that eternal bubbling

A heavy crop of snow.
Once again the blog is the last thing on my mind, but I do want you to know that as I wander and work, my camera is always with me.  I capture this and that with the good intention of turning it into a blog post.  For instance, this pic is from my walk on Saturday morning- after Mother Nature thought it would be cute to dump 14 inches of snow on us as an April Fool's joke.  This poor little guy wasn't laughing-

A mighty little force of nature.

He was on my trail, in a rut as deep as a railroad tie- how something so fragile, so tiny could survive a snow storm in Maine and remain intact is another great mystery I hope I never solve.  I picked him up quite gingerly, my heart sank as I figured he was as good as dead- but apparently the warmth of my hand was all he needed to revive.  I placed him inside my coat and turned around early from my walk- I needed to get this little fellow into my warm seed shack until Spring really came for him.  Just as I rounded the bend on the lane, up and out he fluttered- to an old dead Birch tree near my mailbox- maybe the loosened bark on that tree would serve a cocoon like purpose.  It still amazed me, the whole small experience of finding a butterfly in April in Maine in a foot of snow....

Raised beds in the hoop house- snow bank outside.

And those seeds started in the seed shack in March in Maine are now doing quite well.  We have 31 flats started and are fixing to start about 20 more if I can make more room.  The Asian greens are already to be put into a colder climate as well as some turnips I started- I know, I know but I can't help my self.  I'm a Midwesterner by birth and now is the time to plant this stuff!  Last year at a market I sell at, some folks thought I was a witch or something- bringing greens and radishes to fruit too early for mere mortals- nah, I just don't know any better.   What's a little snow or frost- that's what they make plastic blankets and straw for.                                                                                                                                                           

I haven't had the best of luck recently- on a beautiful perfect day I wrecked my truck.  Blueberry pie went flying, accelerator had a mind of it's own and frost heaves in the road set it all in motion.  I hurt my pride and my shoulder but all else worked out.  Although- take this to heart and heed it from someone who wished they had.- 

If you get a recall on your vehicle- do as it says.  I just received mine in the mail two days prior to the accident- it encouraged me to remove the floor mat- this encouragement I did not read until after the wreck.  If only...

Well, that's just about it in a nutshell- seeds are started, more work to do there.  Snow is covering this lovely land but surely will recede soon when the temps hit the 50 mark, as they are rumored to do come midweek.

Guineas do not like the white stuff.

I hope your Spring is bringing that eternal bubbling about in your veins, may you feel looser, may you be free to wander and wonder at the small things bursting through the earth just at your feet.  Something in that tiny stem excavates a person's soul from the deep, cold trenches of winter- the thaw begins as light reaches in and all is made anew once more.  

Take care-

flustered here on the farm last night

In a few days, I'll be railing across America.  Well, half way...from Boston to Chicago and then on down to more central points in a state that is known for it's half dead politicians and dead voters who vote often enough...
I must admit, I am terrified of those large cities- I find little of myself in concrete places, just not my element.  What I do find are stories and the people behind them, folks I would have never met had I not gone to the outer limits of my huge comfort/freedom zone.  I would be deeply remiss if I did not admit that by traipsing off into what seems from the wild wilderness- dangerous territories, I often do find such goodness and kindness- frequently in every person I meet.  I do.  Truly.  Not just friendly bumps and sharing spaces, often enough- we stay in touch, we email and aaaarrrggghhhhh... Facebook, apt name.  Faces, yes- (surface dwelling) but at least, it is a somewhat common connection picture posting world.  But it's a fast connect- a virtual flash.  Not much for memory storage...which for this truewonder, is like eating pie and never knowing what the flavor of the filling is because it gets left out.  A light snack for this voracious eater just leaves me hungrier...


On with the story then!  Oh yes, that's what you come here for- the story.  I've got one...it's wondrous.  It has to do with Mystery Guests and artificial shelters.  Intriguing, no?!  How about screams in the darkness, fumbling for boots that should be burned, feathers flying and stars penetrating a fertile darkness?  Weapons and shovels, ice and mittens?  Do tell you say?!  Well, since you insist...


I read the book, I loved the book, I read the critiques of those who read the book and loved the book but not so much the movie.  I liked the movie.  I loved the actress and the man she fell in love with, well- who wouldn't?
The author of said book is a real gem and I'll always follow her because she's brilliant.  But the book and the movie and the love parts that left more to the imagination than seeing boobs and never.. well- you know whats...they don't show those near enough in my way of thinking.  Goodness sake, there's enough of 'em hanging around- what's the harm if one should be exposed like the booby flashing?  Same difference- body parts that get us flustered and blushing...well, I do get red in the cheeks and I look around sheepishly to see if anyone else is happily embarrassed by nudity.  There I go again, off the subject...little trips I like to take you on, just to see if you're paying attention...


I was watching the movie- Eat, Pray, Love.  Totally immersed, completely alone and still- no boobs, no one-eyed monsters and it didn't matter if I blushed or not and frankly, the imaginative way the romances went, well- I liked that opening into my own mind of what might have been going on behind those closed doors and pulled curtains.  Made myself blush... and then, speaking of monsters- I heard screaming.  The screen scene showed India so I just assumed for a moment it was a peacock in their garden, just off camera.  But then I began to hear Guinea fowl squawking, my head questioned- "Guineas in India?"  And my brain then reasoned, although it is seldom geographically correct-
"No, Guineas do not live there..."
I jumped up, turned the volume down and the Guineas and something else resumed screaming, ever louder- every second.  I stepped out onto the deck.  I hollered,(like before a few posts back)...
"Hey!  What's going on?! Hey, heyyyyyyyy!!!!!" 
It didn't stop the squawking commotion and I didn't like the eerie screams, the curdling kind- coming from the direction of the hoop-house, which is known in winter time as the HoopCoop.
Because I keep the chickens in there...didn't I never tell you that?  Sorry.  I do keep the poultry out there in a Florida-like room.  Since the owl attacks of last week, I've gotten the Guineas to go in too, of an evening.  At first it was like pulling teeth, but after two more of their members were beheaded- they all figured that the artificial clear cave might be better than being sitting ducks in a tall Spruce just next door.


The Big Fish was sleeping like a hibernating bear- chick flicks do that to him, I didn't want to rouse the bear...yet.  So I fumbled blindly in the dark for those damn boots, and that sweet Carhart coat and green  mittens but did not take the time- for time seemed to be of the essence...not for me so much, I tell you- I was a little afraid, wasn't sure what I might encounter out there, uh-hum...didn't take the time to grab a flashlight as the moon seemed ample to brighten up the yard.  Down the stairs I ran, collecting Gideon and Etta as I went- had to pull their teeth too, it was cold- they were warm and saw no need, voluntarily deaf to boot- to go outdoors after dark.


As I rounded the corner out the back door, I spied a shovel sticking out of the snow pile and grabbed it up and carried it over my head like a villager ready to take on Frankenstein.  Screaming, hollering- so just in case whatever was causing all the ruckus might be made just as scared as I was...helter-skelter I continued on.  In opening the HoopCoop door,  nervous soft cluck clucks and low, continuous whistles echoed amongst the Guineas- that is their way of saying to one another-
"The sky isn't falling yet so no worries, because I'll warn you and you'll warn me and we will scream loudly in unison when the time is right, agreed?!"


So to this talk I added,
"Babies, babies, chick, chick, chick, it's OK, it's OK...everybody here?" 
 Real low like- matching the quality of gentle cautious sounds...this always seems the best kind of communication when dealing with the Don Knotts of farm fowl, the every-ready-to-freak-out Guineas.


I looked up then to their roost and counted- they were all there.  I looked around on the ground beneath them for any sign of a weasel or raccoon.  Nothing.  I checked out the chickens in their hay bale home- they were all but snoring.  No nervousness there- the little black tenacious hen had every one calm and in order.  I looked up one more time- I wondered if the Guineas must have just been able to see a shadow flying overhead- perhaps the owl from nights before was searching still, from great hunger- a midnight snack. 


 I could see the sky as if there were no thin veil of a plastic partition between me and the stars.  All the condensation had melted during the bright sun day so there was nothing to frost or freeze causing an opaque screen usually, to look through.  I was satisfied then with the shadow theory, sweetly I whistled my calm goodwill and goodnight to all and I went back inside to finish my movie and warm fire.  Nary a nude scene left- still, I enjoyed the film to it's finish.  Off to sleep went I, dreaming of far away places and islands with four hundred parrots.


My morning chores began earlier than ever, I had to affirm that all was well and that no unknown carnage came to be while I dreamed of carnal pleasures...which incidentally, amounted to chocolate rocks that you could pick up and nibble- I kid you not, that was my dream symbol from last night.

  Eat+Pray+Love= Chocolate...makes sense to me.

Like the mysteries of nudity and love making scenes left to the imagination- I'll leave you with the same.  And...some glorious frost imprints and really quite amazing hints to go on of just who or what had every one flustered here on the farm last night.

A Surprise Barrier to Hungry Claws and Beating Wings

Close encounters of the winged kind.

A few rips and tears to be mended.


Well then, that should do it.  Happy Valentine's Day...I'll be back after my wandering ways have ended.  I hope this long story keeps you well and again, please- I do request- check back on my last post.  Do give a damn, it is as important as roots to a tree and seeds to a sunflower.
Take care-

Mystery Guest(s)

What makes a supposedly sane person or bird for that matter- go out into a storm just to see what hasn't been seen, ever before at the bird feeder?  What strange force compels one to sit beneath a spruce tree with a recently replaced new digital camera that one could barely afford, and risk it's demise in a frigid wintry mix of moisture, snowfall and gale forces?!  Frost-bit be damned to the trigger finger...by golly, let it fall off- I must, I must I tell you- capture this image...

Mystery Guest

Who is this mystery guest?  I was all aflutter when I spied him and he spied me.  I tell you true, he did a little dance for me in the snow, not three feet away.  I believe he may have been as excited to see me as I him.  (Or her...)  It could be the reciprocating glee came from the fact that I was filling feeders in a blinding snow- still, let me have this one dream come true.  Just this one for now...a mystery guest came to these bold Downeast woods, and I am richer for it!


Now, on the flip side of that coin- the morning found me screaming at the top of my lungs, running through three feet of fresh on top of compacted snow with the most horrendous, useless boots on.   And wave my arms I did, and gestured hugely hollering and yelling towards the culprit who just moments earlier had knocked one guinea off it's roost by ripping it's head off from above pine branch and then zeroed in on another while this intended second victim tried to makes it safe way through showering snow and little light.  I saw this mystery unwanted guest pounce, grab, shake, rip- I heard the guinea scream to no avail while all others scattered, screaming too.  I rounded the pen and in the ten second time frame blind spot- I lost sight of the killer.  By losing sight yet never hearing the exit- I realized...an owl had just visited the tranquil forest's edge and reduced my guinea fowl population by two...
The one left on the ground, head still intact but...well, I won't go into detail -  there was just enough life left that I held her and stroked her, gave her thanksgiving and farewell.  My only regret- that the owl would have at least consumed these birds, instead- it came like a cat- dismembering, disenchanting the rest and me and now the safety in numbers and homestead is innocence lost to the not yet year old brood of the most nervous birds on the farm.   This same fellow or female came back at end of day to perch upon the tallest Spruce in the yard- viewing, waiting, ready to do the same as it had done in the early A.M.  In admiration, in joy- I would have grabbed my camera again to take THE photo of a great owl.  But at that time, I had no welcome in me- I only wanted this guest to leave and never come back.  So from a safe distance on our second snow covered story deck- again, I waved and screamed.

"Go away!!!  Get away you bastard...leave them alone."

And then, after it seemed I had no affect on this wild forager- I pleaded with him-
"Then just take one to feed on, but only one.  I know you're hungry, I know you need to eat too...but such waste you left in your wake this morning.  If you are such a great hunter, prove it.  If you are so wise, be that too.  Don't take more than you need, don't kill just to kill.  Surely you are a better bird than that."
I know...but when you're left with the only weapon that truly can make a difference, if only to your self- appealing with reason, if only your own- at least it brings a bit of peace to the situation.
From that lofty perch, where the owl remained and swiveled that magnificent head then- towards me...silently, swiftly and oh so very elegantly- he left.  Up, up on open wide wings towards the deeper woods from where he came.   And I was thankful, again- for a time.
Later I put on those awful boots, adorning myself as well with scarf and mittens, Carharts and an umbrella and waited with the rest...the guineas in their secret other perch, me underneath.  We heard the who-o-o-s and fretted almost silently, so as not to give off the new position.  But I thought I heard nervous talk among the survivors- and finally came the call from the new leader-
To me this is what he said to the clan, "We are safe as long as we remain together, quietly- until one feels truly endangered.  Then by all means, speak up so that the rest of us might know what we are up against.  Otherwise, quiet yourselves- be still..."


I went in then, to my warm fire- leaving the way of the world and the wild to the forces greater than I.
This morning finds me and the guineas, the Redpolls and Chickadees safe and in sunshine.

 The owl?  I do not know...he did not take me up on my offer, his ways are not my ways and as we both acknowledge each others predicaments, I guess one might say we live in peace at this telling- each on our own terms.

Redpoll

ankle deep discounts AND the better of the best

~Black Fly Cover Girl~

(with tiny catch & release of the day...)

Good morning…I am hectically writing this morning as I stayed up too late fishing, being bug bit- needing a transfusion this morning it feels…as though I’m anemic.  Could be the coffee cup needs filled again… could be the hectic pace of Spring planting and fishing and photographing and chick upbringing is catching up to me.  Could be that I am finding my self a glorious pace in this glorious place of Maine.  Whew!  That’s enough of that kind of streaming thought faze…

 ~Chicken Condo~

(complete with swimming pool and rowdy Guinea neighbors)

Found myself meandering off the chosen path that *Lola had laid out for me last week (as I had previously committed to driving to Lincolnville to pick up new guinea chicks)- I was caught off guard by a big old red barn full of trash and treasures.  What self respecting junk seeker could resist the allure of rust and chipped paint?!  Certainly not this one…

Besides, I was in the market for a good old bike with fat tires and dented fenders.  The Treasures & Trash Barn, run by none other than Jeff Merry and his sweetheart of a  mother with a beautiful name to boot- Faustina, did not let me down.  We tried to wedge the American Flyer in the back seat of the too-tiny-Toyota.  Darn near got it stuck in there forever-

Mr. Merry and I adjusted, bent over backwards, performed a full Nelson and finally wedged that beautiful old bike in the back of the bed, atop the cages meant for new chicks.  Mission completed, I vowed to return again and again to that Merry place of treasures.  Should you decide to go, be forewarned- there is something you’ll just have to have.  I’m not sure if checks are taken, but cash speaks loud and clear though ankle deep discounts are given to certain shoppers that tickle the proprietor’s sense of good humor.  Route 1, Searsport Maine- just this side of Belfast.  Beautiful drive, great grub to be found as well at the Depot turned into a hot dog refuge.  

Treasures & Trash Barn

(207) 548-2787

Thanks for hanging, I’m off to the seedling sale at Tide Mill Farm, again- Route 1…my favorite out of the way places are on this road.  The further East you drive, the less traffic one encounters, the more happenstance occurs and the better of the best fish and chips ever, are to be found.

Take care-  

 (OH!***Lola is my GPS, what Lola wants, Lola gets...rarely.)

Hoop-Dee-Do House

Good Spring morning where ever you are!  I had to give the Big Fish a ride to work this A.M, his Toyota being on the blink- and I was able to greet the sun properly.  It seems that buds are ready to burst, birds are building and filling nests and mosquitoes are out lusting for blood already.  No fear, I have a netted type of gear that is supposed to keep them at bay (when I mention this to a true Mainer, they just chuckle and say "wait and see").  In one months time I shall have Guineas on the place, they do keep the bug population down- but from the size of the mosquitoes I've seen, they may need a fork and knife or protective netted gear too.

The man has finished the green/hoophouse, I have christened it the "Hoop Dee Do House",  because every time I'm in it I wonder- why the heck wasn't I having this much fun before?  It is a marvelous device-and right in the ground whether it's rain or shining- seeds are planted, tomatoes are started and should it begin to sprinkle, the soft pelts of the raindrops on top of the plastic are downright mesmerizing- and the soily perfume smell is just plain heaven.
  The farm time clock is running, the numbers just drop away and a sense of flow begins.
  I do believe it is too early to be too hopeful about putting too much in the ground right now- but the hay bale gardens are full with lettuce and radishes, the mini cloche is full of weeds yes, but also chard, radishes and I forget.  Just wanted to get it established in March, so as to show the man that one can grow certain crops in cold weather with a minimum amount of protection.   Today, with this sunshine- my wearied back will get a work out as we have had all gardens tilled but still they need raked and cover crops planted and dill needs to get involved as does broccoli, more beets, more radishes, more lettuce, more arugala, onions, potatoes and soon, I'll be adding perennial horseradish and asparagus to the mix.  Two cherry trees are arriving Wednesday, can't live without my pie cherries...and the herb garden must be put in soon.

Oh!  The butterscotch birds will be here soon as well, Buff Orpingtons- my favorite chicks, hardy, happy built for cold weather poultry.   Now whether the Labs will prove to be better guard dogs of the flock than they were in Illinois remains to be seen...as so much here still remains to be seen.  I know hardly nothing of the foliage of the weeds, even the soil is completely different from what I'm use to- but, I'm willing to learn and every day finds me in the classroom that is my new home.

Take care-

Back to the feather

If you observe a really happy man you will find him building a boat, writing a symphony, educating his son, growing double dahlias in his garden, or looking for dinosaur eggs in the Gobi desert. He will not be searching for happiness as if it were a collar button that has rolled under the radiator. He will not be striving for it as a goal in itself. He will have become aware that he is happy in the course of living life twenty-four crowded hours of the day. --W. Beran Wolfe


The quote above hit me this morning like a ton of....feathers! Observing people is a favorite past time of mine, happy, sad, bitchy, gloomy-it does not matter, a story teller everyone. As BAM so eloquently commented, "the barely perceptible stars" among us. Very few people, I have observed, would fit the reference in the quote-but! at some point, in conversing with folks-their eyes do shine. Almost always, it is when they speak of their loves: children, family, beer, pets, gardens, music, sunrises, sunsets, a kiss, etc.
And most times, these are never present happenings, generally they are past experiences or hopeful future ones.
Hmmmmm. Speaking for myself, I am most happy in the present moment-when my mind turns off,my mouth shuts up and my ears and eyes, and sometimes touch-brings me the joy I often seek, but come to realize-to seek is often to miss out on discovering.

I'll go outside once I've finished here and chop ice, feed the animals, and say "good morning sun!" Happy, happy, joy, joy. Perhaps I'll discover a feather and marvel at it's intricacies, and wonder-which bird left this treasure? Or perhaps, out by the corn crib-I'll find owl scat with remnants of a late night snack and hope that my guineas, chickens and cats are all still accounted for. If not- well, I'll say something like,"Hey buddy!!! You've got fields galore and woods to boot, a smorgasbord of field mice await you! Knock it off." I'll think about shooting him, of course I know that's illegal-but still, I'll think about it...and realize eventually, he has as much right to exist as I do. I'll accept his habits-acknowledge he is no more trespassing on this land than I am. He's just doing what owls do...and I am thinking too much how to level the playing field for all the creatures here. AAAAARRRGGGHHH! There I go, thinking too much again! Back to the feather. A gift, a beauty- a souvenir of serendipity.

A slow-down-and-smell-the-icicles to you today, take care-