Not much has been going on in poultry land these days. Only Connie has been laying, so we have an ample supply of very large eggs for our cooking.
There were two today.
I also realized it’s her birthday, or close to it, since Heather’s son has picked up his tiny poults for this year. She’s come a long way from her start in such a fancy environment!
Connie Gobbler, Age 1
That was the good news. As I was feeding the fowl, I heard an odd noise, like a branch scraping against the coop. When I checked it out, I realized it was Bianca, my only chicken who survived the Great Chicken Massacre a couple of years ago. She was breathing funny. I planned to check on her when I came back.
Bianca had neck tufts and not much comb. Her eggs were true blue, which was the name of her breed.
Anyway, I went to feed the horses. When I came back to turn the water off and pick up eggs, Bianca had collapsed. Now I’m all worried she got something contagious, so I am VERY disinfected now. I’m sad to lose her. I will keep a close eye on the others, who all seem fine so far. Of course, Bianca was all perky until today. She even got out a couple of days ago and was spritely running around.
She had really long claws.
She’d never been a big layer, and hadn’t produced eggs since last winter, so it might just have been her time. But she was my oldest. Sniff.
I think I’ve had enough death this month.
I exercised both Apache and Drew to cheer myself up. I think Vicki’s work with Drew is paying off—he did well in his ground work.
My tiny flock is even tinier.
I’ll be doing a lot of coop cleaning in coming days. I hope Cindy and Cathy don’t get too pestered by Clint now that the rooster to hen ratio is 1:2.
I can handle it.
Circle of life. Etc. Plus another senseless school shooting.
My friend Gail died today. She was one of my small circle of high school friends who chat frequently. So, today am taking time to remember this strong, resilient, funny woman. Probably gonna do more of that tomorrow.
Four of us who struggled through high school together: me, Anita, Gail, Jana
I feel the worst for Jana, who lost her best friend today. Wow they were lucky to have each other to share tragedy and joy.
Jana, her husband Reggie, and Gail
I bet Gail had no idea what she meant to some of us. We need to remind those we care about that we do care, through ups, downs, absences, and all that. Go hug your dear friends, or call, or text. I did a lot of that today. So glad for true friends, old and new.
We also lost this sweet high school friend recently. His presence is missed. I keep wondering why I haven’t seen him in social media.
And the tarot cards were eerie again. Yesterday was the 9 of Swords, grief. That was me, knowing Gail was failing.
Also that lady kind of looks like Gail
Today was 6 of Cups, that healing circle of friends.
It looks like our group, with one friend transformed and swimming off.
You may have heard that Goldie left this world today, about five months after her osteosarcoma ordeal began. The good news is that she didn’t really slow down until this week, and only got really bad today, not eating, having trouble standing, etc.
The three of us here at the ranch worked together to give Goldie a good last day. after many calls, the guys found a vet who would come here so she didn’t have to be hauled in and out of cars. I sat with her for the last hour before the vet arrived, with her head on my lap or in my arms. It was very peaceful and loving.
It was important to me that she have peace. I have had too many traumatic dog passings. I don’t want more if it can be helped. We knew this was coming, so we could prepare.
Describing what a special dog Goldie was is difficult. People say all Great Danes are sweet dogs. That may be so, but this one felt like a friend, a confidant, and a guardian all rolled into one.
She was a Mighty Huntress of skunks and armadillos, she was a goofy dinosaur head when she got excited, her tail was a danger to men of a certain height, and she looked at you with those golden eyes, so full of love…
Goldie through the years
The few years we had with Goldie weren’t enough. But that’s what she had for us. We will treasure our memories.
Goldie’s memorial bonfire, next to her very deep grave. Digging big holes is a good way to process grief.
What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life?
Today’s question has been on my mind lately since there have been a lot of deaths in my circle, and I’ve been a close observer of the stress, pain, and hard decisions loved ones have to go through.
Just a sweet and fuzzy calf
One of our blog family lost her husband yesterday, which hits hard. But I’m glad she has the support of many close friends who’ve gone through this before, and she has supportive family. Sometimes, when no one you know has been through such a loss, you can feel so alone and lost, and it hits you so hard.
So, do we want to live very long lives? No matter when we pass away, we will leave sad people behind to treasure memories. I wish I had more of them with my mom, who died when I was 26. I coped poorly but was glad she was out of her mental and physical pain.
As long as I’m in reasonable health, can enjoy nature and my community, and am not a burden to others, I’d prefer to live a long life. I’m just curious about how we humans are going to handle things in the coming 30 or 40 years. And I’d love to continue contributing to society and becoming more wise.
Yet, if I were chronically ill with constant pain or costing my family so much that I was a financial burden, I’d have no problems with letting go. It would be interesting to see what’s next for the energy that brings me life.
I can honestly say that I empathize with anyone who decides they are “done” and don’t keep pushing forward in old age, and I can see not wanting to give up. And I have seen for myself how quickly you can go from fighting to dignified surrender when the time comes.
This made no sense, I’m afraid, but it helped me to write it. I do want to live long and prosper, though!
Love to all of you who are struggling. I am here for you if you need me.
For September I’ve decided to do an experiment. I’m going to answer the daily prompt that WordPress keeps asking me to respond to, and see how it fits in with what I want to talk about.
Something is blooming on September 1, at least.
So, how AM I feeling today?
Mostly I’m feeling very old. This has been a hard few weeks among my circles. Today another wonderful friend and role model, Norma, died after a valiant struggle to recover from infections. She was a wise breastfeeding advocate, a wonderful writer, and a font (fount?) of humor, especially Jewish.
Yesterday there was another loss close to our family. It reminds me of all the things that you leave behind for others to deal with. Oh please, family, pick a few things you like and auction the rest off. Just scatter my ashes around some trees. I’d like to help.
Yeah. I’m old. But I don’t feel like it. I have so much more to learn. Sigh. I hope my friends who’ve passed (as well as me) get a chance to come back and learn more. Maybe I’ll be a horse.
I still have so many cute horses to pet and tell them they’re good. (I’m doing that here, as Drew stops like a champ.)
I’m also frustrated. But that’s temporary. It was one of those days where whatever I tried to do didn’t quite work out. For example, I missed my 10am meeting, thinking it was at 11. Then I showed up a half hour early to lunch with Anita. At least lunch at the coffee shop was great!
Soup I had for lunch, and plug for the coffee shop.
And I didn’t get upset about this (on purpose, since horses can tell you’re upset) but the darned horses opened a gate and got out TWICE today! It’s no trouble to get them back in at meal time, but when I was relaxing in the pool and looked over to see Apache walking up to the chicken house, I was not amused.
Mmm. Lots of green grass over by the septic field. It’s a place I’m not supposed to take them, but they took themselves.
Note that it’s much harder to entice horses away from what they perceive as better food after they ate their rations and supplements. Still, I was very surprised to see Apache, Mabel, and Fiona come when I called. Dusty came close, so I haltered him and got him in.
I found Droodles hiding between the tack room and Kathleen’s RV, where the grass is quite nice, because it’s shady. He indicated that he’d like to stay, but accepted a cookie and a halter, so I succeeded in not losing my cool (once, a little — I’m human).
I put a bungee cord around the gate they keep opening. I’ll be interested to see how it holds up overnight.
Here’s why the horses are breaking out.
I’m sure the horses are just as annoyed with me as I am with them, because I didn’t give them a bale of hay today. That’s because as I was moving their saddles back to the tack room from the horse trailer, my wagon blew a tire. I can’t carry hay. I’ll empty the wheelbarrow and use it in the morning. I’d love to use the utility vehicle, but it’s bed is full. Woe is me, ranch lady problems. But, hey, I can now open the shipping container doors to get hay out and have figured a way to get to more bales, so I’m a semi-competent ranch lady.
The minute I saw Tarrin today for my lesson, I knew something was wrong. Sure enough, she’d just found out that a horse in our little community had passed away suddenly. The feelings that went through me right then awakened a deep truth in me.
A very brief weather event brought us comfort. Photo by Tarrin.
I realized that I feel connections with horses I know just like I do people. And I liked this horse very much. He was brave, funny, and very cool, not to mention gorgeous. And he’d had such an interesting life; he was a circus horse! He was lucky to spend his final years with a human who was devoted to him and learned so much to help him out.
Our horse and human friend.
I didn’t know him as well as Tarrin or Sara, who spent lots of time with him at shows and educational events, but I liked him, like I would a person. Yeah, I don’t know exactly why, but I cared about him a lot! I’m grieving for him and his human like I do when people I care about pass.
Don’t let anyone tell you animals are “just animals.” We can connect with them, too. The hardest part about having companion animals in our lives is knowing their lives tend to be shorter than ours. I still deeply miss my departed dogs.
My heart goes out to our community member who lost her equine friend. I sure gave all mine extra hugs today, even if they were all sweaty.
Sweaty me and sweaty Apache, with an extra cool cloud.
All our connections are meaningful. Go hug a dog, a cat, a horse, a human, or whatever living creature matters to you.
Hi there, readers. Sorry there was no blog yesterday, but I’ll be honest, I was not really feeling like writing about the happenings of the day. The Circle of Life is real, and it certainly becomes clear here at the Hermits’ Rest.
I tried to write this on our newly assembled loveseat, but that lasted five minutes.
I don’t think Great Danes have a reputation for being hunting dogs, but I guess they are bred to protect their property. We’re thinking of renaming Goldie to Artemis, because she truly is a mighty huntress.
I’m resting between hunts.
Yesterday I went out to survey my domain and feed the chickens, as I normally do, and I saw Goldie intently watching something that looked to me like a bunny. I watched it slowly “hopping” away from the fenced-in area.
It has ears. But not a bunny.
But when I got closer, I saw it was not a rabbit, but an injured armadillo. I knew who’d injured it right away, our mighty dog-goddess of the hunt. Goldie could no longer get to her, so my hope was that she could make it to her hole and heal up.
Goldie had chewed on her shell.
But I forgot that we have an actual hunting dog on the property, Vlassic. Apparently, he also got to the poor thing and hurt it a lot more. He was seen chomping away on the armadillo (which I didn’t see, or I would have stopped it).
Let’s look at a happy hen, instead.
By the time I came out in the afternoon, the dillo had made it to the front pond, where she got away from Vlassic, but couldn’t swim anymore. For some reason, this made me incredibly sad, like when the sick coyote died.
I guess I’m just too soft hearted when it comes to animals. Also, since I had just gotten the news that my late friend Christi’s son had just been indicted for her murder and I was still reeling from my two recent friend deaths, I think I am a little more open to sadness than usual. I feel imbalanced, like the scales that are usually balanced between life and death are tipped heavily over to the death side.
I was really sad when Goldie killed this, too. It was a snapping turtle. My favorite huge one.
I know it will pass. But it’s no fun right now. On the other hand, I did get a chance to examine an armadillo up close. It’s cool to see how many hairs they have. I thank the armadillo for the chance to see her. Don’t worry, I didn’t touch her, and she was disposed of properly.
Poor dillo.
So, our little zoo is still bringing me interesting surprises. This morning I found dozens of caterpillars on the sorrelvine behind the house. I recognized them as black swallowtails. With this many babies, we should have quite a display of butterflies when they emerge from their chrysalises.
Baby swallowtails
But the biggest surprise was in the chicken house. When I went in this morning, I saw that my snake friend was still there from yesterday. I love the snake’s smiling face.
Howdy! I’d like an egg or a mouse.
I came back later to see if I’d been left any eggs, and thought to myself, wow, that snake is really long, even for a rat snake (they get to be over six feet long).
It just goes on and on.
Aha, I realized why it was so long. It had two heads. Yes, both my snake friends were actually hanging out in one of the nest boxes. There went my egg supply for the day (but they didn’t get Bertie Lee’s egg, which is always laid on the floor next to their exit door).
I wonder if they are a pair? I’ve seen two together over by the horse pens before.
Our reptile exhibit certainly is exciting. However, I am extra glad we haven’t had any copperheads or rattlesnakes showing up. On the other side of the river, there are lots of copperheads. We should be seeing rattlesnakes now, but I have only seen one this year (and I briskly left the vicinity).
Rattlesnake country is pretty, though.
I wish it weren’t so incredibly hot, smoky, and unpleasant outside. But, we’ll get through it. I want to be able to make more use of that new outdoor furniture. But the pool is always there to help me, especially after horse work!
I didn’t write a blog post yesterday, because I was too caught up in an unexpected wave of emotions. I found out that another of my mentor/friends from my time in La Leche League had passed away quite unexpectedly. Mentor/friend. There’s a concept. I truly believe that everyone we get to know, even a little, teaches us something. Everyone who becomes a friend teaches us something we need to learn that will help us.
Losing Gail Moak, who was a friend and mentor to so many stunned and pained me. As I sat with my grief (when I finally got a moment) it occurred to me that what I am mourning more than anything is the end of opportunities to listen to Gail, to learn from her, and to support her when she needs support.
Luckily, my mentor/friend Nancy called right about then, as I was sweeping the front porch to dissipate my feelings of helplessness, and she understood what I meant when I told her I don’t mourn the loss of life, because I know that happens to us all; I mourn the loss of a real-time relationship. Wow, I really value relationships with people I care about.
Last night’s sunset comforted me, as the Earth often does in its perspective
I think I mourn losses of friendships the same way. When the incident with our Bobcat book club happened, I ended up feeling so sad that I’d lost the chance to connect with, learn from, and support some women I’d come to think of as friends. They’re still alive, but our relationship died. It still hurts.
There’s that cliche that people always say after a loss, something like tell those you care about that you love them, or hug your family now. I can understand where that impulse comes from. My dearest wish, when it comes to my friends and family, though, would be that they are secure in the knowledge that I value my relationship with them, whatever it is, and that I will mourn it when we part, however we do part.
There’s so much we don’t know. But we do know our connections are vital for our spirits.
Just a bit about Gail. I knew of her when I worked with La Leche League, but never met her until I was asked to serve on the Board of Friends of LLL, the group for retired Leaders and supporters of the organization. We worked closely on the newsletter when I was editor, spoke often during meetings, and communicated very much on social media.
Gail is at far right here.
I got to know what a caring person she was, and not just about mothers and babies. She was passionate about equal rights for all people and didn’t just talk about it, she acted. I learned ways to be a stronger ally for my Black, brown, and indigenous friends from her. I saw her kindness toward the LGBTQIA+ community and felt a kindred spirit in how she expressed love and, crucially, support for people trying to be themselves in an increasingly hostile environment.
I dedicated this butterfly to Gail’s spirit
Most important, she was one of my many Christian friends who remind me that there are Christ-like ways of following that tradition where all are loved, not just rich, white males and their followers.
I just had to get all of what’s been stewing inside of me out. Writing things down always helps ground me. Life without both my friends Johanna and Gail will be hard. Both of them will leave a little black hole in Zoom meetings where their squares should be, but my heart will be full of memories of my relationships with these mentor/friends.
Thanks to all of you readers who have touched me. You DO make a difference and you have each taught me a lesson (some fun, some not so fun). I’m very grateful to you all.
It’s funny how it goes. You cope, cope, cope. You grant folks grace, repeatedly. You deal with illness and death around you without falling apart.
Rain rain rain rain
Then you don’t. I’m sure that’s normal. I’m trying to keep letting some unkind things I’ve noticed slide by me. All the mental challenges make it hard right now.
Dampness makes very large mushrooms
In addition to being sad about the young police officer and his family, I’m very sad that an old friend passed away on Saturday. Johanna Horton was helpful to me when my children were young, and supportive when my mentor died from breast cancer. She’s been in my life ever since. She and her husband both were kind, gentle, and very talented. They shared all they learned at Elder Hostels and when they bought and sold antique books. She seemed all right just a week ago on our weekly Zoom call (spin-off of an ancient email list and Facebook group). I had a real hard time joining the call today, knowing Johanna’s face wouldn’t be there. We all said we’d even miss the rug on the wall behind her chair. Sigh.
Johanna (from a public Facebook post)
And it still hasn’t stopped raining. Yes, we love rain here in the land of drought. But there’s standing water everywhere. Even if it had stopped, I don’t think we’d have been able to get the trailer to pull out of its parking area to go to Drew and Apache’s lessons. And I almost hurt myself trying to put food out for the chickens. The run is solid slop. At least I’m not worried about the horses getting enough to eat. The grass is growing in front of my eyes.
The dogs did NOT like today’s big thunderstorm. I had five panting dogs surrounding my desk at one point.
Mother’s Day is always hard for me. Mom was so…out of it. And I wasn’t a great mom, either. Maybe I should have listened to myself when I didn’t think I was cut out for it. I think I was trying to please others and probably too focused on their happiness. Well you can’t change what you did as well as you could.
Speaking of mothers, I guess the birds ran out of space in the sides of the house. Yep. A nest on a door.
And it’s funny. I’m finally feeling part of a community here in Cameron, but I’m still feeling isolated and alone. I hear and read so many people saying scary things about my views. Same goes for people in my family who are just trying to live their lives. This undercurrent of feeling unsafe can make one jittery.
Uh, subject change. I’m real good with fingernails. They get cut next week. The middle one is secretly broken.
These things just come and go. I do have friends and family who love me just as I am. I’m just musing.
I didn’t write a blog yesterday, because as hard as I tried to distract myself, I just pondered and pondered the highs and lows of life. It started because the morning was spent at the funeral service for a friend’s husband, who died at 86. It was a surprise to all, since he’d planned to do stuff that day and was also planning to live to be 100.
Not a native plant here, but I still love the red yucca.
I’m glad so many members of our extended community were there to support my friend, because it’s always hard when your life’s story takes a hard turn into a new direction. And that’s what got me thinking of how many others I know who’ve recently lost their partners and how long it takes to get back into a groove again while dealing with a big hole in their lives.
Life is short, but new life is all around. Look, a skipper caterpillar is emerging!
It seems to me that sometimes it’s hard for folks to go out and have fun again. I know many are helped by sharing memories and talking about how much the departed loved one would love to see them doing well. As the minister hinted at the funeral, you’ve not really lost your partner, just physically separated. I could see how the Christian beliefs of my friend and her family were comforting in that respect.
Vlassic comforts me.
I’m comforted by my experiences that thanks to memories, I feel the presence of my loved ones, like my dad, especially. I always find myself “telling” him things.
Dad also liked moss roses and disliked annoying nutsedge.
Anyway, to take my mind our of thinking about how lives change suddenly, I convinced Lee to take me to lunch at a fun place we’d never eaten at before, the Oscar Store, which is the only thing in Oscar, a settlement just outside of Temple, Texas. We drive by it often, because it’s on our favorite shortcut to Tractor Supply and Lowe’s.
Rustic exterior.
It’s really cute inside and outside of the restaurant, and the food is great. I had liver and onions with fantastic lima beans and fried okra. Yes, lima beans. They were in a yummy sauce. I was full well past dinner time from that! Lee had a beautiful cheeseburger.
Petrified wood decor
After the fine lunch we went to look at outdoor furniture at Lowe’s, because we need stuff that’s heavier and won’t blow into the pool repeatedly. The stuff we replace can go on the back porch at the Red House, since we don’t have stairs there yet.
They look so pretty.
So, that helped. But, I still sorta dwelt on things the whole day. What else helped was that I spent much of my pondering time listening to birds, of which I keep identifying more and more. Plus, I got to plant the flowers I showed you above. I finally found portulaca or moss roses so I could plant them by the pool.
These will grow and grow, blooming until there’s a hard frost.
That overheated me like crazy, so I had to jump in the pool, even though it has a lot of grass in it from the mower going the wrong way by it, and there were also flying ants. Yuck. But the water was refreshing!
Last night’s sunset
Time with the horses also helped, of course, They are doing darned well, and yesterday I even figured out that Apache had to pee and moved off his kidneys for ease of pee. He was full of opinions and also informed me when it was time to stop riding. He makes me laugh. Drew is way more cooperative, though he was really muddy this morning!
Check out my mud.
The rest of the weekend is for relaxing. I bought a whole bunch of stuff to make sandwiches for Sunday Dinner. The things I’ll do so I don’t have to cook…the sandwich ingredients probably cost more than making something to cook.
I’m not serving this.
Nothing’s wrong with pondering your and your loved ones’ mortality occasionally. It helps you remember to treasure every single day.
The Hermits' Rest 