31 March 2018

Telling Stories

Late one night I sat on my computer looking at pictures of old houses. In one of them there was sign of a fire that had occurred many years ago. I noticed my mom was online too so I sent her a link. She should get to enjoy the pretty derelict old houses with me.Β  We started talking about the cause of the fire and began concocting stories to explain it. I loved our story too much to let it go there, so here it is. A very fictional (maybe) story of a ruin. With pictures!

Me: How do you think the fire started?

Mom: I hadn’t noticed the fire. Maybe the fire place?

Me: No, the fire was by a window. Not to big of a fire but lots of smoke damage.

Mom: It does look like that. Wonder what happened. Your theory?

Me: Cigarette? Electrical outlet?

Mom: Mine was the fireplace…Β  Maybe someone hated them and threw a burning ball of rags through the window. Before it could do too much damage they found it, fought through the smoke, and extinguished it.

Me: (ever boring) Much more exciting. But the worst of the damage is directly between the windows against the wall, if they threw it through the window I would expect it to be more towards the middle of the room and in line with a window.

(I’m not completely boring though, just mostly) Still possible though. I say it came though the window to our left hit the side of the couch that was there against the wall and burned.

Mom: They didn’t throw it, they came on the porch. There were no screens back then, they poured the tar dipped rags through the window. No they didn’t pour it they pushed it through the window and to the side.

Me: Luckily the girl who had thrown him over heard a noise. When she awoke she laid there disoriented and scared until she came to enough to recognize the smell of smoke. She then woke up the rest of the family and they were able to put the fire out.

Mom: Sadly the man who started it got the burning tar on his hands. He was horribly scarred and disfigured. The girl did the only thing she could, she forgave him, married him, and loved him forever.

Me: She loved and forgave the physically and mentally scarred man and married him anyway, but the scars on his mind, the deep and insidious damage to his mind. From his difficult childhood, their tumultuous romance and the pain of his injuries continued to resurface. They moved into her house with plans to repair it but he would never let her touch that room. As his delusions grew worse he no longer let her leave the house. It slowly rotted into the ground around them. Their once beautiful love for each other collapsing into a rotting wreck taking them both down with it. Very symbolic all around.

Mom: Sadly their son and his wife bought a house in the country along a beautiful stream, in the hills, peaceful and beautiful. He had become so warped by his parents unhappiness that he lost his mind and, some say, killed his beautiful wife, burying her body in the basement. To this day no one wants to buy as they say it is still haunted by their spirits.

Me: Oh, I remember that one!

Me: (back to the original house) Then many years later the door to the house, normally sealed shut, was found open. Upon searching the house the lifeless body of a homeless man who had sought shelter within was discovered. He lay huddled in the pink room near where the fire had started. An autopsy revealed he had died of smoke inhalation. No new sign of fire was found.

29 March 2018

It Happened One Night.

We were alone in the house, the children and I. My hard working husband was putting in a late night. He wanted to be home and was going to hurry back to us as soon as he could. Bedtime was near, children were tired, tempers flared. I may have yelled at them once or twice.

At the end of one yell the back door rattled loudly. Great I thought. He got home just in time to hear me yelling at the children. His hands must be full, he was going to bring us deserts after all, and he needs help opening the door. “It’s Lala!” I told the children “lets go let him in”! We dashed down the stairs, flung open the door, turned on the light.

No one was there.

I stood staring at the empty back porch in horror. I knew I had heard the door rattle. I knew it to the depths of my soul. That had not been my imagination. He, or anyone else, surely couldn’t have gotten out the back door already? Could they? The possibilities raced through my mind. None concrete, simple wisps of ideas, frightful and vague.

Then grasping for hope I thought of the cat. Where was that creature? Looking around I noticed The Goblin Child’s door was closed. Could it have been? I heard a door, not necessarily the back door. They are right next to each other. It could have been. Here I opened wide the door.

And there stood the cat, waiting patiently to be let out. Why had we taken so long. Hadn’t we heard it shacking the door off its hinges?

23 March 2018

Small Set Backs

The Goblin Child fell off Princess Onna. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t either of their faults. A total and complete freak accident. The Goblin Child was zipping along, giggling and having a blast. She was happy as could be up until that exact second. Then Onna tripped over something and went down. She fell clear over on her side throwing T.G.C.Β  clear.

There was lots of crying but no real harm done. 8 was on Coyote behind me at the time and I had to get out from in front of him before I could get to her. Easier said than done. I left him there on Coyote while I picked her up and searched for injuries. Coyote stood wonderfully. So did Onna once she got up. We walked back to the corral from the hill by the windmill. Then she was settled down enough I thought I could put her back on. I couldn’t.

She was alright until I tried to set her on Onna then she started crying again. It wasn’t happening. I took 8 off Coyote and put him on Onna. She was willing to ride Coyote and I walked back to the house leading both horses. Once there I turned 8 loose to roam and took The Goblin Child off Coyote. And put her on Onna.

She was scared at first. Then calmed down as I led them around. She has been back on Onna a few times and they seem to be doing well together. I hope they can get back to their former level of confidence.

 

20 March 2018

Horse Stuff

Some horse friends an I got together and did a thing. We had a blast doing it and it’s so fun to have friends from all over the world. There is also the couple from the north of England who farm. A mother from Canada. A young girl from Slovakia. And many others but it was fun to have people from two continents at least get together on a project. Showing off our horses and letting people know that you don’t need force and macho idiocy to train a horse.

 

18 March 2018

Of Cows And Such

Poppy had her calf very early this year. Not early for calving. Just early for her. About a month earlier than usual. She has had an April calf ever since she started having them. This time she barely missed my birthday. I lively, lovely bull calf with white on his forehead. They were both doing great.

A couple of days later she was down. She was not getting up and was not even interested in trying to do so. We stood and looked at her pondering what to do. I tried our vet, she’s nearly impossible to get on weekends. I texted a friend to see if she had ever seen this. Her best guess was that Poppy’s back was out from calving paralyzing her. A common problem when a cow has a large calf, but they usually go down during calving and this was the smallest calf Poppy had ever had.

I finally got a hold of a different vet. He didn’t pause, didn’t think about it, he declared it to be milk fever. I doubted him. I’ve heard of an know about grass tetany, a phosphorous imbalance when a newly milking cow goes out on green grass. No, that isn’t what this is I said. Not that, he was starting to get impatient, why call and ask if you aren’t going to believe. Seriously people. This is different, she needs some medicine into her belly. The words were going fast. They were foreign to me and flowed out from between my ears like water unable to grasp them. But he would put what I needed out down at the clinic.

Amidst words of doubt and dislike for this particular vet I left to get the meds. They put plenty of doubt and worry into my head. I would ask the vet when I got there. Get my questions answered. When I got there three large bottles of liquid medicine, a rubber tube, and needles where hung by the mailbox out front. In a Walmart bag. By themselves. No vet to be seen.

I called again on the way home and asked again for exact directions. Where in the abdomen? How do I find the right spot? Just off the back, between the ribs and hip bone. He was disdainful. Why did I need so much help for such a simple undertaking?

At home we left the kids parked on the couch refusing to move and went back out to Poppy, still in the same spot, still not even trying to move. We took our time getting ready. Pondering the where and how of it. Then, saying a brief prayer as I knelt over her, I stuck the needle in. My patient husband handed me the tube. With a little fumbling we connected the two and started the medicine pouring, slowly, into her.

It seemed to take forever as we took turns standing with our arms in the air letting it pour down into her. Once it was finally empty we left her and went back to make sure our children were alive. They were.

I went back out to check on her a little later. No change. Again after supper. Still no change. I went ahead and gave her the last bottle, sure and confident now in the needle placement. Her calf was there now wanting his supper. I grabbed her flank and pulled as hard as I could, trying to give him better access. Together we were able to get something for him to get a hold of and he got a light supper. I went home, nothing else I could do for the night.

The next morning, afraid of what they would find, I waited anxiously for word of her. Soon enough it came. She was up! She was up and her calf was right there with her! Everything was alright.

A week later The Father-in-law stopped by. One of his cows was down. Did we have any of that medicine left? We didn’t, having poured a probably excess amount into Poppy. So the cycle was repeated. I ran to the vet. No vet involved but a receptionist that was quickly charmed by The Goblin Child. We got a good stock of the large bottles. Back home we went along to see the cow laying, trying much harder than Poppy to get up. She would get her legs under her and stagger forward then collapse again.

I stuck the needle in. My cow hating husband, patiently handed me the rubber hose and we put two bottles into her. By evening she was up and going. I see her in the pasture once in awhile and nod to her. Thinking that she doesn’t share the feeling of kinship I do, but still, hello. Glad to see you still up and going.

 

 

8 March 2018

Frolicking Kids

We took Baa to visit a boy. We hope to have a baby. We took her down in the end Of January and picked her up early March. As the people who own the boy say they “fell in love” immediately then showed no signs of heat after that. A goats gestation period is five months. If everything goes right we should be expecting a baby, or two?, in July!

When we dropped her off and picked her up the very nice people let all of us see, and play with, their baby goats. It was so much fun watching all the kids frolic together.

 

3 March 2018

Of Cars And Deer

Did I mention that I hit a deer in the car? Totally smashed the front end. Traumatized the kids. Cemented my darling husbands hatred of deer. he had a few choice and enthusiastic words for the deer. He never once said anything to me about hitting it just the deer for existing. He’s so sweet.

It left us with a decision to make. Try to fix our beloved Buick or find a new one. A newer one of the same make and color that is. Thanks to our older Buick in the same make and color we decided to and were able to repair it instead of looking for a new one. My hard working husband took the radiator and air-conditioning something something that had been destroyed by the deer off. Then he removed them from the old Buick, along with the hood. The old/new parts went on the newer old Buick and it was able to drive to the place to get the body work done.

The old hood hardly had any paint left on it but it wasn’t smashed. The front quarter panel was crumpled in the front corner. He straightened that out and painted everything. Now we have our Buick back, as good as new!