Beauty on the Farm

Another beautiful Saturday spent with Grace, a.k.a. Grand #3

Maggie & Me

I was just gazing through some old pictures and thought I'd share.

Believe it or not, it was love-at-first-sight with Maggie.

She was my first horse... an off-the-track thoroughbred,

neglected and needing a home.

Here she is, the way she looked then, at twenty-five years old!

My favorite picture... This was taken about three months later.

I got her weight back to what it should be and she looked like a winner!

I never used a bit with her. Only a halter with reins clipped on.

I trail-rode her this way. Lovely gal. I miss her.

She lives a ways north of here now with a friend of mine.

...and she still runs like the wind!

Mother's Day heartache

I'm still reflecting on Mother's Day... not a good thing. I wish I could stop thinking about it. I've contemplated writing about it many times, for therapeutic reasons, then changed my mind. I've prayed about it so many times over the years. Why can't I just take it in stride?

You're wondering what's up? Did my mother die tragically? Was I abandoned? No. My mother lives less than two miles away in a senior's apartment building. I help take care of her. But when it comes to Mother's Day... Let's just say she is not the mother they write about in the greeting cards. I have no fond memories of my childhood that involve her. I have a hard time dealing with my jealousy of others that have great moms. Why couldn't I have one of those moms? I really think I would be better off emotionally if I had never known her... if I had been abandoned. At least then I could let my imagination create a loving lady that had no choice, that loved me enough to want the best for me.

From the time I was very young I remember feeling like my mom didn't really want me. And she probably didn't. I was the third child born into the unhappy marriage. I guess birth control wasn't in her vocabulary. My father married her because she was pregnant with my oldest brother. Another brother, four years younger than the first, might have been planned. I've never asked. I'm quite sure that I, as well as my youngest brother, were totally unexpected.

Mom and Dad were married about thirty years... That to me is amazing, considering their daily lives! There was no love between them. There wasn't much shown to us kids either. During their entire marriage, my dad never once gave my mother a birthday or Christmas present. No card, no flowers. Nothing. He made nasty comments about her weight at the dinner table. She slammed cupboard doors and grumbled. He retreated with his beer can to the basement or the garage.

I have no memories of Mom helping me to get ready for my prom. She would never have allowed me to go. She never taught me how to cook or keep house. She never told me about love. The memories I have of Mom are her calling us nasty names, her chasing us out of the house, her telling me that when I grew up I'd probably end up 'in trouble'. I could write a book on the negative things I remember from my childhood and teenage years, but that's not what this is about. It's about me.

The only time I remember hearing the word love was when my brothers and I would fight. Dad would tell us that we shouldn't fight because we loved each other. It's no wonder I grew up with a screwed-up definition of love! When I was in my twenties (my parents lived 1000 miles away then) I made myself tell them "I love you" at the end of a telephone call. There was a period of silence... Then, "I love you, too." It wasn't the way I imagined it sounding. It sounded strained, unnatural.


Now that I'm supposedly wiser, I think my parents aren't capable of that kind of love. Not everybody is. It's just that simple. I drew the short straw. But where does that leave me?

The leading character of my manuscript has a very skewed picture of what love is. I relate to her a lot. I made a mess of my past life because of that very reason. It wasn't until I let Jesus into my heart that I really understood love.

I vowed, when I had my daughter, that she would hear those words every day. And she did. Still, we don't have the relationship I wish we had. I did all the right 'mom' things for the most part. Our relationship changed during her rebellious teenage years. I was divorced and didn't have the answers. I don't think she's out of those years yet... but I blame myself for that.

Whoever you are reading this, I wish I had your mom. Because then I would know how to be that mom. I didn't have a script to go by. I don't have a clue how to be that great mom that I read about in the Mother's Day cards. Maybe if Mom hadn't run us out of the house so much, I could've watched those sixty shows that people are always talking about... you know... the ones that have the perfect mom and dad.

My best friend can't understand why I help my mom now. She remembers all too well. But my mom is old now and she needs help. My brothers aren't going to do it, so I guess I feel it's my obligation. She feels that way too. She went many years without having anything to do with me. Then she got old. She told me she was coming back because she needed me to take care of her. The Bible tells us to honor our mother and father. I have wrestled with this a lot. It's the reason that most people don't know the private side. It's the reason I've deleted several things I just wrote. I feel it's not honoring them to write this, even though I didn't really get into the nitty-gritty details. At least no one that knows them will be reading it.

So this Mother's Day, I went through the same anguish trying to pick an 'appropriate' card for Mom. I just can't bring myself to give her one of those 'thank you Mom for being there for me' greeting cards. It hurts too much. What hurts worse? When I open my daughter's card to me and don't find the 'thank you Mom for being there for me' greeting card.

beautiful day on the farm

The weather was beautiful today.

I managed to get some garden chores done and even got a start

on the steps project from my balcony to the pool area!

I'll post some pics when I get farther along.

The forecast indicates it may be awhile.

But for now, enjoy these sites I shot today...

I love this willow shrub! It is over six feet tall now.

This time of year it is covered with a worm-looking growth.

It was too breezy to get a good close-up of them.

The Japanese blood grass I transplanted is doing very well.
I love the way it looks when the evening sun hits the blades.
It becomes almost transparent!

The color of the sky was a perfect contrast to the brightly lit branches of our ornamental plum.

This iris is what I remember from my grandmother's flower bed.

I love the combination of the stark yellow and delicate lavender.

I only wish my camera could capture the brilliance of the evening sun

hitting this bright yellow iris!

I just noticed this artwork on the sitting rock today.

The grandkids were playing with their sidewalk chalk this weekend...

I think it's a 'welcoming' touch!

The new iris bed is doing well.

I worried because the bulbs were out of the ground so long.
It's certainly an improvement over the transformer box!

One of our baby pines. It's about six feet tall now and is getting it's first pine cones!

chickens, and horses, and goats - oh my!

Ridding the critters of mites and worms... I never had these worries in the burbs. Hubby suspects the chicks are infested with mites. No big deal, it's quite a common thing, but still needs prompt attention. The big deal is in the treatment...

There is a powder that will eliminate the problem. The problem lies in that the powder must be applied to not only the hen house cracks, crevices, bedding, nests, etc, but also to each and every chicken. ALL EIGHTY! So Hubby asked, "How are we supposed to treat seventy-five chicks?" I replied, "One at a time." I've got a plan. I hope it works.

Let's make it a pest-ridding week. I figure I might as well worm the six cats, four goats, and two horses.

The last time we wormed the goats was nearly fatal... for us! Fully grown, they are quite strong. I, being a 'townie', bought the first goat wormer I found. The labeled stated how much of the liquid was to be administered to each goat. Apparently, even though the goats love the taste of mud and dandelions, they abhor the taste of this pink liquid stuff! I'd love to have a video of Hubby wrestling Elvis while I scurried around them with the eye-dropper! I'm sure our 'country' friends laugh at us quite frequently.

I'm using a different approach this time... Turns out there's a pelleted form of wormer for goats. They're supposed to eat it like feed. You just pour the correct amount into the feed trough and let them eat it! Who'd a thought? I'll let you know how that turns out.

I mastered the cat meds long ago. When we had fourteen (oops) it was either learn a fail-proof method or be scarred for life! I tried the 'wrap-the-pretty-kitty-in-a-towel' trick. Yeah, right! Without resorting to duct tape, how do you keep the claws inside the towel? (It did qualify for my insurance to cover a tetanus shot on my next doctor visit.) Four hands were simply not enough to control to flailing limbs with extended switchblades.

What would a mother do? Isn't that a question we ask often when faced with a dilemma? So what does a mother cat do when handling her young? Of course! The scruff of the neck! Turns out it works, not just for kittens either. Now, whenever I have to give meds to any of the cats, I simply lift their front-end off the ground by the scruff of the neck. (Sqeeky Bear sometimes requires lifting his entire body.) They passively accept anything I stick in their furry little faces.

The horses can't be picked up by the scruff of their necks. 'Real' horse people do not approve of my worming method. Some meds must be administered orally, so teaching a horse to accept the wormer is a good way to keep them 'med-ready'. Mine aren't. Sorry. I do need to take the time to work on that someday. But for now, I use a wormer they like. It comes in a tube they don't like. So I squeeze the wormer into a little bit of grain and stir. They lap it up as long as I use enough oats & feed to dilute the taste.

So 'country folk' - go ahead and laugh! At least I have blog material!

gone in a moment...

Like most girls her age, Grand #2, my eleven-year-old granddaughter, is crazy about High School Musical. She even has two pink, fuzzy, HSM throws - one at home, one here. She has T-shirts, posters, etc. So last year when I made my reservations for my season tickets at LaComedia, a sorta-nearby dinner theater, I bought an extra ticket for her to go with my BF and me to see their production of High School Musical. She adores my BF and was really looking forward to going... just us three ladies!
When I made the reservations, I didn't realize the date I picked was Mother's Day. Sadly, my BF's children made plans for her so she couldn't make it. Hubby wasn't up to sitting for that long with the physical impairments he's suffering lately, so I decided to take Grand #3, the almost-five-year-old, with us. She is also a big HSM fan.

I came close to chucking the whole plan! Grand #2 can be a difficult child and this weekend she tried to break her record on how many times she could get in trouble. She pushed me to my limit and I finally told her that I was seriously thinking about leaving her at home because I truly do not believe in rewarding bad behavior. She adjusted her attitude just enough...

We had perfect seats! We were center stage, one level up and one table back from the stage. She had a spectacular time! The tuxedo-cloaked host had fun teasing her and even gave her a sweet, faked-for-the-camera kiss on the cheek.
She got autographs from over half the cast while I snapped photos of her with the stars. One of the ensemble members was in a local university's production of 'Children of Eden' with her last year. He, along with some other members of the cast had already headed back stage by the time we got through the line on the right; so the host-with-the-most took her program backstage for some more autographs, including the guy she 'worked with' before. We were probably the last patrons to leave the theater. #2 was quite happy as I jumped on the interstate and heading to their house. This was a magical night for her... so far.

We got to their house well past bedtime. Both girls were bubbling about the show. #3 laid claims to the new 'boyfriend'. They were far to energetic to be sent to bed!

Then Mommy had to relay the news... It seems that sometime over the weekend, Ruby, #2's guinea pig, had expired... kicked-the-bucket... DIED!

All the excitement that had filled the room seconds before instantly vanished. She only got to bask in the magic of the evening for the twenty-minute drive home. Life is so unfair.