Sandplay therapy and my sacred space

I'm treasuring my sandplay therapy office this month. I've been here fully in this space for a year now and have come to love the space a lot. The sun comes through the skylights and illuminates the trays in the late afternoons and the flowering bush outside the back side of the office right now is spectacular. I'm surrounded by huge old oaks and it truly does feel like a place where the numinous happens.

Part of why I'm appreciating it so much is the fact that we will all be moving in June to a new house turned office space just up the hill. It's a nice space but my sandplay area will not have the open feel this one does. I'm a little sad right now imagining how the new space will be. But I often have difficulty parting with space - living space, work space, even certain configurations of furniture and objects within a space. I know that I have a knack for moving into new space and making it my own, so that part will be fun once the time arrives and I am up the hill settling in.

For now I'm spending every moment at work sitting in here and enjoying it. And honoring the work that has been done here by clients.

birthdays and grazing muzzles

Keil Bay is now 27 years old and the pony, aka Little Man, aka Apache Moon and Patch Pony, is 16.

It is so hard for me to believe either of them are this many years old! Keil and I had a birthday ride on Monday and so enjoyed the time together. He remains the dream horse in my life. 

The pony seems to be mellowing a little since Salina died - or since he hit the mid-teen years - not sure which - but he's gotten a tiny bit less spunky and seems to enjoy my attention more than he used to. The big surprise to me is that he and Rafer Johnson have become best buddies since Salina passed away. Last night during the Little Man's hoof trim Rafer came and stood as close as he could get. It was very sweet.

Speaking of Rafer Johnson, this little donkey (ahem) is possibly the biggest he has ever been this spring. He has had to start wearing the grazing muzzle and I am having to reinstitute the closing of pasture gates during the daytime hours. We will finally secure the dirt paddock fence line that is shared with the back field and arena so that the donkeys can't climb through. 

This also means I won't have to race donkeys to the mounting block while riding Keil Bay - they come in and knock the mounting block down so I can't dismount. (Though I probably need the practice dismounting to the ground anyway!)

We've been celebrating these two birthdays all week long. I wish I had taken birthday portraits but the older ones will have to suffice for now:

November Hill farm journal, 2

I do not feel so bewildered when I return to my own fields.

-Henry Beston, Northern Farm

The mower blade that prevented our mowing of late was replaced over the weekend and the entire day on Saturday was spent on the cutting of grass and buttercups growing inches every day. I had chores in the house to do while my husband mowed but I opened the doors so the sound of the mower could keep me company. 

I'm not sure what it is about mowing. I used to do a fair bit of it and I delighted in the monotonous orbiting path I made, around and around and around until at some point my rebellious, or possibly creative, side took over and I would change directions, make a pattern, anything to go against the grain of that circuit of cutting.

My husband is not as cautious as I am about closing gates and putting horses and pony and donkeys away from the mower, and this precipitated some running of the herd and then me out on the porch or the back deck waving my arms to get his attention. 

After the mowing was done there was weed-eating, a thankless chore since it's near to impossible to do the entire property in one weekend, so for the most part it never gets "done" - is always there to do once we slide into spring and then summer. The only way to manage this kind of chore - similar to mucking - is to turn it into something that gives pleasure in some other way than by completion.

The thing about doing this kind of work, for me, is that it brings me closer to the actual earth of November Hill. I walk the property as much as the horses do, and I have learned the nooks and crannies, the lay of the land, how rainfall flows, where the natural spring bubbles up, what is blooming or leafing out or dropping leaves. I find the holes that seem to appear out of nowhere and I know where the rocks are to fill them. I religiously put rocks in small piles beside fence posts and the bottoms of trees so I'll have them when needed. I know when a fire ant mound rises up overnight and needs treating, and I know where the bare patches are that need some compost and grass seed to repair.

This week as the grass was tamed back my eyes lifted to the trees, now thick with leaves, creating huge swaths of shade all over the farm. It's so visually different when the leaves come in. 

And it's true - I walk to the barn and out onto the land itself and I am calmed, brought to earth, grounded. The more I do with my hands, directly, the calmer I become. 

The garden is nearly done for this year. Cucumbers and peppers, basil and dill and parsley and anise. Yellow squash and acorn squash and butternut squash and pumpkins. Tomatoes and okra and garlic. A lettuce bed and bok choy, chard, broccoli, cabbage. We'll put in a few more things - melons and more herbs, maybe sweet potatoes again.

A new blueberry bush. 

The fig tree was shocked by the hard frost after it had started leafing out - I don't think it's dead but it looks odd, brown and dormant as everything around it has burst toward lushness.

Even the stone screening and sand arena is growing grass. Harrowing was the last chore of the weekend and it knocked it back some. I forget this time of year how my efforts to keep the grass out, and the moment of panic I have at some point mid-summer fade when we have the first frost of autumn and suddenly, for months and months, that worry simply disappears. 

Years here have shown me the things I can let go of. A good lesson for more than just the farm.

November Hill cat haven - part 3 (the tunnel!!)

The back yard and front porch enclosures were both very exciting and made life easier and happier for all of us, but I think the cat tunnel that connects the two was the most exciting thing we did in this grouping of cat haven constructions. 

It has become extremely popular with all the cats. I think of it as the first of the cat haven highways.

Here's the entry from the front porch:

The cats often don't even use the handy table - they just sail from porch floor into the opening. It occurred to me after the fact that it would be handy to have a little tunnel door we could use when needed to block the opening. I'm going to have the carpenter make one for each end next time he's here.

Next you can see how the tunnel extends around the corner of the house:

The ramp even has little "steps" for footholds if needed!

And here is Pixie showing off how it works:

And on she goes to the back yard:

And on and on and on. They seem to enjoy stopping along the way too!

The final leg of the cat haven highway, exit back yard:

And the "off" ramp:

I can't tell you how much they love this entire tunnel feature. 

I have more projects in mind that we'll add on when we can. For now, they're having a blast.

We do still need to get everything painted and/or stained to blend in with the porch and house. We debated when the carpenter was here how best to do this - he doesn't paint so we would have had to do it ourselves ahead of time or hire someone to coordinate with him while he worked.

If I had known exactly what I was going to do ahead of time I might have gone ahead and stained and sealed the wood before he started - which would have required him to drop it off and label it for us in advance so it would have time to dry. 

It seemed like a lot of work up front and so we went forward with the construction. It will require a bit more finesse to paint it now, but at least we can see what it looks like against the house and color it accordingly for best blending in.

I'll post after photos once we get that done!

Front porch cat haven heaven, a bit of feline congestive heart failure hell

First, the heaven. Osage, aka Muffine Eloise, enjoys the front porch this lovely Sunday morning. This is why we did it. 

Second, the congestive heart failure hell. 

On Thursday Mystic started throwing up. It initially seemed in response to his food, so we got different food only to learn that he was throwing up other times too. Then his cardiology vet had us stop the meds thinking something was causing nausea. He continued to vomit.

I found two hair balls, and at one point two of our other cats vomited one time each. 

We took Mystic in to have bloodwork done and his numbers all look even better than last Friday, so that was a relief. 

Suddenly the vomiting stopped but he now flatly refuses to eat the premium grain-free canned cat food he's been eating for the past year.

I purchased some high end frozen raw food yesterday and he ate two meals of that and now doesn't want that either.

The one thing he is reliably eating in the past 48 hours is human grade meat and fish. So I spent the morning mixing up a couple of batches of cat food using Dr. Pitcairn's recipes from my well-worn volume Dr. Pitcairn's Complete Guide To Natural Health For Dogs and Cats.

Meanwhile Mystic is back on the two most important heart meds per his vet. I'm feeding those using pill pockets and doing it in between the meals so he doesn't associate meds with food any longer.

Apparently this is a common issue for cats with congestive heart disease. He's alert and happy, playful and purring, but the food thing has been difficult for several days. I hope the home-made cat food continues to work.

He goes back to the cardiology clinic for a follow up in a week.

I'll be scheduling an appointment with our homeopathic vet too so that we can come at this from both ends of the medical spectrum. Will keep you posted. 

Meanwhile, Pixie shows off HER version of front porch cat haven heaven: