New Life Old Farmers

I have not been blessed with the ‘fashion’ gene. I have been known to ‘shop the mannequin’. I’d see how it was put together and buy the complete outfit (the sales people loved that about me). It doesn’t really work here. They sell jeans at the hardware store, but there are no mannequins. If there were, they’d probably be wearing overalls.

Our impending trip to England inspired me to step up my game, as I had 3 types of jeans- too small, too big and too ‘farm-y’. It was time to do some research and learn fashion stuff.

Time to dress this farmer, without the mustache or chest hair. (Seriously cute and I want to give Mr. Lapin all the credit.)

Where do I begin?

Pinterest, of course. You’d be amazed what you can learn when you type in these two little words…’travel wardrobe’.

How could I not be drawn into a post called “A Capsule Wardrobe for the ‘Mature’ Traveler“. That’s it! I’m a traveler, I need a wardrobe and I’m often mature. The bonus was that this was simple. Lots of clothing choices don’t work for me. I can go into a large department store with all the options and come home with one plaid shirt, whose sleeves are not long enough. I wear it 3 times and give it to my BFF.

This was just the beginning. I knew I could buy the stuff and still screw it up.

More Pinterest.

More info, research to figure out how to wear stuff. Or as the website says, “Putting Me Together”. After all, once I know the secret fashion rules, I can follow them, right…right, until they change them again.

I got easily overwhelmed and I wasn’t even shopping yet.

My Loving Spouse says ‘Mutton Dressed as Lamb’ whenever we see an older gal dressed like a teen. I sought out a lot of info that was NOT for teens.

I’ll never be a big shopper, because I’d rather mow the lawn. I do think I’ll be ready for this trip. Who says I can’t be taught. I even bought bell bottoms (white on sale). It was like an out of body experience! I immediately called my sister, who does have the fashion gene, to bring me back to reality.

No one is going to recognize me when I go back to school, except I am the only tall, old person who works there…

I have learned that running shoes make me look like I should be running (which is bad for your knees). I may never be the ‘size’ I want to be, so I should dress for the size I am.

Nerd alert, I’ve even made myself a packing spread sheet and bought packing cubes, which I learned all about on Pinterest, of course.

I’m feeling much more confident about what I’m packing for the trip, as opposed to standing at my closet with my eyes glazing over.

England here we come.

We love the couple getting married….

and we’re going to see Sheep Dog Trials! Oh, be still my heart…

and I am blessed.

My Loving Spouse and I agree. This has been the best summer ever. It could be because we haven’t broken anything or anyone. It could also be because the ‘demo’ is done. (A moment of silence please).

Not to mislead you, the work is not all done. We still have lots to finish, but the list is getting shorter all the time. There’s plenty of regular farm work to do, to say nothing of all the damn darn bags of fleece.

One of us (My Loving Spouse) kept forgetting that the reason no one had visited us in years was because of…excuse me, COVID. Gratefully, the Seattle cousins have repaired this situation.

Offer this group fun games, “fun” work

and cheap ice cream and let me tell you, they are there! Bringing fun, laughter and unique finds that need a home at the farm.

Our other recent visitors came for a morning of Farm School.

‘Farm School’ you ask. Farm school for two of our favorite Blog Readers, Big Jim and Critter Carole. Who are coming to spend 10 days at Glory Farm. They’ll scoop the poop, water the weeds, feed the animals, play with the dog and most importantly, enjoy life on the farm.

Glory Farm will be in capable hands as we zip across The Pond to celebrate a very special wedding. My Loving Spouse’s oldest friend and his soon to be Better Half….

and we are very, very blessed.

With summer in full swing our Hip Camp site “Pasture View” has had a steady stream of guests.

I am delighted to report that our campers have been fun to share the farm with. No matter their age, they seem interested in the animals, their names and their stories.

I’m always a bit surprised at this, but I guess if they had wanted the Ritz Carlton, they wouldn’t have shown up at a farm in an RV.

On the 4th of July our guests selected our location, as we back up to the Palouse to Cascade Trail. They are riding bikes on the trail as part of their year-long adventure of biking across America.

Being the 4th of July and this being the country, our neighbors had invited us down for a fireworks show over their pond.

This being the country, we invited our bike riding guests to join us for the show. We all jumped (some of us ‘carefully clamored’) into the bed of Whoa Nelly, for the drive down the road.

We parked Whoa Nelly and set up our chairs for the action. I knew we were there for the fireworks, but it didn’t keep me from literally jumping out of my seat as they lit up. What can I say, I startle easily.

The neighbor fireworks were the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Partly because it can only happen in a small country town, partly because my neighbors were so excited to put it on and especially because we got to share it with our Bike Riders.

Sharing Glory Farm with our guests is sharing what we love best about being here.

Sometimes you can just see the stress roll off of our traveling guests, as we did with Jean’s Dad.

…and we are blessed.

School is over and to be honest, it was something of a long slog to the finish.

One hour after school got out ‘they‘ (Our Little Miss and her entourage) showed up. We couldn’t have started the summer holiday in a nicer way.

The birthday blocks were a great hit, as were the colorful bags I’d sewn to store them.

Bags with the emphasis on the ‘s’.

Bag #1 was too big. It’s use was deemed to be a ‘picnic’ bag.

Obviously bag #2 was a tad too small.

Bag #3 was just right!

A house full of people you love is an excellent antidote to a tough year.

Every time we asked Our Little Miss, ” Where’s Uncle R?”

She pointed to the ceiling fan. He’s tall, but he’s not that tall.

I made the family classic ‘Covered Wagon’ cake, which made a lot of my people happy.

The plate is the one my mother always used to serve it… only the beggars during construction have changed.

Our Little M was not quite sure.

But she quickly came around.

The wind blew for the whole visit, but that didn’t keep us from playing croquet or the kids making me laugh so hard, that I was crying.

It was the best Father’s Day ever…

(Number 5 Son in the middle has grown so tall we made him kneel).

A precious time and picture.

And we are very, very blessed.

Number Two Son borrowed my car to visit Number One Son, so I drove Whoa Nelly to school.

I love country living where a ’52 International truck creates a delightful ‘ruckus’ in parking lots.

Another country living site is the beef jerky vending machine, which always makes me laugh out loud. (For the record this is high quality stuff from the butcher in the next town).

Glory Farm was recently full of cousins. Sharing life together in times of healing and planning the next steps in life is the greatest gift we can offer. (I just wish one of them would have told me we were wearing plaid.)

The Prom is ‘over’. Justin is a happy bull, but it is time for him to go to the Prom up the hill.

Then there are our free range chickens…. the time and tricks I’ve used to try and keep them out of my flower garden are immeasurable.

A few of the things that do not work…small fencing, water, screaming at them (well, this works for a little while) just to name a few. With 4 acres to roam, they pick the one place we don’t want them. Until now..

I was encouraged to try it as the fine print says it repels birds and crows, hmmm, that made me shake my head a bit. It smells like garlic, so we’re currently free of vampires as well and our personal favorite (read the fine print) armadillos.

Yes, we are blessed.

We’ve got fleece, not fleeced, but….

The boys were recently sheered. (I’m always so embarrassed for them after the fact.)

To add insult to injury their faces did not get the clean up they really require. How well they can see is a mystery. We’ve ordered clippers to give them a ‘fresh look’, but as we’re the ones who will be welding the clippers it is anyone’s guess how ‘fresh’ it will be.

We were past due to deal with last year’s fleece. We had been told an easy way to clean it. So I got busy.

I dump it out on an old sheet because we know it will be dirty. Alpacas roll in the dirt for their hygiene. The fleece quickly expands.

The more I try picking out each little stick and burr, I begin to question the whole…”it’ll be easy”. However, I trudge on, getting a very small pile picked sort of cleaner.

It floats easily so I move it to a bucket to soak out the first of 4 cleanings.

We start to wonder (down right question) the whole “it’ll be easy” instructions. Dual laptops begin watching every You Tube video about washing alpaca fleece we can find. We’re experiential learners, in other words we learn by trial and error with a heavy emphasis on ‘error’.

I move into the family room to continue ‘skirting’ (official fleece word for getting the crap bits out of the fleece) while watching more You Tube videos.

My Loving Spouse heads to Freddy’s to pick up the much needed bags prior to putting the first bit of skirted fleece in the washer for a spin dry. As I pull the fleece apart you can see the dirt fall out.

We spin the fleece dry and lay it out by the fire on top of an old screen.

We’ve only cleaned about 1/6th of the first bag, unbeknownst to My Loving Spouse.

‘Why did you empty all the fleece at the same time?’, he asked.

“I didn’t”, I explained. “This is just one bag.”

‘Oh…how many more bags are there…?’

“Eight.”

‘Ohhhhh…..’

We’ll be hosting a fleece skirting, bit picking party soon…you’re all invited.

There will be adult beverages, I promise

and we’ll all be blessed.

‘Someone’ had a Bee in his bonet.

‘Someone’ (My Loving Spouse) had been talking on and off for some time about getting bees. As I am allergic, he knew this would not be a ‘group’ effort. Then he met a few bee guys (Dave and Hugh) at church. Almost instantly 50% of all words coming out of his mouth started with, “Hugh Says”. 95% of all videos watched had bee keepers in them. 75% of discussions were about bees. Being a good wife, I listened to it all! I did have to draw the line that he was not allowed to wake me up at night to talk about bees. (If you think this clear boundary wasn’t necessary, then you’ve never met My Loving Spouse.)

Bee keeping equipment started showing up.

Then the day came. He took off early one Saturday morning to pick up his Nuc (nucleus) containing approximately 1600 new friends.

Hugh Says was there to help him get everything set up.

I was there from a distance to watch everything unfold.

Hugh Says picks up one of the frames showing My Loving Spouse how to make the transfer. Everything is done slowly. Hugh Says, says that the ‘nuc’ is quite calm.

My Loving Spouse transfers the second frame after spying the Queen.

Can you see her? Nah, me neither, but there she is with all of her papparazzi.

I’m told if they come toward me, do not swat them, just walk away slowly. (Check, got it). I did feel one fly into and bounce off the hood of my jacket, but that was all. No one got stung….this day.

The bees quickly become orientated and start returning with pollen. Apparently all the dandelions in our fields are now a ‘good’ thing.

‘Someone’ has one more activity to daily farm life. It is called Bee watching….

or checking on ‘his’ girls.

Life is sweet like honey (to be) and we are blessed.

We are hosting the Prom this year.

Agnes has been a bit anxious about getting a date, but we were able to invite Justin over for an extended stay.

Justin is a Red Angus bull. He is a bit of an ‘extra’ bull in his herd, which is why we’ve named him “Justin Case”. He’s a bit small, maybe he’s the ‘nerd of the herd’.

However, here at Glory Farm, he’ll be the big man on the farm as he has all the needed body parts.

Our friend was happy to loan us this ‘extra’ bull, as his girls didn’t need his service just yet and this means we’d be the one feeding him, while he is here. Win-win.

Spring is in the air and the pond is full. The skies are gorgeous.

The bulbs are beginning to bloom…

To say nothing of the weeds…

We’re hoping all the prom guests stay at the dance and no one makes an early break through a fence to attend an unplanned ‘after party’.

None of the chickens have pooped on my new door mat yet, and so what can I say….

…and we are blessed.

My Loving Spouse and I both have issues with spelling. However, we rock math. Alpaca math turned out to be a whole other subject.

We wanted 2 alpacas, so we got Benny and The Jett.

After Benny broke his leg in Dec. 2020.

We realized with alpacas 2 is a bad number. We need 3 alpacas, in case one becomes injured. We needed to get 1 more. (2+1=3)

Except…you cannot add 1 alpaca to 2. The ‘1’ will not be able to join the herd as they are a highly bonded kind of animal. The Extreme Alpaca people happened to have 3 little boys, they would sell us for the price of 2. (2+3=5)

Enter Carlos, Santana and Smooth…

Now we have 5 alpacas, instead of 3.

1 of them (Santana) makes the mistake more than once of spitting at My Loving Spouse. (I’m pretty sure this is why he was the ‘free’ one in the ‘buy 2, get 3’ offer.) We have a rule at Glory Farm. “If you’re not needed, you better be nice.”

4 alpacas would be fine, except again, 1 alpaca cannot go to a different herd successfully, even beautiful, but Spitty Santana.

Jett had become so protective of the herd, he began making it difficult to walk across the field. A good, but annoying trait.

We decide to re-home/sell Jett and Santana. They will be their own herd in their new field at someone else’s farm. It is difficult emotionally to re-home animals. As we prepare to separate the herd of 5, the 3 we are keeping move where we want them with ease. The 2 getting a ‘fresh start’ are both a complete pain, reinforcing our math. (5-2=3)

Santana & Jett’s new owners are enthusiastic young men! We feel confident of their ability to handle their new 2, what they lack in knowledge they will make up for with strength and good humor. As they drive off, my Loving Spouse mumbles a few British ‘blessings’ upon Santana.

We’ve now landed where we wanted to be…at 3.

Benny, (no Jett), Carlos (no Santana), and Smooth. Their cool Rock & Roll names don’t make sense anymore, but we’re okay with that.

…because they are nice and nice is important.

…and we are blessed.