Fall

Fall is definitely here, and shifting fast into winter. Chuck has been doing a lot of raking, with help from his apprentice. I shut the hive down for the winter, which involves administering some natural pest control, wrapping it in plastic, ventilating it, keeping mice out, and lots of finger crossing and prayer that they make it through. In the summer, the hive is literally buzzing with activity, and it was very strange to peer down into the hive and see them all in there, still and silent. Not to mention being able to work the hive with no protective gear at all. It made me feel the winter wind in a way nothing else has; not even the geese that pass overhead or the deep frosty fields.

The goat boys all sprouted their winter coats, which makes them look like little puffballs. We got four new goats, all retired adult ladies. They are a mix of pygmy, dwarf nigerian, and boer. They are pretty typical goats, with the exception of one. Her name when she arrived was Sparkles, but that fits her so poorly in so many ways it quickly morphed to Sprinkles, and then Sprinks, which does suit. She is the Goat Who Walks Alone, and All Things are Food to Her. She was pregnant earlier this year, miscarried when she got butted in the stomach, and then had a massive infection that very nearly killed her. She is unique. Despite goats' reputation, they do not eat everything, and all of ours particularly do not like people food. Winter and I were at the barn one day. Winter was munching a cracker, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Sprinks amble by and suck the cracker right out of Winter's hand. Winter gets furious when Jezebel steals food from her (which happens often), but she was so shocked to have a goat do this that she just stared, open mouthed and empty handed. A couple of days later, Sprinks managed to snag a donut, and since then we have been frisked for edibles whenever we approach her. She is the goat that would eat a plastic bag chased by a tin can. She is also always alone. This is very odd behavior for a goat. She just doesn't seem to care about the fact that she is a herd animal. She also has this bizarre, deep "blaaaht" of a cry, in a whiskey and cigarette voice. The rest of the goats all say "maaaah!" in a chorus of cute, but not Sprinks. The rest of the goats all fear Jez, but Sprinks just butts her as hard as possible, then goes on about her grass munching. She is our favorite goat after the boys. One of the other goats also chases cars, which I found out the hard way when I had to retrieve four goats from the cemetery at the base of the hill. Fortunately, Chuck's portable electric fencing is working really well.

Round up of other news: The new baby is a girl. Going by the ultrasound, she is healthy, slightly less active than her big sister, and still due on March 10. The pregnancy is going well, except that the combined weight of toting one in utero and one in my arms all the time is killing my back. That and heartburn.

I got a new job, which I will transition to over the course of November. I will still be at Dartmouth, but will be within the Medical School, working with grant budgets for two research groups. I think I will be very happy there.

Winter has been working on her words...she can now say dog, ball, baby, banana, bubble, uh-oh, and hi. She also has words for things that she uses repeatedly, but I am not sure what she is saying. For example, she has her own word for the cats, but we can't really discern what the word is...at the pace she is going, we will know before too long.

World's Fair

The weekend started with Chuck's birthday. Winter thought that was pretty much as good as her own birthday was, a couple months back- there was cake, and presents, and it matters not that they were not really actually for her- she had just as much fun anyway.

This week we have had a work crew of early 20-somethings from the Vermont Youth Conservation Corps camping at the farm while completing some projects in the area. They have done a great job and it has been fun having them around. They have worked really hard all week, so before we send them off, we wanted to feed them a big, hot breakfast. The menu was pancakes, bacon, sausage, and eggs. Breakfast for young, hardworking metabolisms means quantity. It also means planning. We made the pancakes on Friday night, after Chuck's birthday celebration. Lots of them. Breakfast Saturday was a success.

Next on the agenda was the Tunbridge World's Fair. It sounds really grand, doesn't it? It is one of the larger fairs in the area, and is about 1/10th the size I remember the North Carolina State Fair as. But all the elements are there- animals, rides, and greasy food. They also have a cool antique village, which included a great display of antique bikes, and even a velocipede. That was my favorite part of the fair. Chuck's favorite part was the Poultry House, which had exotic chickens galore, and little bantams too big for their britches. It was hard to tell Winter's favorite part- it was probably a llama we saw. It was definitely not the cows. This photo pretty much sums up how she feels about cows.
We also saw some amazing spinners spinning fiber from the angora goats that were on display. We got to visit Comet's mom and full sister, too. And Chuck got to ride the bumper cars. It was pretty fun, but it was also way crowded and we will skip the next few years- until we either have kids begging to go, or kids showing goats. One of the highlights was the novice class of the goat show. It consisted of total, utter chaos- children being dragged across the show ring by their goats, goats being coerced to walk with feed that was promptly stolen by a neighboring goat, goats butting each other, goats tearing off towards the barns, and the endlessly patient judge trying to organize them into some semblance of order. She ended up eliminating two categories of judging and awarded prizes based on staying upright and arriving properly attired (in a white shirt). Our goats' breeder's daughter won the class, and deservedly so!

Winter Walks and The Water Fountain

It has been a little hectic, so just a quick video post this week. Winter started walking a few days ago (still wobbly, but rapidly improving) and also learned to use the water fountain (after some trial and error).

Newfound Lake

This weekend we took Winter to Newfound Lake in New Hampshire. It is a very clear, pretty lake with a sandy bottom. There is a lot of beach front development, but the State wisely bought up a long strip for a state park, with a beach and trails. Chuck spent time in the area as a kid, so it was fun to bring our own child. She has not been to a lake before, at least not like this, and she had a pretty good time. She swam, dug in the sand, hiked, climbed, looked at ducks, ate ice cream and french fries, and patted the waves. The only negative in her view was the very thick coating of sunscreen mean old mommy made her wear. We also went to Sculptured Rocks, a glaciated mini-canyon where intrepid youth dive from the edge into the shockingly cold water that runs through it. Winter watched with rapt attention, hopefully not getting any ideas. After all the fun, she fell asleep in the car on the way home in 4 minutes and 30 seconds.

Click slideshow to view larger.

The Wagon Ride

Winter would be happy if this went on for hours and hours and hours, but lame mama and dada usually tire out first.

Overheard

I stopped at our local gas station the other morning on the way to work. One of the cashiers has worked there for quite some time now. He appears to be in his 80s, thin and bearded, with notably long, long fingernails. Time dawdles at its own pace when he is on shift. When I entered the store, I noticed he had physically cornered the other cashier, a young woman of probably 19, with long dyed red hair. He was animatedly telling her a story of some sort, it seemed. She was unsmiling, and her eyes were shifting around almost frantically, desperate to be released from his attention. She was looking for something, anything, any excuse to flee. I wondered what could possibly be so awful that he was telling her. I stepped up to the counter with my items, and he turned to check me out. As he did so I could hear the last trailing line of his tale...

"And I haven't had stuffed peppers since!"

I knew better than to ask, but I would have loved to have heard the start of THAT story.

Winning the War on Water

Pretty much the first thing we did when we moved to the King Farm was begin to Wage the War on Water (Chuck is the four-star general in this effort; I am just a lowly private, but I do know how to run the sump pumps). During the first storms, we noticed water ran in little trickles right into the basement, straight through the foundation. This was no good. The first effort to abate the water situation involved digging up the entire back yard, with hopes of redirecting drainage away from the building. It would have worked, if not for mindbending incompetence on the part of the contractors, who blew up pipes and rammed the house with heavy machinery, so that now during storms the water poured in through the walls, instead of trickling, and also ran right down the bulkhead stairs. During a storm, we once pumped 8,800 gallons of water out of the basement. Many, MANY efforts later, the situation is vastly improved. One of the last remaining weak areas is around our porch- a car parking area was created sometime in the last 50 years- two layers of nice flat rock. Big rocks. Which Chuck has spent the last week moving and removing. We will have better drainage in the area, as well as an attractive treadstone walkway that will be easier to remove snow from in the winter. And hopefully, the porch will stop rotting. Winter thinks this is all pretty awesome, especially the big holes and dirt piles. She also thinks that pointing her finger and saying "dah?" is awesome, and that blueberries and wagon rides are, too.

The bee hive situation remains...enigmatic. A few weeks ago, I was quite certain the end of the hive was imminent. When I opened it up, there were some honeycombs, but no "brood", or bee larvae. That typically means there is no queen in the hive, and it is was too late in the season for me to get a new queen. I checked on it again this weekend. The first thing I noticed as I approached the hive was the scent of fresh beeswax. If there is a better smell in the world, I don't know what it is. They are indeed busy, filling combs with honey. There seemed like there were more bees than last time. The bees were coming and going from the front of the hive non-stop. They were building comb. Everything looked pretty good. And I could still find no evidence of a queen, or any brood. I will go in again in a month...stay tuned, for these are the Days of our Hives (sorry! but it really is soap-opera like, or even Shakespearean, what with all the intrigue!)