#farmblr

I should have . . a treat. And, like damnere everything else around here, my treat will be diy.

Just after 8am, my husband is sitting outside on a lawn chair awaiting the Large Tractor Repair Guy like a kid waiting by the fireplace for Santa.

The Small Tractor Repair Guy visited here 2.5 times, had us order the parts (that seems unnerving), and thinks that all will be well with the small tractor if we get couple more small things for it.

LTRG is here primarily to do a "scheduled maintenance"* and teach my husband more about the inner working of the darned thing. It was my late father's, and, among other important things, it was one of the things he "ran out of time" to teach us about before the dementia got him. So - we hope LTRG will fill in the knowledge gaps.

Oh, I hear a large vehicle approaching. Husband has leaped to his feet.

Cardinal flower Lobelia cardinalis is so glorious. It's hard to believe it's a wildflower, and not a spiffy cultivar. I'd love to get it growing in other wet areas around the farm, but even though I've collected seed . . . nope. I only ever see it right here.

Just as I was stepping out of the shower last night, I thought I heard my daughter's voice yelling "MOM!" It was pretty faint though, and I wasn't certain, so I ended up running around clutching a towel and trying to look out windows to figure out where she was.

She was halfway between the house and the barn. "Rosalie's hurt!"

Jesus Fried Chicken. Do not need this right now. And K was slightly wrought up already because she'd had a lengthy, difficult pharmacology class/lab during the day and found her crested gecko, Yam, dead in her habitat when she got home. (*)

Fortunately, my husband ran outside to 'deal with', giving me a hot minute to scramble into clothes. Rosalie had met a raccoon just inside the woods and decided, unusually for her, to quarrel with it. (**) This had the predictable result of her getting her tiny ass handed to her.

Both dogs had their rabies shot just this time last year. K checked Rosalie over very carefully, and found no visible injuries. This is, in rural Appalachian terms, a pretty minor issue.

Rosalie, however, is Very Traumatized. Won't eat breakfast this morning. Acting vaguely sore even though we can't quite pinpoint why; if it had bitten her, the mark would be visible. Raccoons don't usually deal out blunt force trauma, for Pete's sake. I did still have two doses of pain meds from her broken leg two years ago, so we gave her one of those this morning. Maybe a little extra petting and she'll be fine. K had to go off to work/internship, so I am in charge of Dog Moral for the day.

'* Despite immaculate care. The little thing had been abandoned by the prior owner about two years ago and had clearly had very poor care prior to that. Ergo we don't know how old she was, exactly, nor what she might have been through.

'** Where was Lady, the actual large, strong farm dog, during all this? Unsure. She considers raccoons and possums in the barn-chickencoop-house area to be UFTs (***) and will Deal With them german-shepherdly.

That meeting couldn't have been an email. While my brother was visiting we were able to make a few quiet minutes to sit together and talk over our plans for Home Farm. Our father has been gone for four years, now, and you'd think we would already have nailed everything down . . but we had not.

I think it was well worth the wait to talk this over after we were done our grieving and had time to meet face to face (we only see each other about every two years). Now we are in accord, Son's long-term plan to live there is approved, and I am feeling great relief. There will be much paperwork, but the first step was a big one.