The rooster's last crow

 

There is no doubt that Henry was a beautiful bird, and this picture of him, taken only a few months ago, showed a manageable rooster.  He wasn't crowing 24/7, he wasn't attacking the chickens on a regular basis and he wasn't attacking me.

About a month ago I went out into the yard and squatted down to say hello to the chickens.  They have been raised to be friendly, I have spent a lot of time with them, and they loved to run over and say hello.  They were all in the process of doing this when suddenly I was struck by something and nearly fell over, when I realized that the rooster was attacking me.  I stood up and managed to kick at him to keep him back, and I experienced real fear when he wouldn't stop!  Of course, I upset everyone with my yelling and kicking, and they all eventually ran away from the crazy woman!  Once you have been attacked by something, you have residual fear, but I tried to employ logic.  I was still bigger than he was, and he was still a BIRD!  Keeping these two things in mind, I would do my chicken things and it seemed as though we had drawn up a truce -- you leave me alone, I'll leave you alone.  But this also created a division between me and the chickens I had raised, and that made me mad.  Whenever one came near me, Henry would dodge over and flap his wings and shake his head and intimate that he was going to go at me.  So I stopped communing with my chickens, and tried to tell myself that this was more natural -- a rooster protects his flock, people aren't supposed to be part of the equation, and well maybe I needed to learn that.

I did, however, miss them coming up and pecking at my boots and looking for treats, but ahh, well, what are you going to do.  This went on for a bit, and then Henry started to become a bit crazed.  As soon as I would let them out, he would start jumping any chicken he could get close to, like a crazed teenager, which I guess he was, but then one of the chickens looked as though her feathers were being affected.  But I couldn't get ANY where near her, because he said no.  Again, I reasoned with myself, googled overbearing roosters and determined that he had just come into full maturity (as noted by his very pink legs) and that hopefully he would calm down, eventually.  Advice ranged from grab him by the legs and walk around with him, to putting him in the stew pot.  The latter became more and more appealing as every time I went near the coop, he came charging at me.  To clean the coop, I would have to lure him into the run by offering up myself as bait, and then armed with a pitchfork I'd manage to get him in, lock him up, and then shudder as he banged himself against the small door inside the coop while I cleaned up.  He was CUJO THE ROOSTER,  a Steven King character in the flesh, and he was making me miserable.

Then I was in the coop while the chickens were far away across the lawn and carrying out the water container to change it, when he came out of nowhere and rushed me.  I had the big water thing, and I swung that at him, but he kept doing it.  I was unprepared for an attack because I thought he was so far away, and I, at one point to get a rest, locked myself in the chicken run to get away from him!  And that was when I realized that I was in an abusive relationship, and it needed to stop.

I have never had any tolerance for people who talk about their abusive relationships and know what they are experiencing, and yet stay in them.  And yet, here I was, doing exactly that!  I was making excuses for him, oh well, he is a ROOSTER after all, and that is how rooster's behave.  And then I would think, well I am sure I can change him, we'll get through this rough patch and then things will be just great.  I was an enabler, and I was working around his abusive patterns, not hanging with my chickens because he didn't like it, not cleaning the coop as often as I like because it is so stressful having him charge at me, and rushing in to check for eggs with a pitchfork in hand, waiting for him to have at me.  And then I thought, how will I get through the winter with him?  Now I was afraid to go into the coop to open up the door to the outside, because he was coming at me.  Now I had to dress up in boots, jeans and gloves in order to protect myself, as opposed to running out in my nightgown as I had been doing.  And the past week I was begging Charlie to let them out, because I was afraid!

It had to stop.  I kept telling myself that I hadn't asked for a rooster, it had been thrown into my order, and it was quite clear that he wasn't enhancing anyone's lives!  I have no need to raise my own chicks from eggs, and that is the ONLY reason one needs to have a rooster around.  And the premise that he was protecting the chickens while out free ranging seems a tad ridiculous when I realized he was protecting them FROM ME!  And my good lord, he cock-a-doodle doo-ed all the livelong day.  In fact, as I sit here, the silence is freaky.  I sort of liked it at the beginning, but I would find myself screaming out the window, shut up Henry, no one wants to hear you.  This is not normal!

So I told Peter that I was in an abusive relationship and that he needed to come to my assistance!  I was riddled with guilt that I seemed to have failed as a chicken parent, he was a beautiful bird and it seemed such a shame ... and I tossed and turned at night trying to decide if I could personally kill him and I determined that I could not.

Even as I watched Peter go out to the coop to catch him, I thought, well, maybe I just need to do what he did, and kick him around and show him who is boss, because Henry did back down pretty quickly and when Peter finally did catch him, he settled right down in his arms.  Even then, I thought well maybe ... and yet, I didn't open up my mouth as Peter climbed onto the gator and drove slowly down into the lower field.  Because in my heart I knew it was the right thing to do.  Even if I personally couldn't do it.

First I went out to the coop and calmed the chickens down, as the catching of a rooster can be a bit traumatic!  Then I went out onto the back deck, and through the haze of the foggy morning could see Peter standing over the body, just watching.  Then I saw him pick it up and walk it into the woods.  We had both determined we didn't have the stomach or desire to eat him.  And as I watched all that, I realized I am only in this for the eggs.  I had originally thought that I might like to get some birds for eating purposes, but there are no processing facilities around, really, anymore, as big government doesn't want you eating your own food, and well, I'm just not going to be able to kill chickens.  At least not yet.  Peter came back and I asked him if he was horrified, and he said yes, but then he said that next time he would know what to do, that a chicken's neck is pretty tough!  So who knows, maybe it's something you have to work into.

I spent a little while feeling pretty sick to my stomach, and very much like I'd done the wrong thing.  But I was in an abusive relationship and I needed to get out of it.  I am sure every morning as I go out to my coop to let out the chickens and don't have to fear a crazed bird coming at me, it will become quite clear that we did the right thing.

We drove and we drove, and drove some more!

We did not take our regular trip to Martha's Vineyard this year, due to a number of factors.  The kids have jobs and their employers don't take kindly to their leaving; last year I had trouble with the people on the island -- the stuck-up, snobby, think they are better than you are folks who walk down the middle of the bike path and apparently would rather be run over by you and your bike than acknowledge your existence.  Or the people who think that because they found a spot on the car beach, that it is theirs forever and a day and become FURIOUS that you were smarter than they were and got there earlier to get the spot the next day.  And then you begin to hate yourself for trying to outsmart these creeps, and why doesn't everyone just get along ANYWAY?  I won't mention states, but they all had New York and Connecticut license plates.  It just started to feel as though perhaps trying to mingle with these monsters wasn't exactly relaxing.  No, they have very bad energy and run on high octane stress, and I have a tendency to pick that shit up.  So we didn't go.  And I really didn't miss it.

But I was going to do something, oh hell yes, I was!  So I decided that Peter and I would drive to the wedding of Berit and John, to be held in Minneapolis, and hit some sights along the way.  We left on Sunday, September 23rd, and drove the eight hours to Niagara Falls.  (To see pictures large, click on them)

 

This was our first view of the falls from the 44th floor of our hotel room.  Now, several things happened when I looked out the window.  First, I was PISSED that I wasn't standing in a room in the building in front of me!  I thought I had done extensive research, using TripAdvisor.com and the descriptions from the hotels themselves, and thought that I was in the CLOSEST hotel to the falls, and I had paid the extra moola for the higher floor and the falls view.  So to NOT be on the other side of that building looking at the falls was annoying.  And I hate that it is in ALL of my pictures, because it kept reminding me that ... well, i did get over it, our room and view were fabulous, and the problem is that ALL of the hotels are called So And So Fallsview Resort and Spa.  No, they really are.  This building you see on the left by the rainbow was ONLY called Fallsview Resort and Spa.  It had no hotel name in front of it, like mine was called the Hilton Fallsview Resort and Spa.  I even walked into the building and still had no idea what hotel was representing this particular fallsview resort and spa!  But I didn't try that hard, Niagara Falls is like a really rich chocolate dessert ... you only need a few bites.  Oh, and the other thing that happened?  I thought the falls looked, well, kind of small!!!

The room itself was huge.  Peter is standing in the living room, which due to its dark, cave-like feel, we pretty much used as clothes storage!  To the left of this picture is a couch, and the desk on the right with the chair that Peter set up camp in!  The window is the bathroom, and you can put the shade up so that you can enjoy views while taking a nice, hot bath.  The middle space was a kitchen -- a totally useless kitchen with nothing but a coffee pot.  You could pay extra for a refrigerator.  This was a total nickle and dime joint.  WIFI?  Not here, but at the Holiday Inn, no charge!

Peter did this all the time!  Reminded me of the place we stay in in Chicago that overlooks Navy Pier -- he would pull a chair over and stare out for hours.  Definitely a room with a view.  We had dinner reservations at the Skylon Tower, so we walked to that, which we discovered was equal in height to our room!  The restaurant itself turns, so you get to view the entire landscape, which isn't much to talk about, with the exception of the falls!   We stayed on the Canadian side, and the view of Buffalo pretty much underscored why!  With the exception of one casino, they don't offer much there.

The following morning we were up early and dressed to walk.  We explored the city itself a bit, then headed towards the falls.  This was actually our first encounter, up close and personal, of the falls themselves, and pretty darn impressive!  So a note to those traveling to Niagara Falls in the future ... don't make your first view one from the sky!   Considering that cars looked like matchboxes from where we were, it greatly diminished the scope and beauty of the falls themselves.  Later, when we returned to the room, our perspective was greatly altered, and we enjoyed the view much more!

The Skylon Tower where we had dinner the night before, and the restaurant in the foreground where we enjoyed DELICIOUS Canadian beer and a smashing view of the falls later in the afternoon.  Also, a good shot of how bloody gorgeous it was out!

These are called the American Falls, and maybe the Bridal Falls?  (I wasn't listening on the Maid of the Mist tour, I was too enthralled by the sights!)

The Maid of the Mist tour

I know a lot of these are similar, but I was clicking away and they need to have some purpose as they may have cost me my camera, which got wet in all of that mist.  The cool thing was that when the boat grew as close as it could, it just idled there, and the wind stopped and it was like being in a warm enclosure, it was really weird.  I commented on it several times, and then when the boat turned, all hell broke loose, the wind returned with a vengeance and my fashionable blue poncho blew up, drenching not only me, but my camera.  It was very cool in the arms of the falls, I would do that again in heart beat!  (With a waterproof camera of course!)

Then we dried up in the sun at a restaurant with a deck by the falls and had two delicious beers.  I wanted a third, quite badly, but Peter kept saying that they were ten dollars apiece, and while he had managed to spend $40 for two beers each, he couldn't bring himself to spend $60 for three (beers each).  I mean, I agreed with that, to a point, but check out this spot.  (The following pictures are now being taken with my cell phone, as yeah, the good camera is now wet.)

Maybe not a million dollar view, but worth sixty bucks ... perhaps?!!!!

We returned to the room and Peter left to go buy beer.  From a store.  At least that is what I thought he had done, but when he didn't return some 45 minutes later, I thought he had ditched me!  At last he returned with a six-pack of beer and a tale of how far away the liquor store was.  But I didn't want beer any more.  That lovely little afternoon buzz you get ... gone.  So my advice to those who need it -- pay $20 for the third beer ...

The following day we did the Journey Behind The Falls, which was yet another perspective of the fabulous falling water.  We did this very early, in fact, we were at the falls way before the visitor center had even opened and after sipping coffee to the tune of the falls, we were close to first in line.  Oh.  We didn't anticipate the busses.  They came in droves and unleashed hordes of Asian tourists, who I am just going to say out loud, are insane and obnoxious.  They run through the tunnels nearly running you over, and the one thing you feel for sure is that they don't think you exist.  And they take pictures of everything, including tunnel walls.  Nuts.

After this we returned to the hotel, showered and checked out, as our plan was to drive to Niagara Falls on The Lake to have lunch and walk around.  Which we did!

On the shores of Lake Ontario

After a nice long walk, a little shopping and a lovely lunch, we hit the road again, this time our destination was Chicago, but not this day.  The plan was to drive as far as we could, but ending before dark, and that ended up being Dearborn, Michigan.  Which was kind of funny, because as I'd done research on things to do between Niagara and Chicago, the Henry Ford Museum had piqued my interest.  After we crossed the border into the U.S. I pulled over and punched in the closest Marriott into the GPS, and drove directly to it.  It was in downtown Detroit, and Peter came out saying it was over $250.  That seemed silly to pay high city prices when all we wanted was a bed, so I told him to get back in and I punched in the next closest Marriott and followed those directions, which took us to Dearborn, which was not that far from Detroit, but I was getting tired.  It turned out that it was the Dearborn Inn, run by Marriott, so it was a bit posh and pricey, but I had $150 in Marriott money, so we went for it, and were both too tired to even attempt dinner.  I had stuff in the cooler, and snacks, and we had a makeshift meal and then went to bed.  But before that, I realized that the Henry Ford museum was within walking distance of the hotel!  A sign!

I am not a big museum person, but we were in car country and the description of the museum had been interesting, and we weren't disappointed.

This is this massive steam engine that was only in use for a few years.  Just the engineering involved to create such a monster is fascinating, but its main problem was that it consumed tons and tons of coal to keep running.

This is inside the large train and that is where the driver sat, hardly any view, you literally had to look out the window to see.

One of my faves, such a cool vehicle.

It was fun to learn how the American culture changed as cars did.  While the Model T could certainly get people around town, no one was climbing in one to drive any great distances (except my grandfather who drove from N.H. to Arizona in a Model T.)  But once cars could go great distances, new business opportunities opened up in the form of gas stations and hotels and motels and restaurants.  It was very cool to be on a road trip and learning about how road trips evolved.

So back to our own road trip, we climbed back into the car and headed to Chicago, landing there around 5:30-6:00.  It was yet another beautiful day and so we hung out with my brother and his girlfriend on his rooftop deck, from his funky apartment located in a warehouse in the warehouse district.  With a fabulous view of the city that I apparently didn't get!

Driving into the city

We spent two nights in Chicago, driving around all day Thursday to seven pawn shops looking for a wedding ring for Peter!  His had pretty much deteriorated to this teeny tiny bit of metal, and I've been insisting on him replacing it for quite some time.  But when we went to jewelry stores and he discovered how costly they were (due to the fact that the price of gold is now $1,700 an ounce) he refused to get one.  He had mentioned pawn shops, and I thought that seemed like a lot of negative karma to be carrying around on a finger, but then I thought on it more, and really, would it only be for bad reasons that someone would sell a ring?  I decided not necessarily, and so we set out on a mission -- which was no easy feat because he wanted a very simple ring and most of the ones in pawn shops are quite busy and full of diamonds and such.  I suspect the majority of rings at pawn shops are ones the men refused to wear!  But we did find one at the last store, and really, where else but a big city are you going to find that many pawn shops in a small area?  We also went to Second City and saw a show, which is something I have done every time I have been to Chicago, so basically, I've seen a lot of shows!  But they are great, and this one was not a disappointment.  Then on Friday morning we were up and out early as we had to pick up Maddie and Charlie at 2:00 p.m. at the airport in Minneapolis.  Oh, but we couldn't get out of Chicago.  Traffic!  So we were a little late picking up the kids!  It happens.

It's always nice to have everyone together. 

We checked into the hotel and then Maddie and Peter drove back to the airport to pick up Hallie and Jeff.  We had a lovely dinner at a restaurant called Ike's, and then later went to the get-together to meet up with family and the wedding party.  Very nice evening.

The following day we had the MOST DELICIOUS brunch in the world at Hell's Kitchen, with all organic eggs and handmade sausage and well, a restaurant totally up my alley, and then we went to the Mall of America.  This one roller coaster we went on was insane ... you went straight up, staring at the ceiling, and then it dropped straight down ... insane.  It was insane I tell ya, and I loved every minute of it!

And yep, I bought the picture!  For six bucks they will email it to you, I figured what the heck.  The mall is huge, and we did a little bit of wandering around, but we wanted to get back to the hotel before three to prepare for the 4:30 wedding.

Yes, I know who is missing -- I really thought we would have more time to take pictures, but we really didn't.  I can't believe we didn't get one of all of us, all dressed up.  Stupid!  Oh well.  The wedding was great, very short ceremony (gotta love that!) and the food and dance at the reception were fabulous.  Good time.  Congratulations Berit and John.  Hope you're enjoying Italy right now!

On Sunday we went over to Gary and Sue's for a brunch, said goodbye to everyone, dropped the kids off at the airport, and shot to Chicago for about five hours of sleep, (oh, and a Piece pizza and salad, so delicious) and were up at 5:00 a.m. and on the road and out of Chicago in no time.  NO TRAFFIC!  In fact, we didn't hit any traffic the entire ride home to N.H.

So this is the thing.  The drive was fine.  How could we be in a car for that long and not be exhausted?  I don't get it!  I expected that I would sleep the day away yesterday, but in fact I was up early and even hiked, shopped and cleaned out the chicken coop.  So I thought perhaps I'd be tired today?  No!  Weird, because some 7-8 hour drives are a killer.  We had beautiful weather, the landscape was beautiful, and it was fine.  Can't wait to do it again!  No, really!

Once in a blue moon

So, we shall begin with tomatoes and end with the moon!

This is what 50 pounds of tomatoes look like.  I turned these into sauce, and now my freezer is happily holding 10 family sized portions of sauce that I can use in the future.  I am not done, though, because my own garden is now starting to produce tomatoes, and I have about a dozen sitting on my counter.  The tomatoes themselves were so delicious that I added nothing to the sauce while I cooked it down.  Then just before freezing, I sauteed a lot of garlic from my garden, as well as some green peppers, and then threw those into the tomatoes, and then pureed the lot.  I want to believe that adding something adds a layer of flavor, but truthfully, you could hardly tell the difference.  When I defrost the sauce to use I will add caramelized onions.  I was adding them beforehand, but have decided they get kind of lost.

In chicken news, we unfortunately lost one to a fox.

In this moving shot, you can see Henry, the rooster, seeming to be in a hurry.  They were not under attack in this photo, just doing their normal thing.  Right now they are under house (coop) arrest, and I am really bummed about it.  I love having them wandering around the yard, and I am sure that they do too.  But they go near the road, and that is where the fox nabbed one.  He didn't have to work very hard, all he had to do was cross the road and open up his mouth.  The one he got, one of the yellows, never knew he was coming.  The others were going ballistic, making such a hullaballoo that I heard them from upstairs and managed to make it to the window in time to see the fox make off with the chicken in his mouth.  I guess I am glad I saw it so I know what happened, but it was a bit of a bummer.  Charlie and I ran out and managed to corrall the panting (they were seriously freaked out) chickens into their run.   And now we need a gun.

Okay, so how do I REALLY feel about that?  I would have easily have shot that fox that day, I was infuriated that my yard was violated and my chicken taken.  MY chicken!  But of course, the fox wasn't doing it for sport, the fox was either sharing it with his family, or gorging on it himself (I have clearly decided the fox was male!)  I have been told to use a chicken as bait (specifically the rooster, as no one seems to have a fondness for the male birds!) and then sit there with my gun and shoot the fox as it comes to take the bait.  My neighbor has shot many coyotes and several fox, so there is no doubt that once I travel down this path, I will become an animal killer.  I have very mixed feelings about it, but I also want free range birds.  I mean, I REALLY want them.  And while I considered just letting them back out, the reality is, the fox will come back and that leaves me roughly two weeks of having birds at all before the fox will use up the supply.

That doesn't make much sense.  I also have a lot invested in these birds, not only in food, but in time as I really wanted a friendly flock.  Henry thus far has never been rude to me, in fact, I don't find him intimidating at all.  He is huge though ... and when they peck now it actually hurts, so I have to keep something in hand to swing at them as I visit, because they don't peck in a vicious manner, they peck because that is what they do!  Then I wonder, by having the dogs around them and people as well, did I domesticate them to the point that they couldn't defend themselves?  Or that they didn't recognize a predator until the final moment?  I don't know.  I really don't know what I know or feel about the whole chicken thing!  I love having them, and I love them clucking about the yard.  They look pretty out there, they have fun running and flying around.  I do know it would be nice to have them around long enough to get some eggs!  I am sooooooo looking forward to the eggs.  But I want them to be FREE RANGE eggs!  And after the latest fox debacle, it truly makes me wonder if such a thing actually exists.  I know guidelines are sketchy, but for me, the chickens in the pen are not free range, not at all.  So I guess this means we get a gun?

Last night was the blue moon and I was determined to enjoy it on the lake.  No problem, of course, and we sat on the dock with Neil and Liz and watched the sunset, which was pretty fabulous despite a few pesky clouds.

After we enjoyed this fabulous sight, and this one too ...

 

We went out on the boat to have dinner, and alas, saw the big moon up in the sky.  It was amazing, and I had even brought my good camera for the event.  But I couldn't capture it for the life of me.  I did get this rather bizarre shot in Sunapee Harbor, as the boat was coming back to roost.  And while it is hard to picture, the moon in reality was very round!!

 

 Oh well!  The rest of the boat ride back held no moon as it was behind clouds, leaving me no further opportunities to try to get it round!  But it was an amazing summer night, the warm breeze stuck around and we didn't even need sweatshirts on the boat.  I love that.  But I hate that summer is on its way out, I really do.  I love summer.  Love it.

my new reading strategy

All of my life I have devoured books.  As a child in school, when we were handed out the order forms for books I would circle every one, unable to narrow down to a modest number.  As the books were cheap, my mother allowed me to buy as many as I wanted.  I was always the only one in class who ordered the most books, and I would go home and quickly read them all.  I've always loved to read.

A trip to a bookstore roughly cost me about sixty bucks, give or take, and I spent my early adulthood cognizant of this fact, and completely okay with it.  I have always needed a large stack of unread books at my disposal, something to gaze upon and know that there were good things to come once I curled up with them.

Then came the Kindle.  It took me all of about five minutes to convert from a "real" book to a digital edition.  Having lived in the sticks for the majority of my life, the ability to get a book on demand, without driving an hour to a bookstore, was priceless.  And suddenly, I became a bit out of control.  With the simple click of a button I could purchase a book, and for the first few Kindle years, that was okay because the prices of Kindle editions were reasonable.  Then that stopped.

And suddenly I was getting HUGE bills, as I paid upwards of $11.99 for a book.  A book that required absolutely no costs to create (as in paper, distribution channels, etc.) but was just thrown on a web site.  Hey, as an author I don't want to take anything away from the authors of the books I read, but a little common sense needs to prevail here.  There is NO COMMON SENSE to charge the same for a digital edition of a book as a printed one.  Absolutely none.  While I am happy to pay for the services of the author having actually written the book, I see no reason to cover the cost of things that aren't actually happening (like paper being used, etc.)  So I went on a bit of a boycott, and decided that I was no longer going to pay that much for books.  It has been hard.  But I think I have developed a system.

First of all, there are authors out there that I follow that I will pay the souped up price because I want to read their books.  But I am no longer seeking out any new authors who are being published in the traditional manner, because I no longer want to pay those completely trumped up prices.  So I can no longer read book reviews on mainstream content because I don't want to be tempted, and if you mention New York Time's Best Seller list, then count me out.  I believe that the new paradigm of publishing is closer than it's ever been before -- and I am willing to help it along with my participation.

Self-published authors (and even traditional authors who have turned to self-publishing) are aware that finding readers for their books is difficult.  So many have turned to the strategy of providing one of their books for free, which is "advertised" by various channels who send out emails or have websites pointing readers to the free books.  Now why would an author give their book away for free?  Why, to get readers!  Now, you can't be a lazy author if you use this strategy, because ultimately you want a reader to read your free book then fall in love with your writing style and be more than happy to pay for your other books.  But you need other books!  While it is true that I have slogged through a lot of poorly written crapola in this free way of reading, I have absolutely come upon some gems and was more than happy to buy their other books.   It's not as easy as buying books straight from Amazon after reading a review about it, because you have to take a chance and read an author you have never heard of before and has no one talking about them.  But through websites like www.goodreads.com, you can find out from other readers what they think, as well as www.amazon.com, though for the majority of these freebies, they don't have that many reviews yet.

It's about creating a network.  Through goodreads, I follow other readers whose recommendations and reviews I agree with, and then can find other books that I also enjoy.  And I too, have followers, who will read a book based on my recs as well.  The key to finding reading material via reviews is knowing who is a true reviewer and who is just putting up glowing reviews because they are friends and family of the author, etc.  And it is through time, like any relationship, that you grow to know who you can trust.

In a way, it is almost like a job, taking on books out of the ether based on the fact that they are free, and hoping to find a gem.  I am going to have to learn to STOP reading when I discover they are poorly written and overall bad.  Right now, I just can't do that.  As a natural born optimist, I always believe that it just has to get better!  But ... in truth, that's rarely the case.  Bad is bad!

In the end, I just want to read good books.  And publish them too!

A saucy post!

I had a bunch of tomatoes from my CSA and realized that I needed to make sauce.  There was nothing better throughout the past year to pull out a frozen package of my "garden sauce," and that has fueled my desire to make sure I have plenty on hand for the upcoming long months of no garden fresh anything.  But 12 tomatoes do not really make a whole lot of sauce, so I jumped in my trusty Jeep and headed to the local farm, praying that they would have loads of heirloom tomatoes that I could turn into sauce.  They did!

Excellent.  As I drove home, with the sun blazing down on me, I realized that I never did follow through with the pact I made myself to wear a hat while driving topless in the jeep.  Or in the garden.  Or anywhere, for that matter.  My poor face has been tanned pretty much since March, when I was in Florida, and while the deep tan comes and goes, the sunburns have popped up from time to time, the last being quite a good one that I received while sailing.  Oh, I put on a hat, eventually, but that was ripped off my head by the whipping wind of Buzzard's Bay, and alas, I was once again, hatless.  Which I obviously prefer.

As I drove, (yes, with the sun blazing down on me!) it occurred to me how ridiculously excited I was about creating a big batch of sauce!  For the first time ever, the garlic, peppers and onions will come from my garden, and while I planted a ton of tomato plants myself, that damned horn worm bested me yet again.  I really was hoping to make my very own garden sauce, but then again, I thought, as I drove and screamed to the song on my iPod, if I had had my own tomatoes I wouldn't have had the chance to drive to the farm and then chat with the women who work there, who of course asked why I was purchasing a multitude of tomatoes.  They both got wistful looks on their face when I said I was making sauce, and both said they didn't really have anyone to make sauce for.  I said, but what about yourselves?  And they kind of shrugged and said, well, I suppose ... but I get it.  If I lived alone, I wouldn't make sauce.  I wouldn't really care about cooking, I would just chop up a few tomatoes and eat those for dinner.  But they've had their time for sauce making, they both chimed in on their favorite recipes and experiences.  This is my sauce making time, and I am okay with it.  No, that's not right, I am deliriously happy about making sauce!  And this is the way it goes, as a hormonal, peri-menopausal woman.

Who, while screaming out loud to the music, with the sun blazing upon her, realized she was going to be very screwed with all of the sun exposure.  And that just made me laugh, because why the hell does everything that feels right and good have to be bad for you?  Screw it, I say, to which of course I laughed again, because that has pretty much been my mentality for most of my life.

All of these meandering saucy thoughts brought me back to the chickens.  I have been letting them free range for the past few weeks, and of course, they quite enjoy it.  But when we leave, I feel compelled to put them back into their run, and for the past two days, Maddie, Charlie and I have put on quite a show trying to wrangle them up, with someone yelling and chasing them and the other two trying to act as blockers.  Kind of crazy, but it makes me wonder, why am I bothering?  When I am home, it's not as though I keep an eye on them.  They are out there, fending for themselves, and really, what could I do if something happened?  Probably not much.  And why do I worry about something happening?  Because I did all of that reading because I was so sure I didn't have the capability to raise chickens on my own, and in the end, I realize, of course I can!  They are birds with very little brain capacity, and I happened upon a blog where a woman said just that.  Alas, a blogger who gets that the entire world isn't against letting their chickens run free!  (Quite a few people let fear run their lives, and I do realize this, but I also see how easy it is to vibe into that.  You should have seen us building their run!  I was determined to keep lions and tigers and bears out, at any cost!)  And now, they run free!  They wandered out to the side of the road the other day and I went out and chased them back.  And of course, they went right back, and I thought, well, I'm not going to fence the entire yard!  It's a bit of letting your chickens live their own lives, I suppose, but what I really want to believe is that they are going to be fine.  I heard a sound in the lower field the other morning, and saw a few turkeys, and I thought, okay, there are always turkeys in the lower field, as well as predators of turkeys, and yet, there are still turkeys!  Is it completely naive to believe that I live in a charmed piece of land where little animals can survive?  I have a cat who has been with us well over ten years, and he spends most nights outside.  In other words, I worry and try to turn it into of course there is no reason to worry~!

And then I say, screw it, they will be fine!  And if they're not, they're not.

In truth, it's like not wearing a hat.  I'm going to find out sooner than later what that's going to cost me!  But screw the piper, he's not getting into my pockets!  Those chickens are gleeful when they run outside, they flap around and sing in their little chicken voices, and a life led in happiness has to beat a lifetime of safety in an enclosure.

In fact, I am sure of that.

Mid-summer reflections

I just read my last post where I was musing whether or not my "pains" would go away if I stopped weeding.  That actually worked.  But the trade off is a damned jungle of a garden -- outta control with weeds -- and I guess I have to buck up or lose everything!

We have been staying at the cottage for the last month or so, and it has been wonderful.  Despite the fact that I had to return here every day to deal with dogs and chickens and gardens, it was worth it every night I sat on the porch or dock and watched the sun set and then listened to the lapping of the water as the community settled itself to sleep and eventually complete silence ensued, with only the occasional cry of a loon to be heard.  Both evenings and early mornings became my favorite.   To wake up to a lake that was as smooth as glass was a treat, and Charlie and I would climb into the boat and jet to Sunapee Harbor for an iced coffee or breakfast.  Our first morning home, we have to adjust to the sounds of inland living!  No water!  No boats roaring this way and that.  Instead some giant truck was going down the hill and it sounded like a jet engine.  I set bolt upright in bed, wondering if the world was coming to an end.  I always thought this place was so quiet, but it's actually not.  Lots of traffic on our road it seems.  I don't like it.

Blodgett's Landing has been a part of my story since I was a young adult.  It is where Peter and I came together, where our romance took root in a series of small cottages, as he would move out of his winter rental to move in with his parents on the lake.  Oh, how I hated it when he did that!  He became a slave to the dinner bell and our easy going routine would be harshly disrupted by his "I have to go home for dinner."  Oh, I could write a novel on the dinner wars.  Perhaps I will.  Or not!  I just spent the last week at the cottage preparing a slew of dinners to freeze for his parents, who have had health issues keep them from getting to the lake before this weekend.   My biggest complaint has always been that when we would actually get to the lake, we would be on the dock, enjoying the sun and water, and we would have to go up to the porch at six thirty for dinner, which would then mean the best time of the evening would be spent on a tiny porch with many bodies, with the awning down to block out the sun.  It drove me bonkers.  I do, however, find it interesting that I did that this past weekend, with me being the architect of the design.  I prepared the meals in the morning, losing my coveted time of enjoying the glass lake, etc. to chopping and stirring.  Then later, back in the kitchen at my favorite time of evening to get dinner out to the table, for, you guessed it, a six thirty seating!  What made it all tolerable was that I had spent the weeks prior to that enjoying the things that I like to do.  It's kind of funny to realize that it wasn't the meals, or the time of the meals, or anything to do with the meals I had a problem with.  I just wanted to see the sun set.  I do love sunsets.   I could sacrifice one or two because I had been gorging on them prior to it.

But I digress.  Over the years we have returned to Blodgett's Landing for months at a time whenever we had something big happening to our "inland" home!  But the last time we lived there for any significant amount of time was when Charlie was three.  He is sixteen.  It has been a long time, and over the years I have been convincing myself that I am okay with that, and that now the kids are older, I don't really have any reason to go there at all.  They certainly don't need to be watched while they swim, and they can drive themselves over!  I just assumed that other than visiting with Peter's parents, my connection to the cottage and the Landing itself would sort of die a natural death.  But this past July at the lake has been so relaxing for us all.  It is closer to both Maddie and Charlie's jobs, and even Peter, who does so love his own bed, realized that it's kind of nice to come home after a long, hard day at work and take a swim and maybe even a boat ride.  He even commented that he thinks he would live longer if we lived at the lake.  What I liked the most was that he was free of TV.  He will get home and sit in front of that thing until he goes to bed.  Hey, I watch TV too, but only late at night, only taped shows and not to become a couch zombie.  His complaint is that while he is watching that, I am on the computer.  True, that, but we don't watch ANY of the same shows, so why stop what I am doing to go sit near him and try to socialize while he stares at it.   It's a problem, a problem I have pointed out before, but it was completely a non-issue as there really is no TV at the lake (there is, but it's old and there are no comfortable chairs to sit in while watching it) and so we would relax when he came home, together on the dock.  It was nice.  I will miss it.  I can already feel my stomach clenching at the thought of him returning to the living room to while away his few hours before bedtime.  But perhaps he has learned that there are other ways to relax, which would be nice.

It wasn't hard to return home last night because there are too many people there.  What is an idyllic get-away for a family of four is way too small for eight plus people.  Yesterday morning I thought I was going to burst because I couldn't find an open bathroom for over ten minutes!

The one good thing about being home was that I was actually able to sleep in.  I am a bit sleep-deprived, for no other reason than I wanted long days I guess, and hopped out of bed bright and early to eke out every single hour I could!  But this morning I just felt like I didn't ever have to get up.  Which is good!  Hard to sleep in at the cottage when you can hear people outside doing things and all you can wonder is, what am I missing?  But here I am missing weeding and cleaning out the chicken coop -- I think I can prolong that!

I also haven't had an writing opportunities as I only have an iPad with me when I leave my inland house!  So this feels gooooooood and while I could write until dusk, it is apparent my thoughts are scattered and so I should stop and put them together a bit before rambling on more!

Things I would like to go into depth:

The Landing and its significant impact on my life.  The way being in a small community can be both charming and irritating!

The cottage and what it has meant to myself and my family.  Dealing with other family members.

And more, I am sure!

Putting down roots?

A good portion of each of my days is filled with a mish mash of garden-related chores.  The other day I spent well over three hours on my hands and knees freeing the peas from the most aggressive grass.  I had to literally find the somewhat weak root base of the pea plant and then feel around for the pieces of grass that were choking it out.  As I finally reached the end of the line, I was amazed at how much time had passed.  I didn't mind doing this chore all that much -- it was intricate surgery and required a lot of attention to detail.  These pea plants are well over a foot high and already sprouting pods -- I didn't want them to be pulled out by accident, so I was meticulous in feeling around for the right root to pull out.

This morning I went out to turn on the watering system, and lo and behold if those peas didn't just shoot up another foot.  Freed from the stranglehold of that pesky grass, it was able to grow, and grow it did!

The raspberry patch is another story.  I have weeded that area at least six times already, and there is about a quarter of the patch still left.  The grass and weeds flourish in there like nothing I have ever seen, and while I have put down hay around the areas where I have already weeded (for the SIXTH time, I learn quick, huh!) I can't do that in the other parts until they are free and clear.  It is as though the weeds are cemented in ... BRUTAL ... it takes hours to get the tiniest patch cleared.  The heavy pounding of the rain we have had has made the earth hard ... each and every single piece of unwanted growth needs to be hoed or scratched out with one tool or another.  I can squat and bend for a few hours, but then I need to shake it up.  I have been dealing with a "weeding" injury for a few weeks now -- a pain that is reminiscent of sciatica that I can recall from pregnancies.  Hurts like hell sometimes, then goes away completely for a while.  Of course, me being me, I listened to a friend talk about her ordeal with lyme disease, and of course, many of her symptoms mimic mine (or I get them just hearing about them, not sure which came first, the chicken or the egg) and I add that to the fact that I pulled off a tic from myself a few weeks ago, and well ... I am convinced I have lyme disease.

But then again, I COULD attribute it to the fact that I weed nearly every day, and that is pretty brutal on the body.  I keep thinking maybe I should STOP weeding to see if it will go away.  But I can't!  It will get completely out of control.  As soon as I finish weeding one patio (we have three large ones) the other two need attention.  It is safe to say I weed all the time.

This is all in an attempt to keep poison off the property.  My husband loves poison and has, in the past, taken care of the patios with Round-Up.  Which has always upset me, but then again, it is a tad exhausting doing it "the natural way!"  But if I am going to have free-range chickens around, I absolutely DO NOT WANT poison anywhere.  Period.  And the only way to do that is to keep the patios weeded so he won't even get the idea to do it.  (I caught Charlie using it on one patio not too long ago ... geesh). 

It is amazing to me how many hours I have been putting in, between the chickens and the gardens (and the patios too!)  I haven't had any time to write in the past few weeks (months?) and yet, I am constantly drawn outside, where there is always something to do.  I keep the chicken coop probably a lot cleaner than most ... because for some unbeknownst reason I keep applying my own thoughts and feelings to the silly fowl.  "Oh, I woudn't want to sleep on all of this poop, so it must be removed."  I read how people don't do a thorough cleaning of their coop more than once a month, and I do it weekly, and I touch it up daily.  Overkill?  Perhaps, but there seems to be a though process that there are certain standards for animals and anything above and beyond that is too much.   Our outdoor run is six by twelve feet, I believe, and is about perfect for the 16 chickens to run around in, and stretch their wings, literally.  We have been told a number of times that they don't need that much room.  But I think to myself, why don't they?  They love it, every morning when I let them out they rush around in circles and fly and hop and literally get their ya-ya's out.  It's a pleasure to watch them truly enjoy themselves.  And every time I bring in a pile of weeds they clamor about in glee.  Maybe most chickens don't have feelings, but mine do!  I have gotten over the "I have no idea what I am doing," phase and feel quite confident that there is no one way to raise chickens.  I even look forward to getting a new batch of chicks (in the future, no time soon!) and I know exactly how I will do it this time, and I assure you, they will NOT be in my house.  I have no idea what kind of crazy people think that is the way to go, but it is not necessary if you have a decent coop.

And another thing I have decided to let go of is the concern about predators.  Peter and I have done our best to create a fortress of a chicken run, and then I read that raccoons will chew through chicken wire.  Well, you know what?  I want free range chickens ... I have one chicken that does everything in her power to sneak out, and I am not terribly sure why I won't let her run to her heart's content.  My vision is chickens wandering about, and keeping them locked up isn't part of that.  I wanted the run so that when we weren't home they could still be outside and somewhat safe, but somehow along the line I've forgotten that my intent is for them to run free.  Peter asks me daily when I am going to start, and my mentality has been so focused on protecting them, I've forgotten the vision.  So next week I am going to introduce them to the big, free world.

I think!