Whenever I desire to sit down and write, I notice things. How I'm able to write my feelings (rather than eat them), my observations, my dreams or my opinions. The freedom to write anything can be overwhelming. I could write about my childhood, my life now, an elementary school teacher, my grandmother's house and how her bedroom was covered in baby powder. ** Nanny used baby powder all over herself each day, and never dusted her bedroom in all the years I sat in her bed drinking (forbidden for children, at the time) coffee. Extra milk and sugar, which made it taste like candy.
There's so much to document, write, review or rant about, that it's a never ending list of topics to put down on paper. Well, not always paper anymore, I suppose. What about the time little Suzie threw up in 1st grade class, and 4 other children did so in response to the smell and site of it all. What about Grandpa Smith who would always sneeze at the kitchen table while everyone was eating, without covering his nose/mouth. What about the neighbor who loved to practice fly fishing in his backyard and caught things not meant to be caught. And then there's the house with all the windows completely covered with foil, with a well manicured yard, and never a soul in site. There's a story everywhere I look and everywhere I've been.
Writing motivates me to look closely at life. It encourages me to do things, explore, and most importantly, pay attention. When I'm observing life, it's easier to write about it. I make a memory in my head, with a note to self : "You may want to write about that". Details are registered in my mind, processed and stored for later. The one fly in the ointment is that I can't remember everything I want to remember. I'll make that mental note, singe it into my mind, and 3 minutes later, it's gone. Flown away like the birds heading south for winter. Gone, no longer with same day delivery as I strain to bring it back. It's a notion that reminds me of a dog with it's chew toy. Biting at it, flinging it over my shoulder, licking it, coddling it, throwing it in the air and flinging it over my shoulder again. Wrestling it to the ground, and just short of barking, the memories of what I'm trying to fetch begin to return. Whew, as I wasn't sure I would be able to remember what I wanted to remember. I had better jot it down next time, and not in a form of secret code, that I myself cannot decode, even though it's my own code.
Back out of that rabbit hole I crawl. Writing, to me, is a form of creation that I find different than music, painting, art or photography. Writing requires I sit and put my fingers on a keyboard, in front of no one, and translate what's inside this head of mine into a story that needs some order and makes some sense. It doesn't need to be perfect, although writers want it to be perfect. It's about putting things in places, so that others can find them. It's about the ability to quiet my mind, above the other 22 voices in my head that sound like a colony of bats invaded by drunken monkeys. It's about rocking in my chair, clearing space to hack away at these voices, and get out of my own way - and write. It's often a time where I feel like every mental illness I've ever thought I had is sitting next to me chattering away, convincing me that "this is great!", "no, it's not", or "what are you doing?" Then, after I pack away all my "friends" sitting around me, I'm able to word by word begin creating. All my wild words begin to soften and appear in front of me, as I feel the delight of writing.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm just like anyone who may procrastinate. Even when it's something we may want to do, all of a sudden I wonder if I need to call and make an appt for something. I might study my teeth in the mirror. Wonder if I need braces again. Wait, what if this neck pain is meningitis. I probably need to tweeze some hairs. I've been meaning to clean out that closet upstairs. The animals, do they need something right now? When are their vaccines due. Luckily, I've played this game with my mind before. Simmer down now, all those things will wait. My free floating list of things To-Not-Do-Right-Now can wait.
My fantasy of typing like a court reporter nor the flow of beautiful prose streaming like the rivers has come to light, I still write. I write to indulge my soul, figure myself out, share my hopes and fears, all while reshuffling the deck of words in anticipation that they may also speak to others. Word by word is how I get there. I don't take myself too seriously, as I've discovered that to figure out who I am, plenty of mistakes will be made along the way. Writing them down is theraputic.
Writing shows me that things are moving into place, and the fluidity of life cannot be underestimated. There are no backsies, no re-do buttons for me. I can never seem to reach the Easy button. It's just too high. There are epic fails to learn from, along with the daily trivial mistakes that I should not take lightly. I enjoy writing about it all. It's a cleansing process, which ironically will forever be documented. Hopefully the goat police or the real police will not find any evidence in my written words that warrant a visit. Paranoia is always perfect material. The worst decisions make the best stories, so they say.
I continue to trust the process of writing, that it will serve the purpose it is meant to serve. I do not always know what that is. I do know that with writing, that sometimes, it takes finding out what doesn't work, to find what does. In one nano second something sounds good and right on paper, and then, uh no.
I'll close with outlining my Top 3 List of writers/authors:
#1 Brene Brown - Of course, and I say of course because I've read her books multiple times and they speak my language. Her books actually speak Cyndi. She speaks to owning our story and loving ourselves through it.
#2 Oprah Winfrey - Yes, she's a wonderful writer and author. The contents of her book(s) speaks to my soul, every time.
3# Bob Goff (Everybody Always, Love Does), Judah Smith (How's Your Soul?) and Shonda Rhimes (Year of Yes, plus others!) - It's a 3 way tie, as I adore these authors and their books immensely. They push me to my personal edge in regards to seeing the world in a holier and
spiritual way that is not often spoke of in society, in this day and time when diversity is king. These books take me to my roots of how God is good, that He works through each of us, and teaches us to live with love in our hearts and our faith in our pockets - at all times.
There's far too many wonderful writers to list, really, but this begins the list that goes on and on.
Sometimes I'm like a blind dog sitting behind a car, not knowing what's going to hit me in life. Will it this time, will it not. And like the dog, I don't even know that danger is there. That's why I write. The beauty of it all. The good, the bad, and the awesome.
Cyndi
Wednesday, August 28, 2019
Monday, August 19, 2019
Pony Talk
Before I used to blog, long ago, I had a diary. The one with the little lock and tiny key, where the pages were so thin and the lines so close together you could hardly write anything between the lines. I was in middle school/early high school at the time, and mostly wrote about boys I liked. It was silly looking back, but felt good at the time. Then, I started writing as a pen pal to my aunt and uncle who lived in Egypt at the time. I learned much of what that was all about, although too young to understand it all, as it was much greater than my capacity could take hold. It sounded fabulous to me. I did notice that I enjoyed the act of writing. Of sitting down, taking the pen and paper and putting my thoughts on those lines. From my brain, through the ink, to become a life of its own right there in front of me. Although nonchalant at the time, I did make note (no pun there) that the process was remarkably fascinating. Tilting my head, looking at the words.
Then high school came along and I remember the joy of learning proper grammar, sentence structure, and words. My senior year high school English teacher just wanted all of us in class to write well - and go to college. She was an advocate for us all. She used to say right before class, "Cyndi, when you stop brushing that pretty red hair, we'll start class". I would turn so red, try to be invisible and wonder why she always says that. Never knowing that I even brushed my hair that much, much less had a brush with me at school and in class, as maybe I thought the brush was an extension of my hand.
Time ticked on and college came, where writing papers was never bothersome. It was work, but I remember taking it seriously, and trying to apply everything my senior year English teacher taught me. She would never know I thought about all the different things she emphasized and struggled to place in our unappreciative brains. The story keeps going with graduation, going to work, getting married, having a child and living life. The usual. Life swept me away from myself.
I lived in survival mode, crisis mode, autopilot mode and all those modes that 30 and 40 year olds do who are trying to figure out how to pay bills, have a household, a marriage and keep a child alive. It was a magical time, with happiness and many opportunities for learning. During this particular growing period, I didn't have the self awareness to realize how I was being shaped. I was bouncing along the path of life, letting the ebb and flow of energy direct me. It seemingly worked well for me, most of the time.
I woke up one day. Maybe it was over a period of years, really. Waking up here and there, like a turtle sticking its head out of its shell, realizing that there's more to life just awaiting my arrival. Slowly, I took hold and began on a journey of transition. I didn't know I was taking a journey, as my self awareness was developing. Sometimes I think of this journey as selfish, maybe even self-indulging. I've not yet arrived, and will likely not get there until I've turned back into dust. The sparkle in it was that finally, I began sensing my self awareness. This slow, new season felt good like a gentle breeze touching my soul.
I would have never guessed I would love to blog, or farm, or run, or many of the things I do in life. It was too far down the road to see. Looking back, it seems so clear. The camp(s) I loved to go to as a teen were Horse Camps. I was a Ag Economics major (Texas A&M) first, before I was a RN. I wanted an animal of every type from a young age. I took Running as my PE in college. I was fascinated by the Animal Science class of learning to judge farm animals. It was all right there under my nose the whole time.
I'll leave the trip down Memory Lane and time travel to Lovebird Lane. That's the real street sign we placed at the end of the gravel road, that leads to our little house that came with two guards dogs and two donkeys. Part of the house deal. I still remember getting two chickens. Then 4 more. Then Belle, our 1 day old lamb, then more sheep, then more guards dogs, and then goats, and a myriad addition of chickens and barn cats mixed in there. There was loss, but always love. It was a recipe that when shaken, mixed and stirred, slowly became The Graves Farm. No kill zone, no slaughter onsite, no eating the chickens (lamb or goats either). Just lots of petting, love and nurturing animals who have distinct personalities of their very own. Everyone with a (sometimes oddball) name and safe place to live life. Exactly as I would have it.
If my heart cannot be bursting enough, we recently added two miniature horses. I've never owned a horse, and have a huge learning curve ahead of me. I'm still surprised when I drive up to the house and see them. Oh, are they mine? I hope I know enough to take care of them.
This is Diego, whose a 3 year old gelding (fixed boy horse). He's halter trained, loves long walks on the beach, just kidding. He does walk well on the lead, super sweet, loves to be petted, brushed and smell you, your clothes, and your hands. Maybe he's checking for treats. His hooves are super shiny, and he has an ombre tail. Shy. He's very shy.
And then there's Dora. She's a 10 year old mare, has a dark chocolate coat with a blond mane and tail. She's not shy, walks well on a lead, and saddles up easily so that anyone 30-40 lbs or less can ride her. (Let's see, that's Sugar, Maybe, a chicken or a cat.) She's super curious, and is the obvious herd leader of the two. Bossy boots.
They are both surprisingly quiet. David made a stall for them in the barn (thank you, honey!). They are mostly interested in grazing and enjoying the warm sun. I just adore them, and am in awe of their beauty. They're beautiful in a different way than all the others. Something about horses.
Inside, I have come full circle. It's a circle of love, peace and joy brought by those around me. My family, my animals, and the quiet of living in the country. I'm 12 years old again, going to summer camp everyday, right outside my door. I'm running to run, not for college credit. I'm writing because it feels good to write.
I can't even imaging anyone I'd rather take this journey with except David. He's given me my most precious gift, Lauren. He's granted me full access to all my hopes and dreams. He's my crew in every race, most importantly in the race of life. Time is moving quickly. He's there to slow it down, and show me what genuine kindness and love looks like. He shows me everyday.
My rock.
Grateful beyond measure to have this peace in my life,
Cyndi
God shining His light. Calm, bright, and with meaning.
Then high school came along and I remember the joy of learning proper grammar, sentence structure, and words. My senior year high school English teacher just wanted all of us in class to write well - and go to college. She was an advocate for us all. She used to say right before class, "Cyndi, when you stop brushing that pretty red hair, we'll start class". I would turn so red, try to be invisible and wonder why she always says that. Never knowing that I even brushed my hair that much, much less had a brush with me at school and in class, as maybe I thought the brush was an extension of my hand.
Time ticked on and college came, where writing papers was never bothersome. It was work, but I remember taking it seriously, and trying to apply everything my senior year English teacher taught me. She would never know I thought about all the different things she emphasized and struggled to place in our unappreciative brains. The story keeps going with graduation, going to work, getting married, having a child and living life. The usual. Life swept me away from myself.
I lived in survival mode, crisis mode, autopilot mode and all those modes that 30 and 40 year olds do who are trying to figure out how to pay bills, have a household, a marriage and keep a child alive. It was a magical time, with happiness and many opportunities for learning. During this particular growing period, I didn't have the self awareness to realize how I was being shaped. I was bouncing along the path of life, letting the ebb and flow of energy direct me. It seemingly worked well for me, most of the time.
I woke up one day. Maybe it was over a period of years, really. Waking up here and there, like a turtle sticking its head out of its shell, realizing that there's more to life just awaiting my arrival. Slowly, I took hold and began on a journey of transition. I didn't know I was taking a journey, as my self awareness was developing. Sometimes I think of this journey as selfish, maybe even self-indulging. I've not yet arrived, and will likely not get there until I've turned back into dust. The sparkle in it was that finally, I began sensing my self awareness. This slow, new season felt good like a gentle breeze touching my soul.
I would have never guessed I would love to blog, or farm, or run, or many of the things I do in life. It was too far down the road to see. Looking back, it seems so clear. The camp(s) I loved to go to as a teen were Horse Camps. I was a Ag Economics major (Texas A&M) first, before I was a RN. I wanted an animal of every type from a young age. I took Running as my PE in college. I was fascinated by the Animal Science class of learning to judge farm animals. It was all right there under my nose the whole time.
I'll leave the trip down Memory Lane and time travel to Lovebird Lane. That's the real street sign we placed at the end of the gravel road, that leads to our little house that came with two guards dogs and two donkeys. Part of the house deal. I still remember getting two chickens. Then 4 more. Then Belle, our 1 day old lamb, then more sheep, then more guards dogs, and then goats, and a myriad addition of chickens and barn cats mixed in there. There was loss, but always love. It was a recipe that when shaken, mixed and stirred, slowly became The Graves Farm. No kill zone, no slaughter onsite, no eating the chickens (lamb or goats either). Just lots of petting, love and nurturing animals who have distinct personalities of their very own. Everyone with a (sometimes oddball) name and safe place to live life. Exactly as I would have it.
If my heart cannot be bursting enough, we recently added two miniature horses. I've never owned a horse, and have a huge learning curve ahead of me. I'm still surprised when I drive up to the house and see them. Oh, are they mine? I hope I know enough to take care of them.
This is Diego, whose a 3 year old gelding (fixed boy horse). He's halter trained, loves long walks on the beach, just kidding. He does walk well on the lead, super sweet, loves to be petted, brushed and smell you, your clothes, and your hands. Maybe he's checking for treats. His hooves are super shiny, and he has an ombre tail. Shy. He's very shy.
And then there's Dora. She's a 10 year old mare, has a dark chocolate coat with a blond mane and tail. She's not shy, walks well on a lead, and saddles up easily so that anyone 30-40 lbs or less can ride her. (Let's see, that's Sugar, Maybe, a chicken or a cat.) She's super curious, and is the obvious herd leader of the two. Bossy boots.
They are both surprisingly quiet. David made a stall for them in the barn (thank you, honey!). They are mostly interested in grazing and enjoying the warm sun. I just adore them, and am in awe of their beauty. They're beautiful in a different way than all the others. Something about horses.
Inside, I have come full circle. It's a circle of love, peace and joy brought by those around me. My family, my animals, and the quiet of living in the country. I'm 12 years old again, going to summer camp everyday, right outside my door. I'm running to run, not for college credit. I'm writing because it feels good to write.
I can't even imaging anyone I'd rather take this journey with except David. He's given me my most precious gift, Lauren. He's granted me full access to all my hopes and dreams. He's my crew in every race, most importantly in the race of life. Time is moving quickly. He's there to slow it down, and show me what genuine kindness and love looks like. He shows me everyday.
My rock.
Grateful beyond measure to have this peace in my life,
Cyndi
God shining His light. Calm, bright, and with meaning.
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
Alacrity
What do I love most about the sheep, besides their docile nature, their sweet ways, and their playful selves?
I love their alacrity which makes them so easy to work with and be around. Need to move them to a different area in the pasture? No problem. Need to vaccinate them? Can do. Such gentle and kind creatures. Although large, they are eager, quick and enthusiastic. Their physical quickness always surprises me, every time.
Front Row: (l to r) Clara, Grace and Lulu
Back Row: (l to r) Eve, Belle and Licorice
So what's the problem then?
It has come to our attention, that we need to reduce the area that they graze. It's not that we didn't already know this, as we've had 'this discussion' on numerous occasions. Bottom line, our sweet sheep are getting too big. They have too much to eat, and although vaccinated for "overeating disease" (a real thing in sheep and goats), I feel like if we are going to buy a Ram, and have more lambs, that getting them in a better physical condition would be optimal.
Hold that thought for a minute
Speaking of getting too big, the goats are doing a wonderful job of eating the back pasture. But, it's too much food for them, as well. Recently, we moved Chia and her cutest-kids-ever Petunia and Dotty to the back pasture with the rest of the goats. Her little ones are getting bigger now, and it's time to integrate them all together. We felt like they were ready, except we had one goat in particular that may be too aggressive for the little kids. So, we made a decision to right-size the goat population. Ironically, a local man of which I've bought chickens from prior, was looking to replace some goats in his herd. It's amazing how things fall together so well at times. He came by our farm, and ended up taking Peanut, formally named Sprinkles, but David could never remember that name. Peanut rivals with Nona for lead position, and is not always nice in the herd. We are all about nice around here. And because we did not want to send Peanut alone, and because this man wanted two of our goats, we also gave him Georgia. We loaded Peanut and Georgia into his crate, and off they went. Technically, we sold them to him. He got the Family and Friend Deal.
Tell me more
Now, that left Chia, Petunia, Dotty, Nona and Twizzler in the back pasture. Still with too much to eat. They are all getting along, with no issues or concerns. Everything is wonderful for them, and even Dixie and Davis are enjoying the new combination of goats. The guard dogs seem to enjoy having the goats there, and follow them around as they graze, making sure all is well for them. It brings so much joy to my heart to watch this all happen, right before my eyes.
Is eating too much a bad thing
Our sheep in the front pasture are too big. Our goats in the back pasture are working on getting too big. This recipe calls for mixing the two. And mix we did. Yesterday morning, David and I coxed the sheep, whose alacrity I spoke of earlier lends them to cooperate wonderfully, into the back pasture. And in a matter of minutes, the sheep are out back with the goats. The sheep immediately start investigating the area. They are loving this field trip! Look, new things, new food, and even a new barn back here. What good sheep they are. On the other hand, the goats are over huddled together asking each other, "Who are they? And who let them in?" Dixie and Davis are dancing happily around, literally doing their Happy Dance. Of course, while we taking in all this excitement, Davis decides to slip out the gate and run off, which we had not sufficiently shut. Nothing ever goes as planned around here. Not a dull moment, for sure. So, David tries to get him, then I try to get him, and we finally get him back in his spot, out back with the goats and sheep. Whew! So you ask me, "Why can't he just run around? Why the frantic behavior to get him back out back?" Because at last watch, while he was out and about running around, he has a tendency to run after the chickens and accidentally on purpose bite them. No bueno.
Isn't it workie work time
After all that, it's now time for David and I to go back inside the house and start getting ready to go to work, right?! We like to do these things (move farm animals, fix fencing or other time-consuming projects) at the most inopportune times. Sweaty and gross, we head inside. Looking out on the back pasture, all is well. The goats and sheep are milling around, and Dixie and Davis are there to keep watch over them. They have turned out to be awesome livestock guard dogs. They take their job seriously. Did I tell you they turn 1 year old this month?! Happy Birthday, and you now have more responsibility. I'll need you to keep the sheep AND goats safe.
Side note
David and I mowed the back pasture down last evening, completely, in an effort to help restrict everyone's (sheep and goats) diet. I'll report back with results of this experiment. I prefer calling it Pasture Management. I mean, it is an experiment because we are not Pasture Management experts by any means. We are constantly working towards the goal of understanding how to use each area of the land to make it useful, efficient and good for the animals health. It's ever changing, ebbing and flowing. More animals in one pasture, and grass mowed should help this situation. So we thinks.
So how did it all shake out
While we both made it to work, and ended up back home as usual that evening, we found everyone to be adapting well. We have even moved the donkeys to a different area, to mix up their eating patterns and graze a new area, as well. There's one question that remains......Whisper and Levi are now without their usual sheep herd to keep watch. They are hanging out, just as they were when we moved to the property. They guard the property, that's just what they do. I can't help but think........certainly there may be a new farm animal group in our future to enlist their assistance with, since the sheep and goats are all out back with the other guard dogs. I mean, it's almost like an opportunity to step out of our box and see what else might be out there. Or, we could just sit back and wait until it's time to shift the sheep and goats back to them. It would be an opportunity for Whisper and Levi to relax a bit. But do they want to relax? Ahhh, how I love this. It's like solving a puzzle each day. The same puzzle, with new puzzle pieces every time. No day is ever the same. The puzzle pieces are ever changing.
A new day, a new farm animal
Yes, it's true. A new day dawning could be an opportunity for a new farm animal. The goats and sheep are now in one area, which was our ultimate goal for them. We just had a few hiccups along that journey (pregnant goats, etc). It literally took months for that to happen. The donkeys are eating a different pasture now. So that leaves Whisper and Levi with a big barn, and chickens to watch. I'm thinking there's room for more. How does miniature pony's sound? Sounds good to me!
I'm so tickled by the thought of mini pony's, I'm all giddy. As in Giddy-Up! I think I'll get a saddle for them, too.
Cyndi
I love their alacrity which makes them so easy to work with and be around. Need to move them to a different area in the pasture? No problem. Need to vaccinate them? Can do. Such gentle and kind creatures. Although large, they are eager, quick and enthusiastic. Their physical quickness always surprises me, every time.
Front Row: (l to r) Clara, Grace and Lulu
Back Row: (l to r) Eve, Belle and Licorice
So what's the problem then?
It has come to our attention, that we need to reduce the area that they graze. It's not that we didn't already know this, as we've had 'this discussion' on numerous occasions. Bottom line, our sweet sheep are getting too big. They have too much to eat, and although vaccinated for "overeating disease" (a real thing in sheep and goats), I feel like if we are going to buy a Ram, and have more lambs, that getting them in a better physical condition would be optimal.
Hold that thought for a minute
Speaking of getting too big, the goats are doing a wonderful job of eating the back pasture. But, it's too much food for them, as well. Recently, we moved Chia and her cutest-kids-ever Petunia and Dotty to the back pasture with the rest of the goats. Her little ones are getting bigger now, and it's time to integrate them all together. We felt like they were ready, except we had one goat in particular that may be too aggressive for the little kids. So, we made a decision to right-size the goat population. Ironically, a local man of which I've bought chickens from prior, was looking to replace some goats in his herd. It's amazing how things fall together so well at times. He came by our farm, and ended up taking Peanut, formally named Sprinkles, but David could never remember that name. Peanut rivals with Nona for lead position, and is not always nice in the herd. We are all about nice around here. And because we did not want to send Peanut alone, and because this man wanted two of our goats, we also gave him Georgia. We loaded Peanut and Georgia into his crate, and off they went. Technically, we sold them to him. He got the Family and Friend Deal.
Tell me more
Now, that left Chia, Petunia, Dotty, Nona and Twizzler in the back pasture. Still with too much to eat. They are all getting along, with no issues or concerns. Everything is wonderful for them, and even Dixie and Davis are enjoying the new combination of goats. The guard dogs seem to enjoy having the goats there, and follow them around as they graze, making sure all is well for them. It brings so much joy to my heart to watch this all happen, right before my eyes.
Is eating too much a bad thing
Our sheep in the front pasture are too big. Our goats in the back pasture are working on getting too big. This recipe calls for mixing the two. And mix we did. Yesterday morning, David and I coxed the sheep, whose alacrity I spoke of earlier lends them to cooperate wonderfully, into the back pasture. And in a matter of minutes, the sheep are out back with the goats. The sheep immediately start investigating the area. They are loving this field trip! Look, new things, new food, and even a new barn back here. What good sheep they are. On the other hand, the goats are over huddled together asking each other, "Who are they? And who let them in?" Dixie and Davis are dancing happily around, literally doing their Happy Dance. Of course, while we taking in all this excitement, Davis decides to slip out the gate and run off, which we had not sufficiently shut. Nothing ever goes as planned around here. Not a dull moment, for sure. So, David tries to get him, then I try to get him, and we finally get him back in his spot, out back with the goats and sheep. Whew! So you ask me, "Why can't he just run around? Why the frantic behavior to get him back out back?" Because at last watch, while he was out and about running around, he has a tendency to run after the chickens and accidentally on purpose bite them. No bueno.
Isn't it workie work time
After all that, it's now time for David and I to go back inside the house and start getting ready to go to work, right?! We like to do these things (move farm animals, fix fencing or other time-consuming projects) at the most inopportune times. Sweaty and gross, we head inside. Looking out on the back pasture, all is well. The goats and sheep are milling around, and Dixie and Davis are there to keep watch over them. They have turned out to be awesome livestock guard dogs. They take their job seriously. Did I tell you they turn 1 year old this month?! Happy Birthday, and you now have more responsibility. I'll need you to keep the sheep AND goats safe.
Side note
David and I mowed the back pasture down last evening, completely, in an effort to help restrict everyone's (sheep and goats) diet. I'll report back with results of this experiment. I prefer calling it Pasture Management. I mean, it is an experiment because we are not Pasture Management experts by any means. We are constantly working towards the goal of understanding how to use each area of the land to make it useful, efficient and good for the animals health. It's ever changing, ebbing and flowing. More animals in one pasture, and grass mowed should help this situation. So we thinks.
So how did it all shake out
While we both made it to work, and ended up back home as usual that evening, we found everyone to be adapting well. We have even moved the donkeys to a different area, to mix up their eating patterns and graze a new area, as well. There's one question that remains......Whisper and Levi are now without their usual sheep herd to keep watch. They are hanging out, just as they were when we moved to the property. They guard the property, that's just what they do. I can't help but think........certainly there may be a new farm animal group in our future to enlist their assistance with, since the sheep and goats are all out back with the other guard dogs. I mean, it's almost like an opportunity to step out of our box and see what else might be out there. Or, we could just sit back and wait until it's time to shift the sheep and goats back to them. It would be an opportunity for Whisper and Levi to relax a bit. But do they want to relax? Ahhh, how I love this. It's like solving a puzzle each day. The same puzzle, with new puzzle pieces every time. No day is ever the same. The puzzle pieces are ever changing.
A new day, a new farm animal
Yes, it's true. A new day dawning could be an opportunity for a new farm animal. The goats and sheep are now in one area, which was our ultimate goal for them. We just had a few hiccups along that journey (pregnant goats, etc). It literally took months for that to happen. The donkeys are eating a different pasture now. So that leaves Whisper and Levi with a big barn, and chickens to watch. I'm thinking there's room for more. How does miniature pony's sound? Sounds good to me!
I'm so tickled by the thought of mini pony's, I'm all giddy. As in Giddy-Up! I think I'll get a saddle for them, too.
Cyndi
Sunday, August 4, 2019
JOGLE
JOGLE = John O'Groat's to Land's End
Turns out JOGLE is a thing many people know about, of which was recently brought to my attention by my cross country ultra running partner, John Price. After further investigation and googling, I found this to be something fascinating, as I've not thought about this type of thing before. This is a crossing many people do in the UK that goes from the northern portion (John O'Groat's, Scotland) to the very bottom of England, at Land's End. I am no way an expert in this geography, nor familiar with customs and language/dialect of this area. It appears many people do this, mostly by bike (cycling) and some by run/walk. The best part about this is you can cross the UK in approx 860 miles, and see the country up front and personal. I fell in love with this idea. Then, that there's a staged race called JOGLE, was icing on this cake. Yes, 860 miles sounds do-able, but they make this race difficult (as in real difficult) by making it a staged race of 17 days. What this means is there's a certain number of miles per day you run, and you're given a map each night before the next day's route, and then they set a timeframe (on a daily basis) of how fast you have to do it. Don't make the cut off? Sorry, you're likely out of the race. There's no dilly dally-ing around, waiting for rain to pass, walking slow or stopping to eat, or take a nap and rest. No, you keep moving to make the cut-off each day. I don't know that I have a lot more details than that, just that that's the general rules set out on their website for the race.
What attracted me most to this type of race is 1) crossing another country by foot, 2) having other people involved, who track your existence and make sure you are okay (requirement of my husband for living on the side of the road), and 3) the milage of around 860 miles does not require months off of work, and 4) the challenge of it. So, after talking with David, we decided this might be a good idea, and going to the UK will be fun and exciting no matter if there's a race or not. I signed up. It's not until mid March 2020, so I'll be able to finish out this cycling (and running) season, and when the cooler weather is upon us, will increase my miles/week to adjust to the many miles per day that will be required.
This map is not the actual route that the race takes, but does show one of the many options of going from John O'Groat's to Land's End, in particular I believe this is one of the cycling routes used. It will give you a general idea of the path to Land's End.
How does something like this come about, you ask?
Once upon a time, I blogged about numbness and tingling in my arms and legs (a few months back). This led me to a path of MRI's, CT's, and biopsy's that showed various health conditions I had, without even knowing I had them. What happens in life is, when you have so much of yourself imaged (head, neck blood vessels, brain, spine) they find things. And they found things in various places that needed further investigating. And investigations we did. How about I skip past all the blah, blah, blah of this and that, and get down to what really matters: I'm still allowed to run and bike. I'm still allowed to live my life just like I did before. I have things I need to watch for, and through the process of it all, I had a long term heart monitor implanted in my chest to record my heart coming-and-goings 24/7. I have follow up visits to watch and make sure all is well in my brain, with my heart, and in my back. Nope, no official diagnosis, believe it or not, yet. I'll take that, and a happily ever after, for now.
What is a heart monitor implanted in you? It's a tiny AAA battery-sized device that records all your heart activity, and downloads it each day, and sent to the cardiologist. Then, if something is not right, they call and tell you, and are able to treat issues as needed. So far, so good. This is a 3 year thing, and after that, they take it out. After a week, I didn't even feel it or know it's really there. It's very convenient, as other heart monitoring devices are bulky, restrictive and time consuming. This option is perfect for my life style. I just live my life, and they let me know if anything is wrong.
It was during the 2 month process of elimination that I thought many thoughts. One was, 'if something is really wrong with me, I'm going to do this, and then that, and then this other thing, and that......". When word (and biopsies, CT's and MRI results) came back that I don't have anything terminal, I asked myself an important question: Why are you waiting til you're told you have an expiration date, before you do the things you want to really do?
It's like a mini awakening. Time to do things, before your body sets too many limits. Aging, illness and disease can't help but put limits on our physical abilities, it just does. That's why you don't see 70 and 80 year old people routinely cycling on the roads. Some do, yes. Most don't. Age puts us in a new place of listening to what our bodies are able to do, and stay in that lane. Otherwise, since the curbs are not spray painted bright yellow, you had better be careful, because agility is not top of the list for most seniors. So, I think I'll go do a few more things I want to do, before my body starts dictating what I can and can't do. That's just life. It's gonna happen, and I'm not sad about it. Instead, I'm grateful for the abilities I have at any age, and will try and take advantage of it. Time grabs hold of us all, and no one escapes that. So I shall move while God has granted me this wonderful ability to move.
To answer a few more questions.....yes, I'll be blogging (as much as I can) while in the UK, yes, David (and maybe Lauren) will be coming to the UK for some of the time, and yes, anything can happen between now and then, and yes, I'll miss the farm and my little Sugar more than words can express. Oh, and one more thing, even if they boot you out of the race, the crossing continues (at least for me it would). It's awesome!!! But you know I want to finish the race. I want that so bad.
I'll close with what blogging looks like:
Me, blogging.
Or, sheep pajama blogging......
I'm into it, I suppose. I think David took that when I didn't even know.
And me lately:
So while I ponder often, I keep moving forward. Sometimes I have to go backwards to move forward, and that's okay, too. My recent backwards events, have propelled me forward. So very grateful for all the wonderful doctors that make everything okay.
Moving onward,
Cyndi
Turns out JOGLE is a thing many people know about, of which was recently brought to my attention by my cross country ultra running partner, John Price. After further investigation and googling, I found this to be something fascinating, as I've not thought about this type of thing before. This is a crossing many people do in the UK that goes from the northern portion (John O'Groat's, Scotland) to the very bottom of England, at Land's End. I am no way an expert in this geography, nor familiar with customs and language/dialect of this area. It appears many people do this, mostly by bike (cycling) and some by run/walk. The best part about this is you can cross the UK in approx 860 miles, and see the country up front and personal. I fell in love with this idea. Then, that there's a staged race called JOGLE, was icing on this cake. Yes, 860 miles sounds do-able, but they make this race difficult (as in real difficult) by making it a staged race of 17 days. What this means is there's a certain number of miles per day you run, and you're given a map each night before the next day's route, and then they set a timeframe (on a daily basis) of how fast you have to do it. Don't make the cut off? Sorry, you're likely out of the race. There's no dilly dally-ing around, waiting for rain to pass, walking slow or stopping to eat, or take a nap and rest. No, you keep moving to make the cut-off each day. I don't know that I have a lot more details than that, just that that's the general rules set out on their website for the race.
What attracted me most to this type of race is 1) crossing another country by foot, 2) having other people involved, who track your existence and make sure you are okay (requirement of my husband for living on the side of the road), and 3) the milage of around 860 miles does not require months off of work, and 4) the challenge of it. So, after talking with David, we decided this might be a good idea, and going to the UK will be fun and exciting no matter if there's a race or not. I signed up. It's not until mid March 2020, so I'll be able to finish out this cycling (and running) season, and when the cooler weather is upon us, will increase my miles/week to adjust to the many miles per day that will be required.
This map is not the actual route that the race takes, but does show one of the many options of going from John O'Groat's to Land's End, in particular I believe this is one of the cycling routes used. It will give you a general idea of the path to Land's End.
How does something like this come about, you ask?
Once upon a time, I blogged about numbness and tingling in my arms and legs (a few months back). This led me to a path of MRI's, CT's, and biopsy's that showed various health conditions I had, without even knowing I had them. What happens in life is, when you have so much of yourself imaged (head, neck blood vessels, brain, spine) they find things. And they found things in various places that needed further investigating. And investigations we did. How about I skip past all the blah, blah, blah of this and that, and get down to what really matters: I'm still allowed to run and bike. I'm still allowed to live my life just like I did before. I have things I need to watch for, and through the process of it all, I had a long term heart monitor implanted in my chest to record my heart coming-and-goings 24/7. I have follow up visits to watch and make sure all is well in my brain, with my heart, and in my back. Nope, no official diagnosis, believe it or not, yet. I'll take that, and a happily ever after, for now.
What is a heart monitor implanted in you? It's a tiny AAA battery-sized device that records all your heart activity, and downloads it each day, and sent to the cardiologist. Then, if something is not right, they call and tell you, and are able to treat issues as needed. So far, so good. This is a 3 year thing, and after that, they take it out. After a week, I didn't even feel it or know it's really there. It's very convenient, as other heart monitoring devices are bulky, restrictive and time consuming. This option is perfect for my life style. I just live my life, and they let me know if anything is wrong.
It was during the 2 month process of elimination that I thought many thoughts. One was, 'if something is really wrong with me, I'm going to do this, and then that, and then this other thing, and that......". When word (and biopsies, CT's and MRI results) came back that I don't have anything terminal, I asked myself an important question: Why are you waiting til you're told you have an expiration date, before you do the things you want to really do?
It's like a mini awakening. Time to do things, before your body sets too many limits. Aging, illness and disease can't help but put limits on our physical abilities, it just does. That's why you don't see 70 and 80 year old people routinely cycling on the roads. Some do, yes. Most don't. Age puts us in a new place of listening to what our bodies are able to do, and stay in that lane. Otherwise, since the curbs are not spray painted bright yellow, you had better be careful, because agility is not top of the list for most seniors. So, I think I'll go do a few more things I want to do, before my body starts dictating what I can and can't do. That's just life. It's gonna happen, and I'm not sad about it. Instead, I'm grateful for the abilities I have at any age, and will try and take advantage of it. Time grabs hold of us all, and no one escapes that. So I shall move while God has granted me this wonderful ability to move.
To answer a few more questions.....yes, I'll be blogging (as much as I can) while in the UK, yes, David (and maybe Lauren) will be coming to the UK for some of the time, and yes, anything can happen between now and then, and yes, I'll miss the farm and my little Sugar more than words can express. Oh, and one more thing, even if they boot you out of the race, the crossing continues (at least for me it would). It's awesome!!! But you know I want to finish the race. I want that so bad.
I'll close with what blogging looks like:
Me, blogging.
Or, sheep pajama blogging......
I'm into it, I suppose. I think David took that when I didn't even know.
And me lately:
So while I ponder often, I keep moving forward. Sometimes I have to go backwards to move forward, and that's okay, too. My recent backwards events, have propelled me forward. So very grateful for all the wonderful doctors that make everything okay.
Moving onward,
Cyndi
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