finding treasures at the local farmers' market

Last week at the farmer's market one of my favorite local growers had these allium in a glass jar at the center of his vegetable display, and when I inquired if he was selling them he gave the entire bunch to me for $4.00, telling me to enjoy them in a vase and then hang them upside down to dry and I could savor them for months to come.

They were gorgeous last week, but this week began to open up even more, looking even more magical and whimsical than they did originally.

Yesterday I had $15.00 in cash, so that's how much I took to the market.

I came home with a bag full of beautiful corn, a bag of rainbow cherry tomatoes (we have many on the vine, but not yet ripe), a head of lovely lettuce, a bunch of green onions (bulbs striped purple, almost too pretty to eat!), three huge home-made cookies, and a large iced latte from the local mobile espresso vendor.

I also came home with joy and laughter from conversation with the people who grew this food.

The grower of my beloved allium told me he will be bringing the actual garlic bulbs in soon and will give me some to save until fall, when I can plant them and have my own flowers next spring.

The lettuce grower handed out free tomatoes and we all laughed when a very talkative girl put hers whole into her mouth and then couldn't speak.

The man who makes bird houses told me about some wrens he'd watched this week.

The corn man made a math joke as he and I both struggled to do a simple calculation.

The espresso vendor and I discussed local history and basic business tactics.

All that and I still came home with .50 cents.

why we do all the work we do

My daughter captured the Big Bay cantering up the hill in our front pasture yesterday, and then came running to show me the photo. I was de-webbing the barn, soaked in sweat, sporadically shrieking when webs came down in my face, but the moment I saw this photo I was reminded why we do the sweaty, never-ending work of keeping horses.

Keil Bay

The Big Bay

The King

The Most Handsome Horse in the Whole World

Big Bazooka

Dream Horse

Whatever name I give him, he is my partner in zen.

the fine art of making lists

Yesterday afternoon the sheer number of possibilities of things "to do" around here became overwhelming and I found myself suddenly stuck, not able to do anything at all. I ended up focusing my efforts on laundry, because that always needs doing and at some point with two adults, two teens, barn chores, and sweaty weather, we actually run out of towels.

In between laundry loads I floundered around trying to pick just one thing to work on. I finally ended up flinging myself onto the bed and finishing a novel I was reading. But then I had to pick the next novel to read and that process propelled me right back into all the things that "need to be done."  Writing things.

Sometime last night I realized what I needed to do was make a list. I have a love-hate relationship with list-making. I seem driven to do it, and I feel it helps, but at some point my own imagination and broad scope get me into trouble.

My lists can be so comprehensive they become yearly plans. Except I often see them as what needs to be done - today.

I've gotten good at tossing entire lists when they begin to feel too restrictive, but yesterday I was clearly at the opposite end of the line. I needed some structure.

So I made a list of the top five things I wanted to do "tomorrow" - which is now today. Seeing that when I woke up has helped. I can pick from the list and get those things done. It's a reasonable, do-able, meaningful list.

I used to keep my lists in notebooks, which was interesting because I could look back and see that some of the items that kept showing up on my lists over the course of time NEVER got done, and in fact, nothing bad happened as a result. I also saw that some things repeated themselves over and over, which indicated that those things were part of a daily routine and probably didn't even need to be listed, which helped carve the lists down over time.

There was a sense of satisfaction knowing that I had done all those things that were crossed out and checked off.

It was also a creative process. Many of those notebooks contained detailed sketches of garden plans that never happened, redecorating schemes that never quite came together, renovation plans that were huge and possibly not affordable. But I loved noting all the ideas, and planning them to the smallest detail. A year later, when I glanced back in the notebook, I'd realize that I now had an even better plan to think about, or that some aspect of that earlier plan would never work in the present, so what a good thing I hadn't actually DONE it!

I sometimes used those notebooks when I wanted to go on catalog shopping sprees. I'd sit with the many catalogs that came in the mail, and carefully itemize in my notebook every item I wanted to buy. I'd list the prices, calculate shipping, and total it up. Usually the grand total would be such that I would instantly know I would never spend that amount of money on a bunch of "stuff" - with that amount we could take a trip, or do one of those renovations I'd been plotting. But the process was satisfying in some way - giving myself permission to list all the things I wanted, and then realizing I didn't want them that badly after all.

For the past couple of years I've been on a recycling binge, and I save all the junk mail that has clean writing space to use as note paper. So my lists have appeared on the backs of envelopes, the backs of advertisements for services we'll never use, and on lovely envelopes from gift cards that have only our names written on the front side. And these scrap paper lists get tossed when no longer relevant.

I realized last week I had an extra blank book sitting on my desk, and in a moment of whimsy and old habit, decided to make it my new "list" book. It has lines and is so satisfying to write in. It is so new that yesterday I forgot I even had it, but when I started the list last night, I remembered.

Writing my lists in the book is a way to honor the process. I'm thinking of it as honoring all the things I do, and also the things I never manage to get done. We can't do everything! We're not meant to do everything. So even those items I write down, in a grand moment of thinking I can do it all, honor my human-ness and remind me that in fact, the world doesn't end because my to do list didn't get done.

One of the items that has been on my list since about 1985 is the J. Peterman "Counterfeit Mailbag," shown to the right.

I don't know what it is about that bag, but I wanted it then and I want it right now. One of these days I'll treat myself and order it. Here's the catalog description:  (and if you've never seen a J. Peterman catalog, do yourself a favor and order one - every catalog is like its own novel!)




The secret thoughts of an entire country were once carried in leather bags exactly like this one. Except this one, a copy, isn't under lock and key in a museum. It's for sale.
I borrowed an original from a friend, a retired mailman who, like thousands before him, was kind enough to test it out, for years, on the tree-lined streets of small towns everywhere. Before you were born.
The test was successful; even though discontinued, it can't be improved upon. It's simply perfect as a device for carrying important ideas and feelings back and forth. And the same as with those old and scarce and beautiful mailbags, people will look forward to seeing what you've got inside.
The Counterfeit Mailbag (N^o. 1005). Containing one vast unzippered pocket, and another zippered. Shoulder strap and handle. Size: 15" long x 7" wide x 12-1/2" tall. Strong, soft leather that will only get better. A beauty. (Imported)
How to take care of the Mailbag.
The first scratch will kill you, but in fact, it's the first step in the right direction: patina.
So the sooner it gets scratched, nicked, bumped, dug, hit, squeezed, dropped, bent, folded, and rained on, the better. Really.
When you receive your mailbag, it's so fiercely new looking I'm almost ashamed of it. But there's no choice. It would cost too much to pre-age each mailbag before sending it out to a customer. (Antiques cost more than new, for a reason.)
Here's my recipe for “accelerating” the aging process. First, spend one day (the day you get it) the way it is. Brand new. Then, the next day, scratch it all over with your fingernails. Lightly. This will horrify you, at first. Then, spray-mist it with plain water, lightly. Let it dry. The scratches will lose their rawness. They will look old. Repeat this treatment as often as you can stand to; once a week for 5 weeks. Then once a year. (Clean mailbag with plain water only. Not petrochemicals, not oils, not detergents, not mystery solvents, not leather “cremes.” It will do just fine with plain water and will outlast both of us.)

keeping horses and donkeys comfortable on hot days

Since we have yet another day of heat index over 100, I thought I'd write about what we do here on November Hill to keep the horses and donkeys comfortable.

During this time of year, our herd is on night-time turn-out, which allows them to graze during the coolest part of the 24-hour period, when insect pests are the least annoying, and when the sugars in the grass are lowest.

Over time, it's become obvious that they will self-regulate this pattern if given the chance. When we first moved to November Hill we would generally close the paddock gate each morning to keep them from grazing during the daytime, but I've found they don't really need that precaution. Especially Keil Bay, who loves his cool quiet barn, his fans, and being served hay while he relaxes out of the heat.

They come in on their own most mornings and get a serving of hay. Breakfast tubs are served wet, as always, but this time of year instead of being like warm oatmeal, I serve their mixes with cool water. I like going into a hot day knowing they've absorbed a good amount of fluid, and because I feed loose salt in their tubs, I can add extra if I know we're going above 90 degrees.

They start off their day inside with nice, clean stalls. I close off all doors and windows on the sunny side of the barn, which keeps the heat and the flies out. We have big fans mounted so that air circulates in two different directions, and the sound of the fans is almost a white noise, like the rushing of water or the ocean.

They each get hay and clean water. We're fairly obsessive about the water buckets in stalls, and I also make sure the various troughs are clean, as they will often walk out to drink during the day.

Each horse gets a quick grooming and check-over in the a.m. and legs sprayed with the herbal mix we use. We do use fly predators and various and sundry traps, but when we have heat and rain, the flies seem to thrive, so we do as much as we can to keep them away from the horses. They have fly masks (I like the Cashel ones, with ears but no long noses) and they are offered to each horse. If they don't want it, they don't get it. When it's especially hot, I think they prefer to go without.

On unusually hot days I have wet down the Cashels with cold water, squeezed out the excess, and put them on wet.  Sometimes on those very hot days I will also use the hay nets so I can rinse the hay, which rehydrates it a little and makes sure the horses are getting water every time they take a bite.

By eleven or so each morning, the horses are generally in stalls, munching hay, or simply resting. No one is closed in, although I do often close Cody's stall for one or two hours so he can have the chance to lie down and sleep undisturbed if he wants to. He's the low man in the herd horse-wise, and the pony can be a real pest sometimes!

It's not unusual to go out and find Salina and the donkeys on their side, all together in one stall, and even the geldings will double up. It's a reminder that horses ARE herd animals, and for the most part, I believe they prefer to be with their herd. In our barn, the stalls are very open and they can all see one another at all times - so it fascinates me that even in the heat, when I know their bodies must be generating some extra, they will pack themselves in together and stand sleeping, usually facing in opposite directions.

On especially hot days I usually mix up a big bucket of electrolyte powder and water and leave that out for the geldings. We also have a salt block situated between the two paddocks so that anyone who wants to can lick as needed.

I love when the horses are in for the days, because the stalls get mucked at least 3-4x. Frequent mucking makes it easier, as they haven't mixed anything around. Salina gets her first lunch at 1, and her second lunch at 5, so it's easy to muck and give hay while she's eating.

Keil Bay still thinks it's highly unfair that he does not get the 4 senior meals a day that Salina gets. So he is sometimes allowed into the barnyard while she eats so he can graze a little or have some hay from the round bale.

All the horses are offered showers in the afternoon when the heat is at its worst. They seem to know when they need cooling down, and they come out to the paddocks and stand in a line. Usually Keil Bay always wants a hosing, Salina usually does, and the Cody and the pony sometimes do. The donkeys NEVER do, but they will often go take a dust bath in their very lovely dust circle in the grass paddock.

When the sun shifts to the other end of the barn, we close that end up and open the now shady side. All this is very methodical and makes a very nice routine for the horses, who seem to thrive on having things happen in a regular way they come to expect. We do mix things up enough to provide some variety and to keep them from being fixated on a very exact way of life, as I think they all need to be flexible enough to be okay with some surprises and some changes in the routine.

I'd love to hear of any things fellow horsefolk do to battle extreme heat - for yourselves and for your equines!

monday morning: heat, trims, back to the real world

I had a fairy tale existence this weekend, with writing group here and no responsibility for chores or meals. When you're needing to get rolling again with writing, I think sometimes the retreat mode is what it takes to get you there, but this time, the retreat came to me right here on November Hill.

My goal was to finish the final edit of my pony book, and I hit that Saturday night/early Sunday morning, which meant I was able to keep rolling forward into the next goal. I'm now about five chapters into reformatting my first adult novel for the Kindle, doing a little tweaking along the way. It won't be long - November Hill Press will launch its first title, and claire-obscure will be out in the world after a number of false starts.

I'm excited.

But for right now, it's re-entry into summer heat, 97 degrees today, and on top of that, hoof trims, and hoping I don't literally melt by the time I get back inside.

This is my least favorite time of year, once it gets this hot. Fortunately we are having early evening thunderstorms, which keeps things from drying out too much, and also makes an immediate dent in the heat index.

Last night, right after the rain, the temp dropped from 95 or so to 74, but after an hour, it went back up to 77!

There's not much I want to do in this kind of high humidity heat, but the back field needs dragging, so that much will have to get done.

Here's to an early fall.

Trim notes, added in after the fact:

Basically, every equine had lots of growth this time and all looked good when trimmed and dressed. Worst thing was the heat and the greenish/yellow biting flies that were out mid-day. Yuck! We made it through, and hopefully next appt. won't be this hot - heat index 104!