Massage and a Float: We Tried to Relax...

    For Christmas, my husband and children gave me/us an overnight at a B&B along with a massage and float session at a spa in New Paltz, NY.  We went  on a Monday/Tuesday, so we avoided the weekend crowds at the B&B.  Overall, it was lovely.
     We started at Mountain Float Spa  and discovered what lovely people Joey and Grace (the proprietors) are.  My husband had floated years ago while training in Southern California,  but I had not. He scheduled himself for a 90 minute float, and me for a 60 minute float and a 60 minute massage.  He thought I might actually be able to relax and turn off a bit if I were floating in water mixed with 800 lbs. of Epsom Salt.  Apparently not.
     The float tank was nice, but I spent too  much time analyzing the experience.  I could have used slightly warmer water and air temperatures, and maybe no earplugs.  Maybe if I had an audiobook to listen to at the same time...  Too much to think about.  After rinsing off all the salt, I went to the massage - an hour of pure bliss.  For me a massage is the only way to truly relax.  I told the massage therapist that I was mainly holding tension in the triangle of my neck and shoulders.  When she had completed the session, I thanked her and told her I felt much better, and she looked at me and said, "You don't just hold tension in your shoulders.  You are really tense all over."  I thought it was funny, as that is what my husband is always telling me, and now there was professional confirmation.
     Back at the B&B, The 1850 House, we discovered we were the only patrons, so we had the place to ourselves, and our own private chef for the morning.  The  place was gorgeous, completely restored, with beautiful original woodwork, statuary, a sun porch, and a wonderful staff.

I adore that statue!

   After a fabulous meal the next morning, we wandered around trying to find the entrance to the path leading to the old trestle which was now part of a walking path.  We found one end, but no parking anywhere nearby, so we opted on exploring a park in town.  We hiked up a mountain and  got shot from above the bridge, and after our trek, drove out of town and as we were leaving, saw the entrance to the path...

We found an old car that had been dumped - but for the life of me, we could not figure out how it got to the place it lay.  We poked about, playing amateur archeologists, trying to find markings to determine what make the car was, but no success.  It's a mystery!

     

We needed to replace that fence.

    Fall semester had been a busy and stressful one at work.  We had decided to try to slow down during our winter break and actually try to relax.  This, of course, could not start until AFTER Christmas because I was working and giving exams right through until Christmas Eve.   So December 26 we were sitting around the table, eating breakfast, and the doorbell rang.  One of our tenants was there to tell us our llama had escaped and was visiting the neighbors, because apparently someone had driven through our  pasture fence.  Actually, "driven through" is not the correct phrase - they took out half of the fencing along the road and  then continued through the pasture to take out more fencing perpendicular to the road.
     Grabbing coats, boots, etc, we raced down to the farm to see a bunch of people there: one of the tenants,  the father and son who live next to the farm,  a farmer who lives down the road,  and a complete stranger who had  the llama back in the pasture and eating grain out of a bucket.  The fence was just a tangle of wire and pulled out posts, the tire tracks ran through the field, across the driveway, and across the front lawn of the house, and pieces of the offending vehicle were  sprinkled across the grass. The well head had the paint scraped off of it by the vehicle's tires, but was not cracked - so we were lucky in that.

We were lucky he did not  damage the gate.

We called the police, and the State Troopers came right out.  A couple of really sweet guys, they spent several hours looking in parking lots, in the trailer parks, as well as going to the auto parts stores to see if any silver vehicle had come in  needing part of the  undercarriage and the passenger side mirror replaced.  We knew from the parts that it was American made,  and I had found  paint chips across the grass so we had been able to narrow the search field, but they told us not to expect much.  

      We  started the work of  cleaning up all the ripped up wire,  pulling out the cracked fence posts and gathering the metal ones that had been bent. 

We were very lucky because around here, the two days after Christmas were warm enough that the ground had not frozen, so we were able to replace the fence posts without trying to dig through frozen ground.  We were also very lucky in our neighbors.  The young boy next door spent most of Dec. 26 helping us replace the posts.  Digging fence posts in rocky soil is no treat, and the three of us kept shifting through using the post hole digger, and smashing or prying out larger rocks with a very large metal pole. 

    The police stopped by three times to update the progress of the search - no luck.  Then about 3 pm or so, we see one of  "our" troopers racing down the road, light flashing, and bam!  He got him!  The guy who had caused the damage drove by, in the damaged minivan, and the police had luckily been sitting in a nearby driveway interviewing neighbors when they saw him.    

    An hour or two later, the owner of the vehicle stopped by to explain what happened.  He had fallen asleep at the wheel Christmas night, ran through the fence with three of his kids in the car.  He knocked on the door, but the tenants were at their folks homes, so  he took his very upset children home.  Discussions for reparations were had, and the  work continued.

     It took us two and a half days, and the 27th it rained ALL DAY, so it was nasty, muddy, wet work, but we replaced the sections that had been destroyed and were able to let the llama out in the  pasture after two days of being cooped up in the barn with the sheep.   The third day, it got very cold and windy.  Again, we were lucky - trying to stretch a fence in that would have been much more uncomfortable.  We  spent much of the third day running new electrics and went home, tired but  assured that the animals would be safe. 

not perfect, but pretty good

fairly straight fence.

We were very lucky in this entire incident - it could have been much worse all around.  People, animals, the house and the barn all escaped injury.  Our kids were fantastic - running to McDonald's to grab lunch for us the first day.   When we came home frozen and wet the second night - we had been working by flashlight and headlights to finish stretching and clipping all the fencing the second night - our children and our daughter's boyfriend just made us dinner, brought it out to the living room where we were sitting in front of the fire trying to warm up.  When we finished and had fallen asleep  with the dishes still in our hands, they just took them away and covered us with blankets.

     I am hoping 2016 is a gentler year at the farm!

Why Are We Here?

     As we drove up to our farm yesterday to  wrestle our new (old) sickle bar mower off the truck and into the shed,  we passed the now empty house next door.  Apparently the folks who had rented it have moved.  We  only knew two of the children, who would stop by the farm whenever we were there, to play with the lambs,  follow us around as we did chores, or play with our youngest son.   Most of the time, this was no big deal - kids are kids.  However, I admit to sometimes thinking, "why don't they ever stay home?"
     One day sticks out in my memory.  We drove up and the one child was standing at the corner of the fence to the front pasture.  They were very good about minding the rule - "no playing at the farm unless we are there."  The child was wearing their backpack and waiting.  I looked at my husband and rolled my eyes,  and may have actually said, "Why do they not stay home sometimes."  We pulled in and the child came down to the barn asking if they could  stay at the farm until the police left their house.  We said yes, and were told the police were helping the child's mother with some sort of dispute over her business.  The child said they did not like the police.  I said the standard parental type thing about police helping us, and how they were there whenever there was a problem - they were the good guys.  The child replied that they did not like the police because the last time they came,  the police took them to the hospital in handcuffs.  (This child suffered from mental illness.)
     Talk about feeling guilty!  This young person, who had been through a lot more horrific things in their life than I had ever dreamed of, came to us and the farm for solace, and a safe place to be;  to forget for an hour or so all the hard realities of their life, and just feed the sheep, or  run in the field with our son, or tag along with my husband and I, talking about their day, or their family, or anything.  And I had selfishly wished they had stayed home.
     It's funny how sometimes we are put in a place for a reason, which may not be apparent to us at the time, but really teaches us something over the long term.  I hope that for the year or so they lived near us, the child did  find a safe place at our farm.  I hope, for a little while, they were able to forget the hard parts of their life, and just laugh while playing with the lambs, or playing superheroes with our son in the pasture.
    As we drive by the empty house next door, I find myself wondering if they have stayed in town or are off to a new place.  I hope they continue to find the people and places that make them feel safe.   I hope I remember the lesson I learned from this child - that I am and always have been blessed with a loving family, stability, security,  and if I can give this to a child who needs it, the inconvenience of not having my own "quiet time" at the farm is a small price to pay.
 
PS:  Tonight, when you hit your knees, please include this child and all those like them, in your prayers! Thanks

The bears we hold dear

      Most of us have had one.  Some of us still do.  A teddy bear - someone we cuddled with at night when we were sleepy.  Or cried all over when we were sad.  Or squeezed tightly during times of fear.  Mine has been with me all his life and mine.  I have no idea who gave him to me.  He has seen me through childhood, helped me survive first love and break ups. He has been to college with me, travelled to the UK for a year, and is the bear I hold dearest in this world.  His name is Fuzzy, and he is now anything but.  He was eviscerated one summer when we were on vacation and our dogs ripped him apart in protest of just having a dog sitter and not  family for two weeks.  In my childish, un-trained way, I stitched him back together, and always swore I would make him a jacket to cover the scars - he is still naked 43 years later.

      I was reminded of the longevity of teddy bears today, when I was wishing a college friend happy birthday.  Her bear, Claude, popped into my head and I asked about him.

He is still with her. I remember talking with Claude when I visited this friend in London nearly thirty years ago. He is a wise bear.  He is a gentle bear.  And he is still imparting smiles.

"We're gonna need a bigger...barn"

   I always loved that moment in JAWS when Roy Scheider looks at Robert Shaw and says, "we're gonna need a bigger boat."  So understated.  This week we put the breeding  groups of sheep together and realized that if each ewe only has twins - Finnsheep are known for throwing litters - we will add an additional 14 sheep to our flock in April.  If Rosie harkens back to her dam's  breeding style - she alone could give birth to 6 - yes, 6 lambs.  Our barn is not set up for this.  We can handle things through the summer, but we have got to find a way to add onto our current barn, or  build a second building so we can split the ewes and the  rams and  house  some of the hay that is currently in this barn in another place.
   So they are still getting used to being in different pens with different sheep, but hopefully by mid next month all will be bred and we can go back to our regular penning system.   Then come Spring - lambs!  In the meantime, if anyone wins the lottery and wants to make a charitable donation - we could really use that barn!

The Hopeful farmer: Of chickens and raccoons and rats

    We own chickens.  We  are neither chicken fans, nor chicken haters.  We just own them because when we first bought our farm it had  an RA40 zoning, and our realtor advised us to get animals on it, so it would not be deemed recreational, but agricultural.  Okay.  You have heard the rooster saga - Snowy,  was a bully, and eventually became coq au vin.  Yummy!
    Over a month ago, one of our Austrolorps was getting picked on by the other chickens.  She went from being a pretty black chicken with iridescent feathers to this

Her back was raw and bloody from them picking at her.  I put a blue cote antiseptic on it, hoping they might lay off if they did not see the red back.  No such luck.  So we took her out of the coop and let her free-range.  We figured she had a better chance against the occasional hawk than she did with her flock.  We dubbed her Raggedy Ann and crossed our fingers.  She promptly settled herself on the highest  bale of hay in the stack, and was quite happy.  She would come running up to the car as we pulled in at feeding times (why we did not hit her, I have no idea!)  and she contentedly wandered around the coop, as if taunting her flock mates with her freedom!

    Of course,  we had to put down some food for her, as most of the insects are gone at this time of year.  This allowed the rat that I knew was somewhere on the farm (I saw it last summer) to become bolder.  We saw it drinking from the ewes' water bucket, and every night it dragged raggedy's pellet bowl under the pallets  in the hay  shed.  Not good.  Then a few days later,  all the chickens in the coop were  sitting out  in the run - even though it was cold.  I opened the coop door to change the water, and the rat was sitting on the feeder chowing down on pelletized chicken food.   It looked at me, then took off.   Many friends made sweet references to Templeton, but I assure you, there is nothing sweet or romantic about a rat in the coop.   The next day we had set rat traps.   After two days we had caught  (and killed) one rat,  and two field mice.  We have seen no others, and the traps remain baited but not sprung.  So Rat Abatement Complete.

    A week or so later we had a dead, headless chicken.  Damn!  Raccoon?  Weasel/mink?  Time for research.   We returned the next day to three more dead chickens, only two missing their heads, the other just mauled.  Pretty certain it is raccoons.  We had one in the barn last year, and as adorable as they look, they are vicious when it comes to the flock.   We have been much more vigilant as we  have entered the dark season to be certain to close them into the coop at night,  and check carefully for signs of climbing or digging by the predators.  

      We are down to six chickens from eleven (one died of natural causes), so we thought, let's try putting Raggedy Ann back in the coop.  Things were fine for  a week, but yesterday, as we were checking the sheep, there was a hullaballoo from the coop, and Raggedy was getting chased again - even though she is full feathered and healed.  So back out she came, and up on her hay bale she perched.   I just hope there is enough insulation  in the bales for her to stay warm as winter approaches.  

     I do not understand  chickens.  They are not unlike humans.  "Oh, we have a predator senselessly killing us.  Instead of banding together, let's pick on the outsider."  Stupid birds. 

A Walk Down Memory Lane - Theatrical Design Work

     I have been updating my portfolio and realizing that a lot of the shows I documented by shooting on slide film!  Now, as I am trying to find images to put on my website, all I see in the pre-digital photos are fuzzy images as I tried to convert slides to photos.  Argh!   If any of my former students or colleagues have photos of some of the shows we did together and would like to share, I would welcome the extra images.
    In the meantime, here is the link to my other site showing some of my work, and sharing a lot of memories of the wonderful actors, and directors, and designers, and producers I have been so lucky to work with.  Design Portfolio