A Harrowing Experience

Some time over the winter David told me about a piece of steel cable he had found deeply buried in the grass at the far end of the pasture. The horses never go into that area, so we decided that its extrication could wait until spring. David's brother Gareth appeared last night for a quick visit, and today he volunteered to help David remove this accident waiting to happen (most likely to Raven). They walked down the pasture together and spent five minutes poking around before coming back for two spades. They walked back down the pasture and spent another five minutes digging around before returning for the Red Menace. About twenty minutes later they all came rumbling over the rise with a 10-foot chain harrow in tow. It looks like someone welded it together with leftovers from some big piece of machinery. Who knows how long it has been buried out there for a long time with nothing but its drag cable sticking out? Roger, Gareth and David with the kill:

While the brothers were down the back Roger was working on our burn pile, which has been getting steadily larger for a couple of months now. The stuff was pretty wet, but a little gasoline goes a long way.

And before any of this started Gareth was kind enough to help me finish topping the planter boxes off with composted manure. Nice to have such good company around for a few days, and also nice to have such willing pairs of extra hands.

Routine Checkup

Our neighbours claim that the weather was beautiful while David and I were away, and we arrived home in time to enjoy at least one day of sun before the predicted rain begins. We also arrived home with my mother in tow for her first visit to Farcical Farm (which inspired me to dig out some Reno Hell pictures).
It was good to get back to my chores this morning, but surprising to find that my routine was already not-so-routine. I forgot to bring the beet pulp bucket with me when I fed the horses, so I had to go back to the garage to get it. I forgot to collect the manure fork after dumping the wheelbarrow, so I had to go back to the paddock to get it. I forgot Titan's dinner in the laundry room tonight, so I had to go back to the house to get it. A myriad of time-consuming little mistakes that I don't normally make. From my stable hand days I know that most horse caretakers know the fastest, most efficient way to get their chores finished, and I usually follow a careful routine (sometimes more slowly than others). Tomorrow I will be back on my game.

Time on Ice

David and I aren't planning to have children, but we both enjoy the company of the kids in our respective families. My sister's eldest son had just turned one when we first met, and his nieces and nephews were all under the age of ten. David's sister in Ottawa has four kids, now ranging between 12 and 19, and we have been going to their hockey games whenever possible for years. They used to swarm down the ice after the puck, which I referred to as "bowling for 6-year-olds" because one fallen child would inevitably splay along like a starfish, knocking down half of the other players. Tonight we watched 16-year-old boys (called "midgets" despite their size and height) play three full periods of real, hard hockey.

There is nothing that marks the passage of time in my life like watching these children grow into adolescents and onto adulthood. Deadlines come and go, goals are achieved or abandoned, dogs get stiffer through the hips and grayer around the muzzles -- none of these provide the sudden shocks that come with seeing kids only once or twice a year. I never worry much about time and mortality, but sometimes it makes my breath catch in my throat.

After the game the family loaned us some skates so that we can enjoy the Rideau Canal tomorrow morning. I am also looking forward to enjoying a Beaver Tail.

A Family Affair

My sister, my brother-in-law and my two nephews have been visiting Farcical Farm for the past week -- the first time we have hosted my side of the family tree. Although I get to Toronto a few times each year it was nice to have the tables turned by an encounter on my own turf. We frolicked in the snow, ate a lot, didn't drink too too much, played Wii, watched silly TV shows and had a great time. The Ruddy Beast is plenty big for six people, our little dishwasher didn't mind doing triple duty, and Mister Giotto was worshiped by all. The Callaghan clan is thinking of buying property in Ontario this summer (they have two avid dirt-bikers on their hands) so I hope their time at Farcical Farm was both fun and encouraging.

They spoiled us in several ways while they were here, but primarily by helping with the farm chores each morning. Everyone would suit up and head out to feed, water, muck and exercise the dogs. Concern for the warfarin-tainted curs and the swollen-sheathed nag was shared by all, with the five-year-old Rory keeping astute mental record of their progress. The only thing I dislike about living in BC is being so far from my family -- the house seems quiet and surprisingly lonely without them.