Player the big grey thoroughbred has a new party trick and our next power bill will just reveal how good/bad his new party trick is…..and how much it’s going to cost us. smile. Last night, as the digital alarm clock showed five minutes past midnight we noticed that the lights in the barn were lighting up the night sky.

Each evening as the heavy cedar doors are pulled closed, all the allegedly “horse proof”  light switches are turned off and darkness descends on the barn and it’s occupants. It’s a time when Lady the big Shire mare can be heard snoring loudly, her relaxed bottom lip flapping as she sleeps. T Bone the 30 year old veteran, his big brown butt jammed tightly into the corner of his stall huffs and puffs at shadows in the gloom while Cooper the ageing bay kicks his empty rubber bucket around the stall. Lucky and Shy, the barn cats navigate their way across the rafters through dust and the cobwebs in search of dinner whilst Tiger the little ginger tom cat wishfully cleans up the chicken and rice nibbles while hoping to find gourmet salmon in his food bowl. Roman the black Morgan, ever anxious, stands, ears pricked with his head over the stall door and Quest the huge Shire gelding effortlessly pulls another full flake of hay from his manger.. to join the rest of his dinner already on the floor. The barn is peaceful and quiet, all is dark and still only the sounds of stirring animals breaks the silence….until Player switches on the “horse proof” lights !    The lights going on means it’s breakfast time…now I know just why the horse stalls have been looking like they were the venue for a barn dance ( pardon the pun) last night !! Everyone has been waiting for breakfast service to begin..since midnight ! I have tried coating the supposedly “horse proof”  light switch with “No Chew” a nasty concoction guaranteed to stop horses chewing, I think Player found it a tasty appetiser. I tried Scotch Tape, Player just sucked it off. A permanent solution is somewhere on Greg’s priority list ( it will be higher when the power bill drops into the mail box !) but for now it’s Player winning.

Early yesterday morning, fastening a belly strap and with my head firmly wedged under T Bone’s tummy the lights went out. I stood up to check with Greg, power outage ?….  the lights went back on. Good….power restored, back to T Bone…and the barn was plunged back into darkness. We were having a light show and there was Player, grey head hanging over his stall door and happily flicking the switch up and down at will. Last night as the barn doors closed there was a piece of inner tube looking like a big rubber band keeping the light switch firmly in the OFF position.

Up to now, it looks like our temporary solution may put us in the winning box and a permanent solution is now top of Greg’s list. 

 Got to go, still eggs to pack and the cuckoo clock has spoken. Take care, Keep safe, M

Due date is fast approaching for our expectant moms and the very rotund ladies munching their way through what appears to be a ton of hay a day (slight exaggeration but close !!) don’t appear to (1) worry about their calorie intake and (2) concerning themselves with Rodney the Ram or Macho the buck’s testosterone level. It was time for the "boys" to return to the bachelor pad and leave the ewes and does to concentrate on the serious business of impending motherhood and a return to single status.

Before their eviction from the hormonal zone, Rodney and Macho were decreed to have a manicure….whether they liked it or not…and they clearly DIDN’T. At first sight of big bad Greg and his John Wayne lasso it was patently obvious that Macho was not going to surrender to single status without at least putting up some resistance. Both Acorn and Alicia were easily bribed by a few carrot morsels but "Macho the Man" wasn’t going to sell his soul or his freedom without at least a token display of defiance. Clearly no amount of bribery and sweet talk was going to entice him onto the manicure table without a fight…..and it was only after some serious ducking diving and wrestling that Macho found himself with his head in a noose, on the wrong side of the goat pen fence and on the sharp end of Greg’s nail clippers. Rodney the big Barbados Blackbellied Ram was either much more trusting than his goat counterpart or his tolerance for his hormonal harem was exhausted and he surrendered to the inevitable with only a nominal fight.

With newly manicured hooves and a minimal loss of self esteem Macho the buck found himself alone in a new girl free pasture and a very loud and resonant protest commenced…. and continued until he was unceremoniously joined by Rodney the ram…when they jointly bewailed their new bachelor status.

As with any species, typically an overdose of testosterone meeting with another overdose of testosterone inevitably leads to trouble and Macho and Rodney weren’t about to challenge the inevitable. Fortunately the goat jousting statute book and the ram fighting manual clearly follows different rules and it took some time for either to work out exactly what his opponent was doing or how he was going to successfully challenge and defeat his adversary … (by which time they would have re established the friendship and camaraderie of last Spring anyway.) Head down, aggressively, Rodney the ram faced off Macho the buck and threateningly backed up…. and backed up and……Macho, the big Boer goat, unfamiliar ( and unconcerned ) with sheep tactics didn’t appear intimidated by the impending attack and launched into a counter offensive which only deflected the impact of Rodney’s intended head crunch and confused all the rules of sheep warfare. Macho was supposed to be intimidated but clearly wasn’t.. ….Rodney was supposed to be threatened but wasn’t . Rodney continued to back up and Macho continued to attack so Rodney never stopped backing !! End result….both combatants and battlefield were quickly turning into a comedy sketch and a potential Almost Daily entry.

As darkness fell both Rodney and Macho, earlier differences either forgotten or forgiven were seen grazing together in their bachelor pad and had apparently bonded into an inseparable pair. Doesn’t it makes you wonder if we can’t learn something from our animal friends ?

Got to go, bed time, take care, keep safe, M

The sound of displaced bones/discs followed every prod poke and squeeze. When Dave the chiropractor said “relax” before he gave me a bear hug and tried to snap my neck, I asked him if he had graduated out of sadist school. Dave is built like a muscular little power house, Dave does magic and when my bones creak and my body aches, when being beat up, twisted and pounded back into shape is preferable to taking yet another Ibuprofen ( or two or three)….I say “thank you very much and when would you like to abuse my body again ?”  Thank you Dave the Key Center Chiropractor for taking such good  care of me….I THINK I feel much better !!!

MJ, Fox 13 meteorologist clearly got it all wrong today. There I was, looking for all the world like a Sumo warrior with a weight problem. So many layers of clothes on I no longer knew where I started and where I finished, topped off with copious layers of  rain gear ( that I fear is no longer rain proof)…..and the sun shone. The cobalt blue sky was cloud free and it was so warm it was almost possible to watch the grass grow and the leaves bud.

 Alicia and Danielle our two goat does, are both looking extremely maternal are both hopefully in the final week of their five month pregnancy. Both have become remarkably similar in shape to a battleship in dry dock. If their excessive size is not the result of Macho the very smelly buck faithfully executing his “duties”, we are going to have to consider them all clinically obese and seriously reconsider our feeding programme. In the sheep pen, all the ewes are equally rounded and it is patently obvious from whence the fond term “ pasture maggots” originated ! Rodney the ram is beginning to look under employed. Within the next few weeks the barn walls will echo with the calls of frustrated, frazzled moms and the incessant bleating of their displaced offspring.

Even at five foot nine inches ( maybe five foot five after my run in with the chiropractor today, smile) Quest our big Shire gelding is huge. Standing at the pasture gate with his head collar in hand, looking up at our “gentle giant” it is hard not to be intimidated by his size. Today we decided that physically Quest has recovered enough body mass to carry a saddle and it was time we resumed his training. Actually,….come to think about it, “ we” didn’t, Greg did ! There I was, fresh out of Dave the Chiropractor’s torture chamber, wearing my body armour back brace, under the influence of a couple of Acetaminophen and I found myself perched high up on the broad back of our enormous bay Shire gelding. Probably NOT quite what the doctor would have ordered but you know what…….it felt AMAZING.

Well, it’s past 9pm which means it’s past bedtime. These old bones are pleading with me to call it a day and I feel happy to oblige.

Take care, keep safe, M           

 Dawn in the barn, and we were in a rush.High speed horse breakfast service, blankets off, blankets on, pocket full of carrot morsels and off out to the pasture. From the depths of the “Chicken Shack”, Tux the big black rooster crows and there is a resounding and challenging “cock a doodle doo” in response from Adolf  the Rhode Island Red Rooster, busily managing his harem in the “Roost with a view”. Bran the Border Collie, nose pointing into the wind and tail waving like a black and white banner, somehow anchored four paws to the hood of the four wheeler. Bobbing and weaving as the vehicle  bounced over uneven ground Bran enthusiastically accompanied Greg on his early morning high speed hay drop off into still cold empty pastures. Daisy Mae, the black Dexter cow that loves her back scratch, now down to one milking session a day was anxious to get into the milking stand. Arguably Daisy wanted to ease pressure on her swollen udder but more likely her sights were set on the protein rich grain waiting in her breakfast bucket. Misty Moo the golden Jersey heifer patiently waited for her head collar to be fastened but fussed restlessly when my fumbling fingers had to re adjust. A subtle head butt in my nether regions reminded me that in my haste I had forgotten to offer her a reward. Daisy Mae anxious both to be milked and to remind Misty of her junior status in the cow barn reciprocated with a much less subtle swing of her head and Misty reeled on impact. Rodney the ram led the resounding chorus for breakfast from the back of the barn and in the goat pen, Macho, still cohabiting with his duo of does tried valiantly to out bleat every voice on the farm…. four legs or two.

Just because we were on a deadline…..The key turned in the ignition of the big old tractor and the engine growled …then died. The bucket full of steaming manure was going nowhere and the dead vehicle was effectively blocking the entrance to horse stalls. Greg hooked up the jump start box and I clumsily fell over the ( apparently VERY visible) cable that clearly wasn’t visible to me.  Busily adding bedding to the stalls whilst the unsupervised hosepipe (over) filled Quest’s bucket, I didn’t notice the separation of the once too often repaired splice joint and the subsequent mini flood in the barn yard ( hope it doesn’t rain…we’ll have an ice rink).  Just to add insult to injury, whilst juggling a rake, shovel and broom at the same time as try to push a wheelbarrow which apparently had no intention of going in the same direction as me, the rake attacked… causing subsequent discoloration around my eye ( yet another black eye. DOH)…again !!!

 Something tells me today just wasn’t my day but tomorrow, Misty Moo will be a sweetheart, Daisy Mae will be an angel the tractor will start (and stay started). The hosepipe, fixed ( again) will fill the buckets not create a lake in the barnyard and I will survive the day without a potential black eye.
 Sorry no photos today...no time to find the camera and I'd probably have broken it anyway !

Take care, keep safe  oh, and dry…(it’s supposed to rain for the first time in a long time, sorry England). M      

How many children ????? I’m going to do what ???  ME ???!!!!

 I did my first readings at Vaughn Elementary school on Thursday night. Schools aren’t what schools used to be….they are fun, teachers are huggable, the headmistress had a huge smile not a twelve inch ruler and the library like the children was bright and welcoming. It was a pizza and pyjama party for starters, I was the entrees and as a wave of RSVP’s came through the door, as little pink blue and yellow fleecy pyjamas perched on the uniform rows of miniature blue plastic seats, I wondered fleetingly how on earth I had found myself being introduced as Mrs. Sikora, guest author then, in panic forgot what it was I was wondering. The first reading to the first batch of my pizza stuffed audience was hesitant. I heard my voice quiver and wondered if my knees were shaking as much as my hands were trembling. I concluded…they were, maybe worse. The first showing of Gertie and Quest the video was received with audible “oohs”, “aahs” and gasps, the photos of baby Quest asleep in a bed of straw  got even more “oohs” and “aahs” and by the time we reached desolate Gertie  all alone on the farm road, the “oohs” and “aahs” were back and I was in my element ! By the third reading, there was no nerves (there wasn’t much voice either) my feet were numb and we were having fun !!. Little voices asked totally relevant questions…like “do horses eat hay ?” and “ why do they have big feet ?” little hands clapped and little faces smiled. It was a memorable night and our thanks go out to the wonderful staff at Vaughn Elementary for inviting us and the little artists that created the beautiful welcome poster that met us at the door.

There were petticoats like big fluffy meringues littering the floor, somewhere in the battered well travelled cardboard box there was a pair of utilitarian cotton pantaloons but where ? Time was running out, it was early Saturday afternoon, I had three hours to transform from poop scooper extraordinaire to Southern Belle, I couldn’t find my bloomers, my ringlets were lying on the bed looking like a scruffy persian cat and my own hair hastily twisted up into hot rollers, kept falling out ( the rollers that is, not my hair !!!)  . What sort of self respecting Scarlett O’hare would I be without my ringlets and appropriate undergarments. …”I do declare, I have a touch of the vapours coming on”. Greg and I had a hot date, we were going out together, just us and it WASN’T farm related. Ok….in a sort of convoluted roundabout way, I guess it was. We were off to join the amazing Fort Nisqually ( Living History Museum) volunteer group for their Burns Night Celebration as honorary invited guests…why honorary ?  without THE most important component of the most essential item at the celebration, the HAGGIS it wouldn’t have been authentic. Karen’s haggis was authentic, we can vouch for that and we know that the giver of those ingredients had the best life a pasture maggot (sheep) could have had. By five o’clock, the pantaloons had been located ( goodness knows how Scarlet  ever stirred the passion of Rhett Butler wearing those !) the fake jewellery glittered, the dead cat was firmly pinned over my own unruly curls and I was trying to pack me, a halo of fluffy meringue petticoats and one huge dress into the old farm Chevy…. and find the seat belt !!!. (Scarlet never had this problem). Self-consciously trying hard NOT to catch the eye of drivers on the freeway who were clearly trying hard to figure out what was poured into the passenger seat we headed off to Tacoma and an amazing night with a group of amazing volunteers. It was immediately apparent that there was a distinctly North South divide as Greg in his Stetson looking every inch my handsome beau and me in my baubles and satin walked into the hall. It was like stepping back into time, a time when clothes were basic, fashion accessories were “things of purpose” and jewellery adornments were mostly beads. It was the Hudson Bay Company and we were back in the 19th Century. Fort Nisqually was the first European settlement on Puget Sound and these amazing people volunteer their hours to help us experience how life would have been for those early settlers. Clearly I WASN’T authentic, there was a zip in my dress, faux ringlets and nylon lace but those lovely people made us  SO welcome and no one seemed to notice ( well, if they did they were very polite about it !). Our donated sheep body parts had morphed into a very tasty haggis. I confess haggis never was on my list of “must eats” and I would still prefer a good juicy steak but thank you Karen, it was really good and we had a wonderful time. Thank you for inviting us and thank you Fort Nisqually volunteers for your energy vision and friendliness.

Back to the farm, ringlets petticoats and glass jewellery all packed away and it was time to say goodbye to the “boys”. Michael and Andrew have both moved on and as we reflect on their visit we thank them both for being here. We don’t “do” (discuss) religion or politics here on the ranch as clearly everyone has different (or no) beliefs or loyalties and we believe that avoids confrontation….HOWEVER we seem to have had several good in depth discussions about both and we really enjoyed our time with you . Thank you for all your dedication, we will miss you.

Time to go, the cuckoo has spoken. Take care, keep safe and warm, M                              

I just want to check in and let you all know that I am alive and well. It has been a long few days and it's taken me time to clear up...I still haven't got Christmas fully away and it is almost Valentines day !! Been LOTS going on. I PROMISE to update later today or tomorrow !
Take care, keep warm, M

I’m not sure if there is a word to describe discrimination in the sheep pen ? It’s not racial…..they are almost all multi coloured. It’s not sexual discrimination…the boys are happy ( more than happy) to be boys and as long as the food is plentiful the ewes really don’t care. In fact, truth be told, Roger the ram would just love to “be able to a boy” more often. Whatever  is going on, the Soays, black and blonde, dread locked and smooth, ewes and rams are not allowing their little Soay community to be infiltrated by the bigger, bolshier and overtly people friendly Katahdin sheep.  All in a little shaggy bunch, the Soay sheep move as one, where one goes, 28 little pointed feet will follow. Rodney the ram is attempting to maintain order, in the early days of the Soay occupation clearly the newcomers were potentially going to slip down the older ram if not prove fatal. If the new girls weren’t coming to him, he was going to “check them out” and black and white Rodney covered miles…at speed. Peace has now been re established in the sheep pen. As I watch the two groups maintaining their individual identities, I’m not sure if I can call it harmonious !

Yesterday, Tiger had a close encounter of the shaggy sheep kind. Whilst sauntering aimlessly across the sheep pen ..between the two distinctively separate groups, tail held aloft, the little tabby cat attracted the attention of Chance and Alice two big white ewes. Tiger held his ground, Rodney and Smudge led the rear party and soon all six ewes were nose to nose with the little ginger tom cat. Tiger began to rub his head against one of the bigger heads which were all around him……aaaahhh. Then she head butted him out of her pen !!

Michael and Greg have taken advantage of the dry weather to gift wrap the barn. Greg tells me it is to protect the wall for the cedar siding which will be added and that it is temporary. Why do I hate that word temporary, it and baling twine bring me out in tremors !!

Well, it’s cold out there…again and it’s time to get this posted before my sumo/bigfoot makeover.

OH !!! my new book shipment is in Portland and should arrive today. Hopefully I will have books available for my book readings at Vaughn Elementary tomorrow !! fingers crossed xxxxxxx

Take care, keep safe, M    

Well, the Winter wardrobe has been hauled out, the “big” ( HOW big ????)and small wardrobes were scanned, wool socks, tights, long johns….every pair of gloves and hats, silly, sillier and “why did I ever buy that” hats have been scrutinised. MJ Fox 13 meteorologist has warned us, jumping up and down in her enthusiasm to share the good news. Each morning as the first blast of Winter wraps around the garage, I apply layer after layer, struggling to get as many clothes on as I can….and still move. Any attempt to colour ( color) match is forgotten, fashion went out the icy window and “fitting” is good if it goes over the item of clothes under it. It’s not good for the ego of the farm fashionista…..but mostly, if I’m warm, it’s good.

The horses also have their winter coats on. Mr Cooper the big bay veteran has a very impressive new paisley blanket and a padded under blanket which caused me more than a little agitation. The under blanket attaches under tail with clips and at the front with sturdy Velcro…. and the Velcro got itself attached to one of my multiple unmatched outfits from behind. So, as I walked, it dragged, as I turned …yes, it turned and I couldn’t work out where we had become bonded. I tried to throw the blankets on to the horses back and my clothes went with it. I was cold, my feet hurt, I couldn’t feel my fingers and I wanted sooooo bad to swear. 

Andrew has finished the Bran proof gate. Thank you Andrew, it’s just what I wanted. Bran the Border Collie has been frequenting the poo pile and when Bran comes in, everyone else wants to leave. We  bathed him, shampooed, trimmed poo tags and blow dried and still he smelt so we cut off access to anywhere that he had contact with poo, liquid poo or run off poo. Poor Bran is fraught….there’s nothing to chase, gates are closed and the dog is miserable….and clean.

Quest continues to recover. In his stall last night, before he got his pyjamas on I noticed that he is starting to bulk up. The rash on his neck also appears to be healing which leads us to believe that his skin condition is a result of bad nutrition whilst he was away. He is eating everything that he sees right now and it’s all good stuff.

Got to go, time to start layering up. Take care, keep safe and warm. M       

It started like a normal day..whatever a normal day around here may be like ? It was still raining, still muddy, there was still more than enough poo and it was still nasty. Quite normal really but on a scale of 1 to 10 ( don’t you just HATE it when the doctor asks you that ?)….we were about to hit an easy 10. Greg had an idea ! As usual around here Greg has an idea, an inspiration, a blinding mental flash of genius….and I shake my head, find a quiet corner and ask “we are going to do what ????” So there we were, Greg had the idea, I had the motivation (but certainly had doubts about the method) and Michael and Andrew, like two gladiators in the arena waited anxiously for something to happen. The little Soay sheep with the dreadlocks and the BIG curly horns were to be rounded up, caught and loaded into the waiting trailer. From the trailer they would be transported to the sheep pen where they would be unloaded and they would all be a happy sheep family…eventually ! Oh, I forgot to mention, included in the “plan”, we separate Galveston and No Name the not too friendly Soay rams and leave them behind in the Bachelor pad. Clearly we are assuming their “job” is done ! Easy, just like that…. It wouldn’t take long and then we could get on with a more challenging project…..right. Somehow the fact that the little shaggy sheep are the athletes of the sheep world wasn’t considered when Gregs  plan was born “plan, what plan ?” those sheep are the Lambourginis of the sheep world, they zipped round that round pen like they were on a Nascar track. They took one look at us and, in a non verbal sheep sort of way, said NO WAY !!  Michael tried the “ If I make myself look REALLY big and scary will you just put yourself In the trailer technique”…apparently not !!!. Greg Andrew and Michael tried the chase technique and very clearly demonstrated the tale of the Soay sheep and the tortoise but the Soay sheep won. Standing on a slippy tree stump, not too effectively blocking an exit hole and taking great professional (not) action photographs for the blog, I got too excited. I lost my footing and in two shakes of a Soay tail ( oh, that was bad !!) I found my butt firmly planted in the mud, taking close ups of sheep poo. The sheep re grouped. Clearly it was time for a new plan and from my vantage point in the mud under a tree stump and a rusty blue stock trailer I had an inspiration. Off stomped Greg to the barn, on a mission. The boys found time to catch their breath and wonder what was to come next and the sheep watched….Back came Greg with a blue tarp…not quite what my mental flash had imagined but worth a try…..and it worked like a dream. Galveston and his harem took one look and as one said ( again in a non verbal sheep sort of way) “yes sir”. Another one chalked up to the girl team !!! Now Greg’s grumping…I didn’t give the boy team enough credit for achievement…ok…but it WAS my idea, you boys just made it work. !!!

Cuckoo clock has spoken, just time to check the photos ( before my unrehearsed butt plant) and get posted. Take care, keep warm and safe. M        

Is it a bird…..is it a plane….. NO !!! its Super T Bone !!! T Bone is an equine antique, a four legged wonder. T Bone the big old bay gelding is 30, that’s about 90 in people talk and T Bone thinks he is 15….sometimes ! The average life span is 24 so the old guy is apparently well past his sell by date but we are happy to say that Mr. T Bone doesn’t look like he is ready to check out any time soon.  As the barn door opens and the first light of day floods the barn ( or the cold blast of icy Winter) T Bone can be heard, louder than the chorus of sheep, louder than the loudest rooster, louder even than the bawling cows. His big brown head can be seen peering around the corner of his stall checking progress of the breakfast service and his piercing whiney can even make the sleepiest of us move just a little faster. You have to be fearless to be the provider of the breakfast bowl too…..a very fast transition from bucket  to feed station is required as T Bones head, teeth bared and ears pinned back lunges. There is no intent to have us for breakfast…it’s just a T Bone thing ! Greg, a lover of all things Science fiction has been heard to comment that the usually benign old man transforms in the presence of food to the “alien” entity. From barn athlete at feeding time, our geriatric wonder horse reverts to a wobbly staggering rocking horse for grooming. As T Bone wavers around on four unstable legs, we try to brush his still shiny brown coat whilst warily watching for any sign of an impending collapse. With his butt jammed into the corner of the stall the old horse tolerates the grooming process…just. It didn’t take too long for T Bone to realize that the grooming brush and me usually means a carrot titbit and, having surrendered to being temporarily tied his head  can apparently twist a full 180 degrees to check my pockets for a treat. T Bone and Cooper are only here as a Winter “guests” and we will be sorry to see them return home in the Spring.

Michael and Andrew our current WOOFERS are here until the end of the month and are getting to experience the best of the worse of farming as the Winter sets in. This morning through the darkness we can hear torrential rain falling over the valley and we know that at least some of the day’s challenges are going to be weather related. It would appear that mud is THE most satisfying medium for a good healthy dirty roll and the horses appear to revel in getting a good, solid, all over, nasty mud bath. Starbuck the black Appaloosa with no spots and Cooper the younger of our two old men came in from the pastures with every spot of non rug covered horse coated in a thick coating of the disgusting dirty wet goo yesterday and it was our unenviable chore to try to find the horse under the mud masks !

The chickens also make the most of the puddles and mud. With clean fresh water always available the ladies find the most nasty murky hole to bathe in before they retire to the nest boxes and roosts to wait out the Winter storms.   

Well, time to go and find the water wings and snorkels, if this rain continues four legs will become redundant and we will be needing flippers and fins. Another day begins. Take care, keep safe and dry, M