TIME WARP

TIME WARP

If one is to believe in a bit of science fiction and dwell on the dark secrets of the universe, it is easy to comprehend what happened in the last eight months. The loss of two younger siblings to Cancer, and grueling long winter, the very late spring, plus many other factors put this gal in another time and place. Some how things were getting done as usual, but it was like a robot had taken over my senses, and proceeded to do as programed without thought as to what, why and how come. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and then suddenly one day I went out in the garden and said……..how and when did this all get done. The sweet corn is tasseling, the tomatoes are ripening, the herbs are ready to pick and dry, and I stood there in a moment of amazement, realizing that somewhere, in another time zone quite similar to this one, my outer self-took over the chores, and the inner self sought sanctum…in a place most people care not to go. The two worlds were battling each other, one not giving a damn and the other pushing to reach the place above the clouds to breathe. Everything was the same, yet profoundly different…..struggling to gain control……while I just sat on the outside looking in. Two worlds had separated, two time zones, with no direction in sight……...until now. The mind indeed is a strange animal, taking its own sweet time to awake and smell the roses…….!

Speaking of roses, a bush that was given to me by my son-in-laws mother, has finally bloomed this year….it was planted about eight years ago, and grew up the trellis, with nary a bloom. Then a few weeks ago, a bit of pink caught my attention and there in the middle of the vines, was a bouquet of small, tiny pink roses….catching the rays of the sun, and the drops of the dew. ….. The other roses that were planted last year, like the “Knock out” specimens are blooming,… but sadly I lost my yellow rose bush to the cold fingers of ole man winter. The colors of the leaves on the oaks and poplars this year are filled with a strong sense of being… as they are robust hues of greens, alternating with the darks and lites, like no other. Mother Nature grew tired of her blanket of snow, and brought on the seasons with a clear cut idea of summer and what it was meant to be. There are also black eyed Susan’s bobbing and talking with the clouds on the hillside coming up the drive. A willow sways and dances with the wind near the culvert, while the young fawns are playing tag in some of the fallen trees downed by the winter’s snows.

We have a new resident this year, for the first time in a few years….he walks with dignity and a supreme sense of confidence across the hayfield, toward the woodline, with no fear of the dogs barking, or a human watching. The beautiful black fur catches the last rays of the setting sun, as he slowly makes his way thru the tall grasses in the woodline, silently fading into the dark woods, leaving only his scent behind for the dogs to play with. I have seen this black bear many times so far this summer, crossing the driveway about 50 yards from the house, crossing the road down a ways, plus his relatives sitting in empty fields or crossing the road on the way to Medford, to pick up Tim from work. I think I shall name this year…..The Year of the Bear…….I can always tell when he is around , as the alpacas will not go into the pasture and stay close to the sheds, waiting for the moment he travels to another destination, in search of his destiny.

The usual residents are back, the coyotes still singing their mournful chorus at nite, and a family of beautiful skunks….if you keep your distance..reside at the bottom of the hill. We have seen black mink, raccoons, fox and more deer than in the last few years. All foraging at the homestead this year…however…. they have been taking advantage of the domestic dwellers here and wiped out Lynn’s chicks and chickens one sultry, very hot Sunday afternoon and evening. Apparently they became bored with the prospects of the woods, and decided to stir up some excitement, since the chickens were not taken for food, but left lifeless in the pen.

The rains, high humidity and heat have kept the lawn tall, and the weeds in the garden on a rampage. We broke records this winter with our snowfalls, and now are doing the same with the rain and high temps. However the rock garden is splendid, with all the colors abound and the lilies are tall reaching for the hummers who are patiently waiting for them to open and look toward the sky. A wren couple settled in the gourd hanging under the eve…and has rewarded us with hours of singing from the time the sun kisses the treetops, till it settles down in the west and snuggles in for the night. Barn swallows moved in next door, in another gourd, making Tim happy that they didn’t take up space in the garage again, and litter ….however as time went on, and the garage door stayed open, another party moved in…so there is still…..”Litter” in the garage to match the disarray of materials stored there.

 

Well, the rhubarb is in the freezer, waiting to be made in to jam…the cherries have been picked …for the first time this year…..awaiting to be made in to Tim’s favorite, cherry pies….6 ice cream pails full….next year I am getting a cherry stoner…….my food drier is humming with basil leaves drying, the alpacas have been sheared and frolic in the rain, life and time synchronized like a fine orchestra in concert goes on, leaving no one behind. The long nights have concluded, and happiness of the sunshine smiling between the raindrops has returned. The fragile time warps have become one for now and the clouds are erasing the moments of abandonment leaving a wild field of contentment for all to embrace.

 

May Showers

The advent of May showers leaves me antsy. Due to the late spring, although the garden has been worked up, I have not been able to get in and plant. The clay soil holds water and if one goes in too early we end up with golf sized hard mud balls, which are really a pain to work around. According to my records for the last eight years of residing up here In the North Woods, I am not too late, and the things in the greenhouse will be ready to put in…however My body may not be able to handle the influx of all the bending, stooping, pulling, digging that is required of doing such a chore in minute time required before the heat hits. This getting older bit sucks…but if the truth be known….. it may be the extra weight that sucks more, not the age that is slowing me down. Sigh…never ending battle one way or another.

The orioles have been crowding the make shift hangers that hold sweet orange slices under the sunflower feeder. Their splendid orange and black suit coats flash with the sunlight, and the melodious singing in the early morning is an alarm clock not to be ignored as they sway on the liquid feeder hanging outside the kitchen window. The Rose Breasted Grosbeaks argue for room at the sunflower feeder, the males tidy in their black and white suites and red ties, constantly singing for their mates who even in their brown sultry dresses are a vision to watch. The Finches have changed their costume from dull winter brown to bright startling yellow and flit from sprig to sprig on the birches and poplar trees, adding to the chorus of spring, catching the raindrops to glisten on their wing tips. A silent flash of blue and the whisper of a Blue Bunting slashes the air as he steals a seed here and there, from under the beaks of the Grosbeaks. Not to be outdone by this spring spectacle at the sunflower tables….. are the woodpeckers, hanging from the suet feeders, with the Red headed woodpecker peering over the side, threatening the smaller Hairy and Downy woodpeckers as if to say ..The King has arrived….please make way…..so they make a swift retreat to the nearby oaks….sailing up and down the tree trunks like the swift running sap that is bringing the leaves into full dress while the almighty red head savors the small morsels of homemade suet.

Down on the ground another scenario is taking place….as the common Red Polls silently drift down to catch the falling black seeds, along with dozens of White Crowned sparrows, Chipping Sparrows and field sparrows partake in the bounty that the greedy birds above have let fall to the earth. Nothing goes to waste these days, as the frisky chipmunks pack their cheeks full with delicacies they have found hidden in the long strands of unmowed grass, or the gray, black and red squirrels have carelessly left behind.

Somewhere, way high in the front yard tree a treble of notes float and tango across the roof and then rebound with flirty fun as a Bobolink has flown in from the green swaying grass fields, to make sure he too could be heard, stopping to listen as his mate answered him from a sheltered nest in the woodline, …..Soon they will be feeding on the thousands of dandelion seeds from the fluffy yellow blossom heads bobbing and bowing under the gentle southwest winds. The Red Winged Blackbirds call and dance along the garden fence while the Barn swallows sweep and dive to catch the insects that would dare to come out to see the ruckus. Suddenly there is a swift dart and dash….and the hummers are heading for the nearest blossom, to find the insects hidden there, or the sugar water in the feeder just awaiting their return. Down….., deep in the ravines echo the calls of the Sand Hill Cranes, …somewhere in the thick undergrowth the partridge are drumming…… calling for their respected companions….and soon in the evening you can hear the Loons adding their own creative calls with the croaking of the spring frogs. These are the masterful chorus sounds of spring that cannot be heard in the opera halls of the city…..and cost not a penny; continuing on through the day, ending with the lonely closing ceremony of the hooting of the owls in late evening as the sun has set, bringing down the curtain of shadows.

In this splendid rendition of the Chorus of the Homestead, one must sit back and take time to relish the music of the woods, now minus the frosted white snow, and full of the life that continues to emerge with each plump cherry blossom, or shiny rain drop frosted leaf. The clouds are parting, the rays shinning down to warm the wet ground, Mother Nature has let her children out to reclaim the skies, and revamp the earth. My garden will get planted, the grasses will grow, and the weeds replenish , all is well on the homestead as it should be….new life will soon be appearing, and another saga is about to begin. It is my good fortune to be able to witness all, and……. sit and…… watch…..and listen….and ….enjoy as everything eventually takes care of itself and worry is for naught..

The path of the years

Happy Birthday Lisa

Today is April 2, 2011, and our 25th wedding anniversary, and is passing just like any other day here on the homestead, a lazy Saturday, with the sun shining, and the snow melting a bit more, leaving only four foot snow banks now, instead of eight foot. We were married secretly at the” Little Brown Church in the Dale”, in Nashua, Iowa in a simple ceremony with the pastors wife as a witness. It is simply amazing to think of all the memories that are now gathering dust on the bookshelves of our lives, some have gone up in smoke, some are still smoking, and others have settled down into majestic moments of laughter and silence. With each milestone that has passed, another age line has evolved, another truth learned, another memento to be filed onto the bookshelf and hopefully many more to be discovered. Regardless of how settled we seem to be, nothing can be taken for granted anymore, and nothing will be the same as it once was. I have learned that nothing is stable or permanent anymore and the curves in the roads ahead are sharper, the hills are steeper, and the potholes deeper. Is this the life I thought would be, or did I even think of what life would be when I was 25 years younger? Too busy, too little time, too many important priorities, left very little room for dreaming of what lie ahead in the future, or where the road would lead. Now, we are still traveling, not running anymore, but walking along the center of the road  ... with new memories to be filed,… peering around the corners, rather than careening on two wheels at 75 miles an hour to get to the next plateau, there is no reason for speed now, the years are coming on fast enough for my fancy, and my foot is off the gas pedal.

Speaking of gas pedals, the little chevy truck we now own, is definitely slowing my logic down to a crawl….being very short….and very FLUFFY, I cannot reach the pedal unless I am setting on top of the steering wheel, which leaves creases across my bellybutton, and my chin on the speedometer. My nose rubs the windshield, and lord knows what has happened to the seatbelt. The seat is as far as it can go forward, and still my toes just barely touch the gas pedal. Never have I had such a problem with any vehicle that we have owned, and who ever owned it before left a sinkhole in the seat, so unless I can find a pillow to fit in it, I have to sit on the side of the seat so as not to be lost in the calamities of the instruments that tell me what speed I am traveling, and how much gas is left in the tank. From the outside it looks like a porpoise is trying to see between the steering wheel spokes …..gasping for air as I struggle to brake and complete whatever journey I have set out to conquer. All I gotta say is thank heavens for Cruise control, and four wheel drive buttons,….. If I had to get out and set the wheels, I would still be stuck in all the snowbanks that accumulated these last few months. Then there is no running board like all our other trucks had, and to get into this sardine can, is a performance that can only be matched by the best acrobatic moves around. Getting out matches the slithering of a snake out of the bull pen….finally hitting concrete surfaces. This was not my idea of transportation, but in these times, with the high gas prices, it has one very good point…it has good gas mileage…so …have to deal with it.

Early last week, before the last snowstorm hit, the geese were out in the pasture, following the alpacas out to some of the bare ground that finally surfaced. When it started snowing lightly however, the alpacas came in to the shed, while the geese comfortably settled into the tall grasses pulling at some tasty strands of weeds still left standing……Suddenly they melted flat into the ground, ..and a slow flying shadow circled around between the tree lines. It came from very high in the sky, and was sensed by them before I could even see what the problem was. As it slowly circled and descended toward the ground, they made a wild dash for the coop. My Toulouse geese are heavier than most geese, and it was surprising to see how fast they could travel, with their huge wings catching the air as they almost flew at ground level...... Suddenly I saw the problem; a huge, beautiful adult eagle had spotted them while on a hunting mission from high above, ...circling quickly and quietly looking for his prey. He landed in one of the tall oaks across the field alongside the pasture, and perched on one of the higher leafless limbs, ....watching,..... waiting……..I am not sure who would have won this battle, for the gander is very protective of his mate, ...even  hissing when I come near the nest to gather the chicken eggs every evening, ......this time the eagle lost the gamble, as the geese went in for the night, never to return that day, and the snow kept falling. He sat there for about an hour, preening his graceful feathers, always on the watch for the mouse, or inattentive squirrel, going after that last acorn on the ground. Then, with a flick of his wings, and one last long look, he took to the clouds, leaving the pasture free again.

Boredom has brought back an old hobby that I did as a child when my grandmother decided I needed to learn more then how to clean house....., and now am back at it again, crocheting up some of the yarn that has been sitting here for ages. At first I started to knit, but then a picture from one of th knitting forums  caught my eye, and walla!.......it was a perfect birthday gift for my eldest, whose birthday was arriving fast. The picture at the top of this page shows the color a lot darker , actually it is soft ecrue, or lite ivory. As you can see in the pictures, I actually finished the afghan in a few weeks, and am now working on Easter objects, that resemble the sugar craft learned when I was in the business of decorating cakes. The picture shown here  will be a surprise for the grandkids…These are things I used to make when I had my Cake Decorating business, made of sugar then, crumpling with time..now stiffened crochet thread hold spring fancies and maybe a candy or two.......but these will last much longer,.... I know they don’t read this, so it will be new to them..........but then  one never really knows  just what  lies around the corner....., now do we?

Are you listening,

The morbid month of January has passed, and Cupid brought in his hearts for February, directing the winds and snows to focus on driving mortals like me unequivocally mad and crazy with frustration. There was a time I told people who complained about the cold and snow to move somewhere where it was warm, and Old Man Winter would not show his cold blustery face...but that is no longer...everywhere has snow and cold....BUT, times are a changin, I can hear it in the wind. I heard whispers last night as the wind whipped around the old oaks, raced into the chimes, and whistled and played tag around the corners of our house. This morning the sun gazed upon the bobbing empty seed pods, and smiled as if it too had heard the whisperings rolling in on the gusts of wind, hushed secrets of the spring Gods, heard only by those who listen very carefully. Mother Nature will carefully shield the newborn breezes with snow showers, and ice, but never the less they are there,...., hiding in the old oak limbs, peaking around the forlorn branches, checking into the squirrels nests, and rocking the gourd bird houses. The next few months will be hide and seek for the youngsters, before finally resting on the clouds nestling in the blue skies. Revealing their arrival with soft warn rain drops ... all will know....spring has arrived.

Meanwhile, with last Falls lingering brown leaves sliding and dancing on the ice left by last week’s thaw....I creep across the tundra with water bucket in hand, carrying water to the chickens, and alpacas each morning and afternoon, all the while cussing the attributes of nature, and cursing the fact that the older I get each spring, the harder the task of keeping animals warm and fed. The geese have been laying eggs for weeks now, and each egg freezes with the rise of the moon. Age must be getting to them to...don't they know it’s still below zero out most of the time. Or is this their own special practice time before the real task arrives. The alpacas have ventured out into the pasture, which means the thaw has taken a good amount of snow down, and the drifts have become level with the land. The lone female turkey now calls again and again into the empty cold day, but there will be no mate for her this year....and even tho she has made it thru the angry winter this year....spring will not bring a brood for her to cradle, and she must contend herself with the fact that she has also reached the age of retirement, and must settle into the long hours of boredom.

This week was time to break out of the prisms of white and grey, and travel north to the land of snowmobiles, ice shacks, and cross country skis. Awaking the animals at 5 AM with feed cups banging, and dogs a barking....the alpacas watched with astonishment as not only did I fill their feed cups, but also brought the hay for them to eat rather than later in the day. A sure signal I would be gone the day. Leaving around six, the dark sky promised sun later as now clouds were present. A few miles down the road, there was a whisper in my ear....watch for the deer, ....and sure enough not more than 50 feet down the road a doe stood poised to cross into the next field. Unsure of her next move I slowed down to a crawl as she watched me approach, with the headlights in her eyes....within 10 feet of her, she suddenly decided to cross the road, and as the first hoof hit the icy pavement she lost her balance and slipped down to her knees and for a second faltered, slipping and sliding, and then finally regaining her balance and sped across into the woods and safety. Had it not been for that brief thought that crossed my mind I surely would have not slowed down and she would not have made it another day. The rest of the ride was uneventful, cept for traveling down Highway B....I came up on a coyote crossing the road in a hurry, but hitting the soft snow bank, became immersed in a snow bank, and its back legs were trapped for a few minutes as he struggled to overcome the soft snow and continue into the woods. It was warm and animals were moving early that morning, all of us traveling alone, onto destinations of anticipation. I traveled down Highway 8 this time, unsure of the truck we have just purchased, and road conditions, this road is more heavily traveled, especially by logging trucks should any mishap emerge, there would be help close by. With Tim trucking down the highways of Ohio, this was the safest bet. The sun rose, melted last night’s icy roads, and arrived in Michigan in record time.

The girls and I visited the thrift shops, where many treasures were displayed, awaiting new homes. The thrift stores there are well stocked, and well kept up. I found a heavy iron for quilting, a ceramic Betty Crocker Pie Plate for baking, and a traveling stuffed furry companion to ride in the passenger seat of Tim's rig. Many drivers carry mascots in their passenger seat, and it was time Tim followed suit...so Amos, a fat, cute, cuddly 2 foot monkey now has earned his right full place sailing down the highways in a big white cab. I am sure he will have many stories to tell in the next few years.

Back home again, later that evening, having gained a bit of respite from the boredom, and beating the heavy fog that settled in that nite,( due to the warm air currents and the cold layers of snow), it was a break from the humdrum that settles in at this time here at the homestead. It is time to scavenge thru the seed catalogs, write out the lists for the garden, changing to different plants this year, scanning the new items, leaving out the veggies that weren't so popular. Time to dig out the folders for the taxes, and spend the weekend up to our elbows in paper work. This will be Tim's first full weekend home in a while so must take advantage of doing things that have been on hold.

In the meantime, will be listening to the winds, watching for the first new arrivals of spring, and slide into a galaxy of perpetual summer filled dreams.


FOOT NOTE.....Winter weather warnings are out again, we are due for a huge snowstorm, 10-15 inches or more starting tonite....this time I am prepared, the bird feeders are filled, the animals double dosed with feed, the snow blower ready to go, and the mood ......well that sucks...but oh well, it is after all still February

Mother Natures Winter Ball

Before the storm

Mother Nature's children threw a winter celebration yesterday.  Like rebellious teenagers the party they held lasted  20 hours, and nothing could sooth their frenzied nerves. The Snow Sisters danced to the beat of their  Wind Brother's band, sliding sideways to the earth or filing single file into tall six foot snowbanks.  They stopped only for a moment to pick up speed and continue on into another snow slide to sway with the long brown flower stalks as partners. Like ballerinas they swirled and pirouetted in to a mix of crescents and rifts, leaving the imprints of wind skis through out the yard.  When the crescendo of the wind fluttered to a quick stop, the ground was left bare as they gathered again  like a skateboarder to leave silent arks between the tall oaks and and the fences corralling them into silent surrender.

Brother wind sang with the howls of the wolves, speeding around corners of the house with the flash of a falling star, catching the snow gusts swinging them in to the air only to crash against the window in a merciless abandonment.  He was so powerful in his glorious sweep of the land that there were no bounds to hold in the snowflakes caught on his breath.  Like ocean waves crashing against the shores,  they frolicked riding against the shrubs and tall oaks, daring them to stop their wild and wonderful dance.  It was a nite of wonder  and bewilderment, as the curtains of snow rose a hundred of times to reveal the wood line and the grey clouds that attended the merriment yet could not bring themselves to the final curtain call.  They sang, and danced for close to a day, until falling into heaps on the ground to rest till another day.

Today the sun came in to view the spectacle left by the party goers and shook his head, young folks he said, as he tried to straighten the melee left behind....but the third sibling the cold had not yet begun his tribute and the temperatures dipped to 20 below, leaving the sun to simply add his light and repaint the pictures that were left behind.   The wind now tired by his last escapade flowed softly thru the shrubs and tall grasses, looking for any bit of the snowflakes that were dancing before, but all had fallen now , exhausted into mountains of fluff, silent, and could not be awakened with the gentlest of of his breaths.  Chickadees  replaced his merciless howling, with calls of glad tidings that the storm was over.  The Blue Jays scratched at the feeders of corn and sunflower seeds, scraping away the awry snowflakes that took comfort there.   The great red headed woodpecker now hung from the suet feeder, no longer having to hang on for dear life when the wind laughed and lounged at his favorite dish.  The black and white Downy's are skittering up and down the tree trunks, looking for tasty bits that have survived this last wintry blast.  Its morning, and the merriment has subsided, leaving in its aftermath, huge mounds of whipped snow to be explored with a shovel or snow blower, and sliced through  like an ice cream pie, for paths to the paddock, and dogs furry footprints.

Twenty-one inches or more fell throughout yesterday 's hours of frolicking. The dogs toys are now hidden away beneath the mounds, to be found in spring when the air turns warm. My big whites tunnel thru the piles, with their noises throwing up sprays of dusty snow.  Rolling, and sliding they are light enough to walk top of the mountains, with out sinking up to knees like their owners are about to do. My husky dances for joy and runs through the garden oblivious to cold, windy bursts, searching for the moles that just might come up for air thru the marshmallow hills.  After three hours of snow blowing, we finally made our way to the pens, where, the fierce winds had swept snow in through every open nook and cranny, leaving small piles of crusted snow covering the alpacas feeders and inside the chicken coop where it had forced it way in thru the door and any crack not filled with straw. The sparrows that took shelter with the chickens are now anxious to be released into the the new world of snow and ice after I lift the trap door. The pair of geese saunter off to bath in the snow dust and preen their feathers oblivious of the cold northern wind blowing around the corners of the fences. Sadly, in the corner of the coop, lies a victim of the fierce cold storm, my old  Royal Palm turkey, has succumbed to old age and the cold.  He was one of the first to occupy the pen, and I knew he wouldn't make the winter. But this Homestead is all the occupants "Forever Place" to live out their lives with fervor and grace.

Its a beautiful day out however, the sun is shinning, a cold wind still blowing, leaving the sharp clear picture of winter only the North lands can offer.  The fields are glazed over by the frozen top layers of snow now, and sparkle like diamonds in the rays of the sun. There is not a print to be seen, cept for along the wood line where deer tracks can be seen leaping over the drifts of snow piled up in front of all the brush and tree lines.  Every so often the wind gathers up enough strength to blow up a cloud of snow to vanish into the clear blue sky.  It is worth the fortune that we will pay for the snowplowing today, as black and white colors of an old time photograph are now here in front of the homestead in contrast to the colorful colors of the summer.  There is nothing so refreshing as the aftermath of a huge snowstorm, to bring one's reality into focus.  The cool, crisp taste of winter flowing into the clear blue sky , brushed by the now gentle wind reminds us that Mother Nature is still in charge, regardless of how powerful we humans think we may be.  And this homesteader stands in awe of her powers, and beauty so often taken for granted.  Its going to be a wonderful winter, this year...the beginning of a season of worship, knowledge, and serenity of the powers greater than man, and as fine as a wisp of snow. The sorrows of the past year will be put away,buried under the cover of the cool white snow, stored in memory for future reference , many miles on down the road.
 I will not look back and try to figure out the mysteries of the moments, or the whys and wherefores of the questions,  leaving them to scatter like the stubborn leaves left on the oaks before the storm, and quietly disappear with the passing of time.


And the sun shines again



Giving up the helm

November, the trees have given up their leaves to nurture the seeds that have fallen on the ground over summer, and now stand naked, impervious to the cold northern winds, and stand alone against the gray winter skies.  They no longer can hide the brown and black squirrels that scamper up and down their trunks, or the woodpeckers knocking soundly against the bark for insects now deep in their winter sleep. The huge black turkeys roost in the top most branches, leaving the ground open to the coyotes who look up into the night air hoping one may just be close enough to lunge at and pick up an easy meal.  Huge eagles now fly low, with the crows hassling them at every air current, along with the beautiful white breasted hawk that sits alone watching these events with curious eyes.  So begins my nemesis.....enclosed by four walls, watching, waiting, for the first snowflake to make its appearance, and cover the brown bare grounds with a white quilt that will erase the summers escapades and quell the thunderbolts chased by lightening rods across the darkened skies.

Its the season of the great bucks, now turned the color of the tree barks, so as not to be seen by the hunters.  This year there seems to be a surplus of deer, which is quite unusual as it has been quiet the past 4 or 5 seasons.  I watch as the sun lays low in the west, and a 8 pointer  slowly marches over the hill and takes a look at the bounty before him.  My alpacas are watching from the far side of the pasture with quizzical looks to ascertain just what this marvelous creature has in mind for the evening.    He holds his head proudly as he walks to the fence, and sniffs the cool evening air for that ever evasive doe.  He stands at the fence for a minute or two, looks at the alpacas, while my lone goat prances around excitedly and the alpacas lower there heads and continue to graze on what green forage that has been left by the frosts of past weeks. The pasture does not hold the prize he is looking for, so he continues back to wood line, stretches up on his back legs, and leaves his scent on the tall oak, paws the ground a bit, and take on another oak further down the way...and then finally disappears into the woods.  A few minutes later, a another nervous shadow appears, three does sprint across the field headed for the other side of the ravines, not ready yet for the marvelous buck that has been searching for them earlier.   His time will come, but not tonight, and the owls will hoot the story to the moon as darkness settles over the homestead.

I have been keeping a wary eye on the hawks and eagles  this fall.  There seem to be many more than usual, and tell tale signs of feathers shows that my chickens are now on their menu as well.  I have watched them swoop in and fly off before any one of us can get outside with their prize caught up in the sharp talons to a destination deep into the woods.  Angel, one of my big whites, barks to no avail, as they know that there is no harm so high in the sky. I can hear them laughing as they circle, chattering their plan of attack, waiting for the prime opportunity, and sailing down with out hesitation, afraid of no one.  It is their land now, nothing can find cover to hide from the wide wings of destruction.

Thanksgiving will soon be here, and I am giving up the helm.  Ever since the children were little, Thanksgiving was held at our place, my former husband was gone for the week deer hunting, and this was our celebration of the fact.
Now we will go to Michigan, and Lisa and Larry will be hosting the event, and though this may be a little sad, to give up this task, it is to my benefit.  Our house is way to small with the dogs, and all my "Stuff" anymore, and I don't have to clean and put away all the things that do not surface again till I tear everything apart looking for them.  Sometimes that may take months.....and the turkey will not have to be cooked squeezed in between all the other things that the oven must prepare.  Plus there will be no leftovers in the refrigerator that last for weeks, if not frozen immediately after everyone leaves.  This will be a first, we will leave early, providing Tim is home, on Thursday morn, and return that evening, free from all the cooking, cleaning, baking and all that stuff....the queen has left the building.  The only problem will be Tim's schedule...will he be home, or on the road...there is no rhyme or rhythm anymore to his job, and we must fly by the seat of our pants instead of making plans.   But we will know the weekend before, and plan accordingly as Lisa says it could be on the weekend....or Friday....or ...sometime in that week.....only the future knows.

The weather has turned now to cold, very cold, like 14 above this morning, the first day of deer hunting, the shots ring out like crackling icicles across the moody sky.  This is the weather that finally rinses clean all my ambitions of garden work, and turn to the fine art of window watching as I turn scraps of material into pieces of quilts, or crochet long pieces of wool into rugs.  My little corner of the world now consists of yarn strings that have caught on my boots and make cobwebs across the entire house, material scraps that look like confetti strewed on the floor changing the direction of the tile.  Bolts of material stacked precariously on chairs waiting for the magical cut of the scissors to proclaim their fame.  In the middle of all this I sit, like a child among mountains of toys, just not quite sure which one I will play with on this cold, quiet, awesome day.

The gourds are gathered in the garage, and new ones drying in the greenhouse, ready to become spectacles of wisdom this coming new year. I just have to gather a few more tools to begin crossing the road into a new vision of  colorful scenes to tell the story of winter dreams. It is always good to have new anticipations for the coming year so as not to become lost in the heavy winter clouds that fall to the ground.

This is the time to wish all a wonderful holiday blessing, of Thanksgiving and all the holidays that come to the many days of this ending year.  In giving up the end of this old year, and entering into the depths of the new year, we each give up the helm and become captains of new dreams, talents, and begin afresh. So much to look forward to, so much to wonder about, entering the new realm of the unknown is no longer a worry, but just another road to travel.  Taking the curves slowly, forever going forward.

Train leaving ...all aboard

Have you ever felt that a train wreck was ahead, but you just weren't quite sure where or when it would happen.  Well this homesteader has almost hit the end of the tracks. Our Life Trains carry a combination of passenger cars and freight cars across the countries of our life, dropping a few here, and picking up a few there.  Sometimes it is up hill, sometimes downhill, sometimes the whistle blows,  and sometimes the engine comes to a dead stop,..... could be a bear on the track, boulders from the top of the mountain, or the bridge is out.  We pick up passengers on the way, and drop them off some where in the years ahead, always picking up new ones, and sometimes they stay awhile, leaving their baggage with you, or maybe they carry your baggage for awhile. But the passenger cars always have room, and the freight cars keep filling up.

Take this last year for instance.... the mountains were getting steeper, as the severe illnesses in our the family are quietly filling one of the freight cars....consquently this old steam engine was puffing along, slower then usual, pulling more as the weight from the cars were added on.  First came the layoff, a car or two flew off the track...adjustments were made, rail spikes straightened and on over the hill we went.  Then the old truck finally became to expensive to repair, and went the way of the junk yard heaven....that sadly took one car to fill, but could be emptied if we found a new truck.....soon. The railroad bridge trestle became fragile when the generator went down, and it took $700 for someone to say, "Ah, yep, the motor must be rebuilt to the tune of $2500, or we could buy a new generator for $3500 or more. Into the freight car went the generator next to the truck that hadn't yet been replaced....since there just wasn't enough coal in the coal car.  But that wasn't the end , I looked back and saw there were still more empty cars waiting ...... the Pellet stove that we heat the house with, and have a garage full of pellets stored for the winter, became the next casualty... as there is no one within a thousand miles that can figure out why the pellet rotor will not drop its pellets  including the conductor we bought the stove from... However that freight car is still running empty, because finally, some one from the state of Washington is going to trouble shoot on the phone with hubby to see what the problem is...but only after we had already paid out $250.00 for a new circuit board that someone thought for sure was the problem....toss that into the box car...also.....on its way back to manufacturer (who by the way normally does not take merchandise such as this back) as it was not the quick fix we had hoped for.   OK, so now the temps are down to the low 20's and 30's, snow is on the ground, and I have to turn on the super expensive electric heat to take the ice off the coffee and pile on the sweatshirts..find the feather quilt........another box car starting to fill.    If you think things came three at time ....right???....wrong...little did we know.....Box car number 4 was being added to the train and was rounding the bend......this time however the new occupants were boarding at the station to help our carry luggage..big time.

Last week in the mail came a small bright orange colored postcard, ....flashing red lights....do not cross.....signal gates are coming down.....it seems as though our one and only working vehicle had been recalled to the Barron Ford dealer for a defect that could be lurking in the undersides.....when it was built.  I almost threw it in the garbage, but since those signal gates were still down and caution lights flashing , decided to call and make an appointment to get the car checked out.  Now to those who know me, the gas pedal in my car seems to have this penchant for peddle to the metal,.... now I say ....its because of my heavy boots, yet that doesnt cut it with the conductor, ....most people call it speeding,.... but in this county with all the PUTZERS who the hell would know. So if you can see your way through all the steam rolling up from the engine wheels, this could have ended in a run-a-way not to pretty situation.  While sitting in the showroom, with a beautiful new Ford car taking the place of the steam engine in my imagination at my feet, out came two very serious looking gentlemen from the garage area....and very gravely sat down in the chairs next to  me....and proceeded to explain that the Ford Company will not let me drive my van home.  IT seems as though there is a crack in the rear axle of my car, due to the defect when it was made....eleven years ago.   HUGE boulders have fallen on the track, and theres no one to push them away .....the train has stopped.  Tim is in Kentucky, on 18 wheels, dealing with his own miseries, and the steam engine here is stalled and quickly running out of coal.  Ford company will give me a check for $3400.00 for the car, which is very generous, since it is 11 years old, and has made contact with about three deer in the last year, (the deer won). And  so maybe..the salesmen who have been listening to this scenario ask.......would I like to look at the cars on the lot, while they call Enterprise and rent another car for my pleasure at their expense. AHAH! These were the new passengers aboard that would carry my luggage for a change....I looked, at the used vans, saw a beautiful red truck with a snow plow but at a price that couldn't move those huge boulders off of the track.  It seems as though they have already checked 100 cars or more, and mine was the first one to have the defect the salesmen tell me, and the cars on this lot go very quickly...I wonder did they have this defect also and should I settle fast in case they get on the cattle car at the back of the train..
 Enterprise was out of rental cars, so they loaned me one of the vans that was offered for sale on the car lot.  Small boulders moved...... I loaded up a few things from my now defunct car and headed into our little town to talk to my favorite Mechanic, at Skyway..."Take the deal" he smiling said as he headed for his own computer....and quickly found another Van that was only a couple of hundred dollars more than that check will be.  And he will even go into Chippewa to check it out, if it is measures up to his standards, he will bring it home, and we wait for the check in the mail, and I keep the rental car until all the boulders have been removed from the track.  The last passengers have come aboard and repaired the tracks, cleared out these particular boulders and I can start climbing that mountain one more time.  However, I am running out of allotted coal for steam power for this year, and we still have a month and a half of travel.

So tell me.....passengers with me on this great escapade of life,..... am I the "Engine that could" ...and can I  make to the other side of the Pass, with time to spare, or will the tracks be buried in a land slide of snow and ice, and the fire go out?......................Oh by the way...did I tell you that I carry a snowmobile in the Caboose?.........Just in case.....................this is the north country ya know!