T: So...Jerry called.
P: REALLY???!! What did he say???
T:Not much, really.
P: NO- TELL ME!
T: That he may or may not have a lamb that needs a home.
P: Really? Woo Hoo! Which is it? Does he have a lamb?
T: Um...why?
P: Yes or no!
T: We don't really need a lamb.
P: Yes we do! You don't understand the irony of it all!
T: ?
P: Last week I was talking Tycen. He said that if only we had a lamb, Sonja would probably be packing their bags to move out here. AND NOW we will have a LAMB!
T: Um, I don't really think he meant that was actually the tipping point...
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Dirty Folk
This house does not want us to be clean.
OR...
Our friends miss us.* Maybe both.
We have had ongoing issues with our water since we moved in. From its prevention of leaving the house, to the lack of it coming into the house, it has seemed like a long, drawn out battle. It is always a bit pronounced when we have visitors, as we use more water and more is demanded of our system. This past month, with mom and dad here, we were once again faced with a lack of water. Things we are used to working around (don't do dishes while someone is taking a shower, don't flush the toilet until after you have washed your hands, make sure your shower is under 3 minutes in length, etc.) seem to be quite an inconvenience to visitors.
We have been at a loss on how to address this, because our well is old, and replacing it is expensive, and fixing it (depending on what that entails) could damage the well, requiring a replacement anyway. Rural water (which many, even country, Iowans have) is still 1.5 miles from the house, and isn't looking to expand down this way any time soon (which I don't understand, being that we are such a bustling metropolis down here!). That being said, something, but we did not know what, had to be done to address the water situation.
When Phil noticed a puddle around the top of our well, he thought it might be part of the reason we were having trouble. Digging down a few feet, he found an enormous sink hole where the water, over time, had washed away the dirt. Further investigation found a broken pipe six feet below the ground. Every time the pump turned on, it filled up not only our pressure tank, but also that hole. I was quite giddy, because this news meant that there WAS a reason we were losing a lot of water, and a relatively cheap reason at that!
We called the "well guy" and he came out to fix it the next day. It was a messy job and I am sure we will be billed accordingly. Nonetheless, we had water- water to keep a hose going for minutes (something that hasn't happened in months!). Water for showers and dishes and laundry- oh the wonders!
That evening, we each took a shower and I started a load of laundry. Half way through the load, I attempted to do up some dishes...but there was no water. Phil went down to check and see if there was something else going on, and 10 minutes later came back to inform me that our pump had in fact stopped working altogether. At least we were clean, even if we had no clothes to wear...
The next day we went without water, the thought being that we wanted to problem solve ourselves a bit before we had an expensive "well guy" out to do it. Dishes and laundry built and that evening we decided that we needed some expert help (and equipment). I called the guy, and after a good natured laugh at the irony of it all, he said he would be here first thing in the morning.
He showed up and found that there was a broken shaft in the pump that needed to be replaced. Why it went out literally hours after we had the break in the line fixed, I may never know. After putting the pump in the ground, he found a rusted connector and replaced that as well. When the water started through the hose once again, I was quite relieved!
We spent the evening planting our less-enormous but still quite-large garden patch. Each time I looked at Ryan and saw that he had been swimming in piles of mud, or noticed my smudged arms, legs, feet...everything...all I thought was "ahh, long showers!"
We called it quits at about 8 and sat down for dinner. Ryan was rubbing his eyes and we were discussing how he needed to be tossed in the bath before he was allowed anywhere near his bed. It was during this discussion that the lights flickered. Then flickered again. Then, the electricity shut off altogether.
Now, it was sunny all day. It was a calm evening with nary a breeze. Upon checking outside, there appeared to be no large predator wound around the electric fence that would cause a short in our lines. No rhyme or reason, just no electricity. That and dinner dishes, one wet load of laundry waiting for the dryer, and three very dirty people.
I called the electric company and they estimated it would be 11pm when our power came back on. The exciting thing was, this was only two hours away...the other side of the coin was, do you wait up until 11pm to even start getting ready for bed when the day starts so early?
I'm starting to wonder if there is foul play* involved...
Or, maybe this house really does just like dirty people. And if it keeps acting like this, that is all it's going to get.
*When we put our Washington house on the market, a few of our closest friends schemed ways to prevent our house from selling and thus prevent our move **(my favorite idea was where they planned on hanging out next door during our open house to play the role of "obnoxious neighbors", complete with loud music, fighting, and flying objects careening over the fence.) Except for the distance, I wouldn't really put shenanigans like this past them...
**To their credit, they never did anything this eventful or destructive, and we really do have some of the greatest friends around. I only mention them in jest because I love them. We all know it's the house's fault.
OR...
Our friends miss us.* Maybe both.
We have had ongoing issues with our water since we moved in. From its prevention of leaving the house, to the lack of it coming into the house, it has seemed like a long, drawn out battle. It is always a bit pronounced when we have visitors, as we use more water and more is demanded of our system. This past month, with mom and dad here, we were once again faced with a lack of water. Things we are used to working around (don't do dishes while someone is taking a shower, don't flush the toilet until after you have washed your hands, make sure your shower is under 3 minutes in length, etc.) seem to be quite an inconvenience to visitors.
We have been at a loss on how to address this, because our well is old, and replacing it is expensive, and fixing it (depending on what that entails) could damage the well, requiring a replacement anyway. Rural water (which many, even country, Iowans have) is still 1.5 miles from the house, and isn't looking to expand down this way any time soon (which I don't understand, being that we are such a bustling metropolis down here!). That being said, something, but we did not know what, had to be done to address the water situation.
When Phil noticed a puddle around the top of our well, he thought it might be part of the reason we were having trouble. Digging down a few feet, he found an enormous sink hole where the water, over time, had washed away the dirt. Further investigation found a broken pipe six feet below the ground. Every time the pump turned on, it filled up not only our pressure tank, but also that hole. I was quite giddy, because this news meant that there WAS a reason we were losing a lot of water, and a relatively cheap reason at that!
We called the "well guy" and he came out to fix it the next day. It was a messy job and I am sure we will be billed accordingly. Nonetheless, we had water- water to keep a hose going for minutes (something that hasn't happened in months!). Water for showers and dishes and laundry- oh the wonders!
That evening, we each took a shower and I started a load of laundry. Half way through the load, I attempted to do up some dishes...but there was no water. Phil went down to check and see if there was something else going on, and 10 minutes later came back to inform me that our pump had in fact stopped working altogether. At least we were clean, even if we had no clothes to wear...
The next day we went without water, the thought being that we wanted to problem solve ourselves a bit before we had an expensive "well guy" out to do it. Dishes and laundry built and that evening we decided that we needed some expert help (and equipment). I called the guy, and after a good natured laugh at the irony of it all, he said he would be here first thing in the morning.
He showed up and found that there was a broken shaft in the pump that needed to be replaced. Why it went out literally hours after we had the break in the line fixed, I may never know. After putting the pump in the ground, he found a rusted connector and replaced that as well. When the water started through the hose once again, I was quite relieved!
We spent the evening planting our less-enormous but still quite-large garden patch. Each time I looked at Ryan and saw that he had been swimming in piles of mud, or noticed my smudged arms, legs, feet...everything...all I thought was "ahh, long showers!"
We called it quits at about 8 and sat down for dinner. Ryan was rubbing his eyes and we were discussing how he needed to be tossed in the bath before he was allowed anywhere near his bed. It was during this discussion that the lights flickered. Then flickered again. Then, the electricity shut off altogether.
Now, it was sunny all day. It was a calm evening with nary a breeze. Upon checking outside, there appeared to be no large predator wound around the electric fence that would cause a short in our lines. No rhyme or reason, just no electricity. That and dinner dishes, one wet load of laundry waiting for the dryer, and three very dirty people.
I called the electric company and they estimated it would be 11pm when our power came back on. The exciting thing was, this was only two hours away...the other side of the coin was, do you wait up until 11pm to even start getting ready for bed when the day starts so early?
I'm starting to wonder if there is foul play* involved...
Or, maybe this house really does just like dirty people. And if it keeps acting like this, that is all it's going to get.
*When we put our Washington house on the market, a few of our closest friends schemed ways to prevent our house from selling and thus prevent our move **(my favorite idea was where they planned on hanging out next door during our open house to play the role of "obnoxious neighbors", complete with loud music, fighting, and flying objects careening over the fence.) Except for the distance, I wouldn't really put shenanigans like this past them...
**To their credit, they never did anything this eventful or destructive, and we really do have some of the greatest friends around. I only mention them in jest because I love them. We all know it's the house's fault.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
Chicken Wrangling Part 2
...I guess I am on country time and tomorrow really means Next Week (continued from previous post)
Even though the chickens were finally outside, they were a long way from safety. We have a lot of predators out here- from dogs to foxes, skunks and raccoons to name just a few. Before that night they would need shelter and safety.
We had enough of Chicken Palace ready that they could use the floor for a makeshift roof (it's about three feet off the ground) and the fence could keep out predators as soon as we hooked up the electric wire around the top and bottom. But this pen was around the garage, 30 yards from the house. There was wood and downed tree branches and lots of space between those terrified chickens and safety. The idea of catching all of them again and moving them into that pen was crazy. Especially now that we could not run them into a corner...they could just run from us forever (and they are FAST!).
When I got a call that day from Austin, saying he would be in the area because his wife had an appointment in our town, I asked him to stop by. His mom had raised chickens for a number of years (like, 200 a year) and I thought he might have some ideas for us.
When he arrived, I explained my predicament. He craned his head over toward the Palace "So, you want them over there?"
"You think it's possible?" I asked, expecting him to laugh at the thought of moving chickens that far.
"Sure."
And with his daughter in one arm, he opened his other arm wide, and started walking slowly toward the chickens, saying calmly "Peep, peep, peep, peep".
The chickens, all together, started walking in front of him. After they had gone about 15 feet, one escaped. Austin slowed down, walked back to that one chicken, and started "peeping" at it until it was back with the group. He navigated the group around the sticks and I held the fence open while they walked in.
In fifteen minutes they were in the pen.
He explained to me that they like to be together. That even if one of them escapes around you, you need to go and get it, because it will chirp loudly and the others will run to it, rather than vise-verse. If you huddle them all together, it is much, much easier to move them.
Which would explain why our loud stick waving and drag 'em by the legs technique didn't work so well.
Even though the chickens were finally outside, they were a long way from safety. We have a lot of predators out here- from dogs to foxes, skunks and raccoons to name just a few. Before that night they would need shelter and safety.
We had enough of Chicken Palace ready that they could use the floor for a makeshift roof (it's about three feet off the ground) and the fence could keep out predators as soon as we hooked up the electric wire around the top and bottom. But this pen was around the garage, 30 yards from the house. There was wood and downed tree branches and lots of space between those terrified chickens and safety. The idea of catching all of them again and moving them into that pen was crazy. Especially now that we could not run them into a corner...they could just run from us forever (and they are FAST!).
When I got a call that day from Austin, saying he would be in the area because his wife had an appointment in our town, I asked him to stop by. His mom had raised chickens for a number of years (like, 200 a year) and I thought he might have some ideas for us.
When he arrived, I explained my predicament. He craned his head over toward the Palace "So, you want them over there?"
"You think it's possible?" I asked, expecting him to laugh at the thought of moving chickens that far.
"Sure."
And with his daughter in one arm, he opened his other arm wide, and started walking slowly toward the chickens, saying calmly "Peep, peep, peep, peep".
The chickens, all together, started walking in front of him. After they had gone about 15 feet, one escaped. Austin slowed down, walked back to that one chicken, and started "peeping" at it until it was back with the group. He navigated the group around the sticks and I held the fence open while they walked in.
In fifteen minutes they were in the pen.
He explained to me that they like to be together. That even if one of them escapes around you, you need to go and get it, because it will chirp loudly and the others will run to it, rather than vise-verse. If you huddle them all together, it is much, much easier to move them.
Which would explain why our loud stick waving and drag 'em by the legs technique didn't work so well.
Chicken Wrangling
"You have to be smarter than the animals." neighbor Mike explains during one of our conversations.
Such a seemingly simple concept. And true, I suppose, after what we learned about chicken herding. (Ha, give us some slack, we aren't big time enough to have cows or anything, chickens are about all we have to herd around here!)
Those little puffballs we pictured a few weeks back grew really quickly. We bought them when it was warm- it had been 75 or so for a few days and we just knew winter was over. As soon as we brought them home and started building Chicken Palace, however, it started snowing. Yes, actual snow and ice and rain and every bit of uncomfortable weather Winter could muster for its last little hurrah.
While the little chicks started out in a brooder (metal tub) they quickly outgrew their surroundings. It was too cold to put them outside, too unsafe to keep them in the machine shed. And so, in desperation, we made a circle of chicken wire in the garage, put hay down, and counted the days until we could set them free outside.
One day I came home to find that all of the little guys were picking on my big guys (my five yellow, cute ones grew about three times as fast as Phil's!). Apparently their size made them less able to join in the "pecking order" fights, and they were just getting trampled. I decided then and there that this would be the last day for those chickens in the garage. They needed air, grass, space. Our books say that they peck at each other when they are bored or too confined. They were simply growing too quickly.
That night we separated the 5 big guys from the others, and planned on getting up early to free the other 44.
The next morning, after clearing a path for the birds, we carefully and slowly opened a gap in the chicken wire, expecting them to rush out to freedom. Immediately they smushed together at the back of the pen. Phil and I glanced at each other- this was very strange! Phil picked up a skinny board and started waving it around behind them "Time to go outside chickens! Come on! Ooooooutside!" Momentarily they scattered, and then found another little spot to cluster. After a few minutes of coaxing without much response, we simply rolled up the chicken wire altogether. The birds moved quickly to the exact center of the straw in one clump.
It was quite odd to us that they wouldn't want to leave, but then again, they had never been out of the garage. Maybe they needed to be coaxed out with a little more force. Phil grabbed two wide boards, crouched down, and started trying to push the chickens out of the garage. It worked for a few feet, until one hopped over the board. Then another ran around a board. Yet another ran under the board. And then all at once they scattered, hopping over and running under and before he could blink they were back in the center of the hay.
"Chickens! It is SUNNY outside. There is FOOD outside!" we reasoned. "Look! You belong out there!" They blinked at us, unmoving.
So we both picked up wide boards. I could cut them off at one side, he could herd them from the other. Each attempt would yield us a couple of birds all the way to the garage door until they escaped back to "safety". They were getting pretty riled by now (not to mention us!) and had started to scatter. About six of them actually climbed into the roll of chicken wire- smashed between two layers, claiming safety. Though this was funny, and a bit sad, Phil used it as an opportunity to grab them two-by-two and carry them out of the garage. He plopped them on the dirt next to their food and water. You could almost see their discomfort as they sat there, unmoving, like "Wow, this place is BIG!"
"See chickens! THEY like it out there! THEY are playing in the grass!" We point angrily to the six chickens standing awkwardly on the dirt pile, imploring the others to see the wonders and joy that would await them if only they walked outside.
By this time, it had been about an hour of attempts, and 6 whole chickens were outside. The rest were either huddled on the hay or strewn throughout the garage on or behind various tools. We decided that there would be no easy way- we would simply have to catch each one and drag it outside. The following hour (yes, hour) consisted of chickens fluttering about and the two of us pouncing, missing, and pouncing again. We had to shut the breezeway door, because a few of them had figured out they could walk through the breezeway and end up in the garage again. The garage door stayed open, and occasionally I would see one walk slowly, almost like nothing was going on, toward the garage door. As soon as it hit that threshold, it would run with wild abandon to the hay circle. I could almost hear it squeal "olly olly oxenfree!!"
Two and a half hours after we started the Freedom Project, all of the chickens were out of the garage and huddled against the wall of the house. They stayed there- unmoving, for about 5 hours that day. They were outside, and I wasn't too worried about them running away, for obvious reasons.
...to be continued tomorrow - the best is yet to come!
Such a seemingly simple concept. And true, I suppose, after what we learned about chicken herding. (Ha, give us some slack, we aren't big time enough to have cows or anything, chickens are about all we have to herd around here!)
Those little puffballs we pictured a few weeks back grew really quickly. We bought them when it was warm- it had been 75 or so for a few days and we just knew winter was over. As soon as we brought them home and started building Chicken Palace, however, it started snowing. Yes, actual snow and ice and rain and every bit of uncomfortable weather Winter could muster for its last little hurrah.
While the little chicks started out in a brooder (metal tub) they quickly outgrew their surroundings. It was too cold to put them outside, too unsafe to keep them in the machine shed. And so, in desperation, we made a circle of chicken wire in the garage, put hay down, and counted the days until we could set them free outside.
One day I came home to find that all of the little guys were picking on my big guys (my five yellow, cute ones grew about three times as fast as Phil's!). Apparently their size made them less able to join in the "pecking order" fights, and they were just getting trampled. I decided then and there that this would be the last day for those chickens in the garage. They needed air, grass, space. Our books say that they peck at each other when they are bored or too confined. They were simply growing too quickly.
That night we separated the 5 big guys from the others, and planned on getting up early to free the other 44.
The next morning, after clearing a path for the birds, we carefully and slowly opened a gap in the chicken wire, expecting them to rush out to freedom. Immediately they smushed together at the back of the pen. Phil and I glanced at each other- this was very strange! Phil picked up a skinny board and started waving it around behind them "Time to go outside chickens! Come on! Ooooooutside!" Momentarily they scattered, and then found another little spot to cluster. After a few minutes of coaxing without much response, we simply rolled up the chicken wire altogether. The birds moved quickly to the exact center of the straw in one clump.
It was quite odd to us that they wouldn't want to leave, but then again, they had never been out of the garage. Maybe they needed to be coaxed out with a little more force. Phil grabbed two wide boards, crouched down, and started trying to push the chickens out of the garage. It worked for a few feet, until one hopped over the board. Then another ran around a board. Yet another ran under the board. And then all at once they scattered, hopping over and running under and before he could blink they were back in the center of the hay.
"Chickens! It is SUNNY outside. There is FOOD outside!" we reasoned. "Look! You belong out there!" They blinked at us, unmoving.
So we both picked up wide boards. I could cut them off at one side, he could herd them from the other. Each attempt would yield us a couple of birds all the way to the garage door until they escaped back to "safety". They were getting pretty riled by now (not to mention us!) and had started to scatter. About six of them actually climbed into the roll of chicken wire- smashed between two layers, claiming safety. Though this was funny, and a bit sad, Phil used it as an opportunity to grab them two-by-two and carry them out of the garage. He plopped them on the dirt next to their food and water. You could almost see their discomfort as they sat there, unmoving, like "Wow, this place is BIG!"
"See chickens! THEY like it out there! THEY are playing in the grass!" We point angrily to the six chickens standing awkwardly on the dirt pile, imploring the others to see the wonders and joy that would await them if only they walked outside.
By this time, it had been about an hour of attempts, and 6 whole chickens were outside. The rest were either huddled on the hay or strewn throughout the garage on or behind various tools. We decided that there would be no easy way- we would simply have to catch each one and drag it outside. The following hour (yes, hour) consisted of chickens fluttering about and the two of us pouncing, missing, and pouncing again. We had to shut the breezeway door, because a few of them had figured out they could walk through the breezeway and end up in the garage again. The garage door stayed open, and occasionally I would see one walk slowly, almost like nothing was going on, toward the garage door. As soon as it hit that threshold, it would run with wild abandon to the hay circle. I could almost hear it squeal "olly olly oxenfree!!"
Two and a half hours after we started the Freedom Project, all of the chickens were out of the garage and huddled against the wall of the house. They stayed there- unmoving, for about 5 hours that day. They were outside, and I wasn't too worried about them running away, for obvious reasons.
...to be continued tomorrow - the best is yet to come!
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Back Home
So, we're back in the cornfields. We flew overnight Sunday back into Des Moines. I was both nervous and excited to do a redeye with a two year old. Nervous because he may not sleep, and that would be really, really bad with a plane full of sleeping people, but excited because it was my best shot at a peaceful plane ride without having to bring a suitcase full of kidertainment.
Also cause for concern? He spent nearly the entire flight out to Washington sitting on grandpa's lap, or watching grandpa's movies. Grandpa would not be here this time.
These are a few pictures from the last day of my Washington trip. We visited the tulip fields - so beautiful! I never remember to take enough pictures and it always saddens me when I get back home.
We brought the wagon because we thought Ryan might like to ride in it. That lasted about three minutes until he decided he would help push...or pull...or do anything but ride in the wagon. As a result it carried our purses or coats most of the time.
At one point he decided to just sit down. In the middle of the walkway. And didn't want to move. Still, not in the wagon, of course.
And, because I can't resist: Look at my sister's belly! It's getting so big! She is such an adorable momma - Chloe is only a few months away!
Also cause for concern? He spent nearly the entire flight out to Washington sitting on grandpa's lap, or watching grandpa's movies. Grandpa would not be here this time.The result? He fell asleep during takeoff and was passed out the entire first leg of the flight, woke up during the hour-long layover, and then slept again the second flight. And, if the seats weren't quite uncomfortable and there hadn't been a tiny elbow in my pregnant belly, I would have been able to sleep, too! However, it was a nice, relaxing flight that brought us both home in one piece.
Husband picked us up at the airport yesterday and I was able to make myself sleep for a few hours in the afternoon- a much needed rejuvenation. It was SO warm yesterday, and by the time I woke up, it was 84 in the house! Welcome to spring, right? We opened the windows and let the breeze in, and headed outside. It was late in the day, so we were able to enjoy a really beautiful sunset and take in the emptiness around us.
Trees have started to leaf out and my RASPBERRIES! have survived! I was quite concerned because they started sprouting leaves last month right before a week-long frost/snow and I was sure it had set them back quite a bit. But no! There are little sprouts all over the rows and oh I cannot wait to get out and clean up the beds! Also? The asparagus is back and yummy as ever. We had enough for hearty servings for dinner last night, 8 spears left over, and will need to go cut more today. Time to start giving it away! Very fun!
We brought the wagon because we thought Ryan might like to ride in it. That lasted about three minutes until he decided he would help push...or pull...or do anything but ride in the wagon. As a result it carried our purses or coats most of the time.
At one point he decided to just sit down. In the middle of the walkway. And didn't want to move. Still, not in the wagon, of course.
The tulip fields are in a part of Western Washington that has not yet been built up. If it weren't for the mountains around, it might feel a bit like Iowa! The biggest difference (aside from the abundance of people) was that they grew things other than corn or beans! There were many, many fields of plants I could not recognize (this field, of course, has not sprouted yet...I'm talking about other fields.)
And, because I can't resist: Look at my sister's belly! It's getting so big! She is such an adorable momma - Chloe is only a few months away!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)