repeated handling, no wheels

Yesterday I pulled the big tarp off the pile of construction debris left by the carpenters who worked on the porch,
and began picking away at it.

It's a task, alright.

Many years ago, I worked for a while in a stockroom.

Heavy boxes. Lots of them. Receiving, distributing.

At the time, I relished heavy physical labor.

Two tips I learned from the stockroom manager,

which have served me well over the years:

1) Move it once.

2) Put it on wheels.

Unfortunately, neither of these tips is applicable
to the debris pile situation.

.

It's a matter of picking up each piece,
brushing off dirt and sawdust,

determining potential usefulness,

removing all nails and hardware,

and adding it to one of several smaller piles.

After one hour, the original pile looked like this:

And there are now five smaller piles/stacks

that look more like this:

It looks like progress!

It also looks like the same mess

spread out over a larger area.

If When I get to the bottom of the big pile,

each smaller pile of salvaged material will need to be

sorted, organized, and carried, piece by piece,

to one of the sheds for storage.

Likely much of it will reappear in a future project.

(Stay tuned!)

I have to pace myself on a task like this.

Well, on any task, if I'm honest.

I can spend an hour or so working,

then must stop and rest my bones.

Repeat.

And repeat.

The work periods get shorter,

and the rest periods get longer.

As the physical toll becomes cumulative and 

the resting becomes less effective,

it becomes more and more difficult 

to pry myself out of a "zero-gravity" position

and force my body back into action

for even fifteen minutes.

I'm a long, long way from those stockroom days.

But.

I often remind myself: it is not important

how long it takes me to do something

or how difficult/exhausting/painful the simplest task.

What is important is that I can do it at all.

And that I do.

I believe this, but must remind myself. Daily.

Because in my mind I hear, "lazy." Also, "whiner."

Sometimes even, "Lazy whiner!"

It's certainly true I postpone/avoid some chores.

Many of my routine tasks come with an obvious reward.

Carrying water buckets to the goats, for example.

Brushing Piper. Emptying the dishwasher.

Disproportional fatigue and aching joints, but:

healthy goats, happy Piper, a harvest of sparkling dishes!

Tackling a chore like the pile of construction debris

is less satisfying. It's much more like housework, which is also an awful grind and rarely gives me a feeling of satisfaction.

Possibly because I am so bad at it.

Or maybe that's a chicken-and-egg situation.

Here's what I'm thinking:

I need to adjust my attitude;

learn to find the satisfaction - the inherent reward -

in all these tasks.

Any advice?

Thanks

:)

~~~~~

way back in April

Only five days ago, waaaay back in April,

the daffodils were just beginning to appear.

Not the flowers, but the leaves.

And the vinca was just beginning to bloom.

Now, only five days into May,

we've had several days of high 70s.

Yesterday and today went over 80F.

It's like summer.

But...

the trees have not yet leafed out.

So...

instant summer heat, but no summer shade.

Whew.

The goats aren't complaining, but they're quiet.

Spring came so slowly, most of them are still wearing

remnants of their winter coats.

(Not the babies, of course.)

I'm taking fresh water to all paddocks several times daily,

and today I added electrolytes to some buckets.

Can't hurt.

And besides, goats like a choice.

All goats.

Even baby goats.

Success! That single, perfect blade of grass!

~~~

Brief newsflash:

the last big interior task on the porch renovation

is now scheduled for next week!

The gentlemen who urethaned the walls

are coming back to do the floor.

It's going to be exciting to really "move in" at last.

~~~

And finally, one special treat to share

from our walk yesterday:

a Great Blue Heron.

And companion.

They are getting ready to move in, too.

I was very close before I saw the herons,

so Piper and I quickly moved on,

leaving them to consider potential nest sites in peace.

Fingers crossed they'll choose to build where 

I'll catch a glimpse now and then.

Such fantastic birds.

~~~~~

weekend snapshots

It has been a hot, sunny weekend.

I mean, hot.

And sunny.

I had to take off my flannel shirt. And put on a visor.

And now, at 5 in the evening, 

I've had to come inside for a while to cool off.

Good time to post a few snapshots!

~~~

Yesterday, after doing the recycling,

Piper and I went for a stroll by the pond.

This is Piper, strolling:

The maples were flowering.

And the sky really was that blue.

See? Even in reflection. Very blue.

But when you look beneath the reflection,

you also see green and yellow.

(A few weeks ago, this was ice. Remember?)

There was a lot of green at the water's edge, too.

These reeds are vibrant.

Back at home, there is also a bit of green.

Softer green.

I almost cried when I saw these fragile bloodroot flowers.

Bloodroot is always a miracle to me.

And this year, even more so.

Because these very few and tiny plants 

mean the goatbarn builder

did not kill all my bloodroot with his skidder.

I love bloodroot.

~~~

Now, does anyone know what this little plant is called?

This amazing plant that is already poised to flower?

It's one of the many, many perennials

given to me by a generous friend last autumn.

She told me what most of them were, and when I got home,

I tried to remember.

And as I planted them, I carefully placed a label next to each.

I laughed yesterday when I saw this plant's label:

"mottled"

True enough, as far as it goes!

Does anyone know what it is?

The flower may be purple, if that helps.

~~~

I hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend!

Are you gardening yet?

It seems like I am so far behind everyone else,

but here the ground is only now warming up.

OHHHH!

As I was typing,

the first hummingbird just swooped by!!!

Must go prepare the feeder.

Huzzah!

~~~~~

meeting the matriarch

Today I moved all the goats out of the South Paddock,

so Tsuga could bring her babies down

and introduce them to the bigger goats, 

through the safety of a fence.

Also, so Tsuga could really run around and kick up her heels.

Which she did.

The babies discovered a rock that,

compared to their rock by the barn, is a massif.

It is a continent.

They were ready for the challenge!

Scrambling up, and leaping off.

Over and over and over.

There was a lot of exploring.

Goats explore mostly with their mouths.

Here is Tsuga,

starting her daughter off on what could be

a lifetime of tree destruction.

Nice job, Tsuga!

(If I want to keep particular trees alive here,

it is up to me to keep the goats well away from them.)

I was keeping as eye on interactions through the fence,

to make sure the big goats wouldn't get too rough.

(A goat smashing its head against a fence,

especially when you are a goat on the other side of that fence,

can be a very scary thing.)

Most of all, I was looking forward to seeing LeShodu,

the Matriarch,

meet her greatgrandkids.

I perched in one doorway of the little raised barn,

so I'd have a bird's-eye view.

(A low-flying bird, but still.)

Betula thought this was a great idea.

He immediately trotted up the ramp and 

joined me at the adjacent door.

That lasted about two minutes.

Then he moved over to share my doorway instead.

Even some of the hens had front-row seats!

Right on cue:

LeShodu walked out from her shady spot under the barn.

Tsuga saw her from across the South Paddock

and ran straight over with her kids.

They all stood at the fence, 

very smart and lovely,

looking through at LeShodu

who was only a few feet away.

Here's what LeShodu did:

She ignored them.

She very deliberately Did Not See Them.

She turned broadside to the fence.

She yawned dramatically.

She looked away from Tsuga and the kids, Very Hard.

Then she walked right back into the shade under the barn.

(Curtain.)

I said, "Betula, did you see that?"

And Betula said quietly -

because he was only a centimeter from my ear -

"My mother has always been...complicated."

Oh, Shodu.

Well, it could have been worse.

The babies didn't seem to feel the snub, by the way...

They scampered off and got busy deciding

how to take down this red maple.

I have no doubt of their eventual success.

~~~~~

cleaning out the kindling box

During the porch renovation, I put aside all the short pieces of pine that had originally lined the walls between the tops of the screens and the roof. They neatly filled the big kindling box by the woodstove.

 All winter, as needed, I'd pull out a piece of the old pine,

set it on the edge of the box, tap it with my hatchet,

and the kindling would fall right back into the box.

So tidy!

Action shot! See the falling piece?

This s a handful of kindling from one piece of wood.

Multiply this by about 50.

Its been very satisfying.

Piper checking my work: 

(As you see, Piper has also been opening her mail.)

It's been quite cold lately, and daily chores again include

bringing in an armload of stovewood

every time I come inside.

I can actually see the bottom of the kindling box.

The timing is good, because now I can call this,

"cleaning out the kindling box."

As if I am actually cleaning something.

In my house.

(Ha.)

I am also burning the few pieces of stovewood

that have been set aside.

Every year, some pieces are just so interesting

I keep them to ponder for a while.

Usually, they are the last pieces to be burned in the Spring.

Occasionally, they are the first pieces

to be burned the following winter.

And very, very occasionally,

they aren't burned for years.

But that doesn't mean they are entirely safe

from destruction.

"Art is not eternal.

Go find yourself another piece of wood."

I hope you are having a warm and pleasant Sunday,

wherever in the world you are.

~~~~~