How are the goats?

It's spring.

Everything is green making for one big goat buffet

which makes keeping them contained in small runs even sadder.

Tim's been working out a system to let them browse around 

several hours a day tethered by leashes

while also working diligently on putting up fencing so they can have paddocks to browse and run in.

I let them out yesterday while I was gardening.

I got them back in by shaking their pellet food container and pouring a miniscule amount in their feeder.

Sunshine is recovering nicely from an abscess on her shoulder.  

If you look closely in the photo above, 

it's right below Tim's left thumb.

Apparently, abscesses are very common in goats.

We had it cultured and it's a bacteria abbreviated CL

which is highly contagious among goats.

Because the bacteria hides within the immune system, 

the testing allows only positive results.  

So it is possible to say, "Sunshine has CL."  

But it is not possible to say definitively, 

"Sunshine does not have CL."

It's not life-threatening except if an abscess compromises an internal organ which is rare.

The vet taught Anjali to give shots so Sunshine has been receiving antibiotics.

Kifah came over, helped clean out the abscess, 

and then packed the wound with a homemade herbal concoction.  Totally impressive.

And something we'll need to be able to do as the need arises.

Fires

We've been burning up

 

the entanglements,

old messes,

and first drafts

clearing the way

for the new

My Muses for country living

Historically, the Muses were the goddesses of inspiration, the source of knowledge.

 

Recently I've been reading women telling their stories of country living, farming, transitions, and heart.  I found the inspiration I've needed.  Let me introduce my Muses to you.

Muse of Daring

Hearts West: True Stories of Mail-Order Brides on the Frontier by Chris Enss tells the stories of women looking for and sometimes finding love through newspaper ads.  It's the internet dating of the 1800's.  Names, weights, ages, hair colors, skills, and dreams- it's all there.  It's a hoot and a fun read.  

Muses of Hard Work

Pioneer Women: The Lives of Women on the Frontier by Peavy and Smith is another fast, enjoyable read about women's lives, often in their own words.  Got lots of nice black and white photos. 
 

Muse of Audacity

Leaning into the Wind: Women Write from the Heart of the West edited by Hasselstrom, Collier, and Curtis is a compilation of memoirs and poems from 200+ women mostly written in the 1990's covering plains life from the Depression on.  Absolutely fascinating writing on a huge variety of topics from livestock management to economics to struggle to relationships to mental health all told through personal stories.  Even the single paragraph bios were inspirational to me.  Every voice was different but the style and manner of telling seemed so familiar it was like chatting with old friends.

Muse of Play in Work

 
 I've saved my best for last- Women of the West by Luchetti and Olwell.  It is a gem.  This was the first book about pioneering women I read and was so meaningful, I went on to read all the others listed above in response.  It has haunting black and white photos, a thoughtful introduction, and extended first hand accounts written by women.  All the photos in this post are from this book.  Watch for more posts inspired by these women in my upcoming series on Work.

Muses of Joy and Freedom

Taking responsibility and embracing unpleasant consequences

Many, many moons ago when I was in high school, I read Essay on Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau.  He was an abolitionist who refused to pay taxes to a government which allowed slavery.  He spent the night in jail until someone paid his back taxes against his wishes.   

How does it become a man to behave toward the American government today? I answer, that he cannot without disgrace be associated with it. I cannot for an instant recognize that political organization as my government which is the slave's government also.

All men recognize the right of revolution; that is, the right to refuse allegiance to, and to resist, the government, when its tyranny or its inefficiency are great and unendurable. But almost all say that such is not the case now. But such was the case, they think, in the Revolution of '75. If one were to tell me that this was a bad government because it taxed certain foreign commodities brought to its ports, it is most probable that I should not make an ado about it, for I can do without them. All machines have their friction; and possibly this does enough good to counter-balance the evil. At any rate, it is a great evil to make a stir about it. But when the friction comes to have its machine, and oppression and robbery are organized, I say, let us not have such a machine any longer. In other words, when a sixth of the population of a nation which has undertaken to be the refuge of liberty are slaves, and a whole country is unjustly overrun and conquered by a foreign army, and subjected to military law, I think that it is not too soon for honest men to rebel and revolutionize. What makes this duty the more urgent is that fact that the country so overrun is not our own, but ours is the invading army.

Oh, how this perfectly clear moral decision coupled with righteous disobedience appealed to my teenage soul.  "Under a government which imprisons unjustly, the true place for a just man is also a prison."  Unjust rules.  Rebel for a just cause.  A majority of one.  Misunderstood and wrongly punished.  Bravely and nobly facing the consequences.  
 
Paley, a common authority with many on moral questions, in his chapter on the "Duty of Submission to Civil Government," resolves all civil obligation into expediency; and he proceeds to say that "so long as the interest of the whole society requires it, that it, so long as the established government cannot be resisted or changed without public inconveniencey, it is the will of God. . .that the established government be obeyed--and no longer. This principle being admitted, the justice of every particular case of resistance is reduced to a computation of the quantity of the danger and grievance on the one side, and of the probability and expense of redressing it on the other." Of this, he says, every man shall judge for himself. But Paley appears never to have contemplated those cases to which the rule of expediency does not apply, in which a people, as well and an individual, must do justice, cost what it may. If I have unjustly wrested a plank from a drowning man, I must restore it to him though I drown myself. This, according to Paley, would be inconvenient. But he that would save his life, in such a case, shall lose it. This people must cease to hold slaves, and to make war on Mexico, though it cost them their existence as a people.

Heady stuff I recall two and a half decades later.  Even now, I find myself swept away in his language.  Man, can he write.  

It is not a man's duty, as a matter of course, to devote himself to the eradication of any, even to most enormous, wrong; he may still properly have other concerns to engage him; but it is his duty, at least, to wash his hands of it, and, if he gives it no thought longer, not to give it practically his support. If I devote myself to other pursuits and contemplations, I must first see, at least, that I do not pursue them sitting upon another man's shoulders. I must get off him first, that he may pursue his contemplations too. See what gross inconsistency is tolerated. I have heard some of my townsmen say, "I should like to have them order me out to help put down an insurrection of the slaves, or to march to Mexico--see if I would go"; and yet these very men have each, directly by their allegiance, and so indirectly, at least, by their money, furnished a substitute. The soldier is applauded who refuses to serve in an unjust war by those who do not refuse to sustain the unjust government which makes the war; is applauded by those whose own act and authority he disregards and sets at naught; as if the state were penitent to that degree that it hired one to scourge it while it sinned, but not to that degree that it left off sinning for a moment. Thus, under the name of Order and Civil Government, we are all made at last to pay homage to and support our own meanness. After the first blush of sin comes its indifference; and from immoral it becomes, as it were, unmoral, and not quite unnecessary to that life which we have made.  

 If you haven't read it, I encourage you to.  Great call to responsibility and conscience.  Agree or disagree, I think he's wonderfully thought-provoking.

Recently I felt drawn to re-read him after all these years and I have been inspired by the way he takes responsibility for his choices and embraces the unpleasant consequences.  No ducking, dodging, denying, avoiding, whining, or blaming.  No "I didn't know," "I meant to," "Let me fix that right away," "You can't make me," "I don't deserve to go to jail," or "You can't catch me."  I didn't pay my taxes and I am ready to sit in jail.  Wow.  I've needed that inspiration.

Preparing taxes this April was a shock.  I had known we had shot our wad in 2013, but even I had not imagined the expenses and losses we incurred.  We had known intellectually that this first couple years would be all costs with very little return on investment.  But still, the sticker shock was stunning.  Tim got grim and I got giddy, like a survivors of a tornado emerging overwhelmed by the devastation and glad to be alive.  

At moments like that, I wonder if I should just follow my dad's sage advice, "When in doubt, make money."  I wonder whether I should just put the kids in public school and go get a paying job.  I'm a licensed teacher.  I've got education up the wazoo.  I've got sellable skills.  I've got experience.  Absolutely none of which is making me a dime these days.  All of which is my own choice.  

Sometimes I feel like a fool, a broke fool who is trying to become more financially stable by spending money, trying to become more self- reliant by paying to work harder, trying to live a simpler life by doing more, trying to prepare for hard times by making these times harder. 

I could trade off for more money now, more physical ease and financial security now.  But I don't.  We don't.

What does taking responsibility and embracing unpleasant consequences mean for me in that?  I'm trying to find out.  But it isn't pretty or popular.
 
Three of our neighbors have approached us this last month with complaints about R Farm.  Visual blight, rooster noise, chickens and cat on their property, smoke from clean-up bonfires.  People we like and respect have said that we're un-neighborly, that we have disrupted their peace and the peace of their neighbors, and that R Farm is not a good fit in this development.  We should defer to the people who were here first, stop talking about this agricultural zoning thing when everyone else wants residential rules, and become the good neighbors they know we could be, the good neighbors they know God wants us to be.

Yep. 

Right in the midst of two hand surgeries in four weeks, work, parenting, homeschooling, and ... What was it?  It'll come to me.  

Oh, yes- farming. 

Seriously?
Seriously.

Strung out and in pain after surgery Tuesday, I'd had it.  Unending conflict with people I like and respect is in the lower rings of my personal definition of hell.  The hard work I expected.  Heck, I'll even pay more to work harder.  I can brave the ticks, sticks, deer, and driveway in all kinds of weather with good humor.  But breaking good people's hearts knowing I could prevent it by simply giving up my dreams and knowing that I will feel their unhappiness because I will continue choosing not to make them happy?  That's my bleeding limit.

"Let's tell them we'd accept an offer on the house and move R Farm.  We don't need to make a profit, just get our money out and go buy more acres with a sane driveway and a smaller house to clean.  It won't break my heart to say goodbye."

So, Tim, bless his good heart, emailed the offer.  We aren't going to change each others' minds, he wrote.  Here's our suggestion for a win-win.  Make us an offer.  Get together with the unhappy neighbors, buy us out, vote in an association with a covenant of your liking, and you could resell the place to someone who is a good fit.  Or send a friend who does fit to buy it.  We'll cheerfully move, even this summer.  We want you to have first dibs and we'd be happy to move somewhere we're a better fit.  All we need is our investment back.

So far, no bites.  Not even a nibble.  

Tim has been my hero through this whole process.  He has taken responsibility for his choices, acknowledged that we and the neighbors won't change each others' minds, has clearly stated that we won't give up farming, and then has done his best to change what he can.   He encouraged the neighbors to take whatever actions they need to to protect their property from unwanted animals including our cat.  They're a dime a dozen, he said.  We'll get another for free- no hard feelings.  He left the deer fencing up but addressed the visual blight concerns by removing some bright pink marking tape.  The neighbor whose complaint prompted Tim's response acknowledged the change makes it less of an eyesore.  Tim's planning to email the family with the smoke issue and discuss which days would be best to burn next.  He's also planning to visit and discuss our fencing plans with the neighbors who've had chicken encroachment issues.  Meanwhile the chickens stay in their compound until Tim can supervise their movements while he works outside.

Heroic, right?

Totally impressive.
Admirable.

Tim, I see your true colors and I've never been prouder to be your wife.

Roadkill Date

"Hey, Tim!  Wanna go on a roadkill date with me?"
 He decided he did, brave man.

Tim grabbed a tarp and we drove back a mile to a freshly killed doe.  For a change, I hadn't hit it.  The person in front of me had and then had driven away, leaving perfectly good free cat food behind.  A spring doe was sure to be scrawny but hey, Abbi Cat's not fussy.

Tip #1- It's a lot easier to not hit the deer oneself.

Tim, in sensible knee-high rubber boots, dragged it up the steep slope while I, clad in clogs, watched optimistically except for the last couple feet when I grabbed his belt and pulled.  

Tip #2- Remember appropriate footwear on a roadkill date.  

What's appropriate depends on whether one wants to climb down into the swampy ditch or have a good excuse not to.

Somehow we heaved the deer tarp-wrapped into the back of the van.  Holy smokes- she was heavier than she looked.  Not so scrawny.

Tip #3- A tarp is an excellent idea, 

especially if the roadkill date involves a minivan.

Now the question of gutting.  An hour and 15 minutes left on the gut-it-or-lose-it clock, we drove the three minutes back to our neighbor, Kifah's, hoping we could just pull off the side of her driveway, pull the tarp out, and have her gut it quick.  

Tip #4- Knowing how old one's roadkill is is helpful since one has two hours to gut after death or contamination occurs.  

Cats probably wouldn't care either way 

but your date might since freshly dead makes for a lot different roadkill date experience than not so fresh.  

Enough said.

Fortunately, Kifah was at home and interested.  She's not one to do things by half measures and is a true appreciator of fresh free meat.  She dropped her grad school assignment and had Tim haul the whole shebang to her basement.  She laughed when I told her about our roadkill date and replied with an impish grin, "Our husbands had no idea what they were getting into when they married us, did they?"

Tip #5- Have friends with a great sense of humor who 

know how to do things.

Kifah and Tim started the butchering process while I watched her preschool daughters upstairs.  The doe was pregnant with twins nearly ready to be born.  So much wellness and life cut short in a moment is always sad.  Kifah and Tim buried the twins.

Tip #6- There is an inescapable tragedy to every roadkill date.

Kifah felt that the venison would be tasty enough for people to eat and she was right.  The doe was fat from eating in the corn fields.  Crossing the road between fields was the cause of the doe's demise so there may be some kind of poetic justice or particular angst in that depending on one's perspective.  

Tip #7- Given #6, good news is even more amazing.

I recommended taking photos for the blog but Tim demurred saying

Tip #8- Some things are best left to the imagination.

Several hours later, we departed for home with ziplock baggies full of cat food and people steaks and roasts.  Half the deer meat went into our freezer and half into Kifah's.  

Tip #9- Share the meat.

Last night Tim took a large venison steak to Men's Meat Night because what could be manlier eating than roadkill?  Tim told the Roadkill Date story and everyone ate roadkill. 

Tip #10- Share the story.

Attitude adjustment through Limerick writing

There once was a man who hated

The farm that his neighbors created

He'd sought out the view

But zoning- no, clue!

Not tranquil like anticipated

Tim suggested I write a sonnet or limerick instead of stewing.  
The man is brilliant.

There once was a rooster who crowed

Good thing everyone knowed

It's zoned to farm

He's doing no harm

That's simply how a farm goed

I have loved writing limericks since a junior high assignment decades ago.  I find it impossible to fret in anapestic meter. 

There once were some folks in Franconia

A 'residential' farm did bemoania

Not as they wished

Regulations insist

Agricultural is the true zonia

Collateral consequences

In military speak, collateral damage is "damage to things that are incidental to the intended target. It is frequently used as a military term where it can refer to the incidental destruction of civilian property and non-combatant casualties."

In other words, "I was aiming for the munitions warehouse and I accidentally hit the building next door."

Or in Shakespeare speak, when the prince begins the duel by saying he didn't mean to stab his friend's dad but had killed him accidentally while aiming for someone else:

Sir, in this audience,
Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil
Free me so far in your most generous thoughts,
That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house,
And hurt my brother. 

-Hamlet 

Hamlet, Act V, Scene 2

He's not claiming "I didn't do it" but rather "I didn't mean to do it."  

In my life I've broadened the term from collateral damage to collateral consequences since both positive and negative consequences flow from every decision.

I moved to the country to farm and I wind up hitting deer, eating roadkill, laughing about it with my new friends, and blogging it all out.  I got to choose my decisions but I don't get to choose the consequences.
 
A wonderful example of positive and negative collateral consequences is in the Northern Exposure's Thanksgiving (Season 4 Episode 8). Marilyn, a native Alaskan tells a haunting story of the meeting of the First Peoples and the European settlers, of death and the gift of pumpkins. 

 January 2013

We cut down trees to create our orchard, unintentionally breaking our neighbor's heart.  His view changed from peaceful to ugly.  

 

 historical photo by our neighbor

 

January 2013

The background of many wonderful memories was gone in one weekend of chainsawing.  The view in much of his art was changed.  

 

 historical photo by our neighbor

Ugliness was not my goal but it is a collateral consequence of my choice to put in an orchard on our convenient southern slope.

January 2013

Our first draft hugels and mulching were very ugly as the photo he attached to illustrate his emailed point clearly reveals.  

 

 view of R Farm from our neighbor's driveway, fall 2013

The mulch wasn't staying and the garden was eroding and the logs were protruding and the cardboard for weed suppression was in disarray.  Ugly and not functional.  A lose-lose combination in a garden.  Hopefully our second draft this spring will be better.  We're trying to make substantial changes to the hugel structure which will lead to greater functionality by allowing mulch to stay put and as a positive collateral consequence also keep the mulch tidier with less effort.  That's the theory anyway. We'll see how that plan survives engagement with real life.  


Will these choices minimize the negative collateral consequences while still moving us towards our goals?  

Gosh, I sure hope so. I hope that the permaculture philosophy that the problems are the solution is true.  We're betting our time, energy, and money that this second working draft will be an improvement over the first. 

Here's to hoping for better consequences all around!