I am a problem to myself

I've figured out the dilemma, my friends, it's me. I am a problem to myself and create all the work I speak of. The good news is that I actually document it here, and then use this blog as a time-line or quite often for reference. For example, haven't I done this before and it didn't turn out so great? Or when did we get the piggies? Or when did we change the barn around (for the 100th time) like so like that. Or, I can't believe I'm doing this again, but I am. That's what I circle around to the most. But hey, I can always go back and reference my online diary and remember it fondly, oftentimes more than once. My husband might say I’m famous for making the same mistake twice.  

So we've been around the block and back on many things here on the farm, but one thing in particular we are circling back around on at this very moment is training new guard pups. Attempt #3 is going well. Well, 'well' may not be the right word. It's going okay. Wait, let me think. No, how it's actually going is like this: We are constantly reminding ourselves to not do the things we did before. And to do something different so that we can make it work this time. 

This seems to be harder than it seems, for me anyway. Because if I knew what to do to get potential guard pups to not eat the chickens they are supposed to guard then we likely would not be on attempt #3. But here we are and trying hard to try to make it work. We second guess every move we make about the new guard pups, and have come to this conclusion: Dutch and Penny do not want to actually kill or eat the chickens, they just want to play with the chickens. Play as in hold them down with their gigantic paws and lick (yes, lick) the chicken until their feathers are completely wet. It's the strangest thing. For every chicken they have done this to (we caught them doing it more than once) the chicken bounces back up and walks away stunned that it is still alive. We feel that same way. 

We have watched YouTube's on training guard pups to not bother the chickens (seems this is a running theme for people) and we have consulted others who have tried it and consulted others who were successful. You'd also think we would know what to do because Levi and Whisper do not bother or eat the chickens. But that in itself does not translate to other dogs. We've had people come over to visit and they bring their dog thinking it's a good idea, and their dog instantly gets a chicken. I'm convinced that only a small percentage of dogs are able to co-exist with chickens, while a large percentage of the human population are convinced their dog will not kill or eat a chicken. It’s the darnest thing. 

Penny and Dutch gettin' big

How could these little faces lick a chicken til it's dripping wet? I don't know, but it happened. So we had to do something about this licking business. Therefore, Dutch and Penny now have a staging area they stay unless we are outside to monitor them. That way, we are able to reinforce the rules. No playing with the chickens. No licking the chickens. 

Sorry guys, we had to. But you have great 
piggie and turkey neighbors 🐷🦃

This new pen for Dutch and Penny also enables them to watch Levi and Whisper from the sidelines. All night long they are able to witness what guarding is all about. Without any fowl play going on. Penny and Dutch are able to come out of their special area only when we are out to keep an eye on them. Because pups will be pups, and once a dog eats/kills a chicken (even accidentally licking them to death), they will do so again. Trust me on that one. 

We have high hopes for these soft balls of fluff who are growing so fast that we are now on larger collar size #2. Our #1 goal? Teach them that the chickens are not to be bothered but to be guarded. Still working on it folks. I’m happy to report that all the chickens are still alive.  

Significantly less cancer-y

At David's 1 year cancerversary, he had a recent visit to MD Anderson that earned him a A+. All the gold stars for David! 

We are so relieved and happy which I will now title as: relappy. We are very relappy. Yet, there's an interesting phenomenon going on here. I'll attempt to break it down:

David gets diagnosed with SNUC (sinonasal undifferentiated carcinoma). He had surgery to remove the tumor, and then he had cancer treatments of chemo and radiation simultaneously. The MD Anderson doctors (which he has many) all tell him the risk of the tumor (relapse) coming back is high and the probability of cure is considered modest (neutral, but swings on the not-likely side). David is considered unusual by his oncologist (and maybe others but that's not the point at this moment) as his cancer is abating and he's not towing the line most other SNUC patients take. He's beating the odds at this moment in time. That means everything to us - and nothing to MDA. David's treatment plan is to continue with PET scans and an MRI every 2-3 months until he's told otherwise. His oncologist informed him at his visit that this timeline may be pushed out of every 4 months eventually. And after 3 years of "clear" PET scans, they will lighten up with all this scanning. 

Bottom line? They will not declare him cancer free yet. MDA will continue to watch him closely due to the nature of his aggressive cancer. It's like they make us feel like the cancer is hiding in his body, and could sneak up on him like it SNUC up on him before. 

So we celebrate the small wins! David had another visit whereby the oncologists said, "Good job not growing more cancer! You're able to go now, but come back soon." And he will. 

Let's take a moment to review how David's visit go at MDA, shall we? Each visit to MDA is an expedition of labs, IV's, scans, oncologist visits and walking to get to each of those places like a speed walker practicing for an upcoming race, except it's inside a building with lots of obstacles and transitions.

 

David knows these MDA employees well, and he’s always happy to see their bright and shining faces at his regular visits. And don’t forget the ever famous hurrying from one appt to the next in this ginormous building. This is from his most recent visit, and it hits home every time about the humongous halls, many floors and vast areas within MDA :

In the meantime, we declare everyday a wonderful day. My own next visit with my oncologist is towards the end of December. But before I closeout this cancer update, I wanted to make mention of a reoccurring conversation David and I have often. Sometimes daily, because our self-awareness brings it into focus daily. When we were living in 2019 BC (BC = before cancer) and we thought just like everyone else did - we are going to live forever. I mean, it's what humans think. Humans know they are going to die, but they don't really believe it. It's not a real big conscious thought 24/7, but it's in human's brains that life seems to go on and on and the end is hard to see. It's what David and I thought. Whenever the financial advisor asked us how long we thought we'd live, we would say just like everyone else, maybe til 80 or 90 years old? And then they handle your money (or try to) so that you can live that long. What no one really tells you, and what cancer does tell you, is that you won't live forever like you thought you would. I remember when I used to live like I wasn't going to die. It wasn't that long ago. I was actually doing death cleaning before I really thought I was ever going to die. It was a notion not a real feeling. A notion of "the end is so far out there that I can't see it". Things like cancer, heart attacks, strokes, and esp ALS and many other horrible diseases take that silly thought straight-away out of your head. Life is fragile. It's like a club of people who all know that life is not going to be as long as we had originally thought. Similar to the club you joined when you had a baby and thought "no one told me it was going to be like this". It's just a big secret club until you join it. Then, you too are in the club. Yeah, there's better clubs to be a part of, but I will say that joining this cancer club has woken up parts of us that we did not know were there. We just don't see life like we used to. We see it more sparkly and shiny. Like we need to step up our game of living. It's so cliche, but so real. When you think you might die, you get to the 'living' real quick-like. We don't know our expiration date, but we know it's out there, and likely not as far out as we had originally thought. Oddly, there's peace in that. There's also conversation about the end of life and what we want to do til then. We just come at life from a different angle now, that's all. And no person could have ever taught me this or showed me this. It had to come from inside me. 

Cluck's up in Cluckingham

Oh dear gaud, let the madness begin. Or should I say continue. You're never going to believe it, but I got more chickens. Wait, let me explain. It all started when I moved my Egg Fridge to the front of the property. People can just stop on the side of the road, and grab eggs out of the fridge. Easy peasy. Is there a problem here? Well, I cannot keep eggs in that fridge. People are buying them, and I just don't have enough eggs to sell. Economics would tell me that that supply and demand are at play here. This fun-demental principle tells me one thing: I need more chickens. Plain and simply people. 

Speaking of my people, my fellow crazy chicks who are deemed Cyndi's Crazy Chicks (you know who you are 😏) delivered shirts to me that are the cutest!!!! Not only are they comfy soft, they are super cute and I love them!

And I actually have those exact chickens.

I owe a huge thank you to Brooke and Kaitlyn for the awesome work they did getting these fabulous t-shirts made. They make me smile - and I thank you, fellow C3-ers. I couldn't do all this without your undying support and love. 💕

So Brooke and Kaitlyn will likely understand that apparently I need more chickens. So I contact my chicken lady friend in Oklahoma. You know the one with the wild wild west chicken coops of the Saloon, General Store, Post and Cantina that she built HERSELF. Yeah, her. She recently moved to a new place with more land, and she sells chickens of all sorts. David and I took a drive to OK and went to buy some laying hens from her. Unfortunately, she had mostly grow-outs (not yet laying) and not many actual laying hens. But I did buy 9 chickens from her, but none that will give me the number of eggs I'm looking for. I did get some really pretty chickens though.

Let's see, whose new here, raise your wing.

I then decide Craigslist would be another avenue to find some laying hens and I wasn't disappointed. I even found a guy who had hundreds of laying hens on a farm not-that-far-away and would even deliver some to me. How many did I want, he asked: 10, 20, 30 or more? He has hundreds of Hy-line chickens which are an avid egg laying breed of chicken. They can lay a brown egg a day for a few years. And, his price was right. So on Thanksgiving morning, yes Thanksgiving morning, he delivered 15 of those girlz to us. Just for the record, I had said 10 chickens and David said 15. We went with 15.

I've lost all control now. Where's the new girlz?!

Needless to say, our chicken barn was complete chaos with over 20 new hens. This bounced my total chicken count to around 80. And since David happened to give me a $hit Show Supervisor sweatshirt for my birthday recently, it seemed applicable to wear.  

It's at this point that you can imagine we need to get our chicken $hit together. David, as the amazing chicken guy he is, whipped straight out of his wood working shop a couple new chicken roosts, along with a gated nesting box area (to allow chickens in and keep other animals out). Chickens need a little quiet time to lay an egg, ya know. 

We even did a re-do of the barn to accommodate all these chickens - and we took (back) the Tack Room for all the feed (for all the animals actually). I know it's hard to believe, but for the ka-gillionth time, we changed the barn around. 

I'm hoping more will roost here at night, with time.

They even sleep up in the rafters.
Sorry Sugar, I'm coming back down to get you.

I mean, they are everywhere.

They love this area the most.

I'm happy to report that every one is settling in nicely, and the egg production numbers went up. Eggcept for one small issue, that because the chickens free-range, they are now deciding to lay eggs just about anywhere and everywhere. It's like a freaking Easter egg hunt to find them and I know I'm not finding all of them. I don't want to talk about that right now, because I'm going to call a mandatory Hens Meeting (not on Zoom) and discuss that the willy-nilly work they are doing will not be tolerated. I don't care if it's covid-times, you will come into work (the barn, folks) and be productive. "Or I will turn this car around right now". Those mealworm treats are not cheap. Have you priced mealworms lately? Better yet, I will have C3 over here to do an in-service if need be. 

Turkey Troubles

No need to worry, we did not eat Paul for Thanksgiving.

This is really in our front yard. We'd never eat you, Paul.

But guess what Paul is doing? He's decided to try and date a few of the ladies around here. So, we had to relegate him to the same area as the piggies for security reasons. Sorry Paul, the girlz are not interested. They cannot be fraternizing with any boys. It's enough for me to get them to lay eggs in the barn, much less worry about if they are messing around with a turkey. Something is not right about that. 

And I won't let the piggies eat you either.

Infirmiry 

Things happen, right Spice? Seems she was in a hurry and not watching where she was going and stepped on something that ended up infecting her foot. No need to worry. David and I learned what to do off MD YouTube and hence surgery was performed at our kitchen table on her foot. Yes, she (and David) made it through with no sedation. We are changing her bandage every other day and she's getting better, slowly. She's on antibiotics for her infection and what she has is a common term called Bumble Foot. 

Details left out of video, your welcome.

Spice is popular with her fancy 'shoe'.

You purdy

I could have gone my whole life not knowing what it's like to get a birthday gift of a piggie dress. Well, actually 2 piggie dresses. 

I'll get these dresses on them one day soon. 
Uh huh, sure I will. 

David had piggie dresses hand made for Maggie and Prissy from a talented seamstress. Thank you, MegRose! Matchy matchy of course. I failed the first attempt to get them on the piggies. But give me a little more time and I will. And you'll be the first to see them, piggie promise. 

Sweet Mag Pie

Barn Sweet Barn

After the recent concreting experience, the back pasture barn is now floored. It's sooooo wonderful and is now split between the mini horses on one side, and the sheep on the other. As a reminder, Winston (once a stray who now lives with us and the sheep) has been given a dogloo of his very own with a comfy dog bed inside. 

He absolutely loves it, and even gets breakfast in bed some days. After all, he's half blind and hard of hearing and getting his arthritic body in and out of his warm "house" is just plain hard on some days. 

Just in time for cold weather.

David has placed our thick rubber mats on top of the concrete, then mucho straw for warmth. He also built a fence and gate inside the barn to keep the animals separated. It's an amazing place for the animals, and just in time for winter. We are so fortunate to have this for the animals, and I hope they are as happy about it as we are. 

Pawfect

Junie B and Finn

I'd like to tell you these are barn cats. The siamese, June Bug, with the bob tail was actually born in a barn and we found her and her siblings abandoned. The calico, Finn is an adventurous girl who lives to hunt mice. Both these cats have sweet, soft souls and are kindred spirits. They find their way through the doggie door and into the laundry room to take refuge from the cold. We keep the laundry room closed off to the rest of the house, and it's best said to be a Cat Room rather than a laundry room. Either way, there's beds, food and water available to any that dare enter. And they do. And that's okay. 

Cuddle Puddles all around with these two.

Brookie Bear

Since it's humanly impossible for me to leave Brooks out of a blog post, I'll leave you with him having breakfast at our house. We had the wonderful pleasure of him spending the weekend, along with his mom. 

He's a two fisted drinker. No coffee in there though.

We love having him over and anything to spoil him is on the menu. 

Pops lets him stay in his jammies all day. 

Dessert first, extra butter on everything, plenty of icing and whipped cream, and lots of playing outside in the rocks when possible esp when mom is not looking. 

Yes, we have merch

I'm enjoying my C3 shirt, and thinking of adding it to my merch collection. Another big thank you to my C3 chicks, and I also think that bringing back the "chickens are like tattoos" temporary tattoo (I need to order more of those, Brooke) could be in the mech collection, too. 

I mean, why not.

Gotta go look into getting my pretend online store going,

Cyndi

Duel Citizenship

 

I find myself asked occasionally about how a West Plano couple living a seemingly 'normal' suburbia lifestyle winds up in Gunter. My citizenship in the suburbs was once my only understanding of how to live. In a house, which was right next to another house whereby we often shared a fence with the neighbor's house, who we could reach out and touch. This is all I ever knew and had no idea that one day I would leave that life behind. The thing about living with so many other people in a neighborhood is that not everyone always likes everyone. Yet since that was the only exposure to living that I'd ever lived, I did similarly to everyone else and learned to coexist in a community of people. I never really gave it much thought at the time. For over 5 years now, our move to Gunter has shown me that dual citizenship is a wonderful thing. Being born and raised a city girl afforded me many opportunities such as close proximity to food, resources, libraries, schools and everything. My relatively-new citizenship in the country has presented me with a learning curve that never ends. It reminds me of a line in the sky that a rocket ship makes while heading out towards the edge of the atmosphere. A never ending line of so many lessons to learn out here. Life out here has no Uber Eats or "going up to the mall real quick". And does anyone go to the mall anymore? I don't even know the answer to that. I can tell you that people do go to the dollar store out here though. 

The top rewards we've received by moving out to the country is cows for neighbors and learning to live without. Without the convenience of things in close proximity but also without all the noise. It's turned out to be a fair trade for us although I could see why it's not for everybody. We consider ourselves dual citizens because there may be a day in our life that we find ourselves in the suburbs again living right next to another human being. I think David would agree that we would chose the country life first, but unfortunately, we also have dual citizenship in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. 

This dual citizenship of the well and of the sick is simply another learning curve we are experiencing. You see, while we are still considered 'well' with our cancers, we are able to sustain our lifestyle here on the Graves Farm. Yet, when the pendulum swings to the "sick" side of cancer, a life around resources may be in the cards again. This we do not know yet as our Magic 8 ball just keeps saying "cannot predict now". And since the Magic 8 ball only has 20 responses, 5 of which are non-committal answers and 5 that are negative answers, you can see how we could very well be around 50-50. The 10 affirmative answers we get along with the 10 non-affirmative/negative answers is like talking to our oncologists. They, too, have their own Magic 8 balls except they say different things like "Well, we'll see" and "See you next month". The one answer that seems to be universal for our Magic 8 balls is "ask again later" as time is the only one who will tell us what the future holds. For now, we are holding on tight to our citizenship of country life with eyes wide open. 

Again, really now? 

Yeah, really. How many times are we going to go around this block, I don't know. Yet we find ourselves thinking about this regularly - and feel a need to keep at this. What this is, is training new guard dogs for when Levi and Whisper need to take a step back and relax and maybe one day retire. Those precious gems that keep all our animals alive day in and day out are over 8 years old now. They have bodies that are highly used night after night. Therefore, David and I feel this compulsion to start finding and training their replacements/helpers, so that Levi and Whisper can relax a little. 

Hold on, I've gotta overthink about this. I mean, the last two sets of guard pups were all chicken-eaters. That's not gonna work. I'm scarred from those attempts, and the idea of trying this again just eats a hole through my soul. We ended up training some wonderful chicken-eater guard dogs who were masters at guarding sheep and goats. But they couldn't stay and we were able to deliver some much needed guard dogs that we trained to people with sheep and goats that needed them. But here on our farm, we got nowhere fast with providing Levi and Whisper with some helpers. It's not easy to find and train guard dogs that don't enjoy a chicken meal here and there. 

Then one magical day while scanning Texoma Craigslist like I usually do, I found a female pup in Oklahoma who is being raised around chickens. Now that's what I'm talking about. I showed David this information and before I knew it, we were driving to Oklahoma to a small town of population 12 with one lane gravel roads that seemingly lead to manufactured houses whereby all dogs run free because there's no one around anyway. 

We arrive to the location we were given by our new Craigslist-post people out in the middle of random land in Oklahoma and meet a nice couple with Great Pyrenees guard dogs that look exactalackily like our Levi. Mammoth white dogs. The mom and dad were large and in charge. And not chicken eaters. And then there they were.......2 little Great Pyrenees pups who were all of maybe 8 weeks old with the biggest paws I've ever seen. A little girl and a a little boy. Wait, they were not little. They were floofy balls of soft white fur with big paddles for feet. I thought we were going to get just the girl, but you already know what David said: We'll take them both. But I didn't bring cash for both. So we are instructed by this nice couple where the nearest ATM was located, and hence we drive back down these one lane roads whereby 2 cars pass each other narrowly, on occasion. It takes time to travel these roads, or for us it did anyway. We arrive at the gas station where the ATM was to be located only to find out it was out of service. The kinda nice lady there has no explanation why, and instructs us where the next ATM would be, and we drive there. Sure enough, we arrive to ATM location #2 in a gas station/convenience store/feed store/cafe/plumbing goods store (just in case you might need some PVC pipe) and that ATM has a yellow post-it note on it that has handwritten note: out of service. Are you kidding me? Then the grandma (this could be me) behind the counter goes on to tell us she thinks it's out of money and begins a 20 minute dissertation on why she thinks that. She then directs us to the next town up who happens to have an actual bank with an ATM. Jiggity jig and we are off again but on bigger roads now. We arrive to this next town and sure enough there's a bank with a drive thru ATM. And it works. We hit the jack pot and then make our way back out to the middle of nowhere to find that same house again with the pups. I'm thinking that the nice couple thought we had fallen off the face of the earth by now, but we show back up after all. We pay for the pups and then some other odd things happen that I won't go into, but I'll just say we loaded up our new little floof balls into the back seat of our truck and off we went. 

These sweeties slept most all the way home.
David named them Penny and Dutch.

The adventure of bringing new puppies to the farm and introducing them to their new home among the other farm animals and a new environment is always stressful and time consuming for everyone involved. But this time, David and I are committed more than ever to making it all work out. Remember that learning curve I spoke of earlier, well it has shown us what to do and what not to do. There's never a guarantee, but we are going to give our 1001% to try and make sure we do everything it takes to train these puppies to be our next generation of guard dogs and most importantly: not to eat the chickens whom they will be guarding. That will be the toughest part. Granted, these pups were supposably raised around chickens and their parents guard their chickens (and other livestock) but our chickens are not their chickens. I'm leary and unsure. David is pumped.

I’m pretty sure Dutch and Penny didn’t realize that someone has dropped them in Crazy Town where the Mayor is Sugar. After all, they did not get to pick their new home, and hopefully they will grow to love all the peculiarities of the Graves Farm. 

Turns out, the last two weeks of having Dutch and Penny with us have been the most rewarding two weeks in regards to training rookie pups. I'm happy to report that all our chickens are alive and well. Dutch and Penny are happy-go-lucky pups who now know their names and sleep in the barn with the chickens. I can't even believe it myself, but I will tell you that the work we are doing with the pups is all in hopes of ensuring the safety of the chickens and bringing help to our aging guard dogs. 

Must run and play so I can rest and nap.

They are not doing guard dog things yet as they are busy playing, sleeping and growing. What's a little different this time around is 1) the age of the pups, 2) their environment prior to coming to our farm, and 3) their personalities. They mesh well here. So far Levi and Whisper are watching them, and will eventually mentor them when they get a little older. Right now, Penny and Dutch spend time around the farm animals, they play with each other, and love playing in particular with our Aussie, Tula. And then they nap. They play hard and then they sleep just as hard. 

Most of my photos seem to be of them sleepin'

I'd like to tell you the outcome of this new guard pup situation, yet this will take more time. When I ask the Magic 8 ball, it tells me: signs point to yes. 

I like to party

And by party I mean farm projects. Our newest excitement includes installing an automatic opener for the front gate. To save some money, we decided to use our existing front gate and had some of our favorite fence guys come and install the gate opener and reposition the front gate to accommodate it. Success! We are so grateful to have wonderful experts to make this magic happen. Even the Magic 8 ball told us: outlook good. And it was right. Our solar powered/battery front gate opener allows us to come and go with the opportunity to shut the front gate regularly which happens to have a side benefit of encouraging the random farm animals that get out of their designated areas to not escape. I know that has got to sound odd. But it's part of life out here. Farm animals get past gates and fences sometimes. But now.....that front gate is shut y'all. 

The record scratch in this is how am I to sell eggs now? People can no longer just randomly drive down our little gravel road up to the house and get their eggs out of the fridge in front of the garage. We would often times look out the front window of the house to see people in the drive, getting eggs and even walking around to see the animals. We have lived this open lifestyle for 5 years now and now all of a sudden, the front gate to the property is always closed. 

Something about the jankyness of this feels right.

I solved this dilemma by placing my "egg" fridge up in front of the adjacent property we also own. This piece of property is 1.4 acres and has a front gate of it's own with a drive into it as well. Now the "egg" fridge lives there and is plugged into the electricity on that property. I am so eggcited about this new egg selling set-up and at first it was confusing to the egg customers. I'm happy to tell you that everyone seems to have adjusted to this new configuration and I'm selling more eggs now with this road-side set-up. People can just stop on the road, jump out, grab some eggs, and be on their way. Who knew that in life that I would actually say the words, "I have a road-side stand where I sell eggs". I kind of laugh when I think about that. Road-side stand. Who has one of those. And I giggle, oh yeah, I do. 

Since we are on a roll of project-doing, David and I decided to have the back barn floor cemented. It's a metal building we had built a few years back and was in need of a concrete floor. The issue though was its location on the property. The thought of getting a cement truck back to the back pasture was daunting. And I tend to put off daunting things. Yet, after getting so much procrastination done I finally made the arrangements to have huge trucks come and drive on the property and tear it up just so I can have concrete in the barn out back. 

He's just driving around like no big deal.

I would just like to say that this man driving this cement truck should get a gold medal for all the obstacles he had to maneuver to get his truck down to the back pasture. Yes, he ran over one of our septic system sprinkler heads and it busted off, so it maybe he should get the silver medal instead. Anyway, I imagine that he never even saw that sprinkler head despite the 7 yellow flags I had strategically placed all around it. 

He had to go through 4 gates just to get down to the back barn, and then back out those gates to get out again. 

I'm still surprised about this. 

I will tell you that this was likely the most stressful project I've been involved in here on the property because that cement truck was like a bull in a china shop around here.

Me watching the cement truck circus

As the ginormous tires were tearing up the dirt and grass as it drove through each area of the pastures, I wondered how many hours this cement truck driver had to practice to get his license. And even though this was not my idea of fun, there was no way around this. If you want that much concrete there, you gotta get the cement truck down there. Let's end this with 1) there would be lots of dirt and grass clean up and 'fixing of things' needed after the project was completed, and 2) the back barn is now amazing with a concrete floor for the mini horses and sheep, as after the concrete dried, we placed rubber mats down for their comfort with lots and lots of straw on top. They are now golden for the winter months to come. And that's what it's all about. 

They do this every day like it's no big deal.

Who knew there were so many finishes one 
can chose for a cement floor. We picked "brushed".

David is now busy putting up a divider gate and short fence inside that back pasture barn to separate the sheep and mini horses. Each will have an area of their own. I'm even thinking about setting the piggies free to go live with the sheep down there. Oh, so many new opportunities are bubbling up in regards to this updated barn. The main barn currently houses all the chickens and still has a stall for the mini's. But I have an idea that this barn in the back pasture will become the mini's barn-of-choice. They have more room there, and it should be warm and comfy for them all. As for the land (grass, dirt, septic sprinkler heads, etc) it will heal with time, rain, and some work by David and I. We knew this would not be easy. Yet, it's completely worth the work involved with that project. There was no Easy button to press for that project. Even the Magic 8 ball told me: Don't count on it. Whew, so glad that project is complete. 

Our special blessing

On a more exciting note, recently, our little bundle of Brooks and I recently took a trip to the Health and Science Museum in Fort Worth. Inside are actually many exhibits, one of which is the Children's Museum. We had so much fun! 

He learned about boat safety.

Practiced being a fireman

And even was a Post Man for a minute.

I really enjoyed the experience of the adult exhibits and exhibits for children - all under one roof. You may have likely been there as well. It's a wonderful place to spend the afternoon. Both Brooks and I had a blast.

This was the favorite for sure.

So many people enjoying this delightful museum and I was happy to be among them. 

What cancer cannot do

As we are easily distracted by projects and grandbabies, we still have our cancer duties silently waiting in the background. David is preparing for his upcoming trip to MD Anderson for his next PET and MRI scans and as time progresses, the lens through which he sees life becomes clearer. After all, his 1st cancerversary has arrived. It was November of last year that he became "that person". You know them. The ones with cancer. And although there are downsides to cancer, there are an abundance of upsides I like to call gifts. A special gift it has brought David is that each day brings him a clearer understanding of what it is he desires to do and who he desires to be. Cancer does not shatter our hope nor steal our faith. Cancer does not take away our peace nor does it erode our spirit. We get to make the choice each day to be a face of cancer that reflects love, joy and appreciation of life. And as David moves through his life scan to scan, we continue to pray for courage as the fight against cancer is not something anyone chooses. What we do get to choose it how we move through it all. The farm has brought us so much tranquility and peace. And work. 

I find that living on a farm and caring for animals who depend on me day-in and day-out can sometimes be the reason I think about putting whiskey in my coffee. I mean, some days it just feels like a lot, but most days it feels just like the first bite of a delicious warm spice cake with extra icing. I just can’t wait to go out to the barn each morning and say hello to everyone. There is no one happier to see me in the mornings than my farm animals. Well, except Sugar who has slept next to me all night and is somehow still overjoyed to see my face each morning. 

Currently we are winterizing and readying the barns and animals for cold weather. We are pulling out the heated water buckets and placing straw out in the barns all while thinking about this past winter's snowvid - and all the friends who helped keep the animals safe and fed. We are forever grateful to all the support we received this last winter, esp while we were away in Houston. Not a day goes by that we don't think about the support not only at the farm, but also the support we received from you all while in Houston. We think about it everyday and will never forget the beauty, love and kindness of friends and family during that time. It stays with us. That kind of love touches my soul and fills my cup up still today. This moistness in my eyes reminds me of the big feelings I still feel and how gratitude is not a big enough word for it all. As we all have survived another year on this big beautiful thing called earth, we know just how precious it really is. 

The Magic 8 ball says: Without a doubt.

Cyndi

I'm reminded of how delicate life is when an unusual, accidental accident happens with a farm animal. Even they cannot escape the oddities of life.

RIP My awesome Long Neck girl. 

I sure miss you. A tragic accident

took you from me. I can still hear

you chattering away in the barn. 😭

You are loved.

Why fine is not enough

Tell me more

Well, recently on the Myeloproliferative Neoplasms (MPN) support site that I reference here and there for my blood cancer, polycythemia vera, there was an article titled "Why Fine is not enough". This brought up loads of thoughts into my mind correlating with things that have been happening lately. Sometimes, when I ask David how he’s doing, he will answer with, "I’m fine". And I find myself doing the same occasionally although I'm not a big fan of the word 'fine', but here and there I throw it out in the world.

I find that when people come over to the farm to see us and maybe haven’t seen us in a while, they say (surprisingly) things like: you to look great! David and I both understand this is code for 'you look good for having cancer'. And I think this happens because people are never sure what cancer looks like. The world, the media, everything shows us that cancer looks horrible and terrible on people. It is horrible and terrible. But it’s not horrible and terrible all the time. We look alright until we were are not. Unfortunately, there's not a language for people to talk to people with cancer or other precarious conditions, It's awkward. Therefore, David will answer with "I'm Fine" more often than not. I'm fine, he says and saves the person asking from the uncomfortableness that comes with a cancer conversation. 

Love this site

I value the idea that we can strive to be better than simply fine - in all aspects of life. And this article talks about how fine is not enough for those with polycythemia vera, essential thrombocythemia and myelofibrosis, which are the the three MPN blood cancers. Why is fine not enough? The article goes on to suggest that MPN patients should take an active role in our journey by speaking up and seeking the support we need for our symptoms, our feelings and our health care because #fineisnotenough. It's easy to bounce along thinking we should lay low and be the "good" cancer patient who stays in their box. So it is a wonderful reminder to not stay caged in the notion that fine is fine enough, and instead - speak up. Say what you need. See after a girl. You, you're the girl. See after yourself.

So as you likely know, polycythemia vera is a cancer that is progressive, meaning that it can change and get worse with time. It's important for PV patients to recognize how it affects our quality of life. Just like with any disease or illness, if we step up and speak our truth, we can be our best advocate and not just be fine with how things are. I know, fine is easy though. But fine keeps us trapped. 

Fine is the word we use as an all encompassing generality of shutting down conversations that could be so much more. Fine = I’m good for now, let’s move on. Fine = I’m not sure this person is up to hearing the unfortunate details, they just want to know how I am overall. Fine = Not wanting to consume someone’s time to really explain how we’re doing behind closed doors. Fine is part of our conditioning that we learn in life of what to say when we’re deciding that summing up our life is what we need to do in that moment. I’m fine. But there are people who know we are not fine. There are many things behind closed doors that happen after cancer treatment. Chemotherapy and radiation are not your friend and present you often times with long lasting ramifications that cancer patients have to live with. It ages you. It makes you realize how vulnerable we are. 'I'm fine' covers up all the hard, big feelings we feel and protects others from them. This applies to everything, not just cancer. I'm fine, thank you. Now, onto something else. What I'm doing in the moment is minimizing the situation and choosing to keep my amour on and not allow myself to be vulnerable, because being vulnerable is hard. Some even see it as weakness. I see it as a likely chance that I could 1) cry or 2) show myself just a little too much to someone else. I'm still working on this, and will die working on this. Being vulnerable as a child was not encouraged. I always wore my amour and rarely took it off growing up. But look at me now, I'm trying to try to be vulnerable. Trying to try is where I'm at on it. Technically this blog could be a good example of this. Even though I just thought I should erase this whole blog so far and start over. I won't.

I feel like when I say 'I'm fine', it's like the very tip top of a very pointed sharpened pencil. Now that's fine. There’s nothing much else to that pencil point except that it’s really fine, so newly sharpened and drawing such a thin and nice feathery line. That really doesn't illustrate my life well. My life is not fine as a sharpened pencil so precise and clean-cut. So how can I say I'm fine when I'm not, but sometimes I do. So I think I might say I’m fine to shut down conversation about a particular topic, especially cancer. Why? Maybe because sometimes (not all the time) people might not think that the ones asking really want to know how we are - but maybe what they’re really asking is are you okay? That would be an easier question to answer. Yes, I am okay, thank you for asking. I’m not fine, but I am certainly making it in this world. I mean, sometimes I'm fine. I’m not sure of the exact differentiation of: I’m okay vs I’m fine. But okay seems more broad and fine seems much more specific. Kind of like the sharpie marker tip versus the sharpened pointy pencil tip. Two different tips used for different purposes. David prefers: I'm fine. I prefer: I'm okay. He, the pencil, I, the sharpie marker. 

The tricky thing is that people aren't usually buying 'I'm Fine' when David says he's fine. So they ask me. And then I tell them how he's doing. Sometimes, we are un-fine. And what I know for sure is, fine is rarely fine. 

Have fun little 1

It was the most beautiful Saturday morning recently, whereby the birds were singing and the sky was as blue as Brooks' eyes. Lauren, Ryan and Birthday Boy Brooks would be arriving to our house shortly and the celebration would begin. In the past year, with covid, the art of having a baby surrounded by family was stolen from all new moms. Covid has stolen many life experiences from many people. 

Happiest day of her life, yet we were 
not able to be there at that special moment.

Covid stole all the birthings, weddings and funerals plus everything else. Yet, on this Saturday a year later, we would be making up for lost time. For the last year, as everyone in the world tried to stay safe and stay away from each other, we are now taking time to get together and celebrate not only Brooks 1 year old birthday, but also a couple of family member's birthdays. Savannah would be turning 7 years old and Caroline would be turning 14 years old. Although Caroline was sick and not able to attend the party, she was with us in spirit. Savannah and her brother, Declan were kind enough to open Brooks gifts for him. There would be food, love, hugs, and the coming together to be with one another on this most beautiful day. 

The joy of being 1 year old

As tradition holds for 1 year olds to have cake free-form, Brooks did just that. He was unsure in some respects of what this sticky, sugary, round, brown, tasty treat in front of him was. And so it began. The best part of a 1 year old birthday party is watching a precious child eat cake. 

But mom says I can't have sugar

Then, in accordance with the rules of sugar, he crashed and it was nap time. Don't we all want to nap after a big piece of cake. The adults all caught up on the life happenings of each other while Brooks slept, and we all anxiously awaited his awakening to watch the present opening ceremony next. Savannah and Declan did a great job of opening all his gifts - thank you!

Birthday boy investigating his new things

And after a year has passed in the Life of Brooks, we were all able to come together as a family and be 1. He was 1 and we were all one with each other. Certainly, a day to remember. Well, maybe not for the birthday boy, but we will remember for him, and one day tell him about all the love and support at this gathering and what it meant to us all. Happy Birthday Sweet Boy. You are loved. 💙 

Nocturnal Mayhem

One thing I often overlook in my blog is: what happens when we sleep. Besides a gazillon trains that go by in the night, other creatures do as well. Bobcats, coyotes, skunks, opossums and raccoons to name a few who desire nothing more than to help themself to a farm animal for a snack. In particular, our farm animals. Fortunately for us, when we moved to our property over 5 years ago now, the prior owners left 2 great pyrenees dogs (livestock guard dogs) brother/sister duo: Levi and Whisper. They also left 3 donkeys here as well. Granted, we were informed of this information prior and it was not a complete surprise, but understanding them and what they do was a definite learning curve. 

We quickly learned that these dogs were not well socialized, but instead, nocturnal livestock guard dogs that would one day keep our farm animals alive. Every night. And with time, David and I begin to add farm animals like we were on an expedition to create a petting zoo. No, we didn't realize it in the moment, but turns out we have a petting zoo. 2 mini horses, 5 sheep, 2 piggies, 2 turkeys (kinda sounds like an ark instead of a zoo) 6 dogs, 6 barn cats, 7 ducks and 60-ish chickens. And what I really want to tell you is that they are all alive because of Levi and Whisper. Every night without fail, all night long, those two faithful and loyal guard dogs make sure nothing crosses the parameter of our property - and if a predator dares to do so - is killed. Period. The End. 

That seems so unfair, right? No. Life is not fair, you silly coyotes. Or you stinky skunks. Or you opossum who thinks you can just show up and eat dinner uninvited. Levi and Whisper instinctually guard, protect and serve all who live in the pasture and barns. There are no exceptions. Therefore, they rest during the day, and people often comment about their idle daytime activities. Yet, since no one is here at night to watch their skill and dedication besides us, it's hard to understand how much work Levi and Whisper do each and every night. 

It took Levi time to realize Maybe was 
not a skunk. She could not go out in the 
pasture for a full year. 

Each morning that I come out to the barn to feed, I thank our guard dogs. Thank you, Levi and Whisper, for all you did last night. Here's a wonderful breakfast. And when dinnertime comes along, they get a good dinner to be ready for their night. The nocturnal predators are bountiful and relentless, as the outdoor world comes alive when the indoor world goes to sleep. 

So where I was going with this initially was that there's no telling what you'll find when night turns to day, when darkness turns to light, and when one world quiets and another awakens. What do I find in my half sleep state in the morning when I rise and shine? Well, this morning it was a gift from the barn cats of a half eaten bird and a bonus dead mouse in my laundry room (thanks to a doggie door that allows them in there). Feathers everywhere, blood strewn like a crime scene on the tile floor and barn cats waiting to be congratulated. I in my jammies, and eyes half open say something to myself like "crappity" or "son of a monkey" or likely something I shouldn't type here. This fun never stops. Where's David. 

My favorite part is when I go to work in the dark at an early ungaudly hour and come home to find a dead something-something in the pasture from the night, all bloated up like a balloon during the day until I find it. 

I told it to go home when I saw it in the garage.
 But no.

Turns out, that possum was possibly the same one helping it self to the cat food in the garage and didn't make it off the property alive. 

That nose.

What's funny is I'll ask David, "Hey, did you see that dead fill-in-the-blank in the pasture this morning?" because he goes to work when it's light outside. He denies seeing anything. Uh huh. 

Or the fact David can clean up the entire barn and not see the chicken who has passed away during the night from old age (we have several old girlz on their last chicken life). Somehow, he has a radar that does not see dead animals. 

So, I tend to make alot of trips to places I'll leave undisclosed to deliver a deceased animal for other circle-of-life predators to have. Sounds odd, I know. But there's not exactly a dead animal disposal handy out here. Most all animals who have passed away for whatever reason are a food source to another wild animal. It's the nature of life out here. Each trip I make like this has Maybe and Sugar looking like this:

There is joy in the journey

This is an actual photo of them with me during my last "drop off" (see above referenced possum). It's not all fun and games out here. Dirty deeds are part of the experience. Maybe and Sugar don't ask questions. They just get in the car and ride. 

But wait, not all mayhem on the farm happens at night.

You see, animals are always getting out of the spaces they are supposed to be in. It's the way of the farm animal world. There's no getting around it. You will forget to lock that gate, shut that gate or fix that fence. You will think you shut that gate and you did not. You will blame it on your spouse. And then the horses are knocking over all the chicken food feeders and feed bins and not sorry about it. And then you arrive home from work another day and find the sheep in the front yard eating every leaf off your shrubs and the hibachis plants on the front porch. More than once, mind you. It's just fricken mayhem out here. My only condolence is when I talk to other farm people about this phenomenon and realize I. Am. Not. Alone. It comes with the territory. So I find my can of Suck It Up and call it a day. They don’t call me the $hit Show Supervisor for nothing. 

Some personal discoveries

If you use the same dishes for the farm animals and yourself

You might be a farmer

If you potty outside almost as much as inside

You might be a farmer

If you reuse hay string to tie things down on your truck

You might be a farmer

If you never put a speck of table scraps or food in the trash

You might be a farmer

If you love metal buildings on your property

You might be a farmer

If you take other people's left over food at a restaurant home for your farm animals

You might be a farmer

If you have more than 2 pair of overalls

You might be a farmer

If you drive dead animals to unknown places

You might be a farmer

If you watch the weather and run to the barn to button everything down

You might be a farmer

If you think your pretending to be a farmer

You are a farmer

I'm not convinced that the word farmer is what I would categorize myself as, but since I've not figured out a more suitable word, I'll stick with it. I'm just a girl, who loves farm things, wishing she could have all the farm animals. 

Until next time,

Cyndi 

Wait, one more thing before I go. I just remembered this whole possum thing has a bright spot. Since the possum was in the garage, I had an irrational fear that it might decide to live in the Christmas tree box in the garage. It might dig in there with it's sharp pointy claws and just live with my Christmas tree in the garage and get it all stinky and gross. So, I made the executive decision to bring in the Christmas tree early. And now we have a Fall Tree. I may never put this tree back out in the garage. What's after Christmas? Valentine's Day? Easter? What about a birthday tree? See, it's not all bad to have a possum in your garage.......

I mean, why not

Turkey Trot

 

Cluckingham Update

It was a gray-skied Friday afternoon, whereby the hazy clouds had tempted us with rain all day and never delivered. It was in the late afternoon that I had arrived home from seemingly running miles in the operating room when I received a text from Amy, a fellow farm lady herself. Amy, if you recall is my pig influencer. So it seems she had been given three turkeys from someone who did not want them and herself decided the turkey life was not for her either. She’s asking if I wanted them and when I could come get them. Translation: Please come get them. Ironically, David had been pining over some turkeys recently and now he very well could be blessed with some of his very own. 

Time for a Turkey Run. It was now after dark on Friday night that we loaded up a big crate and head over to Amy and Cody‘s farm in Anna. We were to pick up Paul, a male turkey along with Stella and Bella, two female turkeys. The late night turkey run to Anna would bless us with three turkeys for David. It was dark and hard to tell what we were getting ourselves into - which happens to be the theme of our whole life.

No, we’ve never had turkeys and have no idea what their needs are but as usual we will figure it out. Back home jiggity jig. As we carried the big crate with three turkeys into the barn, David at one end of the crate and I at the other, the anticipation of what was about to happen moved over us like a rushing wave of uncertainty. These creatures are big and kind of scary, truly like medium-sized dinosaurs. Their claws were the size of my own fingernails except more elegant and shaped nicely as if they've been to the nail salon. Paul, the male turkey is black with some white/multicolored feathers and significantly larger than his haram. David and I set the crate down on the floor of the barn and look at each other. Now what. All the chickens are roosting quietly for the night in the barn and the wind is low and it’s the sweet spot of the night, before the predators come out and our livestock guard dogs, Levi and Whisper start their long night of barking and patrolling the perimeter. David and I review our options: 1) leave the turkeys in the crate until the morning or 2) let the 3 turkeys out to roost with everyone else in the barn. We pick option two for no particular reason and as soon as David opens the crate, Stella and Bella hop out and in a blink of an eye immediately fly to the top steel beam of the barn and in the second blink they are on a beam ready to roost for the night. 

Had they already picked their spots out?

What the what just happened. I looked down and Paul is standing still one step out of the crate just like a statue at the wax museum. Then, in the next blink of my eye, Paul takes flight and arrives on top of the coop knocking all the chickens off their roosting spots just like a bowling ball making a strike. The chickens stumble and fall from the coop roof top and wonder what missile just struck them. Paul settles in up there like nothing just happened with only a couple of the chickens who were able to keep their balance during the missile strike. He looked around and must have thought: Perfect, I’ll sleep right here. All while my other chickens struggle to get back up to their spots. Once everyone was settled again, Paul was very satisfied with his place, snuggled in tight with the chickens, all while Stella and Bella are high up in the rafters on a steel beam roosting for the night there. 

Vultures or turkeys. You decide. 

Night night. 

Fast forward to a cool Saturday morning and three new-to-us turkeys are roaming in and around the barn. Meanwhile, David is gone to the Texas/TCU football game and I’m doing things in the barn so I can keep an eye on the turkeys. My main goal is to see how the new turkeys do with the chickens. Turns out, Paul is great!

Paul, without his feathers all puffed out.

Paul is very laid-back and doesn’t even hang around the female turkeys much. But Bella and Stella have plans, as usual. They are busy chasing the chickens, scaring them, trying to fight them and ultimately attempt to get all the chickens out of the barn so that they can have it all to themselves. In particular, the dust bathe area with the mirror. 

No, this is not going to work. Amy had told me the female turkeys picked on her chickens and now they are doing the same with ours. Did I mention Paul is great?  Saturday morning turns to lunchtime, then to dinner time and it’s around this time that I happen to have a worker over to trim a tree with a big broken branch blocking our gravel road. I just 'happen' to say, Hey would you like some turkeys? Seemingly without thinking, he says Yes. Perfect, I have Stella and Bella needing a home as they can’t stay due to their aggression towards the chickens. Paul can stay as he’s not hurting anyone. So, turns out after our worker trims the tree and gets that all fixed up, he will take the broken limbs away and come back with a crate. And he does immediately. Bella and Stella are easily caught and are now heading to their next destination in life. I did ask if he’s going to eat them. He tells me no. I’m not sure if I believe him but off they go. And if this story isn't weird enough, I also asked him if he wanted some of the ducks Amy happened to give us as well (I forgot to mention she gave us 10 ducks along with the 3 turkeys). We were able to catch six of the ducks, and he takes 3 turkeys and 6 ducks and heads back to his home. He hit the Fowl jackpot on that tree trim job. But David and I really think the pond is best with a few less ducks -  and our chickens are better off without the aggressive female turkeys around. Whew what a day. 

With a more manageable duck population, we fast forward to the next day which is a glorious Sunday morning. Yet, we find Paul gobbling gobbling and nonstop gobbling. He is looking for his people turkeys. I realize quickly that I’m going to need to get him a friend and thanks to Craigslist (aka Farm Animal Trading Co) we locate him a young turkey friend who we can raise as our own and will hopefully be friendly toward our chickens. And since Sunday was spent in Fort Worth with Lauren, Ryan and sweet Brooks, the turkey run would need to wait til that evening. We had a blast in Fort Worth! 

All he really wanted was David's glasses. Success!

David and I walked little Brookie in his stroller down to the antique mall nearby and we loved every minute of our time together. Brooks had fun crawling everywhere and trying to walk and reach for all the vintage things people call antiques. I’d call it junk, but people might get offended. 

This best describes our little outing that day:

He's a antique shopper and we had no idea.

We cooked some lunch at their house, even rearranged some furniture at there too, and time sped by too fast and it was time to get back home. We kissed them goodbye and would see them again soon for Brooks upcoming 1st birthday party at the farm. 

Turkey Run #2

As we headed back to Gunter, Morning Star Heritage farm in Sadler Texas had emailed me that they had turkeys for sale (thank you Craigslist) and that we could come there that same night and pick out a young turkey. So sure enough, Sunday night we ended up going to Sadler, Texas to pick up a turkey. I know it's late, I know you're weary, but let's go anyway. It was dusk on that Sunday evening when we arrived to their farm and although hard to see them all, we were able to chose a young turkey to bring back home for Paul. Boy or girl - we don’t know yet, but either way, we are hoping Paul will be happy with his new turkey friend. 

Gabby instantly fit in with the chicken crowd.

She looks nothing like Paul, as her coloring is chocolate rather than black. But she’s a turkey whose young and we hope to raise her around the chickens and that everyone will get along. We would not know exactly how all this would go until the light of day Monday morning, and we placed the young turkey to roost beside the chickens in the barn late Sunday evening.

David named our newly purchased young turkey Gabby. Even though we don't know if she's a girl or boy, it's name is Gabby. We discovered on Monday morning that Paul loves his new friend. 

He's busy show-boating for her, and seems to enjoy her company. Gabby is wonderful, and fits in well with all the chickens. No one is bossing anyone around now. Very good. These 2 turkeys can stay. 

Paul shows off to his new friend.

They are fast friends and Paul will not quit showing off his lovely feathers all puffed out. He's making weird noises and this turkey world is something I know nothing about. What have we done.

Scoop there it is

More fowl means more poop, right? And turkey poop is no joke.

Oddly enough, just days before our turkey adventure began, I had gone to visit Colleen in Van Alstyne to see about getting a couple more silkie/frizzle mixes. Colleen is a true chicken lady who has a backyard of small breed chickens and lots of ducks. Lots and lots of ducks. BTW, I do not need anymore ducks. Just tiny chickens.

You know how much I love my little girl chickens - the frizzles, silkies and sizzles. I needed more. The nice thing is Colleen lets me pick out just the ones I want, and I picked out 3 new cuties. 

I wish I could tell you I have names for them, but not quite yet. Soon though. If you're counting, I think I hover around 60 chickens. Since I had gifted one of David's friends (Damon) 3 of my silkie/frizzle chickens, I added back these 3 little sweeties from Colleen. David's friend was starting a backyard flock of his own and we shared 3 of our small girls with him. Everyone loves a tiny chicken, right. 

New fear unlocked

When we last spoke (blogged), I was to be participating in the Augusta (GA) Ironman triathlon. And yep, with dog bite and all (i.e open wound on my arm) I decided I did not want to miss the race. I had trained for it, and all the reservations were made. I did not want to let this isolated incident get in the way of my goal.  

So I flew to Georgia late Friday evening (the weekend before all the turkey happenings) and did all the fun race things on Saturday which included picking up my race packet, picking up my bike that I had shipped there, took my bike to the transition area (for race day Sunday) and organized all my swim, bike and run things for the big race on Sunday. David had placed stickers he made all over my race things:

Sunday morning arrived and excitement was in the air. Everyone's nervous energy is contagious at a race like this. I made my way to the race start down by the Savannah River with the other 2,499 Ironman participants. We were all scited - excited and a little scared. We were about to embark into a river of who knows what and swim 1.2 miles. Then bike 56 miles in the Georgia mountains and run 13.1 miles around the city of Augusta. They fired the horn sound for the race to start, and 3 by 3 we would jump into the water off a dock every 5 seconds. Most all of us had our wetsuits on, goggles and swim caps. We would all jump into the deep water off a rocky dock, and immediately start to swim so that no one would jump in on top of us. The cold water sent a chill through my body and I had to tell myself to move my arms and legs. After all, I jumped in holding my goggles to my face so that I would not lose them while jumping into the water. Turns out, that would not the most stirring part. 

It was about 2/3 way through the participants jumping into the water that the race officials stopped the race. Odd, I thought. I was one of the participants who had not yet had my turn to get in the water to swim. Now the race is on Pause. Then, we hear the emergency vehicle. Then, we see it. The ambulance was at the water's edge not even a half mile down the river. Racers were still swimming, and then other people were doing things. Like getting a man out of the water, performing CPR on him and ultimately getting him into the ambulance. It was just out of my vision view, and I would later find out more details about it. Turns out, a male participant had a "event" that took his life during the swim portion of the race. He did not make it. I did not know this during that race and would later find out. They think he had a heart attack, although I still do not know the exact details. 

All I knew at the time was that the race went on. The race officials started letting the participants jump into the water again to swim the 1.2 miles, to then get on their bike, and then eventually run. When it was my turn, I jumped in the river off the dock and my race began. I swam the swim, and when I got out of the water and into the transition area, I changed the bandage on my arm so it would be dry for the bike. I then biked through the all the beautiful scenery that Georgia offers, and ran the miles to finish the race feeling good. I attribute my success to many things, but I knew in particular that my oncologist had helped me get there. I knew I could only do what my body would allow me to do and that is my life. I was there, I got it done and I was happy and safe. In an Ironman triathlon there are cutoffs for the swim, bike and run portions - and if you make each cutoff, you get to proceed to the next portion of the race. These cutoffs are not by age or gender, they are universal for everyone. No exceptions. I was thrilled that I didn't experience a bike crash (people did) or a flat tire. I was thrilled that I picked a steady pace of which to churn out the run. I did not want to be part of the 'walking dead" those last few miles of the race when all is lost for some. I just wanted to be steady and strong. God saw me through. 

I'm happy to report that I did not get an infection from the river water. I did not pass away in the water. And my heart goes out to the family for the racer who did not make it. It was shocking to hear of course, and I imagine that family is in complete disbelief and grief. The swim portion of the race is tough because there’s lots of people swimming in close proximity and it’s easy to panic with all the kicking of the legs and arms swinging. Plus it’s murky, deep water and it’s unfamiliar. It’s easy to feel out of control. I myself have to practice staying calm with all the chaos of it. The swim portion is where most deaths in an Ironman occur. It’s actually not unusual, sad to say. 

I felt fortunate to have made it back home safe and I feel like I made a good decision to proceed with going to the race despite the advice of many who were concerned about the dog bite on my arm and what exposure to river water would do to it. No, I didn't hit the Easy button and stay home. I really wanted to participate in the race and it was a risk, no doubt. I openly admit the risk in it. I'm so glad I went. Sometimes, hitting the Hard button is the most satisfying thing to do in the end. 

Tula Tot + Piggies = ❤️

On a different note, I wanted to share the new relationship that’s forming on the farm. It's between Tula, our Aussie and the piggies. The Odd Couple(s). They are extremely fond of each other, and I love that as Tula hasn’t found her bestie here on the farm. And the pigs are the closest thing that I see bringing her a connection that she’s been looking for. Winston is great for Tula too, but Winston is old and unable to engage like Tula desires. The fiesta piggies may be just what Tula’s been looking for 🥰

Prissy is esp smitten,
but Maggie enjoys Tula as well.

While Prissy, Maggie and Tula are a threesome that is odd, I hope they are able to become playmates over time. Tula tried hard to get them to chase her and she wants to be in their pen with them whenever possible. We’ll see how this progresses with time. 

As the farm is ever ebbing and flowing, we are excited about each new adventure we encounter. I know you're probably thinking that Thanksgiving is coming and we now have turkeys - and piggies. Luckily for everyone, David and I don't have the kind of heart that can endure eating our own animals. They will celebrate with us instead. And is this cooler weather just the best?! What that really means to us is that it's time to winterize. We will start making adjustments in the animals shelters for the cold weather to come, and make sure everyone has a warm place to sleep as Fall will turn into Winter. 

Thanks for being here with us 💕

Cyndi