THIS is happening

As much as I still don't enjoy spring like normal people do, some really cool stuff has been going on at the Ol Homestead.  

First of all, these two teenagers got kicked out of mom's pen and had to get their own apartment.

BECAUSE MAMA HAD TRIPLETS!

This is the first time new goat kids have been born at our place.  Usually their people have them moved up to the river where they spend summer by the time the babies arrive.  SURPRISE! Mildred looked like she had maybe a little goat or two in there, but she is just very good at her job.  

Then three days later, our friend came out to do her chores and there was a tiny wet goat kid in the next pen.  She had to figure out who the baby belonged to, and it wasn't the one she expected.  So first-time mother Lucy got off to a bit of a confused start, but we have them in their own pen now, the baby has figured out where milk comes from and the mother has figured out that the whole process is okay, and everybody is alive.  

Phoenix would now like to remind us all what it's all about.

RELAX.  Seriously.  Why so stressful?  (He is a horse, he has no idea what the word taxes  means and he never has to pay bills with no income - he has no concept of income, so really, why wouldn't he relax, right?)  He's totally IN THE MOMENT.

This is simply a great thing to see in the morning.  These critters know how to enjoy a nice day.  

Here's Parker whinnying to me as I walk in the gate.  

Then I sat on the floor of the shed, half in the sunshine, and watched horses chew hay.  

I live with the bipolar schizophrenic house-squirrel, and the sweet barn cat is the one who punched me in they eye...

Dice thinks it's fun to jump onto things.  So far that includes the top rail of the fence, Phoenix's back, and me.  Yesterday he aimed for my shoulder just as I turned my head and BOOMF he got me in the left eye.  Felt like he left a claw in there.

Ever since he launched himself onto Phoenix's back during a "parts of the horse" lesson, I realized I have to break the cat of this habit.  I just didn't get the retraining done on time, it turns out.

He's an adorable, fun, cute and friendly dude of a cat.  I treasure him.  I sat in the emergency room for two hours last night, thinking about how stupid it is that I had to cancel a lesson at an indoor arena last night because my super-lovey barn cat loves me so much he thought he should crawl right into the hood of my coat to get closer to me.

Meanwhile, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, the fluffy mercurial crazy feline, who growls like the devil one second and then meows like a cute kitten the next, and has been very likely to move out of here for a few months now, has been all cuddly and sweet today.  She gently placed her paws on my shoulder during breakfast this morning.  I turned my head.  Her face was right beside my left eye.  She purred and nudged my cheek.

Cats are friggen weird, man.

"But it FEELS LIKE -40 with the wind chill."

What, like -25 C wasn't cold enough????

The weather reporter is wearing a hat plus a fuzzy hood.

The son's school, which is in town and stays open when the rural buses are cancelled, is shut down.

My daughter isn't in school today because the entire college is shut down.

The highway is closed.

Our road is open but there's not much traffic - and it's slow.

The snow has drifted up to the barn windows.

Yesterday my ol man got the tractor and snowblower into the corral yesterday morning.  He cleared snow away from the manure pile.  By 5:00 the path was drifted over.

I'm not sure where I'm going to dump the manure.  For the last couple years I dug a path or get the snowblower in there.  It's too much this year.  IT HAS BROKEN MY SPIRIT WAHHHHHH.

The water tap in the barn is frozen.

So is my face.  After about five minutes outside my cheeks feel numb.  Or ten minutes.  Two minutes? I don't know.

But.

The electricity still works, so the trough heater is doing its thing, and thankfully the house has power.

I left the horses in the barn this morning, just picked the stalls a little and gave them hay.  The goats are unflustered and the chickens, well, they're chickens.

It's ridiculously beautiful out there.  The field is like a frozen ocean, and the sunlight shifts with every drift of snow.

And as much as I complain, I'm still so happy to not be working in an office right now.

BEST MUSIC VIDEO EVER MADE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juEDccTWoN4

Seriously, if you haven't yet, copy that link into your google bar there up top and watch this.  You might see something familiar in there.  And thrashing and hair flinging and musical instruments and y'know, a typical fun Sunday afternoon here at the ol Homestead... curious?  Go check it out!!!

MY SCARY BARN

I work in a spooky old barn, full of cobwebs and dust and fun.  

A lot of interesting people end up at my barn.  

Sometimes people decorate my barn.  

My barn is worthy of this.

Sometimes my barn gets lit up like a rock concert.

Sometimes... once... this happened.  

Are you all ready to see this video??????

Happy Halloween everybody!  

May your spiderwebs be extra sticky and your dust be ancient and full of questions.

Our old barn! Musicians! Lights! Cameras! MUSIC VIDEO!!!!

Yesterday was the most amazing day -- combining some of my favourite things in the world -- our old, crooked, magnificent barn, and ROCKING YOUR FACE OFF.

Also, cameras and lights, and a bunch of very cool people that I enjoyed having on the property for a whole day. What an experience!  I've been saying for years that our barn would make a fantastic location for a music video, with all those dark spooky corners and cobwebs.  It has a special kind of scary lurking in all the cracks and bumps in the walls.  

Courage My Love are hard working and talented band from Kitchener Ontario, and through modern magical connections of social networking they ended up thrashing in the dirt and dust at the Ol Homestead.

How perfect that this band needed a location, a week after my ol man swept up corner the right size for a drum kit and two amps, but before I got around to clearing out all the dramatic and photogenic cobwebs!

My parents got to meet the band and their producer and manager when we all got home from church, and I thought it was so sweet that my mom and dad were all happy about having a drum kit set up in their barn on a Sunday afternoon.  It was so loud you could hear the playback in the house.  The dust was shaking off the beams and the horses were running around outside the corral trying to see what the big noise was all about.  IT WAS AWESOME.   I must have been like a little kid, walking around grinning all afternoon.  And there was my mother, smiling away, "Oh they're all so nice!  Such nice polite friendly people!"  Well she's absolutely right about that.  Those nice kids are going to make her barn look like the most terrifying place on earth. Awwwww!

The bass player set up a nice little display of my various precious artefacts and antiques.  We just went around picking stuff up, the rustier the better, and now I feel pretty smug about my hoarding tendencies. Like all this time I was saving up junk that would some day look creepy and threatening under the right lighting.  Of course.  

On top of that, my daughter was home for the day with two of her fellow photography students.  What a rich experience to be there while a music video was being made. For me it was pure fun, but for my kids, growing up around the recording process, and now going into the media business, it was an extension of their lifelong education.  I was grateful that my kids got observe.

Days like this remind me that things are a little different here at the Ol Homestead.  Our place is crazy.  It's magnetic.  We've got everything.  The neighbours must be accustomed by now to teenagers with cameras running around in wedding dresses and skeleton tights, or gas masks or whatever got into their heads.  Well it got ratcheted up for real, with a villain slinking up the lane beside the barn in the dark, dragging something through the gravel.  (You'll see!!!)

I can hardly wait to see this video.  It'll probably scare the snot outta me.  In that special kind of scary!

Ivan Earlis the Goat, Robert Plant, and Justin Bieber: a farm based comparison of sorts.

Ivan the Angora billy goat does not look like a rock star anymore. Remember how he likes to do rock star imitations?  He was doing his best 1973-era Robert Plant, with those luxurious ringlets.

And you just know when Beatrice and Mildred look at him, that's what they see! 

They can hardly even look at him, he's so stunning!

Just look at that big handsome fella!  

(Which one - Ivan or Jethro?)

Then the shearer came to the farm.

He zipped him out of his goat suit just like they do in the cartoons.

"What is happening to meeeeee?"

Now he doesn't look like Robert Plant anymore.  

Turns out, he's wee tiny under all that curly angora wool, and without his mutton chops or his beard.  I had kind of forgotten that he's only a year old.  

I've been telling him this just gives him another chance to become fabulous again.  And then again next fall when he gets the next crop of dignity shorn off.

"Hey, who's the young fart?"

His owner is very proud of him.  He was a good goat, especially since it was his first shearing.  He didn't nip the shearer's bum and he didn't fight.  If she was ever unsure as to whether or not she really wanted to be a billy goat owner, the little fella just ensured that he'll be a pet forever!

Even if he just went from Robert Plant to Justin Bieber.*

*Not that I have anything against the Biebs.  Other than, I don't understand his boring music or his bizarre pants.  He's a brilliant and ridiculously talented young fella and I sincerely hope he gets all his youthful silliness over with, returns to wearing actual clothes in public, and stops making bad decisions. I suspect the kid is better than all that.

Justin Bieber, wearing stupid pants

A plaid shirt.  I approve.

Oh wait... sigh.

Most boys at 19 are just coming out of their awkward phase, when all their limbs are the wrong length and their faces look different every day and their voices betray them.  This kid magically skipped all that.  His awkward phase involves being surrounded by sycophants, screaming girls and buckets of money. Oh and also, an entire empire of people whose paycheques depend on him.  Considering that, maybe he's handling life pretty reasonably.  I like to think he will get past this awkward phase and get on with making music and quit pretending he's all gansta-n-s**t cuz dude, I know the town he came from, (I'm there at least twice a week) and it is not a gansta-n-s**t kind of place.  This is a town of 30,000 with a unique combination of agriculture, Shakespeare Festival tourist traffic, a few factories, and a history of being a railway hub.  The shopping end of town is anchored by the Canadian Tire store and the TSC.   So all the big-city posturing and stupid clothes make him look kinda silly, far as I'm concerned.  

We shouldn't laugh at them - they're just young guys!  They'll grow up!

Ivan will grow back his curly coat... Justin will grow a beard someday... and Robert can continue emitting his aura of awesome.

Well now son, ya clean up good.  

AWESOME.  FOREVER.

Out of the three of them though, only Ivan has horns.  Rock on!!

Amateur Cat Vet

Larry gave up and settled the side of his face against my hand, and the gauze pad soaked with epsom salts.  He wasn't purring but he accepted my help. With my free hand I slowly rubbed under his chin as I whispered to him.  Good boy, good kitty.  We'll get you fixed up.  You'll be okay.  You're such a good patient.  What does the other guy look like, eh?

He looked a little puffy last night when I did the chores.  I saw a bit of blood on the side of his face,  a bloody streak on one ear, and a big tuft of loose hair on his back. "You've been scrapping, eh little dude?"  I gave him a quick check, didn't find anything gaping open or broken, and left him on his perch on the biggest saddle, where he licked his wounds.

This happens to barn cats.  When the snow melts, the feline wanderers set off looking for new girlfriends and trouble always follows them.  They fight.  They come away with some degree of damage.  Usually they get themselves over it.

Larry the Barn Cat

But this morning the whole side of his little cat face was swollen; his eye was almost closed.

Lucky for Larry, Heidi here has a whole cabinet full of first aid supplies in the tack room.  I poured some water into an old margarine tub, shook some epsom salts into it, gave it a stir with the tip of my finger and tucked three gauze pads into the pocket of my coveralls.  I set the water on one of the chairs over by the windows.  The cat, all curled in a ball, was lifted carefully and carried over to the windows.

He wasn't crazy about having his tattered ear bathed but he put up with it.  I didn't expect him to be okay with having his face messed with in his condition but I had to try.  Three times I dipped a pad into the salty water and held it to his swollen eye.  Each time he made a less feeble attempt to leave and each time I held him that way longer.  He sank into my hands like he was giving up.  I don't like it when cats act like they're giving up.  I dabbed at the corner of his eye and took some yuck away.  I held him away from me and got the best look at him I could without my glasses.  I could have convinced myself the swelling was down already.  I could see a tiny puncture mark on the bridge of his nose now.  And his eye was open more than it had been when I picked him up.

He's still got an eyeball.  That's good.

Doctoring done, he tried to wiggle away.  I ran my hand over his back.  Easy little yella fella.  Have a cuddle.  No need to run away, see, everything's fine.   I carried him over to the saddle rack, where I set him down like he was made out of glass.  That's when the purring started, a roar of gratitude.  I had to stand there for a few minutes while he turned himself around to get the maximum attention, rubbing the good side of his face against my chin, nibbling my fingertips, batting a paw on my cheek if I leaned away from him.

I rubbed the back of his neck one more time and left to clean up the barnyard.  When I came back to put away the wheelbarrow and forks, Larry was curled up again on the saddle, and his brother Moe had just jumped up to get comfy on the saddle in front.  He stepped right over Larry to get there.  Larry's ribs rose and fell as he snoozed.

Carlos the Barn Cat: it was nice knowing him...

 This cute black and white tom cat showed up last fall.  He just starting hanging around.  And a couple days ago, he was gone.  He didn't leave.  He appears to have simply laid down and died.

Well, I enjoyed him while he was here, and I think he had a pretty nice life for the last half a year.

When he first appeared, I regarded him like I do most strays: PEST.  Oh great, another stray cat.  Probably wild and vicious disease-riddled.  All scarred up from beating up on other cats.  I'd just gotten done dealing with an extremely nasty old tom with half and ear and a scarred up face and one withered up useless foreleg, who stared at me with contempt like he fully expected me to chase him down and kick the snot out of him.  Clearly he didn't know me.  At first, of course, the black and white cat fought with our two brothers, Larry and Moe.  I had to put a boot between them a few times.  Nobody is allowed to beat up on Larry and Moe.  Sorry, guy.  Eventually he was slinking up to the kibble bowl with just a few throaty growls.  And then he was just there.  I had three cats howling around my feet every evening, instead of two.

I name critters. It's a bad habit of mine.  Early on I decided he looked like a Carlos.  He had that little chin beard going on.  "He looks Mexican," I declared, which is silly, I know, because I don't even know anybody Mexican, how the heck would I know?  I just felt like if he were to speak English to me, he'd sound like Antonio Banderas!  

Handsome little devil, and very charming and affectionate. Right?

My friend Susan, excellent riding coach/ slick graphic designer,  pretty much read my mind.  YES this is what I see when I look at this cat!!!

So, we had Larry, Carlos, and Moe.

I had my suspicions about this cat.  He wasn't your typical stray.  He was not wild.  I don't know when it happened, but he was under my hands and under my feet and if I ever sat down, this cat was in my lap.  He didn't leave the barn like the brothers, which makes me think he'd been a failed house cat.  I figure when he turned from a cute kitten to a young tom cat, somebody didn't feel like spending the money having a vet do something about those little fuzzynuts, and took the cat for a little drive in the country.  After scrapping with a few unfriendly critters along the way, he ended up here.  Lucky guy. 

Carlos was a huge vet bill waiting to happen.  How many times did I wish I could bring him into the house, but first he'd need to be neutered, and he had a nasty sneezy snotty nose problem, he hwarfed up his dinner occasionally, and he seemed to have had a broken pelvis at some point.  

Barn cats aren't pets, even if they're tame.  It isn't always practical or realistic or even smart to spend hundreds of dollars on vet care for a cat that might up and leave in a couple weeks.  Or up and die.  I can't spend hundreds of dollars on a sick barn cat.  I have to pay for hay.  I have to buy winter boots for my teenage son.  I have to buy groceries.  Our barn cats are not typical, because they're neutered and they've been to the vet and get rabies shots.  Having only two of them makes a difference.  We do our best to keep them healthy but a lot of it is out of our control.  This is what I tell myself to make myself feel better.  That at least Carlos had a pretty happy life for the half a year he took up residence at the Ol Homestead.  

Well, Larry and Moe are happy and healthy, catching mice, eating cheap kibble, cuddling up on the saddle racks.  Lucy the Psychotic House Cat has been slightly less insane lately.  And for the last month or so, a massive shiny pure black cat has been slinking up to the kibble bowl... 

Good thing I moved some junk out of the way before the photo session in the hay mow...

Somebody had to do a photography assignment when she came home from college this weekend.

The Girl With Camera is making good use of the barn on the Ol Homestead.



Now tell me how much you love that coat.

Making the Most of an Old Barn, Part 2: Tack Room

Ok, honestly, you don't really NEED a tack room.  If you've got a saddle rack, a good bridle hook, and maybe a shelf to put your grooming stuff, you're fine.  Y'know, maybe a trunk to store some things in like a set of saddle bags, or your first aid kit, would be handy.

Unless you're anything like ME in which case you're a hardcore tack junkie and have a few decades (since childhood) of collecting up any piece of gear that is horse related!

Buckets and trunks and bottles!

I have such a practical justification for it now though -- I am in the horse business.  I teach people how to ride horses.  Of course, this means I need to have a variety of saddles to fit both horse and rider, as well as different bridles for different jobs, and... all kinds of things that are just really important.  This means I have to have a decent place to keep all this stuff and it has to be neat and organized.  I can no longer get away with sharing my saddle rack with a Honda ATV and a 1972 Buick Skylark.

We had to pull her out of the barn with a tractor.  This is what you'd call "Barn Fresh" if you're into Parts Chasing.  The first car I owned came to me in similar condition but that's a whole other book.  

For a few years I've made do with a corner of the barn which I partitioned off with a couple sheets of pegboard.  It did the job okay, but the lack of proper walls meant less wall space for storage.  What with the south wall actually being a set of barn doors (nice gaps between the planks for ventilation right?) it gets pretty cold in there in the winter.

Here you can see in through the open barn doors.

A little closer up,  you can see through the doorway of the tack room into the open shed.  I tie the horses there to saddle  them up before a ride.  

Also, it was crowded once I got myself and a student and a parent all trying to get out of each other's way so we can hang a cinch or saddle pad.

I solved that floor problem by shoving the big saddle rack over it.  But then it made a tight fit in the room.

Larry doesn't care where I put the saddle racks as long as he has a nice place to snooze.

A few weeks ago we decided to build a new room.  We don't know how long we'll be staying here, but in the short term it'll be a nicer place to work over winter, since I'll likely be doing more indoor unmounted lessons when the weather isn't pleasant.  Also in the long term, any improvement done to the barn benefits my dad, so it's all good.

An old barn is wonderful because of those huge beams and the stone foundation.  It has a vibe best described with words I often cringe at, words like, rustic and quaint.  I like to use the word honest.  It's an honest barn. It has no pretensions.

Without going too far into details of the actual construction (because that would be a whole other book and I'm not the one to write that one) we've been bracing up some of the beams with new jack-posts, and a couple new 6x6 beams to help out the old ones.  Apparently we are putting up "load bearing" walls. This is a good opportunity to make sure the old building is solid and safe, and do our best to help it keep standing for maybe another century.

But this isn't going to be beautifully finished construction.  Part of that is our low-budget (um, NO-budget) plan, but also, I just don't see the point in building a room that looks newer and more expensive than the rest of the barn?  I mean, who are we trying to fool?  It will have walls made of re-used plywood and the whitewashed ancient wooden ceiling will be visible.

We're putting in a window - natural light!!!  

I do have fantasies of a tack room with tongue and groove panelling, in-floor heating, a hot water heater, a sink with a tap!  But that's not within my means.  There are some barns with such nice tack rooms, you could darn near live in it, but this gets into Equestrian Centre Training Facility Stable territory and that's not me.

For the next month or so, I'll be putting my brain to work on how I will set it all up, and is that ever fun.  I get to stand there in the barn, running my eyes over all my lead ropes and cinches and bridles, grooming boxes and saddle soap, feed bins and trunks full of kid-sized cowboy boots, visualizing the result: a nice tidy no-nonsense room to store all my horse equipment and teach a few unmounted lessons on days when it's too nasty outside to get on a horse and ride.

I'm glad I kept all the boots my kids grew out of.  They've come in handy since then, when a new rider doesn't have safe boots to wear.  

This is how it looks as of this writing.  That beam at the top of the pic will probably be the exterior wall; we might expand the open shed into the space I was standing to take the picture.  

(I won't be moving a couch in there, even though I'm sure the cats would loooove it!)