Love

What Dogs Have Taught Me

I should really title this, for the sake of full disclosure, "What Dogs Are Teaching Me," as I am a stubborn, stubborn, learner.

During Zippo's medical emergency, and Avy having to retire her position at the foot of the bed, I felt overwhelmed with powerlessness. All of this happened, and I couldn't control it. We should have raised/trained Avy differently, we should have known the moves would have been too stressful for them... should have, would have, couldn't have known.

The unexpected often paralyzes me momentarily. I think that is one of the most distinct flaws I have from being an only child (I wasn't at all spoiled with stuff, but my schedule was my own, and I didn't have to share my time or plans or be flexible due to any other ragamuffins running around). Last fall was full of the unexpected. But I made lists, got back on track, and made it work. (See? I don't really think I'm learning how to be more flexible, I think I'm teaching my surroundings to succomb to my every whim.)

In literature, if the story is set in town, that is often symbolic of structure and following the rules. Conversely, if a story is set in the country, it signifies freedom and a lack of societal confines.

I prefer the country immensely. I feel at home. So why do I hate the freedom it allows?

On the way home today, I stopped up the road to talk to a neighbor. Her cows had broken out and were in the field across the road, and she had come home to her chickens pecking across the road as well. These are the things you must deal with. Fences don't always work, and structure doesn't always hold.

When I got home, I was greeted in the driveway by Mason.

Mason is a great horse of a dog, and he's happy and he loves being loved. However, he hates being confined in the barn (we are going to build them a fenced-in area come spring--winter isn't a great time to adopt a dog, but we do what we have to do), and jumps out of any available orifice (windows included). When this happens, I imagine the worst--he's never going to come back, he's going to bother the neighbors, everything is going to be a disaster.

One of these days, I will take loose animals in stride. One of these days.

But not yet. I slowly got out of my car, and put my schoolbag on the roof so I could grab his collar and take him back to the barn. He proceeded to climb into the car, lie down in the passenger seat, lie down in the back seat, climb into the hatch, and refused to get out. When he finally got out, he flopped on the ground for a belly rub and refused to get up. He's OK--I should be OK. I finally got him up and walked him over to his home (as we walked, I noticed a demolished trash bag, so he'd really had some fun today). He hopped in, Avy scolded him, and they've been fine since.

Later, when I got the mail, the wonderful older man who lives up the road stopped on his way by. He said when he saw Mason was out earlier, he brought his Lab up so they could play and "meet" each other. And they were fine. Everything was fine.

I have spent weeks devising my perfect poultry order: five Ameraucana hens, five Barred Rock hens, one brown Leghorn rooster, a turkey for Thanksgiving, and two Khaki Campbell ducks. Perfect... just perfect. A student told me that when the hatchery includes "extra" chicks to compensate for any death in transit, they're often cockarels, and often an undesirable breed. For a moment, my breath stopped. What about my plans? What about my perfect plans?

Someday, I dream of being as relaxed as my neighbor with the escaped livestock. She leaned in my car window, we talked about wayward dogs and ordering chicks, and she was fine. Even though her animals had broken free of their confines, and weren't exactly as she'd planned, she was fine.

And I will be, too.

Canine Chaos

As well as the real estate catastrophe of 2009, we also suffered a difficult transition period with our dogs. Our eldest, Avy, always had domineering tendencies, but she became increasingly unhinged as the time at my parents' house increased.
They have a small Corgi who she lashed out at a few times, and then the last weekend we were there, she attacked our Zippo (the small dogs competing for our attention set her off, and she became violent).
We thought he was OK for a few days, but he became more and more lethargic and finally stopped getting up--we set an appointment for the vet, and long, awful story short, he had extensive surgery for infected bite punctures (which were hidden underneath his hair), and we are lucky he survived. The vet--after seeing the extent of the damage--suggested that we should not keep them together, and that Avy couldn't really be trusted, especially if we have children around someday. This was during the first week living in our house, and while it was an absolutely traumatic experience, I can't stress enough the amazing support and care he received at the New Haven Veterinary Clinic under the guidance of Dr. Michelle Schulte.
With her OK, we decided to transition Avy into an outside dog, with the intention of getting her a companion (a larger, docile companion who could keep her temper in check). Our house renovations for that weekend were put off, and under the last warm sun of the fall, we transformed half of the barn into dog paradise. She was fine. Zippo was going to be fine. (And Rio is always fine, no matter what.)
Three weeks later, I drove to St. Louis to pick up a new addition to our family, Mason. He was a rescue Lab mix, who had lived his short life on a short chain in southern Missouri when a neighbor heard that his owners were going to shoot him because they didn't want him anymore. Now, he's ours.

More later. For now, I'm just rambling.

I Need Sun

I keep looking at my recent seed orders to make me feel better--as if I'm reminding myself that spring will happen someday. Here is the summer menu...

Blue Lake Bush Bean
Chioggia Beet
Nantes Coreless Carrot
Armenian Cucumber
Lemon Cucumber
Northern Pickling Cucumber
Rosa Bianca Eggplant
Poncho Leek
Rouge D'hiver Lettuce
Brune D'hiver Lettuce
Red Iceberg Lettuce
Haogen Dessert Melon
Moon and Stars Watermelon
Mammoth Spineless Okra
Red Baron Onion
Early Jalapeno Pepper
French Breakfast Radish
Nardello Sweet Pepper
Bloomsdale Spinach
German Queen Tomato
Roma Tomato
San Marzano Tomato
Super Marmande Tomato
Black Beauty Zucchini

From Seeds of Change: http://www.seedsofchange.com/


Herbs:
Basil
Coriander
Dill
Marjoram
Greek Oregano
Italian Parsley
Sage
Savory
Tarragon
Thyme
Rosemary
(and I threw some Queen Anne's Lace seeds in that order, too, just because)

From Horizon Herbs: https://www.horizonherbs.com

What Was That About Risky Dreams?

The view now

I've thought frequently about tearing down this (albeit small) blog and starting fresh. But I won't. Even the terrible parts of the journey help us get to our destination.

I avoided updating for a long time because that big lovely farmhouse in the last post lead to a summer of anxiety and misery like we've never experienced before. It felt too good to be true the moment I found the ad, and I was correct. The seller twisted the contract, threatened us repeatedly, and eventually (due to maliciously combining the twisting and threatening) took our earnest money--our savings--and forced us out of the contract. Meanwhile, gossip started to come out of the woodworks that she had done this to numerous buyers. This was at the end of August.

Meanwhile, we'd sold our home within two weeks of putting it on the market, for a profit.

We had a small nest egg from our house, and nowhere to go. We lived with my parents for two and half months (note: I also taught 25 credit hours last semester). Andy and I are incredibly fortunate to have the families we do, who were there for us throughout every bit of the nightmare, and for the aftermath.

There was nothing on the market that was remotely what we wanted for our next homestead--after all, we hadn't planned to move so soon and our budget was not where it needed to be for the old farmhouse and five - ten acres we wanted. After a few weeks of no success, we finally told our realtor that we would throw in the towel and start looking at newer ranch homes with very little acreage. It was all we would be able to afford.

Twenty-four hours after we made that call, another call was made. My mom got a call from an acquaintance from their church, directing us toward their home, which they needed to sell. An old farmhouse. Eight acres. The area we wanted. For exactly the price we sold our house for.

That is our home now. I still can't quite believe that it happened, but it did. We have our farmhouse and acreage... a barn, shed, pond, woods, a creek... it's ours. The moment we decided we could do without our dream, we got it.

We spent November and December renovating the inside, and we're itching for springtime to get our hands in the dirt outside. We have fences that need to be put up, a shed that will be transformed into a chicken coop/goat barn, gardens to be tilled, a tin roof and siding to be painted... and of course seeds to be started and chicks to be warmed.

The old stone house is nearby, and still for sale. I still fantasize about it sometimes, and then inwardly giggle at the insanity of our even going to look at it last spring. But like I said then, and am living proof of now--we dreamed, we risked, and we're here, exactly where we need to be.