Tumble Dry now set to low

Another gigantic change at Netherfield...mom will be home 3 days a week now! Happy dance!

We went from homeschooling 3, to breast cancer, to public school for one and free-range/homeschooling for 2, to public school for 3--mom working 5 morning hours/5days week, for a year. Then I had the summer off, along with 4H 2 nights/week. Then we gutted the kitchen, and the master bath, and invited the contractor in to do major work. Then I went back to work 2 weeks before the kids went back to school. Then the kids went back to school. Then #1 had 5 weeks of studying Islam, with a project on Islam. Then #2 had a unit on Islam, along with a paper OR a children's book on the 5 Pillars of Islam, to be donated to the local elementary school (!). Then the kitchen never made any progress because Handyman is never here and #3 cried one night that she missed the kitchen. Then I got a letter from the IRS saying I forgot to pay last year's quarterly payment.

Then I decided I had reached my limit...and that's a good thing.

NFL Combine

Yeah, yeah...I know all about the Combine. Handyman worked the Combine, all 23 days of it. He shot each of the candidates ("future millionaires" as he called them) inside a big black box, opposite the greenscreen, where his co-worker, a young married woman, spent her days spraying the young men down with water...so they'd look sweaty.

But here at Neverdone, we have our own stinkin' Combine. It's the NFL Combine, and by that I mean Neverdone Farm Labor Combine...where we evaluate candidates' abilities to cut the mustard, as it were, here on the farm.

Our first draftee (and by "draftee" I mean indentured servant), shows great promise and has the added advantage of living here, so her commute would be short...

Here she is demonstrating the poop-sled tow. This is an incredibly important skill, as our ATV has a serious starter disability right now. Handyman keeps asking why, if the horses are so wonderful, they forget to poop outside? Doesn't this young athlete look great?!



Once you reach the dumping ground, you gotta unload that sled, and Candidate #1 has it all together here. Her technique is efficient and smooth. Her demeanor is stable (no Ryan Leaf episodes here!) Let's see what she can do in the barn...



Here, #1 demonstrates that old quad-cramper, the muck tub drag--again, a crucial skill every barn worker must be able to do, a lot.

And then there's the "unload"--this is where skill is vital! Without the proper skill set, you can wind up with a big mess and twice as much work! #1 again shows she is the go-to-gal, with this brilliant, neat download!





After a quick tete-tete with her agent, #1 considers our contract offer (room and board with phone and internet privileges and the possibility of driving a motor vehicle and an assortment of Goodwill clothing) and discusses whether she's ready for the next big step...

As the worm turns...

And man, has it ever turned! We are a changed family. We decided back in the spring to put #2 into school this year, since she was ready for 6th grade. We wanted her to have the chance to get started with band and sports and things that #1 really missed out on, when we stuck her into 8th grade, mid-year. (Not the best timing, we realized, but it was what it was.)

Well, #3 wasn't too interested in staying home alone, so we visited a teeny-weeny private Christian school that was absolutely darling, but didn't have a teeny-weeny tuition; and we visited our local public school. #3 said, "Mommy, it looks like the Children's Museum!" And it does.

So as summer was waning, both girls were signed up for public school, and I started looking in earnest for a part-time job. And I got one, at a local high school cafeteria.

So I spend my days making cold sandwiches, viewing the juvenile public up-close and personal and throwing away hundreds of pounds of food each and every day. (More on that later.) I've joined a team of ladies who work hard and strive each day for efficiency and overall pleasant-ness. It's really enjoyable.

The best thing about it? Each day, I complete something. Not like at home, where nothing is EVER done. I can totally see how women would come to rely on the separateness of going to work and shutting the door on home for awhile.

Oh, the other best thing is that the pay is very good and I am home every afternoon, evening, weekend and holiday AND summer! The tools of my trade: a hairnet and some plastic gloves...yee ha!

Do Something Good for Yourself

Just want to say I am really getting a lot out of the Darren Hardy, Success Magazine e-workshop Designing the Best 10 Years of Your Life. I heard about this through I'm an Organizing Junkie, and although I am behind the schedule, I am doing the worksheets and watching the videos and I have learned a lot about myself.

One of the first installments talked about whether you want the next 10 years of your life to be just same-old stuff or something more significant...and I'm wanting to really achieve things in a lot of areas of my life.

If you want to turn up the heat on your plans, goals or just get some heat going under your kettle, I urge you to sign up and catch up. It's never too late to make a success of yourself.

Do Hard Things!

My New Year is just getting started...

Due to family illness and the glorious weather, our holiday season dragged out for quite awhile. Which isn't always a bad thing. It was fun, there was lots of food and I got a boot dryer!

What woman doesn't want/need a boot dryer?! Any woman, like me, who treks to her barn and henhouse four or more times a day, needs a boot dryer. I also had to pull out the YakTrax I got last year. These are stretchy traction devices for the bottoms of my boots. My chickens are envious, but I think their little toenails would get in the way.

It wouldn't be winter here at Netherfield/Neverdone if we didn't have a chicken in the kitchen and this year is no exception. One day last week, I was setting out the little banty hen who has decided to go broody (it's winter you moron!)and I discovered she had been sitting on/in a broken egg. Ugh. It's way too cold for that. At first I set her outside to get some water, thinking I had pulled out all the egg bits. But a Rhode Island Red came over immediately and started pecking at the little gal, so it was off to the kitchen for a grooming session.

Keep in mind that we do have a slop-sink bathroom off our kitchen, so I am not talking about bathing a chicken in my kitchen sink! And what morning would be complete with bathing a chicken. Chickens are not big on bathing, even when they need it and this little gal was no exception. She was fortunate to get a warm water bath and I discovered her entire belly is completely bald! She has made a big brood patch on her belly to keep the eggs warm!

So then I got started blow-drying. Other than becoming alarmed when she could see herself in the full-length mirror, she LOVED being blow-dryed on low. She almost sprawled out on my lap to help! And there's no better smell for your kitchen than a boot-dryer on high with a little blow-dried chicken on the side!

Every day is another mind-numbing routine of busting and refilling water bowls for chickens, barn cats and horses. There is a heater in the horse water tank that runs on a timer and this week I have been shoveling clean snow into the tank. If it would ever get warm enough to melt just a little, the snow on the steel barn roof will melt and channel into the tank. But for now, it's easier to shovel powdery snow than to haul water out there.

The barn cats sit faithfully on their little heating mats and eat their canned food quickly. Whatever freezes in their dish, I give over to the dogs to remove! Keeps them busy and entertained.

Then there's the never-ending process of emptying the muck tubs of their frozen loads. The colder it is, the more the horses stand in the barn and fill their stalls. I got in a little bit of trouble last year for breaking too many muck tubs by dropping them on their sides to dump them. Cold and plastic don't always work well. So my solution this year--always have Handyman dump the muck tubs. It's worked great so far.

We interrupt this dry saga...

...to announce there's remodeling goin' on! But then, I guess you could say that remodeling has never stopped going on here. Why, just last month, Handyman invited the Hayfield Owner over with his tractor--that has a backhoe on it. Handyman has tractor envy. Fortunately, Hayfield Owner is a generous soul, who lives nearby, and has a bucket on the front end. Even more fortunately, Hayfield Owner is a firefighter, which means when he's not saving folks from tall buildings (in our town that would be 3 stories), he's H-O-M-E-, just itching to do something fun!

And you know, to guys fun means dirt; So last month, they dug out the old oil tank next to our front door...Handyman says that Hayfield Owner is a "surgeon" with that bucket. And for that I am thankful, since he was up-close-and-personal with the foundation of our house! Those two men were like boys in a sandpile and of course, if you're gonna dig out an old oil tank, you'll have to hoist it somewhere--so one of them hoisted the durn thing and the other one backed his dump trailer UNDER the tank, and hauled it away and stimulated our economy.

The fun just never ends here...and then WHILE YOU'RE AT IT (the most expensive words in remodeling), you might as well rip out the front sidewalk that people have been complaining about for SEVEN years...

So, we don't have a sidewalk anymore. And before we put in a new sidewalk, that pine tree might as well come down. It was planted way too close to the house and has outlived its place. But we'll need another evergreen in that spot, and soon! And we certainly should bring down that unidentified, overgrown celery near the front door. And once that is gone, those solar panels from the 70's will be way in our face, so that'll have to be dealt with. And once we don't have those things to stare at anymore, it'll become very obvious that the chimney cap is in disrepair. And once we're up on that peak, we'll really want to replace that skylight on the backside...

But for now, let's just stop here and go put a window in the dining room. Nothing like tearing out drywall after church...

more pics to come!

Hay There!

And the rain came pouring down...on my freshly cut field of overgrown, stemmy, hay. The best laid plans of mavens came crashing down. The feed store owner, who I had clung to for reassurance through the rains of June, told me to just stop worrying about. There was nothing to be done.

And he didn't say this, but having been through the year that I've been through, I was able to keep in mind: 1) Worry is sin--it truly is. It is saying that your plans are better than God's and He'd better get things straightened out to please Me; and 2)There are way bigger fish to fry than a little field of hay. We paid $6/bale a couple winters ago and we made it, so all things considered, this was a hemorrhoid, not a crisis.

Being the complete hay ignoramus that I am/was, I called Hay Guy to ask about whether he was going to flip it over to dry it. (There are all kinds of pieces of mystery equipment with wheels going every which way that can flip the furrow of hay over 180 degrees and put it back down in place.) That seemed like what we should do, but Hay Guy said no, he wasn't going to touch it for a couple of days, that raking or flipping or spreading it back out or whatever would simply knock all the leaves off of it and he wanted to "leave" it sit and dry.

(Another lesson I learned this past year: It's okay to just accept your circumstance and do the best with what you are actually in control of--and not try to manipulate.) So, I watched and waited and drove by the field, watching the lovely hay turn a glorious shade of drab brown with whisks of gold--great for straw, painful for hay.

And then, there he was, a tractor out of the mist...since the field is around the corner from me, I never even see what direction the Guy rolls in from or how he gets there. He's there, he waves and has hay crumbs stuck all over him.

In the interim, I am trying to arrange how we are going to pick up all this stuff and what we're going to carry it on and where we are going to put it. You can leave the bales lay in the field overnight if you have to, but there is definitely a theft possibility (especially two years ago when hay was going for $25/bale in CA and FL). Also there's the dew factor, so the best plan is to get it picked up immediately.

I talked on the phone so much that week, my cel phone battery would get hot. It was ridiculous and all my calls were to men. The Hay Guy, Handyman, the Field Owner, Neighbor Rob. Bunch of men on speed dial--who wouldn't love it?!

I remembered when I was in 8th grade and we had moved to the boonies, so I could have a horse. I begged my mom to let me join the boys 4H club. Because girls were snotty and prissy and I didn't fit in. But boys, boys just want to goof around and they'll take ya. What you see is what you get. If they don't like you, you'll know it and you can move on.

But girls, girls are awash in false impressions and facades. You're never quite sure if you're standing on solid ground or about to have the rug yanked out from under you...all this to say, it was a little fun, I love to arrange things. I especially love to arrange things when things work out. All the convolutions are worth it, when the pieces come together.

Here we go again...

Summer has wound down, against my will. I even became a morning person this summer, hoping to get some extra credit, but no--the evenings are creeping in earlier and earlier. I think I wore socks to bed last night--that's a sure sign.

We had several weeks of dry, beautiful weather, that provided a glorious ending to my first summer as a hay maven. What is a hay maven, you may wonder? It is an extremely stressful position wherein you have access to a wonderful field of hay, thus providing winter fodder for your large lawn ornaments.

The trick is, you own no hay equipment. So, you have to find someone who will bale a small field--which is a detriment, the smallness. So you have to find someone who is willing to come to your little field to cut the hay, rake the hay and bale the hay, while the sun shines. And it will never be a set-in-stone appointed date because the ultimate decider of hay cutting, is Mother Nature! (Cue lightning.)

I began my summer as a hay maven with high hopes and my eternally willing-to-learn attitude. When I requested the option on said field, I was planning on splitting the spoils with my neighbor/friends Rob and Chris, who had hay equipment. When I got the option on the field, I found out that Rob and Chris had sold their hay equipment. Oops.

So, the learning process began. The first hay guy (not really sure of the correct title here), wanted $3.25/bale, laying in the field (this means I have to do the labor of picking up the bales and loading them on a trailer), OR he wanted 2/3 of the hay and no charge per bale. That seemed kinda high for me, so I approached my local feed store owner, (not the chain store). The local store owner also happened to have two ladies selling horse feed standing there when I came in. They all gave their opinions, agreeing with me that that was too high of a price and encouraging me to ask for a better deal. They said surely he would be willing to work with me on this...

I made Handyman make the call to the Hay Guy and request a deal change. I am such a weenie. The call lasts all of twenty seconds and Handyman reports that the guy said he wasn't interested in either splitting it 60/40 or 50/50 and there was no offer to change the price. Deal's off. Back to square one...

So, my stomach produces large quantities of acid and I start looking up weather predicting websites. I called a local farm co-op, in the smallest town nearby and asked for a referral for a "hay guy". The first name they gave me, I called. He seemed nice enough and seemed knowledgeable, and told me that at some point, I'd be mad at him. That's just how hay goes. I told him we were hardworking, honest people who just didn't want to be taken advantage of. He told me to watch for the bloom on my alfalfa and call him when I wanted him to cut it.

Then the roller coaster left the building. That was in early June. About the second week of June the alfalfa started blooming and I became a weather aficionado. I stayed up late to watch the weather every night and it rained, regularly. There was a name for this particular type of weather. I think it is "monsoon".

June started tapering off, the hay was as tall as an elephant's eye and still the rain would not stop. There was a four-day window of sunshine coming and the Hay Guy asked if I wanted him to cut it. I checked all twelve weather websites and they said it was going to rain on Thursday night. So on a very sunny Monday, I told him no, don't cut. It's going to rain on Thursday night.

On Tuesday, it was beautiful. But the weather man, woman and websites said it was going to rain on Thursday night. On Wednesday, it was warm and sunny, but the weather divas all warned of the rain on Thursday night.

Teachable moment: Once the hay is cut, it lays in the field for several days to dry, depending on the weather. It cannot be baled when wet or it will mold and all your money will end up on the burn pile, literally. We were having really cool nights in June, so our mornings had really heavy dew, which means more days to dry. More moisture means nutrition is leached out of the hay each time it is damp and then dries.

On Thursday night, I watched the late news and they said it was going to rain, THAT night. It did not.

My stomach began this little motion not unlike my washer on the spin cycle. It was now Friday and the weatherman said it was going to rain on Sunday. So I told the Hay Guy, don't cut it today either, because it's going to rain on Sunday.

Saturday was picture-perfect, but I knew it was going to rain on Sunday night.
I watched the news on Sunday, and they said it was going to rain that night. It did not.

By now, I was hyperventilating. The hay was almost taller than me. Everyone who lived nearby commented on "how tall the hay is". I demonstrated for my children, how you can keep yourself from smacking people when you really, really want to.

On Monday, I told the Hay Guy to cut it--I can't take it anymore. But, he can't. Seems he was cutting someone else's field, next to an area of home building and someone had thrown a 6x6 post into the hay field early in the year. He hit it with his mower and it would take two days to repair. He'd try to get to my on Wednesday.

On Wednesday his son had a motorcycle accident and broke his collarbone. (Dumb kid! What's he thinking?? Doesn't he know what I've got on the line?!) So his biggest helper is out of the picture. He'll try to get to me on Friday.

On Friday, he cuts the hay! It is an amazing, wonderful feeling. I want to run through the field, in slow motion of course, leaping and smiling. The day is July 3. The hay coulda/shoulda been cut weeks before, but we were 8 inches over in precip for the month of June!! On Saturday, the fourth of July, it rains for the entire day.

My hay, stemmy and long, is lying in the field for about 8 straight hours of steady downpour. I am lying facedown on my bed, muttering. There is nothing I can do...

Spring must be coming...

UPDATE: Red-wing blackbird on my front walk today!! They are one of the first nester's to return in the spring! I saw robins awhile back, but many of them do not migrate--so this is a definite!! Just like all the buds the deer have eaten off my tulip poplars...

Reno has started shedding. I remember he did this last February too. I was shocked at how early it started. But I suppose when one's hair is 3" long, one must use the time wisely. This must be the reason he rolls in mud everyday. I dutifully use my old pin hairbrush to break up the solid masses of mud caked on top of his back. Much of it ends up in my mouth, no matter how hard I try. I dig and rake and spit. And the next day, it's the same. On the same side. Even as far as his cheek. I do not brush his cheek while he is eating or three pounds of dust falls into his bowl. When I am "done" (a relative term), I see a silhouette of dust outlining us on the ground.

Yesterday was warm and sunny--my favorite combination. So I did what all spring-lovers do--I emptied the horse water tank, scrubbed it and refilled it. Here's the "plug" that comes with the tank heater. Plastic (read fragile), and tough to get at. Also, recently tightened by Handyman (read impossibly tight for female hands.) How do you get at that thing?!

Enter my new favorite tool:(besides my Muck brand boots and my 20-year old ATV. And the lids that snap on my 5-gallon buckets. And my dog that cleans the kitchen floor for me.)


What do you do with that thing--you ask??




Open says-a-me! Voila! Ah, there's nothing more cheery than 15 gallons of COLD water filled with 4 months of hay detrius, horse spittle, old leaves and some vile form of algae that can grow in antarctic conditions. My assistant for the day was PRINCESS--the large pony who thinks she's a dog.

She did the requisite shove against my bum while I was leaning over a tipped-up tank, almost sending me headfirst into the fence and muck that was pouring out. Then there was the lipping of the sleeve. The request for carrots and the sniffing of the empty tank. She is such a charmer. But what a gut! This gal has bellied up to the hay bar a little too often. I don't think there's a wii fit board that'll work for her.

When I brought out the clean water, she was all about sipping each dose as it was added. Handyman needs to do a little adjustment on that fence section behind the tank. The bottom plank is too high to set the bucket on unless I want to pour it down the waistband of my pants. The top plank is literally 1/2" too close to pour the bucket between the planks. So it works out like this. Open the bucket on the ground. Lift carefully to waist height and pour 1/2 between the planks. Then tell Princess to get her big mug out of the tank or be doused. Then lift the bucket to chest height and pour over the top of the entire fence. Now do this eight more times!

Gives the old reconstruction a workout! Everything held--don't worry! ;)

And the better news: My handy-dandy tool has a little brother:


Then again, it might make a terrific crop!


I wanted to get this task out of the way because there is rain forecast for today and tomorrow and then snow for the weekend. If the tank's going to refill on its own, thanks to Handyman's ingenuity, I wanted it to be clean. Princess gave her opinion on the clean water with a happy lip curl--"Weird Mom! It doesn't taste like fermented hay anymore?!"

Today's job--empty muck tubs and clean barn. Did I mention there was another barn "invasion" this week. This time it was #2 who left the people door open. When we drove in, I could see the big guy in the barn aisle. When we got there, he was wedged between the hayloft ladder and the people door (blocked by #1), with the worktable immediately to his left. The saint let me squeeze by him and unlock the big sliding door. He wasn't sure about jumping out, but gave it a shot and thought it was so fun, he bucked too on his way by. I love that horse!

There had been an open bale of hay on the 2' high stack of rubber mats. The bale was, of course, scattered all around the pile of mats. And there were two piles of poop on the mats! I wish I had a camera going in there; watching them standing on the mats like circus ponies. I guess I need to start showing in trail classes.

Balmy!

This is just to remind me that I don't live on Hoth.

It's so cold and has been for so long that today's high of 22 with sunshine made me feel happy enough to go to the barn sans hat! I got a giant bag of frozen carrots in the garage to give Reno hope for spring. He can smell 'em a mile off. In fact, I had put two little carrot stumps into my coat pocket several days ago and forgotten them and when I was putting on his blanket the other night, he started backing away from me as I was trying to buckle the front. He never does that and he was not stopping and then I remembered, or thought I remembered that there might be some carrot stumps--He knew it! He smelled those old wilty things and wasn't taking no for an answer. Good thing I found them or I could have become the victim of a stall rage incident.

Today, I whipped off the horse blankets and shoveled that water tank full of snow (turning on the heater, of course). The poop is still frozen solid and the hay supply is dwindling, but I saw a huge flock of robins near the henhouse and I am thinking we're about to turn the corner. Well, except for that entire month of February. The dark doldrums lie just ahead...after the Cardinals kick some serious steel batootey tomorrow!! Gotta go make some chili, make some velveeta rotel dip and start on my taxes...

I've got my Gurney's catalog laying on the dining room table and I am still trying to figure out why we live this far north. We're lovin' Netflix here in the sticks, although I miss the librarians, a little. We've watched Tropic Thunder, The Mummy--Curse of the Dragon Emporer, Becoming Jane, Dark Knight (not me), IronMan (not me) and tonight, Mad Hot Ballroom (it's about middle schoolers.)

Time for dog dinner!

My Dad sent this to me...

...and needless to say, I loved it--Bet there's lots of "girls" who relate:

My daughter turned sixteen years old today; which is a milestone for most people. Besides looking at baby photos and childhood trinkets with her, I took time to reflect on the young woman my daughter had become and the choices she would face in the future. As I looked at her I could see the athlete she was, and determined woman she would soon be.

I started thinking about some the girls we knew in our town who were already pregnant, pierced in several places, hair every color under the sun, drop outs, drug addicts and on the fast track to no where, seeking surface identities because they had no inner self esteem. The parents of these same girls have asked me why I "waste" the money on horses so my daughter can ride. I'm told she will grow out of it, lose interest, discover boys and all kinds of things that try to pin the current generation's "slacker" label on my child. I don't think it will happen, I think she will love and have horses all her life.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she has compassion. She knows that we must take special care of the very young and the very old. We must make sure those without voices to speak of their pain are still cared for.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she learned responsibility for others than herself. She learned that regardless of the weather you must still care for those you have the stewardship of. There are no "days off" just because you don't feel like being a horse owner that day. She learned that for every hour of fun you have there are days of hard slogging work you must do first.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she learned not to be afraid of getting dirty and that appearances don't matter to most of the breathing things in the world we live in. Horses do not care about designer clothes, jewelry, pretty hairdos or anything else we put on our bodies to try to impress others. What a horse cares about are your abilities to work within his natural world, he doesn't care if you're wearing $80.00 jeans while you do it.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she learned about sex and how it can both enrich and complicate lives. She learned that it only takes one time to produce a baby, and the only way to ensure babies aren't produced is not to breed. She learned how babies are planned, made, born and, sadly, sometimes die before reaching their potential. She learned how sleepless nights and trying to outsmart a crafty old broodmare could result in getting to see, as non-horse owning people rarely do, the birth of a true miracle.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she understands the value of money. Every dollar can be translated into bales of hay, bags of feed or farrier visits. Purchasing non-necessities during lean times can mean the difference between feed and good care, or neglect and starvation. She has learned to judge the level of her care against the care she sees provided by others and to make sure her standards never lower, and only increase as her knowledge grows.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she has learned to learn on her own. She has had teachers that cannot speak, nor write, nor communicate beyond body language and reactions. She has had to learn to "read" her surroundings for both safe and unsafe objects, to look for hazards where others might only see a pretty meadow. She has learned to judge people as she judges horses. She looks beyond appearances and trappings to see what is within.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she has learned sportsmanship to a high degree. Everyone that competes fairly is a winner. Trophies and ribbons may prove someone a winner, but they do not prove someone is a horseman. She has also learned that some people will do anything to win, regardless of who it hurts. She knows that those who will cheat in the show ring will also cheat in every other aspect of their life and are not to be trusted.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she has self-esteem and an engaging personality. She can talk to anyone she meets with confidence, because she has to express herself to her horse with more than words. She knows the satisfaction of controlling and teaching a 1000 pound animal that will yield willingly to her gentle touch and ignore the more forceful and inept handling of those stronger than she is. She holds herself with poise and professionalism in the company of those far older than herself.

Because my daughter grew up with horses she has learned to plan ahead. She knows that choices made today can effect what happens five years down the road. She knows that you cannot care for and protect you investments without savings to fall back on. She knows the value of land and buildings. And that caring for your vehicle can mean the difference between easy travel or being stranded on the side of the road with a four horse trailer on a hot day.

When I look at what she has learned and what it will help her become, I can honestly say that I haven't "wasted" a penny on providing her with horses. I only wish that ll children had the same opportunities to learn these lessons from horses before setting out on the road to adulthood.



Thanks Dad--for providing me with the opportunity of a lifetime; and for putting the plexi in my stall doors this week! :)

"Tree" house progress

Well, the roofing came in this week and we wanted to try to get it on before the snow fell, so #1 got her first lessons with drip edge...



You can see the full height of the place on the left side of the picture. That's an 8' green ladder below. On the other side of the house, it is only about 4.5 feet from the ground to the porch floor. That is where the "swinging" bridge will connect. The peak is about 12' from the porch deck.

While they were installing roofing, the building-permit guy came floating by...


Okay, not really, but we were totally surprised when this came over the back of our property. They were CLOOOOOOOOOOSE and so vividly beautiful.

This is the last piece of roofing going on for that side, and I had my camera set to night-shot because it was pretty dark. So, we're only half-done, but that's better than none-done.



All afternoon, while the construction was going on, I was doing "ultimate Fly-Lady". This is where you haul waste wood from the trees rows around your house and BURN them completely up, thus de-cluttering in the most intense way. It was very therapeutic. I was cleaning up the place, keeping warm and making sure Handyman didn't plummet off the side of his little obsession without supervision.

Busy, Busy, Busy

Handyman has been off this week, so we are busier than one-armed paper hangers! There's no rest for the wicked (me) when Handyman is home.

Monday was still warm, but drizzly and Handyman was putting up guttering--big, long guttering on the barn. And, since my dad is still in FLORIDA, without his dogs--#1 and I had to fill the big boy shoes. We all got to stand on ladders with our hands over our heads, for hours it seemed, in the drizzle. Did I mention that these are leaning ladders with two feet on the frozen, muddy ground--not folding ladders with four feet? I have grown through a lot of ladder fear during my years with Handyman. He is a ladder fanatic. His record is an 8' folding ladder, bungie-corded to the top of four levels of scaffolding and he stood on the tip top. I was pregnant at the time--it was not a restful scene.

So after the gutter was mostly done, I was cleaning the stalls while H. worked on the downspout in the barn aisle. Now, the entire south side of our barn is open at this time. The horses can go in and out into the paddock at will. So he's inside the barn and I am in that open-sided stall area and there are a few hens working the manure/compost thing for me.

All of a sudden there's a hawk landing almost at my feet in the dirt of the paddock and the hens are leaving VERY quickly. I yell, "a hawk", to Handyman and then go at it with my manure fork to scare it away. It doesn't scare too quickly and then it just flies to the paddock fence and looks back over its shoulder at me. Handyman goes out the big barn door, around the corner to look at it from the other way and it flies back toward me! He thought it was going for my hat!

Then it goes up into a tree over the driveway, and watches for more hens. They were all frozen in the barn aisle. So interesting to see. They just freeze wherever they are. No one murmurs or turns their heads, for minutes.

Self-Picture of Hat>

So, that excitement over, I head out to get the mail and H. hears #1 yelling from the house that there's a hawk in the garage! So we hustle up to the house in the gloomy gray. Sure enough, that hawk has flow in the garage door toward the back of the garage where there's a fixed window. Unfortunately for him there is also a huge 5x5' fixed window stored almost exactly in front of the actual garage window and now this raptor is stuck between the two windows, flapping wildly, unable to get out.

Unfortunately for us, the stored window is wedged behind a furnace unit on one side and a LOT of racked lumber on the other side, with a big ZTR mower parked in front of it. So there will be no sliding the window away from the wall. So Superman, I mean, Handyman dons big leather gloves and gives it his best ornithologist try. He succeeds in getting the bird to drop all the way down to the floor where he cannot reach it at all and it is still flapping violently. #1 and I are hiding in the breezeway so as to not frighten it more or get hit by talons on its way out.

Handyman has us dismantle the apple picker from its 14' pole and he uses that to scoop the bird up into the window sill position where he can try to get a hold on it. Finally, after lots and lots of flapping and minor cursing, he nabs it! I, of course, remind him to cover its eyes and when he does, complete calmness abounds! It was a little thing. We determined it to be a sharp-shinned hawk, probably a juvenile. I'm not sure he could have picked up one of our hens--but H. reminded me that he doesn't have to pick it up to shred it and eat it! Anyway, we released him/her and were thrilled to see that he/she had no trouble flying. What a thrill!

Tuesday it continued to be warm and grey, but then we got one of my favorite Midwestern weather scenarios--Tornado warnings in January! Yes folks, we went from 50 degrees at noone to 16 degrees at 11 pm. with thunderstorms that became ice storms. Can you ask for more fun than lightening and ice in the same 6 hour period? I think not. The girls were trying to put the plexiglass in the big chicken coop window before the rain really got here and were scared back by a huge lightening show. Then after they went to bed, Handyman had to pry open the breezeway door for me because it was frozen shut and we had to go put vaseline on the combs of some of the chickens, to prevent frostbite.

And he complains about all the coats hanging up in the kitchen. We can't put anything away--who knows what season tomorrow will be! Horse blankets on, horse blankets off. Chickens in the kitchen, chickens out of the kitchen.

Oh, oh! The piece-de-resistance was that yesterday (temperature 14F), Handyman hired the big strapping son of a friend and they took down the eyesore behind our house! (This same young man also worked for us on the hottest day of the summer, putting in a new retaining wall. Poor sap! He must think we are complete freaks.) Remember, we bought an "as-is" house with all the eccentricities that come along with that. We, I mean, Handyman has removed all the furniture piles from the yard and re-done the house so that it doesn't look the same, at all. But there was one last vestige of icky hideousness lurking on the north side of our house. The only room that faces that way is the living room, where he has been redoing the deck--which got interupted by the barn electric project and then Christmas. (We have remodeling ADD.)

See--I wasn't kidding about the whole eyesore thing!

So, what I am saying is that I sort of stay away from the living room, so I don't have to see that thing. That thing is/was a barn about 12x18' with a sloped roof, looked like it was built out of particle board. It was also filled with junk, including appliances. #3 called it the possum barn. All children were banned from it, at all times, but I don't think they would have gone near it anyway. Everything about it said "70's Baby!" Cheap construction, weenie design and stash your trash mentality. We found a walker??, futon frame, two freezers (complete with dead raccoon inside--poor guy!) a rolling seeder, miles of garden edging and albums filled with pictures of kids available for adoption ??. Weird, weird, weird and ugly and yucky and now it's GONE! Two loads to the dump, a bunch burned and two freezers left sitting there. Bummer. Looking at old rusty appliances is almost as bad as the barn itself.

I guess my appliance lifting quota is going up this month. I'll have to post a picture of my biceps.