My aunt Reta is staying with me for a few days. Last night I left her in the house and walked over to Golden Grain Farm, which is just over a mile from here. The big white dog, panting heavily all the way because of the heat and humidity of the evening, accompanied me. (My cousin Jolene stopped in with her mom yesterday and thinks the dog's part Great Pyrennees.) Scott stopped on his way home and gave the chickens food and water while I strolled about the garden, deadheading flowers and swatting off the mosquitoes. He didn't think the old dog would be able to get up into his truck so she and I walked home again. The photo above is taken on that stretch.

This afternoon I'll drive Reta into town to visit with Grandma and we'll take her for a doctor's appointment. The home-care aides have been asking us to take some clothes out of Grandma's jam-packed closet, because it's nearly impossible to make room to hang things up. Going through the clothing will give Reta something to do while she's there. Grandma has nothing to say anymore and so time with her can be long. If there's any conversation, it's you who makes it. She responds, but doesn't otherwise contribute. Reta, after not seeing Grandma for a year, notices she has "failed" a lot.

Jolene was here with my aunt Rose, who is going to cover the kitchen cupboards, or at least their boxes and interiors, with a white oil-based paint. I am a delicate flower who gets headaches from paint fumes, but Rose "likes it," she says. "I go home happy!"

The cupboard drawer and door fronts will be spray-painted by Scott, who doesn't know it yet but I am going to ask him to do the ones for this kitchen at the same time. I took them off when I painted the kitchen walls and cabinet boxes a couple years ago and then never got the doors painted and put back on. If he's spray-painting, that's the quickest way to go.

9:55 p.m.

Just logged the last hour of work and decided I should go outdoors, since I’ve been in all day. Put on a warm jacket, picked up Ralph the cat (Ralphina Brucita, I call him) and headed for the road. It’s windy and cold. Usually the wind dies down in the early evening, but not tonight. The dogs bounded out to the grid road with us, where while Ralph purred I admired the pink dusk in the west and the sliver of moon in the south before turning to come back in where it’s warm.

Last night Scott invited me to go with him to “check the cows.” I enjoy these drives through the countryside. We headed up north to the pasture land they call "22," where he got out of the truck and walked slowly among a herd of 14 cow/calf pairs and one bull.

I opened the window and leaned out to watch, and noticed the bull put his head down toward Scott and paw the ground. That made me nervous but, afraid to exacerbate the possibly dangerous situation by calling out, and assuming Scott knew what he was doing and was aware of the bull, I kept quiet and prepared to jump behind the steering wheel and run off that bull.

Scott scratched his head and pointed his finger as he counted cattle. As simple as it should be to count 29 animals (if they weren’t constantly shuffling about, that is), he was at it for quite a long time, as if he was one of those folks who has trouble counting past 10. He had also put on a straw cowboy hat that came in a box of beer, and I laugh whenever I see him in it, I guess because he is no cowboy. At least, I've never seen him on a horse.

When he came back to the truck I asked if he’d noticed what the bull was doing. He had, and had made sure to keep other animals between it and him, and that he had an escape route to the other side of a fence.

On the way home we stopped at another quarter-section where cattle, again cow/calf pairs with a bull, were right next to the road. There, a much younger and smaller bull did the same thing as Scott stood counting; it put its head down and stamped. Then, taking a few steps toward the perceived intruder, it tackled a tiny tree about two feet tall. Scott chuckled and asked when he came back into the truck if I’d seen the first bull do the same thing, only it had tackled a slightly larger sapling?

This behaviour in a bull, apparently challenging Scott or letting him know that the herd of cows and calves was off limits, is normal. It was the antics of the bull in the third group he inspected that puzzled him. The herd was some distance from the fence and when the truck was noticed approaching, the animals ran toward it, stopping in the corner. Scott stepped over the electric wire of the fence and started walking among the herd, looking and counting, as he does, but it was far more difficult because the bull, all worked up, kept chasing the cattle away from the corner.

At one point I saw Scott scurry over to the fence and leap over it as if to get out of danger. From where I sat it looked as if the bull wasn’t after him, but from his vantage point he couldn’t see that the bull was actually chasing a young steer. Anyway, he’d been chiding the bull, saying “Bobby, smarten up!” or “Hare [here], Bobby!” but the bull seemed determined to get the herd away from the area. Scott said this was something he hasn’t seen before.

Benny and Scott got the cork installed in the master bedroom and the office yesterday, and are working on the living room floor today. (Cara, I am making your mom's chicken casserole for their lunch, thanks for the recipe.)

I inspected and admired, then went out to the garden and realized I will never keep up with the weeds. Never. Damn.

Scott has hired his niece's boyfriend for the summer, and put him to work washing out the kitchen cupboards with some kind of chemical cleaner so the paint will stick. Everett and I had already scrubbed them out once but not well enough, so here is Derek, doing a fine job.

***

Katherine has given permission to post her letter about the Tibetan Rites, so here it is:

"a year ago, shortly after my 73 birthday i was given a book by Peter Kelder: Ancient Secrets of the Fountain of Youth, a small pamphlet published in the 80's

despite having successfully overcome a number of health issues like cancer, cataracts, anemia, high blood pressure, and a heart condition i was beginning to accept the idea that as i aged i wd become decrepit

not anymore!

the five tibetan rites described in the book seemed simple enough and i saw that i cd do them more or less plus the book was permissive about them / do the ones you can and you'll be able to do the ones you cant later on plus you are encouraged to be slow about it / just the thing!

testimonials to the benefits from them were skeptical inducing but at the same time i was curious and so i began slowly / in a day or two i promised myself i wd do them for at least a year / they seemed to suit me so much more than any other exercise program i had done before (yoga, pilates, canadian air force, etc)

also you dont need a coach or a class / in fact, they can be performed in 15 minutes or less / also right for me

you do each movement three times to start and add two more times each succeeding week until you get to 21 times each / this takes ten weeks / i followed this program and did them every morning after my walk (two miles early with the dogs)

in a way the tibetans are not exactly an exercise program / the movements (five of them) are designed to stimulate your endocrine (ductless glands) system which pumps our hormones directly into the blood stream / ageing diminishes the production of hormones and also throws the system out of balance

wow, i cd hardly have anticipated what came to pass !

well, let's see, in no particular order the benefits (so far) have been : strengthened back and abdominal muscles, lowered my blood pressure, removed my liver spots, bristly chin whiskers disappeared, lost 15 pounds*, carpal tunnel symptoms diminished considerably, body movements youthful and
flexible, and more

my bone density test showed i had osteoporousis in my arms / my wrists were very week and bone spurs had formed on my wrist joints / these bone spurs have now gone away completely!

i had a painful condtion in my right knee / all gone ! no back pain either / i am almost completely pain free

friends and family tell me i look ten, even 20 years younger, many of them have begun doing the rites too / i am also told my grey hair is going un-gray

you see, my aging process has had a monkey wrench thrown into it

the books by Peter Kelder are now in hardcover, Book One which duplicates the original and Book Two which is an expanded version covering warmups and alternates

so, that's my story and i'm sticking to it / smile

*can wear my size ten jeans and they are loose ! yay / farewell to Killer Belly Fat / stimulating the thyroid (one of the endocrines) increases metabolism

today i began my second year / who knows what will happen next / heh"

There are treasures in the ditches these days.
The scents! I feel so sorry for Everett, who has no sense of smell. Nada. He smells with his mouth. Not quite the same.

I'm just about to go over to Golden Grain Farm and see how the cork flooring looks in the master bedroom, where Scott and Benny started. They were here for lunch along with Derek, a lad Scott has hired for the summer, so I'll clean up after the meal and then go.
The menu: bean dish (it's like a chili without the chili powder, only better), baking powder biscuits, tossed green salad, with tea and storebought chocolate cookies for dessert.

After turning the corner to walk north, I'll turn back and see this (photo taken on yesterday's sunset stroll):

And then when I walk on just a little and gaze northeast, it'll be this:

Nearly a mile on the peaceful country road and I'll be at the new house. They've still got chickens there (I was wrong about the birds being slaughtered in the fall; it will be much sooner, as they are already getting large). In scorching heat they hunker down in the weeds in their pen.

Ugly smelly things. Aren't they? I was about to leave the yard one day when I noticed one outside the pen. I managed to convince it to go through the gate, but could not force myself to actually touch it, had it needed to be caught. Not without high boots, heavy gloves, and long pants and sleeves.

At the house, [the previous owner] Violet's columbines are still blooming against the north wall.

***

Reply to comment:
Howdy Byhwdy. Here are two links to information about the Tibetan Rites. I printed off the illustrations and learned that way:

http://www.lifeevents.org/5-tibetans-energy-rejuvenation-exercises.htm
http://www.mkprojects.com/pf_TibetanRites.htm

The change in frequency of what I have called neck migraines may or may not be due to the rites. Maybe my hormone fluctuations, which my sister and I believe may cause these migraines we have, have magically balanced out all of a sudden. If they have, why? The only thing I'm doing differently is the rites, and they are known to affect the hormones. And I haven't had a period since May 10; that's something new too.
What I do know for sure is that after doing the rites faithfully for a couple months, my body began to feel like it is "firing on all cylinders."

Scott took these from the truck window as we were turning west onto the road. We wondered what those clouds were holding. Someone southeast of us got a storm that evening, but we didn't hear anything.

Here, a week later, it thundered all night. Woke me up, sounding like a train rumbling past. "Scott," I said softly, "is that thunder?" and he got out of bed and took a tour.

We can hear trains here, although we're about four miles from the highway, where the tracks are. There are plenty of trees between here and there, and it's at a similar elevation as far as I know. Go figure.

Some of you know Cathy, who has been a very, very good friend to me since I was 15 years old. Her daughter Caitlin graduated from Grade 12 this year; the little one in the photo is Emma, the baby of the family. Also quickly growing up.

When Everett was a baby, Caitlin used to call him "my baby" — she is what, two years older than him? — and when he got big enough to keep up with her, the two of them were inseparable when Cathy and I spent time together. It's not all that long ago that they stopped telling us quite matter-of-factly that they planned to be married one day.

***

I had appointments in town this afternoon and haven't been home long. My van has had an oil change, my head has had a hairstyle change, and the doctor has looked at a tiny lump in my armpit and is not worried about it. I had to go, though, once I mentioned it to Scott, even though I first noticed it a year ago and it has not changed any.

I still think of the time I had a lump removed from a breast and how worried I was between the time the procedure was done and the report on the biopsy. It had made me consider the worst-case scenario and that was not pretty, especially with my boys as young as they were. Not that it would be easier now to think about taking my leave of them.

Mom had been staying with us for a few days when the phone call came from the doctor, telling me that the lump had been benign and all was well. When I told Mom, we grabbed each others' hands and danced gleefully around the living room. Until that moment's relief I hadn't realized how worried either of us was.

I'm repeating myself, aren't I? I've told this little story before.

Well, back to work.

I never claimed to be any good with a camera, did I?

We celebrated Joanne's birthday at The Old House Café in Kuroki today.

Here is the photo I was trying for--

Yummy.

Did I mention my kids are gone with their dad till I pick them up in early August? Everett and Gord are trying to match Emil's grimace, which is what he does when he smiles for a camera.

We got some rain through the night and a quick hard pour today. We need it. I didn't quite do a rain dance last night. Instead I asked the sky politely for a day of gentle rain. Maybe if I do a proper rain dance we'll get a proper rain?

Here are the peonies in bloom by the step, Everett -

And here are the oriental poppies during their two days of glory last week -

Shoot, I forgot to mention to the ladies that there are still tickets to the house concert tomorrow afternoon in town. Tsk. Memory like a ... like a what?

*

Tim T from Troy, if you're still listening ... I did respond to your last email a way back when, but mine was bounced until I gave up. I wasn't ignoring you.

Plaid is not a favourite fabric, unless it is made of rich colours that I like. Lately Everett has been growing out of his clothes (that boy has dark purple stretchmarks in shocking places ... recently he told me he's just found some in his armpits; I'm not kidding when I say he's been growing crazyfast) and handing them down to me. His pants are now too large for me to wear in the garden without tying the waist with a rope, but recently I was able to claim this flannel shirt, which is plenty roomy on me while its sleeves, on Everett, don't quite reach his wrists anymore.

For the first time in 20 years, my neck has not given me grief for more than four weeks. This is stupendous, considering that I usually have to take between four and eight pills each month. I am crediting my five months of the Tibetan Rites for this incredible improvement, and will be not only amazed but extremely grateful if this improved condition persists.

Sadly, I still get the odd zit. At age 49. Tsk. See there, on my cheek? Yeah. Maybe the Rites will vanquish those buggers, too. Not that I'm complaining, really. They're rare enough. I must be approaching "that time of month." Before long, I suspect, those times will be a thing of the past for me, too. I'm looking forward to that.

***

My boys are gone with their dad for the rest of July and the house is very quiet, the days have been hot since they left, and life is good. I wear my bathing suit all day and pretend there's a beach outside my door.

Two-and-a-half hours it took, and they’d have done as well without me, as they weren’t rushed. Something to do with not vaccinating or tagging every animal, I think. They castrated (if that’s what you call it when they put a rubber ring around the testicles so they’ll dry up) the male calves while they were at it. The barn was cool and comfortable and I sat behind a piece of plywood set up on its side so the cow/calf pairs wouldn’t see me and shy away from the squeeze they were being herded toward.

Aside from tagging and/or castrating calves and vaccinating their mothers against anthrax, the men gave some of the calves shots for blackleg. Both blackleg and anthrax are deadly earthborne diseases that have not been seen much around here until the last few years when the ground has been wetter than usual. This bunch of animals is about to be taken out to pasture land that has a lot of lowlying areas, so they need to be protected.

Scott and his brother Bruce, both strong as oxes themselves, had a time wrestling down some of those calves, young and small as the little jiggers seem. In the photo above, they've got a calf in the squeeze and Bruce is marking down the number of the tag they're about to staple into its ear. This is how they keep track of which calf belongs to which cow, so that they can all be traced back to particular farms if there is ever a question of public health and safety. Scott is in the squeeze with the calf, making sure it doesn't get its body the rest of the way out. Usually just the animal's head pokes through and they can't get further, but the calves are too small to be held securely.

I can't say I didn't enjoy the time I spent out there. My job was easy and stress-free. There were a couple feisty cows that I worried might come in the wrong direction, but they never did. They were in too much of a hurry to get the hell out of the barn and away from those two-legged creatures that were prodding and pinching them.

The men talk to the cattle, calling them little pet names and such, quite affectionately. There are a couple hundred of them and these guys can tell them apart somehow. I suppose the numbered tags in their ears help, but still. They know the personalities and histories of each animal. While I was there, two cows were earmarked to be sold because they are bitchy and thus dangerous and hard to handle.

Shut up! MOO.

So the years spin by and now the boy is 20,
Though his dreams have lost a lot of grandeur
coming true
There'll be new dreams, there'll be better dreams
and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through.

You said it, Joni.

In Emil's case, I can't say he has been disillusioned by life in any way. He retains his enthusiasm. Right now he is looking forward to attending a James Taylor concert in Edmonton with his dad in July, and Camp Easter Seal down at Manitou Beach in August. Oh, and a trip to visit Grandpa in Kelowna this summer, and Baby Ben, whom he hasn't seen yet.

Those who know "Grandpa" may be interested to know that he goes in for his double-hernia op on July 3. (In case Emil has forgotten to say so, Dad, thanks for the $100 and the birthday card.)

***

I have been enlisted to spend an hour in the barn this afternoon, filling syringes with anthrax vaccine for the cattle while the boys do what has to be done to the beasts. I am not often asked to help around the farm, as animal husbandry is not my cup of tea, so when I am called upon I set my distaste for it aside and go do what I can. Now to find my rubber boots.

An hour. Right. When Scott says one hour, it is bound to be two. I am not looking forward to this. Now, where did I put that clothespin for my nose?