not again

Another chicken has ... well, issues. The correct word for it is prolapse, and basically part of her vent (where the eggs come out) has inverted so that what's supposed to be inside is somewhat exposed. It's the same fate that befell Chaos last summer, and we all know what happened to her (just for cross-referencing's sake, it was in June 2007, somewhere around the second week). On the bright side, the girls noticed poor Cheeky's situation before the chickens did and so she still has her tail feathers intact. She's living in isolation now.

I like Cheeky. She's a survivor, the one who got attacked by a raccoon and lived to tell the tale. The one who has walked with a limp ever since and looked at the other hens through eyes that seemed narrowed with contempt that they hadn't faced the dangers that she had. She reminds me of the stock character of films set by the sea, the grizzled old sailor with the patch and pegleg, who nobody listens to until our young hero realizes that he has the clue to the whole mystery. And the camera zooms in on his weathered face as he squints appraisingly, nods briefly as if to show he's seen something that satisfies his search, then begins in a raspy voice: "It was away back, me lad, in the summer of '07. Me and the crew had just settled into our bunks, when in came the 'coon... nigh about ten feet high, he was, eyes blazing... " You know how it goes.

I know, they're destined for the freezer, but I wanted the quick one-way trip, not long, drawn-out living out of the sun because the fellow chickens who should sympathize with your plight will instead attack you.

Can I be a farmer? Do I have the guts (no pun intended) for it? Even at the hobby farm level?

On the Farmers Market front, that's looking good though will require a shift in plans as the guy I was talking to thinks that they're full on the veggie-growers-only front. But, since I had also mentioned grapevine wreaths, he wondered "what else you do" as if we were fellow farmers who had a long list of possibilities. I was pleased, but a bit at a loss. Then he said, "preserves?" Now, that we can do. R and I had a little talk about it and she's game to work with me to make pickles, jellies, salsas and the like. It won't be quite what we were imagining, but it's a start and as the summer goes on we may add some other things, veggies included, to our market table.

At least jam and veggies don't cluck at you and make you feel guilty for picking them.

dirt-digging and mud-slinging

It's veggie garden season again. Seeds that arrived while the ground was white (and deep white at that) have been patiently waiting in their little paper packets but are now getting antsy and wanting to get outside. They told me so, really.

Some have had a head start, and a tray of tomato, pepper, eggplant, cauliflower, and some scrawny-looking lettuce has taken up residence on my kitchen window sill. I do think they are farther ahead than in other years, possibly because this year I took the precaution of placing a kitchen chair in front of the window so that the dogs don't knock the whole load on the floor. Each of the past two years I've had seedlings on the window sill, they've fallen at least once so there's a bit of a guessing game when planting time comes. I guess that adds adventure to the whole thing.

Today, after school I hope to hit the veggie garden, stir up the soil, add more compost to fill up the boxes some more, mark out the grids for planting, and plant some seeds directly, ones that don't mind the cold so much: broccoli, spinach, kale, leeks, shallots, maybe even some beans and peas in hopes that the frosty nights are behind us. I also hope to stake out the garden expansion for this year, for R's foray into the farmers' market. A few extra boxes, that's all, our little contribution to the "Eat Local" movement.

Election update:the Fish and Balloon parties made up their party platforms over the weekend (made up, respectively, by A and R), which have been kept secret from each other and thankfully there have been no press leaks. They will be nominating candidates for the various ridings today and voting in their party leaders. The two parties have thus far been very genteel about it all, with no anti-campagining going on. Then again, it is early into the process and things can get nasty in the final days. A thinks Gadunka will win the leadership of the Fish party, mainly because he's big enough to eat the other Bionocles. The term 'democracy' may need a little more explanation there.

women in trees

The start of all this must be that I am afraid of heights. I once went on a small climbing wall that A had quickly scaled, then nimbly rappelled down. I started, got weak-kneed and weak-armed near the top, then did reach the top but stayed there, contemplating just how high I was and would I ever get down, and could I really place much confidence in that little bit of a harness around me? I get dizzy atop a ladder. When we visited the CN Tower I stood well back from the lookout, after all, can you really trust it? And looking over balconies in high buildings has never been my thing. Well, unless I'm inching forward on my belly.

Then Seren arranged an event for the women at our church: a day in the lovely Gatineau hills, tree walking. Not hiking among trees, but going through obstacle courses mounted at between 30 and 60 feet up the sides of trees. Huge old beeches, maples, and pine trees had little platforms (oh, so very little and so very fragile looking from the ground!) on the trunks and wires (oh, so thin looking!) extending between. The objective was to go through the course, going from tree to tree via anything from rope bridges, to tightropes, to swinging logs (which I christened the "Swinging Logs of Doom" as soon as I set eyes on them).

I am afraid of heights.

I decided, this will be a challenge and I will defeat it.

And R came with me, being tall enough to take part herself. Over granola for breakfast, we had pledged with a high five to be each other's encourager.

I was scared, I almost froze at a few points, R was near tears and wanted to turn back after the first of six sections. Why did the bridges have to wobble and swing so much? Why did the next log step swing away from me just when I needed it most? Who thought up this insanity in the first place? And if the bridges weren't enough, the zip lines were almost more scary to contemplate since that meant leaving the safety of the little platforms while hanging from a pulley attached to the very fetching harnesses we wore. The platforms seemed much more substantial when one had to contemplate pushing off from them to sail through the air.

But we encouraged, we attacked, and we did it. We did it! Oh, the adrenaline, the calling to each other from the treetops: "you are a warrior woman!", the laughter, the whoops and screams as we flew through the air on the zip lines. Twenty-nine of us went and we all felt like conquerors.

R, after her initial fear, amazed me and I think found courage in herself she hadn't expected. It was a good lesson that sometimes being brave doesn't mean you're not scared, it means you keep going when you are. Soon into the third section, her fear had been replaced with a mix of determination and excitement, and at the end of the day she was thrilled to have done it and so glad she hadn't let the fear stop her.

Another trip is planned for the fall, when the aerial route will be in full leaf and look entirely different in more ways than just leaf cover. After all, it won't look so scary to me. I've done this before, right?

the results are in

Exams went well, and I think the girls are just glad that they're done. Now it's on to recital, which is much less precise and the pressure for exactness is off. R scored a Pass Plus and Highly Commended, A scored Commended and Highly Commended, and M was excited to receive Honors, the highest distinction, for her Primary exam.

And to celebrate post #201, the blog has gotten a makeover. Her look was just getting to be too dated.

Today is school and dance class, and our own little version of the Canadian electoral system, acted out with Bionocles and My Little Ponies. R and A are learning about how the government works, different styles of government, and political parties and policies. Today, with talk of federal constituencies and elections, parties and candidates, it will be the Fish party (Bionocles, since apparently they were aquatic for a while) and the Balloon Party (My Little Ponies), in the ridings of the Couch, Kitchen Table, and Piano. A's little bear Redball may run as an Independent candidate. Basically it will be a fun way to learn, but correct enough that when we shift to talking about the real thing, it will still make sense.

It reminds me of the Monty Python sketch about the election between the Sensible Party, the Silly Party, and the smaller Slightly Silly and Very Silly parties ("that's not a result, that's just a bit of gossip"). Election Night Special, here we come.

smooth

Here it is, post #200. Goodness, I talk a lot.

Our driveway is becoming more and more smooth. Our long laneway has, from year to year, sprouted potholes that then proceeded to have children and grandchildren, all of whom grew rather quickly. Our slalom down the lane helped for a while until potholes appeared on the alternate routes. Gravel put into the holes helped for a bit, then seemed to be feeding them as they continued to grow.

They are mostly gone now, thanks to D's passes with the tractor and the grading blade. It's like a new, and much less bone-jarring, driveway. After only three times up and back, there is a marked difference. It's a nice change.

This week is school, but the big event is the girls' highland dance exams on Wednesday. I have alterations to make to National dresses, and a blouse to finish. M is doing a sword and a fling, A and R are doing sword, fling, lilt, Flora, and R is also adding a seann tribbhaus and a half hullichan. I never knew, until the girls started dancing, that there were so many that fall under the title of 'highland dance'. I guess it's like that with anything you get involved in - there's more than the casual observer knows. This is our first foray into National dances (lilt, flora, and hullichan), and I must admit that much as I like the kilt/vest look, the white dresses with their tartan sashes are so pretty. The flora has become my favorite dance to watch, so flowing and pretty. It's very different from the sword.

I'm glad we had a good weekend of nice weather and some outside work, with the forecast this week for rain, rain and more rain, and cooler temperatures. All is green outside, and once I have these dresses and exams done I will be turning my attention to some of the gardens and how to reclaim them from the nasty weed that seems to invade all and take over. Perhaps napalm?