"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.

Rush Hour

Two weeks ago, it was corn harvesting time; the fields were crawling with combines and the roads were full of tractors.  I had to slow down a couple times. I really like watching combines.  They just devour everything in front of them. Like a boss. They are frickin' HUGE.  They can't go down the road with the header attached.  A pickup truck has to pull it down the road on its own trailer.  It's all very impressive. I'm impressed and I'm not even a five year old boy!

That is actually a very small combine up there. The one we had when I was a kid was smaller.  It didn't even have a cab. Nobody uses a combine with no cab now.  Nobody has a tractor with a piddly little gas engine anymore. Nobody farms 50 acres anymore.  They're out doing a few hundred acres at a time and they're in that machine for like, 12 hours, and they want A/C and a stereo.  You would too. 

I don't even have A/C and a stereo in my truck.  

I should wipe the dust off the dash of my truck. 

 So last weekend, we got stuck following the honeywagon for a few miles. Now as much as I don't mind slowing down for farm activity, I gotta admit, being behind a manure spreader is naaaaasty.

BUT.  Look at this thing.  One side is on the gravel and it's still almost over the yellow line.  MAGNIFICENT MACHINE.  You better respect.  It's a s****y job but somebody's gotta do it. 

And if you're gonna have to do it, get it all into the biggest tank you can fit on wheels, and get it over with.

Eventually those of us in lowly cars get to pass the behemoth. That's something else you wanna just get it over with.  

I took this accidentally cool photo on the way past.  

Sense of scale: see that little silver mirror in the bottom left corner?  That's our VW.  Those tires are just about the height of the roof of our car.

This is not yer grandpa's farm equipment.

(Although maybe it is. Does your grandpa still farm?)

Farmers have a lot of pressure on them, more than ever.  Partly because people like me come along, who want to live in the country but don't have the time/ persistence/ knowledge or GUTS to actually farm, but we take up valuable quality land to put our hay-burners and other useless critters on. Not to mention, subdivisions.  So they have to produce more, with less land.  They gotta work. These guys have a job to do.  

THEY MEAN BUSINESS.

They are not screwin' around here.

So I don't bitch when I have to wait a mile or so before I can get around them.

Anyways it's not so bad. That **** is fast.

AMERICA

Crossing the border into Michigan isn't a shock for an Ontario girl, in terms of geography.  Everything looks about the same as in my part of Canada.

But don't think for a second that Canada and the USA are the same.

We are similar -- obviously close relatives -- but we are different from each other.  We can relate to a lot of cultural things, and sometimes the landscape, but the tiny differences are there, right up at the surface.

Road signs are in green, like at home, but there are little blue and red Interstate symbols.  I like American road signs.  They make sense.  I don't like American billboards.  I don't want to visit a gentleman's club or that fancy new hospital.  I'm really not sure if I want to buy super cheap discount fireworks.  Please don't give my son any ideas... It's very handy that I'm being informed as to what restaurants are coming up at the next exit, but if I'm on a road trip, chances are I'm going to look for a grocery store and fill my cooler in the trunk instead, so... thanks but no thanks.

In Ontario, you might - might, if you're lucky - get a small logo on a blue sign with a few other fast food logos.  There will be a Tim Horton's and a Wendy's.  There will be a Tim's at every stop.  It's almost like a Canadian law.  I really hope you like coffee and donuts if you're travelling in Canada.  Better eat now cuz the next rest stop is in... a long time from now.  Good luck.  Always get the tank filled in Sarnia because you'll be on the 402 for a couple hours running on empty.  So yeah.  Good luck.

American highways, are, in a word, gorgeous.  If you can call a road gorgeous, that's what they are.  Smooth, wide, with well-marked signs and well-lit lanes.  Those little "cat eye" reflectors in the pavement?  Genius.  Driving the Interstates is so efficient.  America, you are the undisputed KING OF HIGHWAYS.  (Okay, technically Germany probably is, with the Autobahn and all that, but seriously, you gotta have the stones to drive like a race car driver there from what I hear, so yeah, gotta hand it to ya, USA.)

I wonder though, my American friends, do Ontarian drivers piss you off?  We must.  We go flying past like speed limits are just a guideline.  But I'll let you in on a little secret, okay?  Those of us from north of the border cannot figure out why y'all have signal lights.  Because few of you use them.  Maybe it's just an Illinois thing.  Wow.  Guys?  Please let us know when you're fixing to change lanes in front of us.  Please.  We are simple-minded Canadians.  We can't read your minds.  Apparently we just don't get it.  Also I'm personally teaching a 17 year old girl how to drive and have developed a reaction like "eiidjjjuffffisisis guh guh guh" every time a vehicle in front of us does anything.  I'm sorry.  It's just how it is with us.

You know what else America excels at?  FRIENDLINESS.  At the Veegee's in Flint (I think that's what it was called and where it was... I wasn't totally recovered from the border crossing yet even though it was hassle-free) the sweet woman who sold us sliced meat and cheese had the warmest brown eyes and incredible dimples.  I darn near invited her to come to Lollapalooza with us.  Okay that's not quite true but for a split second I could have believed she'd known us for years.

By contrast, people behind the counters in Canadian stores are definitely polite... but not friendly.  There is a difference.  Up here, you'll always be greeted with a "how are you today?" but nobody really cares or expects an answer.  The transaction is made, receipt handed over, and off you go.  Very polite, kind of arm's length.  In the States, you walk out feeling like that person I just paid for a tank of fuel really honestly wants me to have a good day!


However.  Don't piss off other drivers in Chicago.  Holy crap.  In our confusion - and keep in mind, Jethro is one of the best, if not THE best driver I know - we ended up in the middle of an intersection in a yellow light.  We got the crap honked out of us.  HONK!!!!  Like, angry, multiple horns, mob honking.  Then a van passed us with the driver hanging his arm out the window like he was symbolically slapping us upside the head.  Like, three times.  Slap.  WTF is wrong with you?  Slap.  Go back to Canada you %$^%$!  Slap.  Why I outta kick you in your stupid &&^% pansy Volkswagen *&^ and stick my foot up your *^&%&   &*^*^  while I'm at it.  And there's me in the passenger seat, cowering, yes cowering because some of these people have guns!  At least that's what I hear, up where I live.


People of Chicago, when you are in your cars you kind of aren't very nice.  Out of your cars, you're pretty cool.  In your cars, you're actually kind of scary.  Like, I worry that you will have some kind of stress related heart attack or something.  Maybe some of you should walk more?

I don't know if it was just the rock festival vibe in Grant Park last weekend, but I often felt like we were welcomed with open arms.  Getting chatting with somebody was easy, lining up for something to eat, or buying some merch (Been there, got the T shirt) and inevitably it would come up that I'M FROM CANADA.  I got a few big smiles, and "Hey, welcome to Chicago!)  I loved that.

A guy started calling, "John Deere!  Hey, John Deere!"  So I turned to look.  With a big excited grin, he pointed to my hat.  "You actually drive one?"

"Yeah!"

"Do you have one?"

"I'm inheriting one!"  I replied.

He had that broad mid-west accent.  Maybe it was just that mine was the only John Deere logo at an alternative rock festival, but hey buddy!  You got tractor, I got tractor, we are friends!!!

Packed in with a bunch of other Muse fans, I struck up a conversation with a girl from Chicago about the similarities between that city and Toronto.  Both up against a lake.  Airport on the far side of town.  Sprawling suburbs.  Boiling hot humid summers.  Brutal winters.  Oh wait - it's only Chicago that has the tough winters... Toronto thinks winters are haaaaard but Toronto in general is pretty wimpy. (Don't whine at me, Toronto people, if any of you are reading this, which I doubt, but you know it's true!  Talk to somebody from Manitoba and get back to me on it!)

Also, the two cities play each other in movies.

Thing is, I am just not a city person.

Most of the Canadian cities I've been to (thank you Canadian TV network for moving the Juno awards around the country each year) are kind of small and clean and new compared to the American cities I've been to (usually on the Interstate and as quickly as possible.  Not a city person.)

American cities have Bad Neighbourhoods.  And also, beautiful, exciting, interesting Downtown Cores with so much to look at, it's overwhelming.

America has a vibe and an energy that amazes and confuses me.  Incredibly friendly people who may or may not have weapons in their homes in case the enemy attacks.  I'm sorry, it's what us Canadians think, I don't know, maybe it's Michael Moore's fault.  America is huge.  America is home to some of the best ideas and bizarre weirdness.  America is a breeding ground for stardom.  America has so much natural beauty and every now and then, a big pocket of industrial ugliness.  But mostly beauty.

America is defiantly proud.  Canada is self-deprecatingly proud.

America parodies their politicians on TV comedy shows.  Canada invites their politicians to play themselves on TV comedy shows.  Kind of the same, but different.

America has a gorgeous flag.  It is awesome, in the true sense of the word, and it's everywhere.  Canada has a cute flag and pastes little red leaves everywhere possible.

I don't think Canada totally understands America, but it's okay, because I don't think America understands Canada either.  We're kind of the same, but we're very different.

America, you are BEAUTIFUL.

And also, America, you are weird.

And being Canadian, I know a lot about weird and beautiful.

I hope, sincerely, that we can always be friends.

Love, Heidi the Hick

Hay, Man!

Went to go visit my Hay Man this afternoon.  He's such a character... talks super fast, sometimes getting stuck on a word, leans his head back and closes his eyes when speaking, then looks straight at you when asking you a question.  He ties the hem of his pants with twine string to keep them over his boots.  He knows what year his barn was built (1872 but my memory for dates is not as good as his) and he knows which field each bale of hay came from and how many times it got rained on and how many cuttings of hay those Dutch farmers down the road got last year.

This is how the phone call this morning went:

HAY MAN: What kinda hay you want, youwan grass hay alfalfa hay timothy hay Igot some third cut this year butnotmuch and Igot some good hay yet from two years ago but y'mightfindittoo dusty for the horses.

For a second I thought I got lost and ended up at an auction sale!

ME: Um... well...I guess grass hay, or timothy would be good, and yeah the dust...

HAY MAN: You come out anhave alook I'll giveyou a coupla bales you can try 'em out andseeifthey like it.  Come out at 2 doesthatsuit you?

ME:  Oh, 2 is great, yeah I can do that.

HAY MAN: AlrightgoodHeidithen I'll see you thisafter noon.

At his barn, he pointed out which was only two bucks a bale but likely not horse-appropriate, and that over there for 3.50 a bale, and also told me his beef cattle won't eat last year's rained-on hay unless he runs it through the shredder.  Easier to chew, he figures.  Man, the stuff you learn if you pay attention!!!

Well the hay is green inside, smells good and isn't dusty.  He put two bales in the loader and dumped them into my truck on top of the foot of snow I've been hauling around... and sure enough the horses devoured that hay.


Next week, I scrape together some cash and go get me a truck load.  Three horses empty a hay mow faster than two.  I am so lucky to have a Hay Man!  And better yet, that he's such an interesting and unique character of a person!!  I should write a song about this.

Because you know what I always say.

Less Hatred.  More Hay.

It's hard to hold a candle... in the cold November rain...

Well, DUH!

Things Which Are Also Hard To Do In The Cold November Rain, And Which Axl Forgot To Include:

--get on a tractor and move a manure pile

--walk across a corral made up of clay footing (it's the slipperiest mud ever)

--keep your shoes clean

--stay warm

--wait for the school bus (although some of us are pampered and wait in the nice warm truck)

--hang out your laundry to dry

--look all rockstar-ish and confident as you swagger along

--swagger

--keep your hood up but not have it fall down over your eyes

--dry out the newspaper when it comes in, since the mailbox leaks

--catch the dog and dry him off before he storms into the living room and jumps up on the couch

--BBQ

--look at your horses without thinking they look like the "Before" picture.

--remember July and how hard it was to be thankful for the blistering heat despite the knowledge that this crap was on its way





Did I get all of them?  Can we write a whole nuther song?

Heard every year at the fall fair...

AC/DC  Shook me all night long  (or various dance mixes, I'm not kidding)

Thank God I'm a country boy

Cotton-eye Joe

The Macarena

The chicken dance

She thinks my tractor's sexy

Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Welcome to the jungle 

Redneck woman

And that's just during the 4-cylinder figure 8 race and demolition!  

And here all this time we were calling it the "honey wagon"...

...this might explain a lot, actually.

(Anybody thirsty?  No?)

Farm Country Traffic Jam

Cruising down the dirt road doing 90 klicks.  (I think that's about 60mph but who's looking at the gauge that closely, eh?)

Dust hanging in the wet hot August air.

Up ahead, a huge giant tractor is trying to use only two-thirds of the road.

Swing out a little and see if passing would be a good idea.

Because normally it's okay to pass.  I mean, don't be a jerk about it.  The guy on the tractor is just doing his job, and the road is part of his workplace.  So you wait until you can get around him and while you're waiting you just chill the **** out because there's no point or reason or purpose to getting all bent up about it.

Turns out there's another tractor coming along the road the other direction and no time, no room, to get around.

At least if you'd rather not be wearing Case IH grill around your neck, that is.

Don't care how bitchin' your pickup truck is... you take on a tractor, you lose.

So follow that tractor for awhile.  No bigs.

Except that maybe if he's pulling a big honey wagon.... might want to keep some distance.

The tractors meet and wave and move on their ways.

Then it's safe to pass.

If you want to get anywhere during harvest season, just leave a few minutes earlier, I mean, duh.




These days, when I see traffic jams on the 401 on the evening news, long lines of stressed out commuters simmering in their cars, I am silently blissfully happy to be out here waiting for tractors.  (All I have to do now is figure out how to move a good chunk of the music biz out of Toronto and out to the sticks, one project at a time, so that my Jethro can ride a tractor to work...!)

Random disjointed um, things? from my feverish stuffy head

Hang on.  Gotta sneeze.

Yeah.  We had this huge massive I mean gargantuan machine here at the farm today to pull down the remains of a steel building

and then SMASH it

then pick it up in its jaws

and drop it into a bin

and then SMASH it down so it all fit in there.

Oh man, it was so awesome, I don't mean awesome in the overused kind of way but like, the true, original FULL OF AWE meaning of the word.

I was full of awe watching the thing!  It was like a dinosaur.  With jaws.  Teeth.

Then it curled itself up and looked like it was taking a nap on it's little cute trailer.

I hate grocery shopping when I'm sick.  All the food looks like plastic.

Ellen Degeneres is funny.  She always looks like she's not quite sure what she just said.

I haven't felt like talking to anybody for a week.  Of course now I really don't want to talk at all to anybody since I sound like a three-pack-a-day smoker.


Man, Adam Lambert is friggin FABULOUS.

And he must be huge.  Is he a large person in real life, I wonder?  When I meet people in real life I'm pretty much always surprised by their actual proportions.  I bet he's really tall.

Possibly 7 ft tall with his hair all glued up.

I wonder who I'll be surprised at this weekend at the Junos.

omg the junos are this weekend.

I wonder what famous person I'll embarrass myself in front of this year.

I'm betting it'll be the Bieber.

I'll be amazed if he's taller than me.  Is he taller than 5' 1?  I'll be floored if the kid is actually tall.  Holy heck, what if he's like, Jethro sized????  I'll shriek.  Then he'll think I'm shrieking simply because he's The Bieber and I'll laugh because being bieber has no influence in our home... then he'll be embarrassed/ irritated and then I'll be embarrassed.

See?  Just called it.

Hang on.  Gotta blow some of my brain out through my nose.


Adamlambert just told a singer to GET THROATY.  I might have to use that.  (That's not dirty, is it?)

Gah.  I think I'll take a bath and get into my bed.  Maybe I'll throw a few things into the suitcase first.  Maybe I'll surprise myself once I get to St Jawn's.  "What the heck did I bring this for???"

snrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Here have more giant industrial machinery.

Okay, g'nite.

Heidi the Hick will now suggest fixes for a few problems.

I'm irritated by a lot of stuff.

First of all.

GADGETS TO TELL YOU WHERE YOU'RE GOING.


Ever see that episode of the office where Michael and Dwight drove into a lake?

We're all getting dependent on our GPS units.  Even dudes, who genetically, apparently, cannot get lost because they're not lost, have to GPS everything.  Then it's cloudy and the satellite can't beam its poisonous rays down to us and then everybody's lost.

MEN are losing their sense of direction!!!  This is potentially an emergency situation.

the fix: it's called a "Road Map"  It needs no batteries, or satellite link, or any other kind of technology other than a light source.  Even if you can't fold it again, it'll still work!

Here, our lovely friend Johnny demonstrates how a map works:

Simply unfold it, and look at it.  Also, it is possible for men to read it!  I know, I'm as shocked as you are.  But it's true.


Next!


TRAFFIC.

It's different here in farm country than it is in the Greater Toronto Area, but no matter what form, it bugs me.  When I lived in the subdivision, I was constantly aware of the danger my kids faced every day on the way to school.  We lived like, a block and a half away.  And yet regularly I feared for their lives, even in that supposedly quiet neighbourhood.  Wanna know why? Parents.  Parents on wheels, specifically.

It will always stun and disgust me the way a parent on wheels will some so close to running down someone else's child in order to get their own to school on time.

the fix: Start off earlier.  Or better yet, start off a lot earlier and walk your kids to school.  Oh, and also, open your damn eyes, and actually turn your head and look around.  When you look around, SEE CHILDREN and then WAIT FOR THEM TO CROSS THE STREET.  It's not that hard.  Smarten up.



Rural traffic is a different story.  I personally think there's too damn much here.  Oh check it out, I'm about to morph into a grumpy old woman.  These small towns around here are a lot bigger than they used to be.  People drive from home to work, and those distances have increased.  People are willing to drive much further.

What really bugs me is the drivers getting bent about the tractors using the roads.  Tractors are big, and often even with the right side wheels over on the shoulder, they're still hard to pass and get around.

the fix:  suck it up and follow the damn tractor.  Start off earlier.  (I say this like I'm good at it... I'm not...)  You cannot pass the tractor until the yellow line is broken instead of solid, so calm down and wait.  Don't complain about the farmer -- he's just trying to get to work, like you.

About that yellow line: it's there for a reason.  If both lines are solid, you can't pass.  If it's broken on your side, you can but oncoming traffic can't, and vice versa.  You better look on down the road too and look out for passers.



The big highway north of us has been a big problem for, oh, forty years or so.  There's been talk of expanding the highway or building a new one to go around the small town the highway runs through.  Each one has insurmountable problems.

If the highway gets expanded to five lanes, two in each direction plus a turn lane, all the historic buildings have to go.  The town will practically be decimated.  This town is well known as an antique mecca and business will suffer!

Not only that, but many farms along that corridor will have huge chunks of land sliced off.  Very few farmers are into that idea.  They'd be financially compensated, sure, but that land can't be replaced.

Now if a new highway is built, a lot of farmland will be taken completely.

the fix:  More of the dirt roads in this area will have to get paved, and traffic increased there in order to take the pressure off the highway.  I don't think this would be popular either; some people like living on a dirt road because of the low traffic.  Others are sick of the dust and ready for asphalt.

Our road was dirt a few decades back.  My dad says my grandma used to go out with a watering can on laundry day so the dust wouldn't end up on her clean stuff hanging on the line.


Okay that felt all serious.  I'm not in the mood for serious.

Now I would like to fix Chad's hair.

He's taken on this kind of straightened and bleached idea.  It's not a Nickelbob anymore, but I'm not sure what it is, exactly.

the fix:  Man, cut it all off.  Maybe not brush-cut like little Bro, not down to the wood, but just try it short.  Either that or grow it out long again.  One or the other.  Not halfway.  I mean, Chad doesn't do anything else halfway.

Like, belt buckles, for example.

See?  That belt buckle is so awesome, it doesn't need halfway hair!  

Well I'm all done fixing things for today, and that barn isn't self-cleaning. Enjoy your weekend.

Life under a bigger sky...

Well Hello. Haven't seen you for awhile. It's a little dodgy out here in the country with the whole internet thing. Some of you will understand. It's weird; you wouldn't think technology of all things would be such a big thing in my life, me, who likes things real low-tech and simple, and only got a cellphone... last week. And yet, in order to keep doing what we do, especially Jethro with his extremely techy recording engineer life, we have to have that connection to the world. Plus I need that connection to people. I don't get out much, y'know.

Anyways. I look out the window and I see a red barns, silos, fields, trees, all under a very big sky. It's just bigger than it was in town.

I put on my cowboy hat for the picture. I snugged up the Noob String under my neck because it was windy and I was sick of grabbing my hat before it blew off. Noob String? That's what my kids call the hat string. Y'know, because Noobs who haven't learned all the horse-show tricks yet have to tie their hats onto their heads. I prefer not to have duct tape on my forehead, sorry. Although, the stupid string makes me look like I have a chin deformation. Ach, who cares. My horse looks nice.

He got a bath that day. I hosed him down vigorously, scrubbed his mane, and washed all the grass stains off his hip and neck. I think he liked it. I swished his tail in a bucket full of horse shampoo, then after I scraped all the water off his coat, I brushed him until the sun reflected off his smooth speckled coat.
ShowSheen helps. I don't know what that stuff is made of, other than magic. I won't comb out a tail without it. LOOK at that tail. Appaloosas aren't famous for nice thick tails. He lucked out! I banded his mane to make him look all perfeshnul. Of course then for the picture I stuck his ordinary red nylon halter on his head because I don't yet have a good leather show halter. I should at least have one that shows off his head a little better. Maybe that will be next year's purchase. Maybe.

A few weekend ago, Jethro left the city, and the house in town, to have some Big Blue Sky time. And some Tractor Therapy. What a great cure for being in a recording studio all week! Some people would think this is work but oh no... just back and forth across the yard, pick up a bucket of manure, dump it on the compost pile on the other side, and back. It's a small bucket and a slow old tractor. It forces a person to slow the heck down. The manure pile stays there until it gets moved, so if it doesn't all get done in one day, there's always tomorrow. Farmers generally don't have this luxury, but here, it's not a luxury: it's just the way it's done.

Jethro loves the old 2 cylinder John Deere, but he's not a time-taking kind of guy. He wants to get it done.

Which is a good reason to have kids. Especially one who loves to work.

Bucky can drive almost anything with four wheels now. He gives his Grandma regular panic attacks. "He's driving Dad's truck? What? He can shift gears??? Oh, he can? Well... alright then... can you move my car?"

Mowing the lawn isn't a chore here. It's fun, because they get to drive a machine instead of push it.

Tribble is happier now, but she's going to see some friends from town this weekend and can hardly wait. She also gets invitations to go out with some of her new friends. She'll be okay. Bucky can never live in an urban environment again. Not enough room to go 4 wheeling.

Me? I miss my friends, and my house, and most of all, my husband. I'm shamefully and embarrassingly broke. I'm working on getting some desperately needed income. But I'm okay too, because I am so flippin busy I don't have much time to think!

And now, while my son is out with my Dad in the truck, my daughter and I have a couple horses who need some attention while the sun is shining.

There won't be a nice new tractor in my future.

And I'm totally fine with that.

I'm rather irritated with the John Deere corporation right now.  Some bean counter who works in an office has decided that it'll be more profitable to close the plant in Welland, Ontario and move it down to Mexico.  That way, with 800 Ontario jobs lost, and 800 Mexicans being exploited for cheap labour, the only people who benefit are the guys in suits who likely have never even sat on a tractor.

Whatevs.  So I won't be buying a Gator any time soon.  I don't want or need one.

I never have planned on buying a brand spanking new tractor.  I just like the old ones better!  I don't want a plastic dash, or a computer telling the engine when to fire, or an air conditioned cab.  Maybe if I was out harvesting 200 acres of crops I'd want that, but I won't have a huge industrial farm.  I just don't need a big new tractor.  Or a slick little one.  I want a funky old tractor that works.  

I found these on the weekend.

John Deere 1120.  Made from 1967 to 1975.  It's a 51hp 3 cylinder diesel.  You know how my Jethro feels about diesel.  He'd love to fill his Jetta from a big tank of red farm diesel in front of his garage.  

As far as my old man is concerned, if we want a diesel tractor it should be a David Brown.  You just don't see many of them, but also, I simply can't stray from my green and yellow upbringing.  My dad spend the 70s farming with his three tractors: a 1948 AR, which has a story and is in pieces in the barn, waiting for me; a 1958 430- the same one Dad uses daily, recently restored and regularly featured here on Hick Chic; and a tall diesel 70 (I think 50s vintage) that spent most of its time getting fixed.  Hmm, perhaps that's why Dad's not totally thrilled with the John Deere diesel.  I'd think it was much improved by the 70s though.  My ongoing research will tell me.

The tractor discussion can really drag out when I'm with my guys.  Dad says after 1960 it's not really a John Deere anyways, because that's when they discovered that there's more to life than Two Cylinders.  Things really did go downhill after that.  No more of that wonderful rhythmic puttputtputtputt puttputtputtputt.  

Jethro says his favourite tractor is the Ford 9N.  I agree that it's a truly great tractor.  

I'd also agree that the Massey 35 is a classic.  

But I gotta go Green.  I spent my entire childhood knowing that Nothing Runs Like a Deere.  

How can I bring myself to have any other?

There were three 1120s on the lot on Saturday, all in great shape.  One even had a loader on it!  I want a loader.  It's an essential piece of gear for moving manure and you know how much I love moving manure.  They sell for about $5000 from what I can see, so I'm not getting one anytime soon, but maybe in a year or so I can afford it.  

I like the big Deere badge right there on the front.  It's like a belt buckle.  It's like a big eye.  I'd name my tractor The Cyclops.  

Thirty years from now I'll be the chick  version of my old man, grumbling about how my old tractor's better than that new crap they make these days down in Mexico.  I'll sit on my porch and shake my head, squint my leathery eyes and croak, "They just don't make 'em like they used to."

Aw Darnit.

Looks like a few of the jobs I planned this weekend might not get done after all.

Doncha hate it when the wheels fall off????

Well whatevs.  It's the last weekend of official summer, and rather than focus on what I didn't get done (the second coat of paint in the Girl's room, the dishes, the query letters) I'm going to focus on what I did get done (the primer, the the first coat of paint, the ceiling, the doors, and...well that's about it really.)

Screw this.  I'm going to the beach.  Have a good one everybody!

TEN ACRES

That's what I want.

I've got it all planned out.  Ten acres is enough room for horse pasture and hay field, plus a nice sand ring for teaching lessons and all that vigorous horse training, and maybe a little trail course too.

There's enough room for a nice little barn, a good size house, and a couple of sheds.  I think there'd even be room for a shed big enough to build a small recording studio inside.  

Big enough for a large vegetable garden.

And stupid amounts of flowerbeds.

Hopefully there'll be room for one of those little inflatable pools, so that when my kids start up with "canwegoswimmingcanwegoswimming" all I have to say is YES.

Think of the incredible bike obstacle course my son Bucky could build with that much land. Think of the forts they could build and trees they could climb.  Think how much fun summer parties could be.  Think of the mountains of snow piled up after clearing the yard.

Ten acres would be enough for me, that's for sure.

It's not enough for someone who wants to farm for a living, and I hate the term "hobby farm," but I know more than ten acres is too much.  I don't have time to do twenty acres of hay three times each summer.  I don't need that much hay.  I'm not a cash cropper.  I don't need 50 acres.  

Just ten.  More than five, less than fifteen.

With an old imperfect house.  In my eyes it would be perfect, because I love battered wood floors, I love cracks in plaster, and I love ridiculous flowery wallpaper- but only in the right house.

From any room in that nice old farmhouse, I could look out the window and see crop fields, silos, red steel sided dairy barns with huge plexiglass windows.  I could see my own horses grazing.  I could take my computer anywhere and be inspired... and write thousands of words.  Of course in the winter I'd sit beside the woodstove.  Where else would I sit?  And not for the vibe -- I'd sit there because I'd have to!

** I'd need a house just big enough for my neighbours from town to come out and visit, and stay all weekend if they missed me that much!**

I know that place is out there.  I know I'll get there.  I'm thinking, planning, wishing and dreaming it into reality.  I'm willing it to happen.  

(steps, all steps, one after the other...)

Yeah man, this is some good s**t!!!!

Right now, it's 8 pm, I'm sitting in my living room, right next to my bay window, as a torrential downpour drenches the world outside.  I love this.  I love the cooling breeze after a hot day, I love the sound of the rain, I love watching the ditch in front of my house turn into a river.  I love it that the house I bought in a subdivision has a ditch and gravel shoulder out front instead of a sidewalk.  (Not so good for kids walking to school, but in the 50s when this was all new, I guess people didn't drive like frickin maniacs...)

Another thing I love about a big fat rain storm is the effect on my garden.  We've had lots of rain this year, and as a result I'm surrounded by big fat green plants.  My gardens have made me so happy this year!  At least once a day I'm out there planting things and pulling weeds and clipping things that are too bushy.  For me, it's gotta be really outta control before I get rid of it or trim it.  I like plants to be slightly wild looking, just barely contained.  

I'm also famously tight with the cash.  Most of my perennials weren't bought, but were divided and transplanted from stuff that came with the house.  I've traded a few with neighbours, taken extra unwanted plants, and moved stuff around.  I never pass up a free plant.  I'm not even done yet this year.  

My favourite free thing of all is... horse manure!  Lucky for me, my parents live with two of the manure producers.  Did you know that the average horse poops out forty lbs of manure each day????  Good thing it shrinks when it composts.  My ol man loves to compost.  He has three piles going out behind the garage.  The oldest pile is black, the newer piles lighter. Each year, he moves each pile a few feet forward then later, moves it back.  It gets nicely broken up this way.  He goes at it like a professional.  He thinks the horses are great because they're a source of the material that turns into compost.  He says he'd have an elephant if it would fit in the barn.  

Thing is I think he's serious.

Problem is, I can't always fit a bag of lovely unscented three year old composted horse droppings into the little VW once I've packed in Jethro, (he's a big guy after all) the two kids (who are getting longer) the Pug (I mean, he's massive y'know) the cat in his Pet Taxi, a few pairs of riding boots, a suitcase and two knapsacks, a bag of dog food and my giant purse.  The car is full.

Dad hasn't been up to my place with his truck in some time either.  But I'm not s**t outta luck, no way!  I have a friend with horses!  This year, there are 4 of the big hooved poopers!  Believe me, they need to get some crap outta there.  

I got the man of the house to dump two Kubota sized bucket loads into the truck box. 

That was on Sunday.  It's Thursday evening and I've got  maybe half a wheelbarrow load left.  It'll be gone by tomorrow at noon, I'm thinking.  I've got one more flowerbed to fix up and then it's just filling in some ugly spots here and there.  Man, I love a big load of three year old composted horse manure.  It's like black gold.  Wonderful, wonderful stuff!

I think town lot gardening is different from country gardening.  I tried to do the big traditional rectangular garden, with straight rows, in my back yard when we first moved here.  Because of our mature trees, which I do not ever wish to complain about, the garden didn't do as well as I planned.  The most consistent sun lands on the front yard, so that's where I plant my vegetables.  They're all tucked in among the perennial flowers that come up year after year, and the bright coloured annuals that I count out my nickels and dimes at the garden centre for. I have tomatoes in cages surrounded by yellow marigolds and peonies.  The peppers are tucked in beside the shasta daisies and the lilies.  Petunias poke their velvety faces up everywhere else.  

Sometimes I wander around in my front yard, just soaking up the colours, shades of green, spiky shapes beside round shapes beside scalloped edges.  There have been times when I couldn't even get up the ambition to admire what grew in the spring despite my apathy.  Plants don't care when you get depressed.  They just want sun and rain and somebody to pull out those pesky weeds taking up all the room.  

The kids get to go wild in the backyard, and they do.  They've dug a pit a few feet in front of the shed.  Whatever.  They spraypainted a stick figure on a scrap of plywood, propped it up against the shed wall on a stump, and called it the "Men's Washroom" and I don't even care.  Today, on the last day of school/ first day of summer, I took mine plus my neighbour's boys out in the truck to scrounge for some free pallets to build a fort out of.  Hey man, let the kids have fun.  Build an obstacle course.   Build a castle.  Go nuts.  

Just stay the heck out of my front yard.  I will tan your buttery hide if you step on my flowerbeds, so help me Sam Hill.  Watch your step, punks.  

The best part is, I made a new flowerbed in front of the shed to plant my free daisies and black-eyed-Susans.  Free flowers?  That demands some digging.  All the kids were like, "Cool!  The Crappy Tin Shed looks nice now!"  

"You know why it looks nice?" I prompted them.  "Because the Crappy Tin Shed is surrounded by Horse Crap!"  We laughed uproariously.  Even the neighbour's kids.  We'll make farmers out of them yet!

I got a free dog house for the Pug too.  I think it might have been a rabbit hutch, but he runs like a rabbit so I figure it's okay.  Bucky and I crowbarred the front wall off, and next we plan to rip those nasty shingles off the roof.  Actually we want to rip off the roof and put a proper pointy roof on.  And then set it under a tree.  Not where all the composted horse manure is, though.  I do have my limits. 

Ah, the rain has stopped.  I must get busy.  The first day of summer in my neck of the subdivision meant four kids running through the house with and without shoes on the dirty feet.  I need to clean up before bed while mine are at the piano lessons.  I want to fall asleep tonight listening the tree outside my window dripping with leftover raindrops... 

Horse Care In The Frozen Canadian Climate

Because I'm Canadian, I need to discuss the weather. I NEED to. It's been a hard winter. It started snowing in November. We had one good thaw in January and a couple of little thaws, but we have at least a foot of snow on the ground. Last night we got our third storm in two weeks. Winters have been pretty wimpy for the last decade or so; one or two serious snowfalls and that's it. By now, with daily snow shoveling and truck fishtailing around town, I am just enduring.


This would be a lot easier if I had a tractor. I'm serious. I'd park it in my backyard and go up and down the street with it. Wouldn't that be awesome?

Winter, like most things, is more extreme out in the country. I haven't ridden my horses at all this winter because they are either up to their knees in snow, or the corral is half covered in ice, or the wind is too vicious. I got a taste of that horrible wind this past weekend when we visited the farm. During the night, I was pretty sure that my mother's rickety old house was fixing to detach itself from its foundation and hurtle across the east field.

This is what the yard looked like when we started off for church...

Taken from the doorway:



And from inside the car:



And yet I still want to live out there.



Caring for the horses is a challenge this time of year, just like getting the car out onto the road is a challenge, as well as getting the mail, crossing the lane, and keeping the house warm.

At our place, the barn takes the full brunt of the wind coming off the open field to the northwest across the road. It's a big old stone foundation though, and it's about two feet thick, and so stays surprisingly draft-free. The windows have been well insulated to keep jets of cold air out.



Only a small section of the barn is used for the horses (four stalls) and it's closed off from the rest of the barn. Their body heat keeps them warm enough. Heated barns are a very bad idea. The shock of going from warm to cold is not healthy for horses.



Ventilation is important too. If the barn is too tight, they're breathing in their own waste all night. Say it with me now...Ewwwww. The south wall of the barn is wooden planks, with tiny gaps between. It's just enough to get fresh air in there, but the south wind isn't as harsh as north.

We don't have a shelter for them other than the barn, which is why they must go into the barn every night, all winter. This means that every morning, their stalls need to be cleaned out. (In summer, they're outside 24/7. I think they're happier and healthier that way.) Phoenix came from a home with no barn, but just a big run in shed where the horses stayed during storms. Keep in mind that they have fur coats. That winter hair stands up on end and provides them with insulating warmth. When they get wet, though, the fur is flattened against the body and that's when they get cold.

Many people blanket their horses, but we don't. They go into the barn if it's wet and cold. If it's extremely cold, they're out long enough to clean the barn and get the stink off them, then they're back in for the day. Let me tell you, after a day or two in the barn, they are right happy to get outside and kick up their heels.

Horses do lie down at night. You rarely see them do it, but they do. I like the stalls bedded deep with pine shavings, and go through that bedding in the morning with a big manure fork and get all the wet patches and piles cleaned out. Shavings don't need to be scraped out every day, but they need to be sifted through. One bag lasts a few days. I don't like using straw for bedding. It's not as absorbent.

The worst thing about the place is the manure pile. The way everything's set up, there's nowhere else to put it except in the corral. For parasite control, it's better to get the pile far away from the horses. This is something I'd like to change! For now, we just have to make it a priority to remove the manure pile in the spring.

Our horses are off the pasture in the winter. They'd love to go digging through the snow like wild horses, but this winter the snow along the road broke down the fence, so they're in the corral til April.



We feed them hay in a big old cattle hay feeder. I'm not crazy about the feeder because they have to stick their heads under the top bar to get the hay, but it is safe (no sharp edges) and keeps the hay from blowing away. They also get a half scoop of grain each day. Grain is high energy feed, and they're not working, so they don't need much. But, the food energy helps to keep them warm. When it's extremely cold, they get extra hay too.

All this talk of extreme cold brings us to the most difficult part of winter barn maintenance: WATER. It's a constant struggle. We have a tap with an electrical warmer wrapped around it and plugged into the wall. This keeps the water running all winter. The problem then is keeping it from freezing once it's out of the tap.

Water is so important. Without it, horses can get colic, which is the worst belly ache in the world and can be fatal. I lost my best horse to colic in the middle of summer when he had lots of water, no parasite problems, and plenty of good pasture. I am paranoid about colic.

Each horse gets a big bucket of water overnight, which is usually gone by morning, with just a little layer of ice in the bottom. I take it outside and bash the ice out, and dump out any hay slobberings that are left over.



Water outside is a whole other issue. For years, we just waited til the trough thawed out, or went out to give them a pail of water in the middle of the day. It really is true that you can't make a horse drink. They'll eat snow, but that's really not enough to hydrate them.

Recently we got a wonderful invention: a trough de-icer. As much as I was nervous about the concept of combining water and electricity... this thing is a saviour.



The trough is close to the barn wall so that the horses can't get tangled up in the cord. It floats there, keeping the water from freezing solid. It warms my heart, too. Now I know that if they're thirsty, they can get a drink whenever they choose. I feel so much better about life now.

Since my horses are not working over winter, I let them keep their natural fuzzy winter hair. It is very hard to groom, and when they're working for a living I might consider blanketing them. The horses I ride during the week wear blankets. They stay cleaner, which is nice for riding.

Here are the grooming tools I use in winter.



The red brush is stiff bristled, but not too harsh. It works well when they're not too dirty. The black brush is the stiffest hardest brush I own and it's good for getting long winter hair clean. The green curry comb is the tough stuff. It's all wet in this picture because I'd just brought the horses in and given them a good going over. That blue hoof pick has a brush at one end, which is great for whisking away hard packed snow on their fuzzy fetlocks and heels before digging the packed snow out of the hoof.

Speaking of which... I haven't had my horses shod in years. It's expensive, and for me, unnecessary. We don't do strenuous sports with our horses and rarely ride on the road anymore. The hoof is amazing. Despite its hardness it flexes slightly with every step. I don't have much trouble with my barefoot horses collecting snowballs inside their hooves. I've found that they don't need to be trimmed as often in the winter, but Phoenix is an incredible hoof growing machine. We'll have to have our farrier out extra for his trim.

Well I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. All that work. It's worth it though.








They are totally worth it.

Things To Do At the Farm On Holiday Week

- go shopping at TSC. Get a new gate latch, broom, various snaps and fasteners, fly spray, and work gloves
-call up a buddy from church and put kids in her pool so I can look at her miniature horses
-get in the pool
-help her drag her Golden Retriever out of the pool
-go see another neighbour's horses and donkeys...and little two month old Fjord mule.
-go grocery shopping with mom
-ride our horses
-go shopping at the Thrift Store and get barn running shoes, T shirts, pants for riding, and a couple of paperbacks
-walk the pug through the long grass behind the garage
-do laundry
-go look at a free horse but regretfully decline to take her because she's a lovely gentle old unsound unrideable sweet ol lawnmower of a horse but she's a cribber (clamps teeth around top of fence and sucks air) and I don't want my young horses to pick up the highly addictive habit
-sweep barn
-feed barn cat
-wonder why the 4 wheeler won't start
-look for wheelbarrow in order to pick little manure plops out of corral
-gaze longingly at the '49 John Deere AR that isn't running because it's in pieces
-do more laundry
-go to the beach
-forget to call farrier
-forget to call vet
-remember that I forgot
-make vet appointment
-do laundry again
-hound the kids that there's no such thing as a hygiene holiday
-clean bridles
-sweep the dining room floor
-keep filling the dog & cat's water bowls because it's so hot
-keep filling the horse's water trough
-groom the sweaty horses
-watch them roll in the damp dirt after a torrential downpour
-stand in the rain because it feels so good after that many days of oppressive heat and humidity
-do a couple more loads of laundry
-close windows open windows close windows open windows
-drive around on the way to various shopping trips in town, checking out a few farms in the "kind of outdated/ slightly shabby/ downright rundown/ why are there mattresses and roofing shingles piled up out behind the shed" range as I speed past
-go visit my horses several times a day just by opening the door, putting on my shoes, and crossing the laneway
-fall into bed exhausted

If only life could always be like this...

Moving Manure, and other kinds of piles...

So on Saturday afternoon, I was on my Dad's tractor, taking the manure pile apart and taking it over to the compost pile, one bucket load at at time.



Today, I'm on my butt, moving links and other people's blogs over to this new template, one website address at a time.

Holy crap, I would rather be on the tractor.




It was so easy and so therapeutic. I got better at handling the hydraulic bucket every time I took another chunk outta that pile. I could see progress as the pile got smaller and the compost pile got bigger. I was getting back into the hang of shifting the tractor without chattering the gears.

But this...this Blogger thing...it's infuriating! I can't find where all my links went! They said they'd save a copy of my old template but I don't know where it is!! I feel like crying, I'm so frustrated! I'm sure I'll like this LAYOUT better than the old TEMPLATE once I get it all together, but you see, I fear change. And, I'm not very good at guessing where things should go or what to do next.

Driving the tractor though...well after a few minutes I felt like I always knew how to do it.


I started driving this tractor and the AR when I was about ten years old. I don't get many chances to get on it anymore. But I love it. Some people say you never forget how to ride a bike but not me- I haven't forgotten how to drive a tractor.

The bucket thing was new though.

I have a clue how to blog. But this layout/template thing is new.


I guess all of this comes down to the same thing: moving s**t around.

Both feel like a monumental time suck.

Both take a learning curve.

Both stink.

It was so hot that day I had sweat dripping down the sides of my face. When the rain started I kept going. I don't want to keep going with this because it isn't fun but I have to fix it up. I have many other things I'd rather do today but dammit the pile's gotta get moved. It ain't gonna move itself.

(My Photographer took these pictures from the upstairs bedroom window because she didn't want to melt in the rain.)


(Please remind me what your blog address is if it's not up in the list yet. I'm going on memory here and well, my memory's just not very good.)

(And please feel free to tell my how awesome I look in my thrift store overalls and my new John Deere hat. I need the cheering up!)

Photo Blast Part 2: Ride, Drive, Run!

A week at the farm with my Mom on holidays from work is not reality. She's got half the dishes washed before I even get the table cleared. She spoils me rotten. I come in from the barn and all I have to do is change and wash, and there's my supper.

The kids are spoiled too. Here's the Girl on the Ol Man's new machine:

It's not new. New ones are like Hummers. I like this one better. Here's a view of the new "race track" complete with old truck box/ cap combo which is likely to stay put and pretend to be an announcer's booth, or something.The goal is to ride a turn around the burn spot there, which is marked off by old rims. You can never have enough old rims lying around. So useful, and decorative too!
The straightaway (You can tell this was taken before we wore the track down!):We rode the horses down here too. Turns out, parked vehicles don't actually eat horses at all!

I got a chance to get on the old 430 and push some wrecks around. Oh joy. I love this thing. I love the sound of the 2 cylinder engine (them are a couple of giant pistons) and the way the gear shift chatters when you put it in gear but it always goes in. I love the shift pattern- something crazy like R 1 5 - 3 4 2. I love how it looks like it should not run, but it does! Every day.

My Girl is big enough to drive it now. I shared the seat with her so she could try it out. She had a hard time with the concept of getting the clutch in first so that the drive gear isn't pushing the the tractor forward and fighting the brakes. But she'll get it.

I've decided that the 4-wheeler is really good for ADD. She has to concentrate, but it's fun, not torturous, like sitting in class. There's an instant reward, a cause & effect. It's good for hand-eye-body co-ordination. And it's damn fun. They're not allowed to take it out of first gear. Despite that, they've figured out how to make massive ruts in the gravel !

We really need to get them a full face helmet. Because then they'll be safer and be really bitchin cool lookin. The Boy is convinced that he is a Perfeshnul Stunt Rider and in his mind, there are bleachers full of screaming fans.

Look at my dog. He cracks me up.
He went for over a week without being walked on the leash or seeing another dog. He didn't suffer. We took him down to the junkyard for a crazy run a few times each day. He loved it. Imagine the long grass waving and no dog in sight. Funny. The corn went from knee high to over my head in a week. It grows like weeds.

Our horses got some things to do too. We didn't ride for any great lengths. In fact we never even got out of a trot. My back hurt terribly all week and I wanted to be gentle with myself. I kind of think it's better to ride for 45 minutes every day than for two hours once a month, like I have. Although last year I hardly rode at all, with the drugs makin me all dizzy and stuff.

Saddling a horse takes so long. Saddling two is prohibitively time consuming. We can ride a trot bareback. A bit more practise and we'll be loping bareback. That's how I rode 25 years ago!

We're learning how to sidepass:
She was lame as a yearling. We took a chance on her and I'm so grateful that we did. I don't recommend taking on a lame horse, but it worked out for us.

He's not ribsy anymore but already getting a grass gut. Just can't get it right. But just look at the shine on this horse! He glows. I never get tired of looking at him.

Speaking of Never Get Tired of Looking at Him...