This is the last calf born on the farm to date. Farmboy "pulled" it at 5 a.m. yesterday after getting his dad out of bed to help. They used a winch! God.

Today they moved him and his mama out of the barn and into a pasture, but it was no easy task to get the new mom to go where they wanted her to.

The picture is Farmboy showing the calf to its mother, and calling her.

No, I haven't spent the day at the corrals. Not at all! I just took a walk out there this morning, made sure the fellas were doing things right.

Here the girls are having their morning repast.

Me, I got the edging put around another flower bed, and transplanted a bunch of virginia creeper, hollyhocks, snapdragons, purple coneflower, basil and oregano. Also got the nicotiana and daisies into pots.

Really, this is it. I'm almost done, but for the watering and weeding to come.

Got the tomatoes and peppers in the garden watered this evening. They're looking pretty wilted, poor things.

xoxo
etc
Kate

Monday
8:30 p.m.

We got the veggie garden in yesterday afternoon, and today a wee bit of rain fell. Not enough, but it sure smells good. Damn near died of heat out there, but the dastardly deed is done.

Was asked to do a favour for my cousin today: drive to Saskatoon and bring back a puppy. Instead, my niece picked up the chocolate Lab and drove out to meet me and her mother halfway, so Jill and I made the shorter trip together and got waylaid at a greenhouse. In spite of thinking I have all the flowers I need, some bright yellow and orange daisies caught my eye and would not be resisted. A couple planters to put them in followed me out of the store.

I think, “I shouldn’t spend any more money on flowers and planters” and then “Why shouldn’t I? I’ve got the money, spending a couple hundred dollars isn’t going to break me, and it may seem frivolous but the beauty is worth every penny.” I talk myself into it without effort.

This morning I was watering the newest flower bed, next to the step. Finished watering, went behind the house to refill the water jugs for next time, came back up to the step and exclaimed “Oh! Where did you come from?”

A gazania had bloomed while I was behind the house. I swear, it wasn’t open a couple minutes before. Delightful surprise.

11 a.m.

Here I sit with a little lump on the floor behind me, having her morning snooze. She has gone to sleep only with chest-heaving sobs while I rubbed her back and patted her bum, so I have turned off the phone on my desk and am staying away from the noisy kitchen. She needs to sleep long enough for an attitude adjustment to be facilitated.

Her mother called me early this morning to ask if I would babysit for the day, and brought her over half-an-hour before the little chickie was due to take a bottle and a nap. Unfortunately, the need for those two essentials coincided with noticing that her mother had disappeared, so much distress ensued and she would have none of either.

Farmboy came in and carried her around for a while, took her for a walk outside, then handed her back to me so he could put his workboots on and head out to the field. I tried rocking her, singing, and so on and so forth, but she was inconsolable. Finally there was naught to be done but lay her down and let her cry herself to sleep. It didn’t take long, fortunately.

And now she has opened her eyes and is smiling at me, and seems not to think the bottle of milk is such a bad thing.

******************************************

“The day was so beautiful it hurt like an old tune.”
-- Nellie McClung, The Stream Runs Fast

9:38 a.m.

All ready to bake a batch of bread on this rainy day perfect for having the oven heat the house a little — got the kneading machine ready, the yeast out, the vegetable water warmed up, the sunflower and sesame seeds on the table — open up the 10 kg bag of organic flour I bought at the food co-operative in the city yesterday, and notice how white its contents look. ARGGGGHHH! I grabbed a bag of unbleached flour instead of whole wheat!

Well that’s it. I’ve stomped my foot in righteous indignation at my own careless blindness, and left the kitchen. I’m going for a walk.

1:50 p.m.

I’m back, after a trip to town for Robin Hood flour (oog! full of god-knows-what chemicals and such), a gas fill, a recycling drop, and a mosquito-plagued walk through the graveyard in town. The dough’s a’risin’ and my tummy’s feeling plump and satisfied with the two chicken bunwiches I just ate while strolling around the yard with Farmboy. I didn’t take a jacket and the wind is cold, so he carried on and here I am.

Almost 2 p.m.
Maybe I will do some work today?

xoxo
etc

8:15 a.m.

Don and Barney have walked off into a sunny, breezy spring morning, and I have only a short time to sit here and write, for soon I will be driving through it to pick Grandma up in our home town, and we’re off to Saskatoon for her eye checkup.

***

Last night I dreamed that after kissing Farmboy, I walked into a basement and when I came up in a few moments, he was in the kitchen with his sister in his arms and they were kissing passionately. Seeing that was like a kick in the stomach and I did not know what I’d do, except probably that I wouldn’t want to be with him anymore, and he said “Don’t you love me enough to give me another chance?”

***

After I got up, I stepped over to him as he stood at the kitchen counter, tugged on the waist of his slightly sagging blue jeans, put my arms around his bare chest, kissed his back and rested my cheek against it. He said “We lost another calf this morning” and proceeded to explain that he’d meant to get out there to check the heifers at 4 a.m. but hadn’t gone till 4:30, and if he’d been there when he planned to, he’d have saved the calf as it was being born. So he was disappointed in himself.

***

On ‘the hill’ there is a row of ramshackle grey granaries, with discarded stuff piled all around. I scanned one of these junk heaps for treasures, and came home with two rusty old cream pails to use for planters, and a small gas can.

11:40 a.m.

On the lake road on the way to the cabin, we passed L’s cousin doing highway repairs, and stopped to say hello.

I was sitting next to L in the truck, so his cousin said “What do you two think you’re doing, courting?”

“We heard there was a nude beach out here,” L said.

As we drove further, I mentioned that Chester had left me in the dust yesterday and returned to the yard before I could put him back on the leash. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” I said, “because he ignores me when I call him, and I can’t have him back in the yard killing the cats. The kids would never forgive me.”

“That’s right,” L said. “That’s why he got passed over at police-dog school; he doesn’t listen at all.”

“He just needs the right home,” I lamented, “where there are no cattle or cats.”

“Maybe you should start up a Home for Useless Dogs,” L said.

He came into the house at 9:30.
“I’m going over to ‘15’ to feed the cows. Wanna ride along?”

After a drive of five northerly miles, we park outside an electric fence and unload five-gallon pails of chop from the back of the truck. He opens the barbwire gate and carries two pails in, starts spreading the chop out on the ground.

I do the same.

Before we finish I say “Here, take a picture. There’s never a picture of me, I’m always behind the camera.”

He snorts goodnaturedly and says “It’s not like you’re out feeding chop all the time.”

“I am today,” I said, and handed him the camera.

It was windy enough that Farmboy’s voice wasn’t carrying in their direction, and there were no cattle in sight, so after several calls and no response, we set out towards the big stone pile to try to spot them. Talk about yer mosquitoes! I should’ve worn long sleeves.

“Ka-boss, ka-boss, ka-boss, ka-boss!”

Before Farmboy could, I could hear the cows calling back.

We turned and headed back toward the corner of the field, me trying to outrun some mosquitoes, Farmboy trying to establish himself at a vantage point ideal for counting cows and calves on the run. They know where there’s chop to be had and they’re wasting no time getting there.

I counted 81, he counted 79. There are supposed to be 83.

The calves were curious and rounded on me like a line of little soldiers.

There is always some excitement when Chester and I go for a walk and I let him off his leash.

Because he’d maul or kill cats and chase cattle, and not listen to anyone telling him to stop or come here, he is always chained up in the yard. And he can’t be let off the leash when cats or cattle or horses are in sight.

But I love to see him run free, nose into everything, jumping straight up and pouncing and chasing and having a gay old time. That’s what a dog’s life should be. So we get down the road, and off comes the leash, and away he goes at full speed.

The first day he ran straight for a big slough and waded to his heart’s content, chasing the ducks. Then he discovered something hiding in the stubblefield, and kept after it until he caught it. We (Barney, Zander, and I) had already walked on by the time he came running behind us with what appeared to be porcupine quills sticking out of his mouth, and I thought oh great, the first time I let him off the leash and he goes after a porcupine -- great! But he gulped it back, whatever it was — Zander thought he saw a small bird — and was fine, and came to me so I could put the leash on again before we came into the farmyard.

This is my big concern — that he won’t come to me so I can get the leash on. He doesn’t come when I call him — he is too intent on whatever’s got his attention — but he does run back to me from time to time to give me a happy-dog hug and get a few affectionate pats. Then off he goes again.

I’ve been worried he’d catch on that the chain gets put back around his neck when we get near the yard; I live in fear of the day when I can’t come back when I am ready, because he won’t let me restrain him.

The second leash-free walk, we went north of the yard, covering the outer perimeter of a quarter-section of pastureland. Chester scared the bejesus out of a gopher, I saw lots of deer tracks, and almost stepped on a Canada Goose in the field. We came across the bodies of a cow and two dead calves, one of which I had been feeding up till a week ago. I thought he’d dash right over and check them out, but he raised his head and smelled the air almost cautiously and kept his distance. Once again he came to me in time to be put on the leash. Usually when he is restrained, he is pulling hard on the leash the whole time, rarin’ to go. For the first time, we’d walked (well, he’d run) far enough that he was tuckered, and the leash literally hung limply between us as we returned to the yard.

On Thursday evening we headed off down a road that runs between two stubblefields. Half a mile from the corner, Chester found a beaver the neighbour had shot and left in the watery ditch. Chester dragged it out and began to rip its wet hair away from its skin. I watched this for a while and then turned back and struck out across one of the stubblefields. Chester left his treasure behind and trotted along. I made the mistake of starting to run with him, which I now know you can’t do because he thinks that means he can jump on you and grab your hands in his jaws. I made him release my hand, and on we went.

Once again we came upon a Canada Goose that hadn’t heard us coming.
I’m told they will nest in a dry field as well as at the edge of water, so that might explain why this one was there and didn’t leave his spot until he had no choice. Chester gave chase, and the large bird flew low to the ground until it had drawn one of the intruders a long way from its nest. I kept an eye open for the nest, but never saw anything.

This is Chester running flat-out after the goose.

The mosquitoes when I walked along the gravel road were terrible swarms, but they were even worse in the field. It wasn’t long before waving my arms around my head wasn’t good enough, and I ran back to the road where they were not quite as bad. It was then that I discovered the leash and collar-chain were not in my jacket pocket, and with a groan realized I’d have to retrace my steps through the field and try to find it.

This I did, twice, all the way back to where the dead beaver was, and with no luck. Well, it’s hard to know exactly where you walked in a stubble field. It’s a big place, and it all looks moreorless the same.

Chester abandoned me to go work on the beaver, and I left him and walked back to the yard, hoping I could find a rope and get into my van and back to Chester before he came loping into the yard. By now I was tired and cold and pissed off at myself. But before I got to the corner, there was Chester on his way home, and I stopped the van and got out and he came to me when I called, so I was able to tie the rope around his neck and hold onto it through the driver’s window as I drove us both slowly back to the yard.

Yesterday Loverboy and I took the ATV out to the field to see if two pairs of eyes would have more success than one pair, but it was so cold and miserable out there (if it snows again I won’t be surprised) that we gave it up after only a few minutes and I went to town to buy a new chain and leash.

We have taken over feeding the dog, because you can see his ribs, and feel them, through his hair. We think his care is just one more chore that Pa can’t keep up with and hence gets overlooked sometimes. So Barney, who no longer feeds the cats now that it’s spring and the mice are out and around, has been assigned to dog detail. And I went and bought an 18-kg bag of dry dogfood yesterday. We’ll get that boy fattened up like he should be.

On the trip with the ATV yesterday, we drove past the beaver, which had been dragged farther along the ditch and whose ass end had been chewed out. That explains the scent I was unable to get off my hands and clothing after Chester rubbed up against me for patting — beaver castor from its scent glands, which must have been quite a delicacy for dog boy. I bet he rolled in it, the beast.

The evening sun was lighting the trees on the other side of the meadow, so I donned a jacket and headed out for a walk. The air was filled with sound — the honks and squawks of dozens of flocks of geese approaching, the silly quacks of duck quartettes flying over, the sharp protests of crows in the bushes around the yard, the rustle of wings and trees as nesting birds flew up and away at my approach. By the time I’d walked onto ‘the hill’ (I still say that’s no bloody hill, but it used to be before the road crew demolished it, so the family still uses the identifier) on the west side of the treed-in farmyard, I had to stop. Otherwise, my footsteps blocked out the sound. I stood there a very long time, listening and looking around me.

I heard the pigs in their pens in the distance, squabbling with each other over their feed. I heard children playing in the yard, and Loverboy and his dad calling out to each other as they did evening chores. I stood there looking up at the sky — so many birds, it’s incredible! — and tears came to my eyes, overwhelming gratitude at the beauty of this planet and its life and the gift of being here. It was one of those rare moments of knowing that I am part of something immensely bigger than myself and my little world of self-focus.

****************************************

Before going to bed last night, I checked as always on my boys to make sure they were covered, and went out onto the deck to bring in the bedding plants so they wouldn’t freeze during the night. There was a light rain falling; it was gorgeous out there, and this morning it remains that way, with dew shining on the now-green grass and water glistening off tiny kelly-green leaves. For the first time in weeks, there is no hard wind, just the slightest breeze making the poplar leaves quiver. As Loverboy left for work, I sat on the sundrenched wooden step in my housecoat, a purring cat on my lap, and reflected that perhaps today will be warm enough for shorts and a sleeveless top.

dream

i saw him working downtown, dressed in a woman’s skirt and matching navy blazer

he was afraid of judgment and exposure

i assured him he needn’t worry

that i love the memory of our teener days

and he has a place in my heart

he was a guy
who was a girlfriend
and always a guy

a great guy, too
funny and sweet

last i recall
he was living with his lover
in downtown regina
and didn’t welcome me
even as an old friend

but that might have been 15 years ago
or more

i’d like to know how he’s doing