Showing posts from September, 2013

In which our hens migrate and explore Haiku Farm Garden 2.0

We built a new garden this summer.
(When I say "we," of course I mean "I thought up the plan and somebody else did the hard work.")

It was really necessary, though.  The beans and sunflowers would've gone through the roof this year, if the garden had a roof.  
And the pumpkin vines,  which like to grow out rather than up,

have literally jumped the garden fence and are now heading for the pasture.  
Our super-enriched garden soil is almost too successful.  
So, now we have Garden 2.0.
Once we got the entire garden wrapped in chicken wire
 Jim moved in the second-stage staff to take care of grass annihilation.

 This garden has a few "low spots" where the gates are, so we carefully trimmed wings to discourage escapes.

Chicken Twelve  was exempted from the wing-trimming.  She gets picked on by the other birds, so we wanted her to be able to leave the garden if she wanted.

As it turns out, this was wise.  Because, late in the afternoon on the first day


In which the weather is quite soggy, but we are promised a medal

I don't blame Fee for wanting to stay inside the nice, dry horse trailer.

It's been almost a week since our last ride, and that one was (understatement) not as quick as we would prefer.  We were clipping along at a nice pace and decided to take a nice gallop up a hill.  So we were galloping, galloping, hurrah-hurrah-hurrah

...and then we weren't galloping anymore.  Fee's soles are so tender that she needs hoof protection.  But this boot wasn't going to protect anything.  We picked our way gingerly back to the trailer and called that a day.
Today, nobody wanted to out with us.  In fact, Monica said that we'd deserve a medal if we went out because the forecast called for substantial rainfall.

The weather forecast for tomorrow is even worse.  I'm pretty sure I heard a radio announcement about animals lining up two-by-two.  So, we went out today.

I wanted to try out a new raingear combination anyhow.  Not new gear, just the new combination of stuff.

The outer…

In which we "Bug Out" for a few hours and spend some time with some fun Volks

My younger brother has a thing for bugs.

A few years ago, he started really getting involved with the local Volkwagon Club, and started (re-) building Bugs.  His first car was a bright yellow "late bug" (post 1968) called The Grumblebug, and then he brought hom Dieter:

He explained to me that his housing choices were made in a manner similar to mine:  we looked at the pasture quite closely, and sorta glanced at the house before buying Haiku Farm.  He's got a GIGANTIC enclosed garage with a cute little apartment upstairs.   I get that.
Apparently there's a(t least one) car skeleton in the garage, waiting to be turned into something the bugs we saw displayed at the first (and hopefully annual) BUG BLITZ managed by my brother the bug fan:

Santa Jim thinks my brother's next project should be a bright-red bus, decorated with snowflakes, so Santa can drive to gigs in style.  

No report yet on my brother's opinion of this plan.  But we did see some …

In which sometimes the best (and the hardest) thing to do is to give up

If you read the previous post about the wonderful things the Dragon has done in the last 7 years, you might think that I am a genius trainer, or at least, a tremendously stubborn one.
Well, no.  But, yes.  But also, no.
There are, as at least one commenter pointed out, times when the very best thing to do is give up on a horse. It isn't always the best choice, as we've seen--Fiddle would never have become so delightful if I hadn't invested a bunch of sweat, tears, and problem-solving power in her.  But giving up isn't always the worst choice, either.
And I'm here to tell ya, as a stubborn person, giving up is sometimes the very hardest thing for me to do. 

FOR took me a VERY long time (too long!) to give up on the Toad, and I'm sorry that I'm such a slow learner.  With the wisdom of retrospect, I think that he might have had a much more brilliant life.  He had a good life.  But not a brilliant life.

I stubbornly refused to give up on him, and…

In which the Dragon didn't overcome all obstacles overnight

I was so proud of the Dragon for touching the  Plastic Marshmallows of the Apocalypse..

And so many people seemed so...impressed.  I know lytha in Germany was feeling envious, because her young mare is at that stage of training where every little thing seems like a Major. Roadblock. To. Fun.

But I gotta confess:

It wasn't easy.  And it wasn't fast.

It took us almost SEVEN YEARS to touch those things.

Yeah, sure, if you were watching us there, in the field the other day, it would look like about 10 minutes of negotiation, promises of cookies, and eventual draconic capitulation.

But we didn't start this process in that field the other day.  We started in the dead of winter, 2006-2007.

At first the conversations went a lot like this:


Whack!  Whack!  Whack!  "Thou shalt NOT kick at me, you un-publishable expletive deleted!"**


"Oh, no you don't, cussword not repeated here!  Back your expletive butt up NOW!"