The occasional me

Skirt. Bright lipstick. Long, flowery head scarf. A bear claw for lunch, with tea. Maybe (later) a bath in the claw-foot tub, glass of wine in hand.  Guess what - I'm alone for the weekend!  Normally I'm sort of understated... you know... jeans and a shirt, ball cap on top and off to the barn I go. Not today, not yesterday. Why is that?  

Well, anyway, the animals don't seem to care, and if they feel neglected, they can tell me at supper time. I mean, I DID feed, and all, but it was brief and professional, and then I was again off to being the other person, the one who is more flamboyant and a bit dreamy and not very practical. But it's fun.  I'd probably hate it if this was how I was supposed to look and act all the time, but for a couple of weekends a year, it's the other me, and I like it, her, me, whatever you call it.

I do wonder.. if anybody drives in here at the ranch... will I panic and run to change?  I hope not.

No picture, though.


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Well, that was unfair...

Echo the Sheep is not... at least... not... well, he is certainly not totally stupid. Using a long rope called a longe line I tied him to a tree, to graze. If not a disaster, I did expect to have to unravel the whole wholly mass of sheep from the cat claw acacia bushes every few minutes. Guess what: Not only does he walk nicely on a leash, but he also ties, using the "end of his rope" jerk as a signal to immediately lower his head to eat some more. He has already chewed a fire break between the barn and the house.  And not only that, but the goats are hanging out with him - strength in numbers, maybe?  Coyotes are plentiful here.

I know there are some real sheep and goat owners out there in the non-desert world, people with fences and guardian dogs and all.  But I'm just me, happily counting my one sheep.

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Echo

That's his name. My sheep. One sheep. He echoes. He's not stupid, but not exactly not stupid, either, compared to the goats. Umm.. maybe limited?  Echo came here because I had not had a sheep since a was about twelve, and I guess I had forgotten what it was like to communicate with sheep. So, he's been here for maybe ten years, making big noises about feeding time, not being terribly interested in walking on a leash, but along with the dogs bravely charging coyotes.

Echo is out today, out of his pen. I am doing a nice thing for him. Spring grass is in. Sheep graze, right? Dragged him out from his pen and let go. Sheep goes running to all the places where feed has been in the past - feed provided by me, or feed being there as in new growth on trees I want to keep. Twenty laps around each tree and a few drags to the back forty with a rope, Echo finally seems to have found the greener pastures out of sight of his past haunts but within earshot of home.   Bliss.  This was so much fun that I think I will spend all day tomorrow doing the same thing.  And the next day.

You get it...

Right?


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Peeps! I got Peeps!

Ah - the miracle of life!  I have little baby chicks in a brooding box.  Back-flip!  Back-flip!  Some are of my own breeding, called the March Hare Descendants, and others are Malaysian Serama chickens.  The Seramas are teeny tiny chickens, so of course the newborns look frightfully small. But there they are, hopping around and pecking at the ground and at each other.  I'm in love, and I did share my breakfast with them - a little piece of home baked bread.  Aww..

March.

So-o-o, five months later I should be well healed and rested (if you read my last post) and ready for spring to arrive.  I'm waiting. Trust me, I am waiting. While I was waiting (and waiting!) I read a hundred books and lit a hundred fires, sighed a hundred times at the beauty of the snow on the mountains and a thousand times in impatience of the natural workings of nature and its schedule.  Sigh.  Checking the weather forecast for a week at the time and hoping for a trend..  Spoiled, we are, here in the desert. A day of forty degrees and sunshine is "too cold".  For lack of perfect weather I get back inside to read a cookbook from a hundred years back.  Did you know how to properly boil and serve a calf's head (without the skin, as is suggested)?  I do, now.

Being still and being antsy

Today is one of those days when I can't seem to get anything done.  Granted, I did things last week, great and physical things, and now I'm "busy" with body repair. I'm just not very good at being still. So I get up from the chair, go outside, and note that my legs, back and neck are still as sore as they were twenty minutes ago. Up and out again, finding some ripe tomatoes in the garden, for a light lunch, and back here. Is this being bored?  How many times can I re-load the weather forecast while seeing through the window that it's a glorious day for a hike?

It's dark in the mornings, again. These are also sweat pants over shorts mornings. Garden almost done for the summer, and greenhouse looking tempting.  It will soon be the season of slowing down, making a fire and enjoy being indoors.   Just not today!   Not yet!

End to whining.  I'll go to pick up eggs or something. 

Happy end of summer for North America!

Summer in the Mojave Desert

It's not as bad as it sounds. It's noon, and it's 100 degrees. But (ha-ha) it IS a dry heat. 6 %. Palm Springs is not so lucky. Not only is it some 15- 20 degrees warmer there, because of the difference in elevation, but they have also messed up the humidity level by adding all their golf courses and other irrigation.

I was entertaining the thought of going to the dump today. That's one of the things I do when I feel the need to get out to see some people ;) Well, it just somehow didn't happen. I went to the garden instead, and talked with my vegetables. The county well guys have access through one of the ranch roads, and I heard the engines just in time to pull up my tube top from my hips, stand up and wave demurely. Yes, I was also wearing shorts. In case you wondered ;)

Hope you have a very nice summer!