Farm Fresh Blog

Physics was never my strong suit, but for some reason, I constantly feel the need to stretch the time-space continuum as I consistently schedule more activities than the time alloted to me, i.e. I have a tendency to overschedule myself.

I study the calendar in amazement. Where did October go?!!  The holidays are looming and I have soap orders to fill.

Making soap can be quite time-consuming. Each batch makes 7 lbs of soap. Each batch takes approximately an hour to make. I have enough molds for three batches at a time.  This effectively eats up most of a day.  I have been steadily making soap, drying soap, packaging soap, and delivering soap each weekend in October and the orders keep coming in.  Like me, I suppose everyone else is staring at calendar pages flying away.

Last weekend I had the brilliant (it seemed like a good idea at the time) idea of combining my one day a week of horseback riding with soap deliveries. Since many of my orders are coming from horsewomen anyway, we can ride horses, and then exchange soap for money.

What's not to love? So I made arrangements LAST weekend to drop off soap THIS weekend.

Now this sounded good on the surface, but the best laid plans of "mice and men" and women who multi-task . . .

So let's take a quick tally of tasks I planned yesterday:

1) deliver soap
2) ride Scout -Mustang paint who hasn't been ridden in a month and a half
3) take Joe to his physical therapy session

SCREECH!  Joe's physical therapy session!  I forgot about it until Saturday afternoon when Dear Friend Ken called. Ken, who is not only a Rocket Scientist is also a licensed massage therapist who specializes in equine sports massage and trigger point therapy.  ( http://www.texasanimalmassage.com/ ) 

 It had come to my attention that Joe's saddle regularly leans to the left.  Hmmmm . . .

This caused me to note that his left shoulder is much more developed than his right shoulder.  Hmmmm . . .

Closer inspection reveals that Joe's spine is not properly aligned. Hmmmm . . .

Yeah, that makes sense. That would explain why a horse as sweet and well-trained as Joe was dumped from a career as a playday horse for children into a retirement home with a 5 year old child who didn't ride him much. Since I've just ridden him on slow easy trail rides, I've never seen a problem with him, but nevertheless, now that I know Mr. Joe HAS a problem, I feel compelled to help him. So I set up an appointment with Dear Friend Ken . . . who called Saturday to confirm our appointment . . . which I had forgotten about. Soooo . . . I decided to scrap riding Scout and ride Joe instead. (no big loss there!)

Updated plan:  Take Joe to park. Sell soap. Ride Joe. Have Joe's physical therapy in park after ride.

It sounded good . . . except for the 40% chance of rain. 

Now as any farmer will tell you, weather is a fickle thing, and even on the best day, farming and ranching is a gamble. For instance, Other Half spent time on a tractor and big bucks on rye seed for a winter pasture only to have any chance of rain whisk away with the clouds right after the seed was broadcast. Thus, I didn't take this 40% chance of rain seriously. I figured that either way, I win.  If my ride got rained out, I could still sell soap, and we'd at least get rain on the rye seed. Sometime we have to hunt for the silver lining in the clouds.

And so it was that this morning I happily loaded up the truck with soap, loaded Joe in the trailer, and tooled down the road . . . straight into the rain. It was rainin' harder than a cow pissin' on a flat rock.  Joe and I sat in the parking lot and watched it rain.  Naturally, we got there early . . .  an hour early, so Joe and I had an hour to watch it rain. And rain it did. And rain. And I drank an entire frappuccino while I watched it rain.

The nice thing about our horse trailer is that it has a potty it has a door leading from the living quarters into the horsey section. So after I used the potty I joined Joe in the back. He ate hay while I answered text messages assuring friends that their soap was here. And troopers that they are, they kept on driving in the rain.

As soon as the rain eased a bit, I started moving soap from the truck to the horse trailer which smelled like a wet horse which was the only dry place to display soap.  The living quarters made a less than stellar soap showroom, but it was dry and we needed the rain.  I no sooner got the soap moved than the ladies began arriving. Bless their hearts, they braved the rain, and brought blue skies with them. In no time they had Joe unloaded, tied to the side with a bag of hay, and the shopping had commenced.

And despite the fact that I was showcasing beautiful, decadent, luxurious soap in a dirty horse trailer with horse poop and hay all over the floor (or because of it), the soap sold. Everyone was happy. The air was filled with the odor of wet horse fragrant soap, blue skies and happy women. I scrapped the idea of riding Joe, but those who brought horses saddled up and rode just as Joe's physical therapy session began.

And suddenly the world which had been spinning so fast finally slowed down, and I took some time to breathe. Dear Friend Ken and Joe had a wonderful session and in a very short time he, (Joe not Ken), was yawning and leaning into his therapist. In fact, Joe had such a good time that he had an uncharacteristic brain fart and decided that he didn't want to get in the trailer for the trip back home.  And why should he? At the park he had hay, horsey friends, and a therapist who feeds him peppermints. What's not to love?

After much cajoling, I was finally forced to break out the "rod of obedience" and Joe reluctantly agreed after one tap that perhaps it was in his best interest to load up.  Although we missed our ride, we arrived home with money in our pocket, hugs from old friends and new friends, and blue skies . . . really, really blue skies - and a still dusty pasture.  What the heck?!!

Apparently the rain that soaked me, and the horse, and the park, and had left rivers coursing through the parking lot, had rained itself out before it hit my pastures.  Grrrrrr . . . Good grief.

Oh well, at least I learned that Joe is excellent company when you're stuck together in a horse trailer in the pouring rain. 

 "Got peppermints?"

Look closely.

Before we go any further, let me point out that this is the same lamb who got so stuck under the wheel well of a truck that we had to jack up the truck to free her.  That said, it wasn't a big surprise to look through the living room window and see a lamb out of the sheep enclosure and into the round pen of hay.  What I didn't realize was that she was stuck again - mentally at least.

This lamb is dumb as a box of rocks. Apparently she had climbed on top of the hay and couldn't figure out how to get down.  When I moved the rest of the sheep into the yard to graze this ewe lamb just bawled and bawled - and no one even bothered to look back as they left her.  Such is the nature of sheep.

This is why the world needs Big White Dogs.  

I give you Exhibit A:   

This creature gets herself into situations and screams her head off, calling every coyote and bobcat in three counties. Without Briar this airhead would be coyote bait.

And since I didn't want to listen to her scream all afternoon, I drove out there and tried to get her down myself.  But alas, no luck. She was not coming down. Apparently being abandoned by the rest of the flock was not enough of an incentive.

And so it was that I drove back to the house and got my secret weapon - who had been watching through the living room window.

It is amazing how persuasive a Border Collie can be in these situations. . .

I wish I had pictures of this lamb 'leapfrogging' across bales of hay to her hasty exit as Lily stalked across the hay. Unfortunately it happened so quickly I couldn't get the camera focused.  (This happens with Border Collies.)

And just like that, quick as a flash, she had the lamb off the hay and into the yard where she joined everyone else who had been ignoring her screams, and Briar . . .

 . . . who keeps idiotic sheep safe from the Boogy Beast!

Up at 5 am to cut soap into bars - peaceful fragrant work that doesn't smell like animal poop or decomposing bodies. This is most definitely one of my most pleasant chores!

In the country, when a friend invites you to help her move, it goes without saying that your horse is invited too.  Since we couldn't trail ride today, we just went "fieldtripping."  Joe grazed all day with one of her horses while we packed and hauled.  Somehow even the process of moving isn't so bad when the company is good and you get to bring your pony . . .

I got home from my Week-Long-Out-Of-Town-Crime-Scene-Class just in time for Other Half to pass the baton to me as he raced out the driveway to work.  I had just dropped "some" of my gear in the house and was out back with the dogs when I hear a giant crash in the side yard.

Yes, true to form, drama follows us - a tree had crashed to the earth, bringing down a power line with it.  Welcome home.

It was now dark. Other Half was gone. I don't know how to work a chain saw, AND the line was still hot.  I had yet to finish unloading the car.  My cell phone was dead. The home phone went dead as I called Other Half. At first I stood in the dark and just whimpered, then I decided that this too, was a blessing. (It's all about how you decide to view things!)

Yes, the tree had come crashing down, bringing down a power line, BUT no one was hurt. The neighbors' fence was intact. It smacked down inches from our water well, but it was fine too. Our dogs normally fence fight with the neighbor's cow dogs in THAT very spot, but everyone was in the back with me when the tree came down. AND wonder of wonders, the electricity was STILL on! Okay, it was flickering a bit, but it was still working. 

Fortunately Other Half had gathered enough from our conversation to call a friend of his who worked at the power company. Within an hour the man was at my front gate, (apologizing for the wait!) Within two hours the line was back up and the power company was cheerfully trimming more trees to avoid a future incident.  Apparently men LIKE playing with chain saws while standing in buckets way above the ground.

By that time my cell phone was back in business, and I had some new friends in the power company.  (God bless Country People!)

This morning I was faced with a daunting clean-up task.  The downed tree was covered in poison ivy.  

No problem!  I've got great Hired Help!

   5 hours later! 

By tomorrow all the poison ivy should be gone and all that's left will be to hook up the pieces to the jeep and drag them into the pasture.  Welcome home . . .

     From time to time I run across people that restore my faith in humanity. Such was the case this weekend. Other Half and I were driving home from the north ranch when we discovered there were no running lights on the horse trailer, and the sun was going down. Although we hustled to a trailer company along our route, we arrived just in time to see them closing up and driving out of the parking lot. Never one to take "no" at face value, Other Half pulled into the lot anyway. Wonder of wonders, they stopped. They came back. 

They peeked at the trailer and then called their electrician BACK IN from home!  And while I stood in the parking lot with four dogs on leashes (not a real picnic there!) they fixed the lights on the trailer so we could get back on the road. Then the most remarkable thing happened . . .

. . .  They refused payment.  This company had remained opened, called someone in after hours, and yet, they still refused to accept payment for a simple fix.

Wow. They have just earned themselves lifetime customers. Stephenville Trailers, in Stephenville, TX, sells horse trailers, truck beds, Ranch Hand bumpers, and all manner of stuff for the rancher. If you live in Texas any where near that area, and are looking for an honest vender, I heartily recommend these people.

Stephenville Trailers is located in the heart of Horse Country. Until that evening we had never been customers of Stephenville Trailers. We'd just passed them on the highway. Through their integrity and work ethics, they have now earned all our business. If you're anywhere close to Stephenville, try 'em. If you own your own business, take note. That extra thirty minutes after closing time 'could' be the most important advertising you do!

The beauty of our new ranch is that every day there is a new adventure, ripe with new discoveries.  This weekend Dillon found  a most "wonderful round thing" while on a walk. He was immediately the envy of everyone else.  When I first saw this "thing" I thought Dillon had found an oversized tennis ball. This intrigued me because the ranch is remote and not the place one would expect to find a dog toy just hanging around.

Here Ranger checks out the curious thing.

Dillon brought it home and everyone played with "the thing" to the point where I had to hide it so it was relatively intact when I had local friends identify this curiosity.

My friend, Kim, identified the oddity as a "bois d'art" or "horse-apple" and we drove off on the 4wheeler to find the tree. Then I came home to google the thing. I found lots of interesting stuff about it, but the most interesting (to ME!) was its use as an insect repellant similar to DEET.  Really? Hmmm . . . I wish I had brought home this wonderful round thing so I could test this theory. You can bet your Grandma's best cast-iron skillet that I'll be putting one of these curious round things under the bed the next time I go to the ranch!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maclura_pomifera

We took the boys to the north ranch this weekend - in the rain.

Palo Pinto Painted Pony in the rain

 One of us was a happy camper.

One of us was not . . .

 "Can we go home now?"

Poor Musket was on his first camping trip and he was not happy. I woke up the first morning to find him standing beside the gate, begging me to come get him. 

He was covered in biting black flies, soaking wet, and had cactus thorns in his nose.  He was pitiful. I woke up Other Half, and we pulled the cactus out of his nose, put on some fly spray, and put oats in his belly.

 His day was looking up.

 They discovered the pecan trees gave nice shelter, and on Day 3 the sun came out.

On that day, I woke up early and saddled Joe. Other Half was still asleep, so I took a walkie talkie and tossed another one in bed with him. Then I climbed on Joe and off we went down the trail.

He was pretty scared at first. The forest has eyes out there and Joe knew it. He stalled out a few times, certain he would be cougar bait if he kept going. I kept humming a little tune and eventually he would sigh and head a little further through the woods. On the way back I noted that in the places were he stalled out there were hog and deer tracks in the road that had not been there before. Joe was being watched.

Our return trip was much faster but uneventful. I was elated. We DID it!

Other Half was less than enthusiastic about our trip.  Apparently I had forgotten to turn on my walkie talkie.  (Ma bad!) I had ridden off to parts unknown on an unfamiliar horse without a gun and without turning on my radio.  (not my finest hour)

Nevertheless, I was still elated. I had trusted Joe, and he had trusted me. (or got tired of my singing and just gave up)  So for a little while, I had forgotten all the ugliness and violence in this world. I was just a little girl on a pony.  And it felt good.

 Painted Pony & Prickly Pears

  Poor Joe is having some problems fitting in.  He is a gentle soul, so I put him in the roping arena with Musket. Since Musket gets picked on by the other horses, I thought they might make good roommates. 

Unfortunately after a one day honeymoon, I came home from work to find that Musket had beat up poor Joe.  I had one paint horse with kicks and bites all over him, and one roan horse with not so much as a scratch.  Eviction time! 

So I until Joe can get assimilated into the herd, he can stay alone in the arena or with the sheep. 

 This worked out until the goats discovered Joe had hay.  Yes, the idiots who have so much hay in their pen that they turn their noses up at it, decided that when turned loose in the yard with a horse, they simply MUST eat his hay.  They swarmed over Joe's breakfast hay like gypsies in the palace!

Easygoing Joe just ambled off and returned after the gypsies had left. He's such a sweetie. 

This afternoon when I left for work, Joe said that instead of staying alone, he wanted to go out with the sheep. Okie dokie. So I opened the gate to let him in with the sheep and goats. And that's about the time Briar turned into a monster and informed poor Joe that he was "NOT a part of the flock!"

(clearly someone has failed to inform Briar that SHE'S a dog and not part of the flock either. I'm just sayin'.) 

         Poor Joe!

It's rough being the New Kid On The Block.

Did you ever see a stranger across a room and swear you'd met before? Did you ever meet someone for the first time and get an immediate sense of familiarity? A connection. You can't explain it, you just trust in it.

And so it was last Sunday afternoon when I was dropping off a soap delivery to an old friend.  I glanced in her back yard and saw this:

Like a cartoon character, my heart leaped out of my body. Who was this horse?

I stopped in my tracks and asked her about the horse next door.  She told me he belonged to her brother who'd purchased the horse for his 5 year old daughter and rarely ever rode him. 

"He's a push-button horse, but he's just wasting away there. I've hopped on him bareback and he's PUSH-BUTTON."

I was intrigued. "Take me to meet this horse."

And so we walked to the pasture. He immediately came up to greet me.  She remarked that he is normally polite but distant and was surprised he was so friendly.  I was more intrigured.  There was "something" about this horse.

I've learned to trust those "somethings" and so I asked if the horse was for sale.  She allowed as how he wasn't on the market, but her brother had recently tossed around the idea since the horse wasn't really being ridden. So I made a date to test drive him the following Sunday.

I went home, but couldn't get the horse out of my head. He was perfect for me.  Short enough to easily mount,  (unlike OTHER members of the family)

and calm as a cucumber. (Unlike OTHER members of the family)

 "Who?"

I've spent a good bit of my life riding hot horses, but I'm 49 years old now. Now, I want short and calm. (But OTHER members of the family will ALWAYS remain members of the family!)

In the middle of the week I took Other Half to see this paint horse. He was unimpressed. He likes his horses big. Big ranch gelding are more his speed. This guy looked more like a mustang off the plains. But I was undaunted. There was "something" about this horse.

At first I thought he was a 'medicine hat' paint since he appeared to have the distinct "hat" and a front "shield" that made these horses so prized by the plains Indians. They believed the horses possessed special powers that would protect the rider from harm.

Closer inspection revealed that he wasn't a true medicine hat because the "hat" was just a bit off over his left ear.  He has parti-colored blue eyes.

Nevertheless, there was still something about this horse that I just couldn't get out of my head.  He just seemed to be the Painted Pony I had spent my entire life searching for. So two days later I dropped in to visit him. Once again, he happily walked up to greet me. This time I gave him a cookie. We were now BFFs.  

  "Best Friends Forever"

So Sunday rolled around and I waited for reality to smack me in the face. My friend reported that he'd been hard to catch in the pasture. Yet once again he happily greeted me like we knew each other. Once again, she thought this was odd. By then, I'd decided that perhaps the horse felt the same thing about me - something familiar, something comfortable.

He was easy to handle on the ground. Loaded into the horse trailer like a champ. Unloaded like a gentleman. Although he hadn't been ridden in months, he acted like he'd been ridden yesterday. 

 There was nothing not to like about this horse. I hopped on him bareback and felt like I'd ridden him for years.

And so it was that I listened to that little voice and bought him. His current name is Little Joe, but as my friend said, "It's not like he answers to it."

She said that since he looks like an Indian pony, he needs an Indian name. If something comes up we'll see, otherwise, I guess we'll just call him, "Joe."