windthread

languages

yesterday it was 70 degrees,  today 65 and all this coming week in the 40's.  Snow tomorrow..just a little.  and WIND warnings.   Language....warm/cold/wet/Wind....a kind of language, yes?  Earth language?

goodbye warm evenings,  speaking in the language of light

 

and Marti emailed her Pleasure of watching Angelique Kidjo on Austin City Limits which sent me back to UTube,  not really hoping,  but well,  could just look,  and Lo and Behold,  it is THERE...her song Adouma, which Jude was good enough to put on my side bar for me because i still can't figure out how to do that,  but it's THERE and i can click it any time i need it now,   even if "They" decide to disappear it again.....from when she was much younger than now,  and even now,  she is magnificant but compared to Adouma days, almost matronly.....and i love it because it reminds me of my Other Self,  my young and Fierce self and well, just really feels good to me.  And how i love that i don't know the meaning to the words,  they are sounds.  I love the Sounds.   I would trade sounds for meaning anyday.

and Onday was On it today,  making these awful gutteral sounds directed to everyone and particularly to the buck pen.  She is Very in heat and everyone was trying to ignore her as she cruised the middle pen looking for trouble...that  she met late in the afternoon in Arctica and they pushed and shoved  each other Hard against the fences,  ...... language, again.     Double click the pic

 

and this Cloth.   Speaking a certain Language that is not literal.  Stitching thing down lightly...it might change?,  because i don't know the Language?

 

 

 

 

for Nina at ruitfarm.wordpress.com

Nina has been kind enough to respond to my comments of her Farm Journal,  ruitfarm.wordpress.com. the one that Nanette linked me to.   She is in Maine and has Goats that do all the Real things that Goats do and she does not hesitate to Tell All.  Today,  there was a bloody exchange between the new young buck Reddog and her other buck Oreo.  i read with baited (sp) breath.    This is important to me because my only other "real" source of mentoring is Jan the dog trainer here.  But Jan only has 3 does and does not and WILL NOT keep a buck.  So there's a Lot that doesn't happen at her Place.  Stuff happens at Nina's.  In the not too distant future her Goats will kid and i will be right there,  watching and reading.  This will help in this spring when we begin their 4th year here,  what to do.  How it all can go.  so...some time OutSide this evening...it should have been Morning when the light is better for taking pics,  but...

in the foreground,  Oona,  the third of the original of the Triumvirate,  to the right, behind her, Arctica.  The only doe here with natural horns.  Her doe.  

 

Arctica, the horned one,  who will be 4 this year and is only now allowing me to touch her.  She loves Alyssia the granddaughter and when A was here,  after so long,  she remembered and came to her.

 

you will need to double click.  Caroline and her daughter Karma

 

 

Onday,  second in the Triumvirate.  Maybe the one i love the most.

 

 

Ginger and Lucky Star

 

Ginger. Cinderella and Just Going

 

Snowbunny,  the Grandmother on the way left and Celia on the right

 

good pic of Karma and Just Going in the middle,  Ginger on the right.

 

little Grace who i call Wendy

 

Caroline and her beauty Full beard

DON'T FORGET TO DOUBLE CLICK

 

the Old Man Buck,  Gideon,  assuming the position,  chin scratching....

 

the most FINE and Glorious Buck ever born.  He is Ten years old.

 

Jumpin Jack Flash a little wether son of TenZen...a breeding with Jan the dog trainer's doe Joey last year,  Jumpin Jack Flash came when Gideon's son,  SunnyRay ,  who had been being merciless with his old and crippled father,  treating him like a doe,  when Sunny Ray went to stay at dog trainer Jan's to breed her does,  but now maybe not,....the longer story i told a few days ago,  but anyway,  this is Flash

 

 

friends

 

Nogal.  Spanish for Walnut.  Nogal is the son of Buckwheat.  Who is  Arctica's brother.  That doe here with full horns?...Buckwheat was a very intentional and very desired  breeding daughter arranged with a buck called Intrigue and the doe here,  Oona.  Buckwheat also had full horns.  and very full testicles.  He was beyond BeautyFull,  a tri colored buck with identically marked leggings.  But he was crazy with Lust.  He would run,  full force,  the length of his small buck yard and smash his horns into the corrigated metal of the Albatros.  Slam.  Slam.  Slam.  over and over.  His lust and craziness broke my heart and i sent him off to be herd sire in Los Cruces.  Before he left,  i bred him with two does here,  so daughter might see what he sired.  This is Nogal.  Not at all so showy as Buckwheat but also not so crazy either.   So far.   We'll see.  He will be 3 yrs. this spring....the Telling Year,  it seems. 

 

 

He lives right now with TenZen.  Named after the Dalai Lama.  Who daughter had flown here as a very young buckling from Boston area...Dragonfly Farm,  TenZen the sort of most gentle and peaceful buck on the planet until this last fall when he suddenly became an idiot.  Standing atop the shelter thing,  he blabbered and stuck his tongue and shot jiz until i could barely  stand it.  Until the BIG SNOW,  when no one could get on top of the buck hut and now....

 

 

 

right now it's ok.  They chase eachother around the pen,  quietly blathering their love talk,  practicing, but it's my guess that as Nogal moves into his Threeness,  things might change.  Maybe not.  But i have learned.  Stuff with Goats changes.  Always.  Always changes.

So...here we are Nina.  I am watching Ruit Farm.  Taking heart and just going.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

shared heart

I love so much the comments in these last two days.  So much.  They seem in direct thread to something i have been thinking and trying to put into words.   That this blog,  i'd like it not to be about me,  really, rather just things i see and feel.  Which really,  are in commonality with every one elses things they see and feel.  The details are different but i am thinking the experience is common.   We all have days.  lying ourselves down in our beds,  and in the dark,  we think for a little or a long while about "it all".  Whatever it is for each of us,  but we all lie there when dark comes.  and then we sleep to rise in the morning,  put on our clothes and Begin Again.   I think it's such a Shared thing,  a shared Heart.  

I thought that if i were more capable,  i would really like to change it into a forum like Jude had with her online classes.  How beauty FULL that was,  how much i learned about so many.  Here tho,  it wouldn't necessarily need to be about whatever cloth work we might be doing....i talk about the raised beds.  someone else might talk about their favorite African Violet.  Does this make sense?   I'm just winging it as i always do,  without trying to think it "through" ahead...just what comes to mind in the moment.  Anyway,  I thank everyone for the thoughts given,  so so much,  not about anything i do,  but about that shared experience.  It's so life affirming in such hard times.  Is the antidote to things like the political joke in this country that could break my heart every day.  

i tweaked the color to let the sticks be what they really are which then makes Tay blacker than she really is.  Yesterday it was Tay.  today it's the sticks.  There is a whole pile of them out in the Way Back.  Scavenged from the local dump some years ago.  They've had many transmutations.  Were pieces of someone's pig pen.  I left the really smelly pig wood there and just brought home the sticks.  They are Salt Cedar,  Tamarisk.  An extremely STRONG wood.  Here,  they are placed next to one another to create whats commonly called coyote fencing.  The salt cedar is everywhere and can be harvested everywhere.  People are Glad you come for it.  BLM,  Bureau of Land Management bulldozes it and it lies in great piles, waiting to be cut, disposed of.  It is not good for firewood.  something in it corrodes the stove pipes in relatively short order.  But for so many things,  it is just so Great and will last a lifetime.  When i think of the great grandkids coming this summer,  i think of us maybe building a shade house out there by the Raft,  where the OldCowboy's lawn furniture is now.  These,  not

these....they are needed where they are,

but the others,  in the way back would be perfect for the roof,  held in place with baling wire.  They are one of my most prized possessions.

 

 

 all the invisible baste is finished and i wanted to try out a thought...that the Path could be with black and white thread,  that it would wind through this Heartscape of Imaginal Diorama.  And right now,  i'm thinking how to put the pile of sticks.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Belonging...... to belong ...... I belong

a Lot of time spent looking here,  touching,  looking.  How to use a piece of Cloth that is in its Self enough.  If i made clothing,  it could be the centerpiece.  If i made pillows,  then too.  For a curtain, yes.  But i don't need clothing, pillows or curtains.  and so.   How does it become a story?, because that's what i do.  Cloth stories.    I wait.  looking.  waiting.  Hoping it will tell me something.  But, maybe it won't.  ok, then.

 

 

i hauled both scrap feed and manure from the Doe Barn.  Some wheelbarrows full.  Still January.  There's time.

 

these are the sticks that i set into the fencing and splay over this raised bed to keep the Dog out...and since they were taken out today,  She dumped a very adequate shit there.  I scooped it up and flung it,  saying NOT HERE!.  Does she understand?

 

and...Belonging.   Thinking about how i would introduce myself,  in particular to the two new farm blogs,  i heard self saying   ..............   "i belong to an international community of women who make things"

I belong.   I belong.  I do.  

I belong.

here

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

invisible basting  (Jude Hill)  this,  with harem cloth, with a piece of muslin,  pressing it with the palm of my hand as i go

FEELING these images on/in the cloth with the palm of my hand...a topological kind of sensation although the cloth is really relatively flat...and the invisible baste to keep the flatness....

I have no idea what is next.

 

 

doing what makes sense

stopping at the feedstore in my One Single Day away from here In Town,  getting the 50lb bag of lamb and rice dog food,  which will last one third longer without Chinche,  i had the opportunity to inquire of a Gentleman of a Certain Age who was buying feed for calves, pigs and chickens,  to inquire if he thought chickens might radically change my community of Whiptail Lizards.  Did his chickens catch a lot of lizards?   He was quiet a few moments while he mulled the question...like,  why would i care,  so i explained that i am really thinking i want some chickens but if it would be at the expense of my lizards,  then,  Not.  He said he never really paid attention to this but in his years of keeping things,  his guess would be that they would get some.  Maybe the very young ones.  But that the rest would quite quickly recognize the change and keep to places where they are safe,  like fences and wood piles, etc.

I don't know what to think of this.  I think he didn't know.  Hmmmm.  No new info to go on.

After i'd done what needed to be done,  i glanced into the copper pot...SUN was just at that point

 

the onion skins that i'd added to the Yerba Mansa...breathtaking,  how they absorbed color....

 

so this Cloth,  of Maria's Garden Flowers,  she who is sometimes 2 here,  she'd ironed it and it was folded in the mailing so had a crease.   I needed to let the crease go so washed it in a pan this morning to soften the fibers then hung it over the back of the chair before i left for work.  When i got home the crease was gone but also there was more rumples and texture in the top left, center and bottom left than needed because of the very delicate Marks there so i got out the

IRON

and ironed just these places.

and somehow in taking off the little pieces,  i seem to have lost the "roof" of the dwelling...can't find it anywere...it's very small,  

 

a Monday. overcast

I'd commented the other day how it took Tay what seemed to be a long time to decide to Play Ball.  But today i thought about how different things just take time.  Take Time.  I like those two words.

This is Alz B's rug.   It's been two places since she no longer lived in her home.  A long time in the back of the car.   And then moved to the corner of the front porch,  folded up.  There,  at least a year.  Just there,  soaking in whatever weather came and went.   I think longer than a year.  But today for whatever reason i decided to take it with me to Alz B's son's home and put it in the washer while i cleaned there.  I put it on Hand Wash.  

At her house it was in the short hallway that was the hub of all the other rooms,  the kitchen,  the front bathroom,  livingroom and what she called her Office tho she never did anything officely in there...even before the Alzheimer's took hold,  she couldn't deal with the computer.  But she did have a file cabinet.  so...yes.  an Office.  Anyway,  it was right in front of the phone too.  She was always a little sloppy,  carrying cups and plates of food around with her.  When i came to clean i knew what she'd done all week.  This rug was a bone of contention.  I always wanted to wash it.  She said that was an impossibility.  Her house,  she won.   But finally,  today,  i DID wash it.  On Hand Wash.  And now it's for Tay,  in front of the wood stove.  

tied some strings.  The different tension is allowing SOME weebliness.  Some.  not sure.  and too, if i leave the long tales,  them too.  Slow going,  this.

 

If~

What i didn't say yesterday,  that while waiting for the Vet,  i milked Nutmeg.  Has been so long,  since i milked.  What a true miracle it is that an animal will give this to us.  The milk itself,  but then the possibility of making cheese with this milk.  If there were no way to obtain food,  this in itself would sustain.

And when we walked back to her Hay Barn,  a very large Pole Barn,  entering it,  the fragrance,  how light entered in all cracks,  how i was suddenly flooded with how much i feel

at home

in shelters like this.  With animals.   It runs deep.  Am thinking about that.

Nanette has gifted me with two blog links:  ruitfarm.wordpress.com  at the coast of Maine and thekitchensgarden.com  I think somewhere in Illinois.   Both working farms.  Both blogs written by women who love their Work,  love their Place on this planet.  Both i will learn from.

When i first arrived,  coming up Jan's driveway,  which is so long,  it is really a road,  right there,  just right there at the road was a deer.  and as i stopped,  leisurely turned her white rump to me but did not run.   And mentioning this to Jan,  she showed me her Grand Plan of building a greenhouse inside the structure of her gazebo that is bolted in cement.  The greenhouse because there is nowhere on all that land of hers that she can grow a garden.  All is consumed by deer and rabbits.  Every seedling.  So,  as that old woman said to me so long ago when i was explaining to her why i ran away from my old life,  this at a campground somewhere in Yosemite,  she listened carefully and then said "Every garden has its  snake".    

So, all last evening,  off and on during the night,  all early morning,  I think about SunnyRay.  How if he had just stayed at the far end of the pen,  just looked at me.  But how he didn't.  How when i said Come Come,  stinky baby,  how he Came....with such gladness,  pressed his nose against my hand,  turned his head so i could scratch....   So,  we have gone too far,  me and SunnyRay.  If it turns out he is sterile and has no work in Magdalena,  i will find a way to bring him Home.  Will living out his life for the next 5 or 6 years as a sterile intact buck,  driven daily by hormones,  will this really be better than a merciful death?  I have no answer.  I will have no answer.  But i will bring him Home.  And i will learn.  IF i decide at some point to breed again,  so i can milk,  i will be so much wiser.  From the beginning.  Jan will help with finding places for the kids.  And they will GO.  Any of them.  All of them.  They will not have names ... other than baby.  

And completely intertwined with all the above is this thing about Home.  How this thing about Home seems to be everywhere right now,  how Saskia wrote how The Old Bird King's place has been given the name Dwelling.  and in the united states mail i receive a note from an old old friend with a cut out little piece of article entitled Home that gives no reference for what it was cut out of,  but is credited to Sarah Begley

Home

Tools, Language and controlled fire are often cited as critical advancements in Homo sapiens' evolution.  But in his new book, neuro~anthropologist John S. Allen argues that our move into dwellings may be just as important...if not more so.  Beyond providing protection from the elements and predators,  homes created spaces where complex social interactions could take place and mates and offspring could become families.  They also enabled early humans to sleep securely and soundly, which has been shown to increase brain functions like learning and memory formation.  Dwellings are "critical not only for resting but also for thinking."  Allen writes.  "By removing us from the distractions and stimuli of the outside world and providing a wholly predictable environment" they give us "an opportunity to use our mental powers to better deal with that world:.  Hence, the word used to describe that feeling we get when we stray too long: homesickness.

 John S. Allen   neuro~anthropologist   the book....Home   How habitat made us human.

how it's been on my mind.  Home.  the Diorama.

 

and still,  today,  this.

 

but then,  it went on

 

and then went ON into this progression

 

 

 

 

cloth.  Belove ~ed cloth.  That Talks the story when i don't know how.

 

 

 

unresolvable?

i went to Jan the Dog Trainer's this afternoon late.  The mobile Vet woman was coming to do ultrasounds on both of Jan's doe s .  Sunny Ray's been there a while and Jan didn't think either of the doe s had been bred.   If it were just one,  then.....   But if neither,  then we need to look in Sunny Ray's direction.  Somehow it didn't seem possible that he would be sterile.  But.....   So it appears that Nugat, the Saneen/Nigerian  is NOT bred.   Vet thought that she saw fetus with Nutmeg,  but early,  so not sure. 12 weeks.   Another ultrasound in some time.  They talked and Nugat,  like the candy,  i'm spelling it wrong i know,  Nugat has been in milk for going on two years.  Vet thought that could be what might be preventing her from conception.  So the plan is to dry her off and give her high protein supplement for a while and try again.   so there is reprieve.

But what if neither are bred?  

There is Sunny Ray.   When i first came back to the pens,  he stood away but then recognized me.   Baby Stinky Buck Sunny Ray,  i call him,  come come baby stinky and he comes,  he is GLAD to see me.  Jan is not much for Buck goats.  Needs them for their contribution but i am sure has shared no love words with him since he got there.  Has not scratched his ears.  The eyes he gazed upon me with are the same eyes as in the post yesterday,  just in the body of a male.  His love is no less than theirs.  But i was SO happy to have him GO to Jan's those months ago,  what,  October?,  to be rid of him constantly blathering over his Father and pushing him about,  bring driven by his hormones and nothing else.

it has been such a soft relief for Old Man Gideon to live this time with Jack Flash who without hormones is a forever baby,  sweet and loving.  He is devoted to the Old Man Goat.  Gideon needs whatever last time he has like this.  And over in the other yard,  TenZen and Nogal have at least for now come to terms with things.  The Snow corrected this somehow.  Since the roof of their hut was caked with snow and ice,  neither of them could use it for that Dominance Game.  They became equal, limited to the earth itself and somehow this has allowed Peace with them.  They continue to chase eachother around,  some quiet vocalizations,  but the quality of Drivenness is gone.  How long?,  Who knows but for now,  it's quiet there too.

So...what if SunnyRay is not a viable buck?   The plan was that after he finished his work at Jan's,  he would move up to Magdalena where he is needed there.  But if he is sterile,  that's out.  So,  what then.

Right now,  i am surrounded by Goats,  live in a small island between all the Goat yards.  There is no space left for a new yard...well...as i write this,  i think....hmm maybe in the Way back....the Doe s use only some of that space,  keeping mostly to their food bowl area....maybe...... maybe i could fence off some of the Way Back for Gideon and Jack Flash?????   SunnyRay could come back home,  bringing with him Jan's other wether, CrackerJack,  who she intends to put in the freezer not too long from now.  Well....ok....a kind of a plan?  But still...what sense does this make?  

None,  really.

They are NOT pets.  They SHOULD NOT BE TREATED as pets,  but i also am seemingly not capable of facing what needs to be faced about livestock.  With either them or the Doe Goats.  I console myself with the fact that all this has simply come to me via Circumstance.  That i did not Cause it in the first place.  ie it was never my intention to have Goats here.  I was very Happy to HELP with daughter's Goats.  But they were HER Goats.  But here we have it.  How it goes.  

It still remains a possibility that daughter will come for them.  At least SOME of them.  That would change things.  But if that at some point appears to NOT be a possibility,  then......

so here i am.  All this. 

I'd planned on taking a bunch of pics after the ultrasounds but Vet came quite late and i needed to get home to feed.  Jan has recently gotten two piglets.  She will raise them through the summer and then in the fall they will be meat.  All her sheep have been bred and soon there will be lambs that she has consistent buyer's for.  Meat.  I eat meat.   She has chickens.  Recently acquired a rooster as many of her hens are aging.  So a rooster so some can brood.  replenish.    

So many thoughts.  I came home and fed and made french fries.  

 

and just looked at cloth which comforted me.  Cloth is neither male or female.  Cloth is cloth.  This is comforting.

 

 

 

 

 

more Goodness

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mary Oliver.....Franz Marc's Blue Horses

 

I step into the painting of the four blue horses.

I am not even surprised that i can do this.

 

One of the horses walks toward me.

His blue nose noses me lightly.  I put my arm

over his blue mane,  not holding on, just

     commingling.

He allows me my pleasure.

Franz Marc, died a young man, shrapnel in his brain.

I would rather die than try to explain to the blue horses

     what war is.

They woud either faint in horror, or simply

      find it impossible to believe.

I do not know how to thank you, Franz Marc.

Maybe our world will grow kinder eventually,

Maybe the desire to make something beautiful

       is the piece of God that is inside each of us.

Now all four horses have come close,

       are bending their faces toward me

              as if they have secrets to tell.

I don't expect them to speak,  and they don't.

If being so beautiful isn't enough,  what

      could they possibly say?

 ~.~

Yesterday there was gun fire up at the Truck stop  4.something miles from here.  some thief stealing a state police vehicle,  them chasing him,  shooting at the tires to just where i went to find the stick for the Cloth.  Me and Terri,  the UPS driver,  sitting there at the side of the road,  feeling uhhhh,  feeling something,  because we don't expect gun fire here,  in this world.  

And i sat with them,  Goats,  last eve.  I sat again with them today.  Feeling how our skulls meet,  pressed gently together...them doing the pressing,  me receiving,  and how we exchange breath.  I want to make a cloth of this.  How it is,  this pressing and breathing,  our eyes,  open,  but somewhere else.

 

i added onion skins to the yerba mansa and put the cloth back in.  I want more orange or red,  i want the color of Goat's Eyes

 

the stick is Cottonwood.  and here,  in the middle is an Eye.   Cottonwood is our large Tree here...in the Bosque,  along the Rio Grande River.  Bosque spanish for forest.  Along the river,  Cottonwood, Tamarisk and River Willow.