -- clearly the most recent litter of Stop Sign. So we were wrong about Tulip the Maine Coon -- he was way too big to be part of this year's litter, whereas these three look exactly to be two months!





In addition, I meet my new doc (my old one moved to Montana because, well, she said it's all in the mountains) -- lovely person whose smile lights up the room.

And I grocery shop for the weeks I will be away. Bags, of food. Mostly for Ed.

Somewhere in there, I attended the performance of the young dancers enrolled in the one-day summer unicorn dance camp. Snowdrop is one such unicorn!






Talk about a person who lights up the room with her smile!






Kids, cats, bags, lives -- how many were going to St. Ives?

(Most of life can be summarized with the help of a nursery rhyme.)






Writing? What writing? I haven't even done my ten minutes-a-day of French reading lessons for many, many weeks.

But in fact, retirement had never looked this beautiful in my pre-retirement musings. I just wanted to rid myself of work pressures. I got so much more.

Thursday

A cool, blustery wind, sunny skies, June flowers. You need add little else to this lovely tableau.

A robust garden, quickly moving to its summer fiesta...






A walk through all the fields, just to check on things (I do this so many times, throughout the day)...






Breakfast with our guest, but in the kitchen. It's a bit too cold to take it outside.






Last minute conversations, some shop talk between the two men, with me throwing in only mildly relevant suggestions.

And that's our morning?

Not exactly. Or at least it doesn't end there. I made an appointment with a local homesteader to look at her Nigerian goat kids.

I did worry that once I saw them, there would be no going back. Not necessarily because I would fall in love, but because I would see the animals in real time and my mild apprehensions would fade. I'd come out thinking -- this is doable! I can do it!

And that's exactly what happened.

(I'm holding the two month old doe -- she is perfect. Her temperament is exactly right.)






(Her brother is a possibility as well; the homesteader and I haven't flushed out the details of who should be the partner goat. There is some talk of taking the mom, but I'm not sure I want to take on milking just yet. So maybe this little guy...)





I should say that this is not a completely seamless project. As I grow more certain and decisive, Ed grows more ambivalent. And as I'm ready to give a definitive yes, he is ready to give a definitive no.

He is a reluctant goat farmer for many, many reasons. Here's one -- he does not really want to take on the project of building fencing or putting up a shelter. He'll say it nicely -- I just want to hang out with you... But the reality is that his interventions at the farmette have always tended toward low key minimalism. If there are flower beds here, it's because I've planted them. Trees are trimmed, grass is mowed (ever so rarely) because I insist on it. The chicken coop has too few roosts for the hens. He wants to make do with what's there.

With the goats, Ed finally tells me -- go ahead and do it, but it's all yours. You deal with the fencing, the shelter, the hay. I don't want to.

And why exactly do I want to? I mean, they're sweet goats -- playful, friendly -- but am I really going for the milk? The homesteaders are a thriving community here, in Wisconsin (and perhaps elsewhere): they grow their foods, home-school their kids and make cheeses and soaps out of the milk the goats provide. I am not in any way part of that movement.

Yet, I want goats here, at the farmette. At least if I can get someone to put up the fence. (I've already found someone to build the shelter. It's not going to be me!) I'm thinking -- goats are much different than chickens. And maybe that's a good thing!


In the end, we leave a deposit, I make the phone calls, but as morning morphs into the afternoon, I realize that I am yet again embarking on a solo project, one that Ed wants to take a pass on (reminiscent to, say, travel).

I put the brakes on the whole thing and call it off. We have plenty of incompatible interests already. We don't need another. Especially not one that require a long term commitment. So -- no more talk of goats. I'm done.


Snowdrop is here in the afternoon. She is a much needed distraction!


(hi, ah-ah! Whatcha doing ah-ah?)






(running to smell the alyssum... I've taught her well!)






(are you going to be outside, ah-ah?)






(bubbles and butterflies)
















(let's feed the chickens! please! ah-ah let's me!)






(I found more asparagus!)






Yes, a beautiful, beautiful distraction.

Wednesday

Our house guest not only woke with the first rooster crow, but was up and out in pursuit of his tasks before I even completed my early morning stretch. By the time I lumbered downstairs, he was out for the day and all was quiet. Except for the meowing of Dance. "Where's my food?" Dance can be very demanding.

It rained heavily last night and it is still raining all day today. My peonies are drooping, the irises are quickly wrapping up their show. Time to get some color again by admiring the tubs of annuals!












It is Wednesday and Sparrow is with us of course. Cheerful boy!






Breakfast, with the guys in blue.






While the little boy naps, Ed brings up the topic of goats. He thinks we should educate ourselves fully, which includes reading up on goats that we're not even contemplating: fainting goats, mini goats, you name it goats.

Sparrow wakes. It feels cool to me and so I look around for a sweater for him. Here's one -- size "5 years" -- it belongs to Snowdrop. Fits him just fine!

Sparrow is a big guy.






Now that he's one, his repertoire of solid foods grows. I try him on a lunch of avocado and whole wheat bread and blueberries.

He has his moment of contemplative consideration...





He likes it!





What a surprise.


And the rains come down...

I pick up Snowdrop. We skirt one shower only to be caught in another.






Safely home!






Book drawing...






Ed asks her if she has a loud voice. I ask her if I have a loud voice. Snowdrop considers all this.
It's a voice. You can hear it. So it's loud.

A philosophical position indeed.






I take her home in the rain.

Ed and I, along with our house guest, are invited for drinks at the home of another colleague. Three guys, who normally would talk software and business models in these challenging times, seem to be in need of balance, because they are insistent that I join them. I definitely shift the level of discourse, moving away from life's chores, to life's pleasures. Because there are so many!

We continue our light revelry over dinner at Brasserie V and eventually our guest returns home with us. The rains finally cease and all is quiet now. Very calm, very quiet. Who could possibly complain!