We woke up to rain, and when I went out to feed breakfast, two little donkey heads peeked out from the barn door, happy to see me with my arms full of morning tub supplies.
Life got easier when I realized I have an electric tea kettle that never gets used - so I've taken it to the barn and can heat up my water out there instead of hauling pitchers out every morning.
Rafer Johnson and Redford think the electric tea kettle is a fine and intriguing thing. For now, I have to plug it in in the barn aisle, until I can get some things moved around in the feed room, so I move my little wooden stepladder to the barn aisle outlet, put the kettle on it, and plug it in.
The donkeys are not afraid of the flax grinder, but they have not really wanted to get too close to it. They stand at the far end of the barn when I plug it in, and I call out "get ready!" and whirl the flax a time or two so they all know what I'm doing. Then I grind away.
The kettle, on the other hand, is quiet, and it sits there nicely on its perch. The first morning the donkeys stood at attention, monitoring this new contraption. Now they stand right by it, defying the adage a watched pot never boils.
Actually this one rarely does boil, because I only need the water warmed a bit, not steaming hot!
This morning they walked me back and forth as I prepared the tubs, and then suddenly the geldings lit out for the back field. Salina insisted that she be allowed to follow, and of course the donkeys were right behind her.
I'm not sure what it was - it sounded like maybe a bobcat capturing a bunny, but the screeching and shrieking was intense and the horses were absolutely determined to go check things out.
About the time they got to the bottom of the field, the rain intensified, the shrieking stopped, and they headed back to the barn.
After breakfast, we started a day of musical stalls. Everyone got turns on both sides of the barn today, and the donkeys were at the center of the action at all times, supervising the shift changes. We had apple chunks and more visitors at mid-day: three deer in the woods just behind the wood line fence.
All the equines have opted at various times to go out and graze today. I guess the green stuff is important enough to make the cold rain not such a big deal.
Right now I'm having a mug of Earl Gray tea and some spice cookies made fresh by my daughter, who has recently started getting comfortable with our gas stove. I'm going out in a bit to set up the horses with hay, fresh water, clean stalls, and close off the field for the night.
After that I think it might be time for a hot bath and a movie.
billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
Friday, March 13, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
a dulcet day
Today was much cooler than yesterday, but the predicted rain never happened, and in fact, the sun was shining, so horses and donkeys and humans and cats and dogs all enjoyed the middle ground of sunshine without sweat, a slight breeze without chill, and ground that was just about perfect in its moisture level. No mud, not rock hard.
My daughter and I took the core of a round bale out to the back field this morning and unrolled it, so the hay would last all day long. The only time anyone came back to the barn was Salina to get her lunch, and Cody to get a ride.
I spent a portion of the morning straightening up the tack and feed room, another portion bringing up more items from the garage (from my office), and late in the afternoon went out to get horses organized for the evening.
The donkeys decided to have an all-out rampage, running all over the back field, up to the paddock, where they dodged Salina who was attempting to settle them down with that mama mare head toss. She decided to let them go, and meandered over to the fence to gaze at the front field, which is resting until April and every day looks greener and more appealing.
Mystic went up the oak tree by the barn, and Dickens sat below gazing up at him.
My daughter was riding Cody in the arena and my husband had arrived home from work.
Salina went into alert mode and I walked to the gate to see what was up. The shavings man had arrived with a new load, and we all watched with relief as he dumped it in our pile. There's a long rainy weekend coming and I had wanted the stalls set up with deep new shavings ahead of that. The worst chore to do on a rainy day is putting in shavings. But not doing them if they're needed is worse.
My husband loaded shavings in the wheelbarrow, I spread them, and my daughter filled hay nets while Cody grazed in the barnyard, a treat after his ride.
Horses are fed and watered now. Round bales are covered. The stalls are soft and deep and clean tonight, the shavings pile is covered with a brand new tarp, and the rain can come as it will.
My daughter and I took the core of a round bale out to the back field this morning and unrolled it, so the hay would last all day long. The only time anyone came back to the barn was Salina to get her lunch, and Cody to get a ride.
I spent a portion of the morning straightening up the tack and feed room, another portion bringing up more items from the garage (from my office), and late in the afternoon went out to get horses organized for the evening.
The donkeys decided to have an all-out rampage, running all over the back field, up to the paddock, where they dodged Salina who was attempting to settle them down with that mama mare head toss. She decided to let them go, and meandered over to the fence to gaze at the front field, which is resting until April and every day looks greener and more appealing.
Mystic went up the oak tree by the barn, and Dickens sat below gazing up at him.
My daughter was riding Cody in the arena and my husband had arrived home from work.
Salina went into alert mode and I walked to the gate to see what was up. The shavings man had arrived with a new load, and we all watched with relief as he dumped it in our pile. There's a long rainy weekend coming and I had wanted the stalls set up with deep new shavings ahead of that. The worst chore to do on a rainy day is putting in shavings. But not doing them if they're needed is worse.
My husband loaded shavings in the wheelbarrow, I spread them, and my daughter filled hay nets while Cody grazed in the barnyard, a treat after his ride.
Horses are fed and watered now. Round bales are covered. The stalls are soft and deep and clean tonight, the shavings pile is covered with a brand new tarp, and the rain can come as it will.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
first sightings of the season
A purple butterfly.
A carpenter bee.
New leaves on the butterfly bushes, and leafing out in a number of plants along the labyrinth path.
Flies!
Fly predators!
A wasp.
Even with a cool spell rolling in later this week, it seems that spring is near.
A carpenter bee.
New leaves on the butterfly bushes, and leafing out in a number of plants along the labyrinth path.
Flies!
Fly predators!
A wasp.
Even with a cool spell rolling in later this week, it seems that spring is near.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
an interesting turn-around
Earlier in the day I was down in the labyrinth area spreading manure, and I noticed the most fascinating shift.
Last spring and summer and on into fall, the entire area down there was green and almost jungle-like with the wildflowers and brambles and brush growing like mad. My labyrinth path was a fairly narrow band of pine shavings and manure that wound around through this jungle. By summer's end the walls of the labyrinth were taller than my head, and because of the chiggers, my husband was often down there cutting back the growth to preserve the path.
Over the winter the trees were trimmed back down there and the machines made a mess of things. I decided to work on the woodland path for awhile instead, until I saw how to proceed on the labyrinth itself.
Today when I went down there I noticed that all the brush areas are the browns and faded tans of late winter, but the path itself is a vivid green. Apparently, the manure and the hay scraps that were spread along with the shavings had seeds, and now a gorgeous swath of orchard grass is winding around the area, like a giant reached down with a big paintbrush and made a spiral of green.
It was sad to see my labyrinth the way it was last spring and summer fade into the winter and the tracks of huge machinery, but I smoothed it out as best I could and let it sit, figuring something different, but equally good, might come of it when I finished the woodland path. And so it has.
*******
And another turn-around:
Last week we were fighting to keep ice out of water troughs. This afternoon Keil Bay is in the back field doing hoof trough baths for himself, Cody, and the pony, who line up beside him while he goes to town with his hoof. They all get a cool-down and the tub - well it then needs to be cleaned, but the Big Bay knows his personal maid service will be out in short order to take care of it.
Last spring and summer and on into fall, the entire area down there was green and almost jungle-like with the wildflowers and brambles and brush growing like mad. My labyrinth path was a fairly narrow band of pine shavings and manure that wound around through this jungle. By summer's end the walls of the labyrinth were taller than my head, and because of the chiggers, my husband was often down there cutting back the growth to preserve the path.
Over the winter the trees were trimmed back down there and the machines made a mess of things. I decided to work on the woodland path for awhile instead, until I saw how to proceed on the labyrinth itself.
Today when I went down there I noticed that all the brush areas are the browns and faded tans of late winter, but the path itself is a vivid green. Apparently, the manure and the hay scraps that were spread along with the shavings had seeds, and now a gorgeous swath of orchard grass is winding around the area, like a giant reached down with a big paintbrush and made a spiral of green.
It was sad to see my labyrinth the way it was last spring and summer fade into the winter and the tracks of huge machinery, but I smoothed it out as best I could and let it sit, figuring something different, but equally good, might come of it when I finished the woodland path. And so it has.
*******
And another turn-around:
Last week we were fighting to keep ice out of water troughs. This afternoon Keil Bay is in the back field doing hoof trough baths for himself, Cody, and the pony, who line up beside him while he goes to town with his hoof. They all get a cool-down and the tub - well it then needs to be cleaned, but the Big Bay knows his personal maid service will be out in short order to take care of it.
Monday, March 09, 2009
swamped
And not the kind that comes with lots of rain in a short period of time!
This is just one of those days when my perspective has gone wonky and I feel like there is NO WAY I will ever be able to get all the things done that seem to be front and center on my pile of things to do.
I would like to ride Keil Bay. Laundry is piled way up. My desk is a monstrosity of things to be done, none of them boring yucky things, and yet there are so many I can't sort out where to begin.
Edits to do, a pony story to continue, my equine nutrition class homework, which involves using a more accurate calculation to get a better estimate of their weights, so that I can begin to figure out how many Mcals they need in a day based on weight, personality, age, and amount of work. A very practical bit of homework that will involve some time. Client paperwork.
A load of furniture to configure. Boxes to unpack. Shelves to empty and then fill. The regular chores of the day.
Part of this is that I never really "caught up" last week, and now everything is snowballing. Or so it seems.
The thing I have to remember is that tomorrow I'll wake up and most of the same things will be calling to me, but the voices won't be as loud, and my sense of it all will have shifted.
Could be spring fever. Could be a hormonal blip. Could be brain chemistry.
In any case, I am going to do the next load of laundry, print out some client forms, and then decide what will come next. One task at a time.
This is just one of those days when my perspective has gone wonky and I feel like there is NO WAY I will ever be able to get all the things done that seem to be front and center on my pile of things to do.
I would like to ride Keil Bay. Laundry is piled way up. My desk is a monstrosity of things to be done, none of them boring yucky things, and yet there are so many I can't sort out where to begin.
Edits to do, a pony story to continue, my equine nutrition class homework, which involves using a more accurate calculation to get a better estimate of their weights, so that I can begin to figure out how many Mcals they need in a day based on weight, personality, age, and amount of work. A very practical bit of homework that will involve some time. Client paperwork.
A load of furniture to configure. Boxes to unpack. Shelves to empty and then fill. The regular chores of the day.
Part of this is that I never really "caught up" last week, and now everything is snowballing. Or so it seems.
The thing I have to remember is that tomorrow I'll wake up and most of the same things will be calling to me, but the voices won't be as loud, and my sense of it all will have shifted.
Could be spring fever. Could be a hormonal blip. Could be brain chemistry.
In any case, I am going to do the next load of laundry, print out some client forms, and then decide what will come next. One task at a time.
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