simple pleasures of the mid-day

Around noon I head to the kitchen to begin the haven of chores that mark the middle of the day for me during the week. 

Elevenses for the Corgis, a snack and vehicle for the joint supplement and fish oil and vitamin E they get. This week I'm clearing the freezer so they had their supplements mixed in with some chicken stock and chicken meat we put away and forgot to use.

On to the laundry room to soak Keil Bay's mid-day meal of Timothy balance cubes. I switch out the laundry while the cubes absorb the water, then grind half a cup of flax seeds to stir in to the mix. Back to the kitchen to mix up his HA gel to set up in the fridge. 

While in the laundry room I noticed the pile of half chaps and riding gloves looked like they needed cleaning so I wander back and get the sponge and saddle soap and spend 10 minutes rubbing the leather clean and making a nice stack of chaps and gloves by the back door, easy to grab on the way to the barn for a ride.

The Corgis have finished their snack, noted by the sound of empty bowls scraping around the kitchen floor. I load up the dishwasher with dirty dishes and then go put the clean laundry piled on the chair away.

I don't know why this grouping of chores has become such a blessing in my day. I like doing things that nourish the animals and I enjoy having the little bits of time while I wait for the cubes to soak and the gel to gel to fill with quick irregular chores that make me happy. 

Some days I use that time to clean the living room windows where Bear Corgi has smudged them up with his nose. Some days I pick a spot in any room and do some cleaning with a bright blue rag and some Murphy's oil soap. There's always something to be done and thankfully enough chores that make me happy that I can easily avoid the ones that don't.

Sun Kings

They later became the Rain Kings again but for a brief time this morning they were soaking up the sun.

the writing life and ideas that bloom

Yesterday I met a good writer friend for coffee and then lunch so we could catch up on what we're both working on. We'd intended to maybe do a little writing work while we were there but of course the conversation and catching up expanded itself and we didn't get to the work part.

One of the most valuable things a writer can do with other trusted writer friends, especially those who know your work, is to bounce ideas off them and do a little talking about the projects in process. Some people say that talking too much about a writing project drains the needed energy one has to have to actually WRITE it, and to a point I agree with this, but there is absolutely a place for casting the seeds of ideas out and letting your writer friends help you water them to see what sprouts.

I'm editing one of the Claire novels right now, and am on the third full pass through it, looking at structural issues and trying to sort out the best way to lay out the book.

[ As is the way of the writing life on November Hill, as I was typing this post the thunderstorm I've been watching rolled in quite suddenly and I had to leap up, shove my feet into muck boots, and dash to the barn to let the herd in. There's nothing like a quick stall-by-stall muck, bringing a bale of hay into the feed room to feed from during the rainy day ahead, topping off water buckets, and listening to whinnies from the shelter as the equines wait to be let in! All while the winds whip up and the thunder cracks and you know the rain is going to fall very soon. ]

But now I'm safe in the house again and back to thinking about writing and writer friends and ideas.

I'm also working on a special project for the Magical Pony School books. 

And I'm keeping my hand in with short pieces of fiction and nonfiction these days. As I was describing the piece I'm working on in an effort to entice a certain literary journal, my friend said something about that being the prelude to a novel. She said the words, I stopped and thought about them, and that little seed she cast out on the table between us got watered as we talked it over. By the time I left I had written it down, expanded on it, and did the same again when I got home. It definitely sprouted. 

The discourse, the banter, is what led to that sprouting. I highly recommend it. Whether you're a writer or a fine artist or a photographer or a horsewoman needing inspiration, make a lunch date with a like-minded friend and see what happens!

November Hill farm journal, 4

Nature must never be anything else than an alliance.
-Henry Beston, Northern Farm

Rain. We've had multiple days of it, interspersed with high winds, hail, flashes of blue in the night sky, thunder both cracking and rolling.

November Hill is of course situated upon a hill. Wisely the barn is on the top spot and then the house is next, and while huge amounts of rainfall in a short time can create a wash of water into the barn shelter and a temporary pool in our driveway, for the most part the rain drains away quickly and we have come to love the seasonal stream that runs through the front field.

When we get huge rains several days in a row there are a few areas where the water will pool and sit, but it generally soaks in after an hour or two.

The thing about rain is that when we don't get it, we long for it, and when we get too much, we long for dry earth, solid underfoot. A reminder for me that what we all want and need is balance. But at the same time, we long for the extremes.

Yesterday I had muddy horses and muddier hooves, a messy barn strewn with hay and needing mucking several times. The stalls now need fresh shavings but it's too wet in the barnyard to drive the truck up to unload bags of extra fine pine.

Fortunately these rains have been punctuated with a few sunny hours each day and the horses and donkeys and the pony have been able to get out just enough to prevent total grumpiness.

Another result of the generous rainfall this spring is lush pasture and we've had to put one donkey in his grazing muzzle and it's likely the other one and the pony are soon to follow.

This morning I watched as the sun came up behind the thick screen of oak trees. The sunlight pierced through in places and reflected on the rain still sitting on the oak leaves. It looked like diamonds were growing in profusion right by the barn.

I enjoy walking the farm after a rainfall, cataloguing the paths the rain made and noting where there is work to be done. Planting our vegetable garden in the sunny side of our backyard has stopped the huge flow that used to come from the barnyard toward the house. French drains outside each barn door have helped avoid mucky messes there. A trench from back of barn to front field directs the water away from the barn and house. But there's one place on the grass paddock side of the house where the water flow needs to be diverted and another where the water from the 11-acre field next to us is now rushing down one side of our driveway, washing the gravel away. We'll work on these this spring and try to put things right.

Meanwhile I'll look for mushrooms and fly blooms and hope those tiny fly predators hatched out and lived to feast on fly larvae.

Equine dentals, done! (after my nightmare about castration)

This weekend all five of the November Hill equines had their dental exams and three were floated. Although we've never had bad experiences with dental work here, I have a long history of having bad dreams the night before my own dental cleanings and dental procedures. This year I had a nightmare before the HORSES' dental exams!

In the dream all five geldings were in fact NOT gelded. Somehow they had all lived to their current ages as stallions and jacks and the dental appointment transmuted in my dream into an appointment for five castrations.

"It will be bloody and dangerous," the vet said. "Be prepared."

I woke up in a state of horror.

Alas, the dentals were quiet and easy and I'm happy that I can check them off my list for this year!

The human mind is a powerful thing.