The Dream

A few years ago, while visiting my parents in Upper Arlington, I stopped at the local library on the way out of town. As it often does, the library was having a book sale. I cannot resist books for a buck or less, and so am compelled to buy anything that might remotely interest me or anyone I know. During this chance book buying spree, I saw a book titled "The Garden", by an author named H.A. Hartwick. Given the sketch on the book's jacket, I took it to be a gardening book and picked it up for Jess.

As it turned out the book is more philosophy than botany. After Jess updated me as to the nature of the book, I picked it up and loved it. In fact, I cannot recall a writer whose world-view I more closely parallel. That book served as a co-catalyst for the home movies I made which showcased Jessica's garden (the other catalysts being Jessica and her garden).

My B.A. is in philisophy, and my curiosity regarding Hartwick was piqued. Why had I not read him before? Even heard of him? Inside the book I found references to another of the author's books, this one entitled "The Dream." I had to have it, but couldn't find it?! Laura did, and she gave it to me as a gift prior to us moving to the farm. I've read it several times, and was doing so again during my recent business travels. This time through, I was amazed to discover a couple passages which had previously escaped my scrutiny.

Briefly, I'll tell you that Hartwick is a proponent of the idea that the world as we know it is truly dreamlike; the author suggests that this world cannot be real, but is fundamentally illusory (and must be so). Regardless, Hartwick recognizes that paradox is inescapably sewn into the fabric of this dream, such that we must live in it while simultaneously recognizing its falsity. To that end, Hartwick offers the following:

"Resign yourself to me, says the dream, as do trees, rain, earth, the ocean, and the air. Be like the cloud that floats because it can't help it. Be like the bird that sings for the same reason the cloud floats: because it must. No longer view events in terms of victory and defeat, but act as if these two ideas never existed. Mark out the area you can live in contentedly; then live within it, remaining quietly composed and attentive, no longer tormenting or rejecting the world (which may as easily bring us good as bad). Feel your life flow of itself, as the sea moves and the flower blooms, letting the world hold you in its arms, never struggling too hard to be good or bad, not fearing sadness too much, or wanting happiness too much, walking softly, and hurting nothing if you can help it. Remembering how many things have given up their lives that you may live, live so their sacrifice is not wasted. And knowing that you own nothing here, that you made nothing, that everything is merely lent to you, that all power is from beyond this dream. that no object here is real or belongs to you or anyone else --be kind. For whatever you do that is kind gives this dream a meaning --even if it proves to have no other."

Having no moved onto the farm, that passage takes on new meaning. As does this, as well:

"Strive for the effortless faith of animals, 'the dreams of nature' that live in 'the holy carelessness of the eternal now.' (George Macdonald) In them shine the immaculate, the undefiled beauty of life. They demand nothing, expect no praise, go quietly about their lives without fretting, open to the world as men are not, never hiding their life within...Their innocence is invulnerable. Nothing can overcome their trust, not the whole universe. It is absolute. See the bravery, the...throat tightening cheerfulness of birds in the face of their small fate: alone in the thrashing hedge at night in a storm, clinging to a branch, huddled against the rain, wind and darkens. In this huge mystery, they understand even less than we do, yet remain faithful to their duty and nature, never weeping, or questioning, but perfect in their acquiescence to the will that implacably urges birds, like men, through the world."

Upon reflection, it seems crazy to me now how and when those books found me. And a special thanks to Laura for finding the elusive "Dream."

Bloggin' from the Queen City

Quick update as I sit here in the Cincy airport. This week in death: another sheep died (Aunt Jemima), and some dickless, gutless, talentless, heartless, sociopathic, good-for-nothing, hillbilly, redneck, squirrel-eating, sibling-humping, in-bred, buck toothed, NASCAR watching, mountain dew drinking, mesh hat wearing retard shot our peahen. When confronted by Jessica after storming the adjacent field Braveheart-style and conquering the wild and very dangerous 5 pound bird, this waste of DNA really proved his manhood by hiking up his skirt and tearing off on his truck before Jess could get a plate number. Not a good day on the farm.

The sheep was just old. Died in the water bowl. I suspect it was a hit, but none of the animals are talking. Toby is acting suspicious...

Gotta catch my flight. Peace.

Office 2.0

Getting unpacked in the office - whew!  Good gawd this process consumes inordinate chunks of time.  Jess got nearly all the books, files and pictures unpacked.  I helped out mostly by maintaining a vigilant guard of the internet connection, safe behind the confines of my homemade desk.  Some might ask, "how is that of any help at all?"  To those people, I would kindly ask them to mind their own business.  It's an important job.

Here's a quick pick of the progress, with a link to a few more.

Toby-roping and sheep compost.

The vet came out earlier this week to give the animals a once over.  Everybody got their shots, with two exceptions: Toby and Dead Sheep.  Toby escaped the needle because the vet couldn't achieve the requisite proximity; Dead Sheep was, well, dead, and so was also spared.  The vet tells us we need to work with Toby so that we can get close enough to do this:


That looks fun.  Having dealt with Toby for a few months now, I can't help but think that getting the rope on him will not be the problem.  No, I'm more concerned with what happens post-roping.  The vet tells us llamas are strong kickers.  Having seen Toby punt the recently-departed Grommet  like a football, I'm buying what the vet is selling.  So we rope the llama, then what?  And how do we get the rope off?  I'm wondering if my time isn't better spent learning how to operate a tranquilizer gun. 


The vet also gave us advise regarding what to do with our recently deceased sheep: compost.  Ashes to ashes, sheep to dust.  Sounds a little weird, but I did find an article corroborating this idea here.  After talking with another vet, and doing some reading, it appears the places that render dead animals don't accept sheep and goats because of the potential for contamination.  Other than burying the sheep, we don't have many other options.  We'll see.  The first morning I wake up to find the dogs gnawing on recently unearthed sheep, I'm renting a back hoe.  

Trimmin' Hooves

You know things in your life are different when this makes your Christmas list:

First, and most importantly, let me be clear: I found this picture on the web.  I did not take this picture, and I had no part in anything having to do with it.  That said, this contraption would be helpful.  We did a pretty good f'n job for first-timers.  Maybe what...two or three bleeders?  Most walked away not leaving a trail blood (sorry Lilly, sheep...1 and....2).   A couple of the sheep suffered what looked like little sheep panic attacks, complete with hyperventilation and frantic scrambling.  The drama is ridiculous.  Stop it, already.  You're sheep.  Sheep.

But seriously, that picture is funny.

Anyway, and for real this time, we did trim hooves and we did a very good job.  I cut deep on a couple hooves, but overall the project went well.  A couple of the sheep really REALLY needed the work.  So glad we got to them.  Goats are relatively cooperative.  Pigs hooves don't need it.

Oh yeah, almost forgot.  Check out the layers of (actual) shit we have to clean out of this stall:

Banner Explanation

For Laura (I love that you "follow" us) and anyone else who might check in every once in a while, I want to explain the ever changing banner at the top of the blog.  I like to change it often to keep things fresh, and there are so many fascinating pics to be taken of this place.  Specifically, the current banner is a wrap-around.  To give it some perspective, imagine printing the picture on a piece of paper shaped like a yard stick.  Now connect the ends of the yard stick to make a loop, and then imagine placing the looped-pic around your head like a pair of 360-degree sunglass.  This isn't a panoramic shot, it's a 360 shot, such that the right and left ends of the pic should connect to complete the 360-degree view.  I love it.  Man, it was such a beautiful day, too.  Oh, and for those who read this post post-banner change, you can find the banner which is the subject of this banter here.

Peahen

Peahen, you're still there!  For those of you who don't know, this peahen was part of the farm when we bought it.   She was raised by chickens, and lived amongst them for a couple years.  However, shortly after we bought the place, some combination of hawks and raccoons took care of the chickens, leaving the peahen without her peeps.  Recently she has re-emerged from the woods accross the way, alerting us to her presence with the call you can hear in the video.  This morning I saw the peahen back in our yard, flapping for her life as Luna reminded her that this side of the fence is Luna Land.  So the question is: how do we get the peahen back?

Fort1E: Now with heat!

Click here for some pics of the new work!

Toby and the Mist

A poor man's panoramic shot of a random October morning.  Toby was kind enough to stay still.  And yes, Jessica, I said "and," not "in."

Don't Leave!

Jess tells me I'm alienating my audience with all the Ohio State posts.  So before I lose anyone QUICK QUICK, look at this picture!  Not close enough?  Not enough detail?  Ok, we can go a little closer:

There.  Everything's all better.  Nobody's alienated...everyone's happy...and Michigan still sucks.

Muck Fichigan!

It's Rivalry Hate Week on the Farm, and everything with feet/hooves/paws/wings is demanding nothing short of the complete ass-whuppification of those winged fairies up north.  Word at the Fort is that some Ohio State fans aren't feeling the hate for the Fighting DickRods as of late.  For those whose ires have cooled as a result of Meatchicken's recent plummet to the Big 10 cellar, let me help fan the flames of seething hatred by offering these still-painful memories:

• 1993, 1995 & 1996: tOSU goes into The Game undefeated, and Missagain comes out with a "W";
• This (*Warning, you may need a bucket to catch the vomit)
• 2-10-1, which represents the Buckeyes' record against the That School Up North during the Cooper era;
• Winningest Program of All Time (* again with the bucket) 
• Ms. Again leads the all-time series 57-42-6
• Charles Woodson?  Born and raised in Ohio, was Mr. Ohio in football;
• Bo Schembechler: Born in Barberton, Ohio, and earned his MA from tOSU;

I will be rooting for my Buckeyes to roll all over these clowns, and would love love love a fourth shut-out on the season.  I want their fans leaving before half time.  I want DickRod fired on the field late in the fourth.

Strike first.  Strike Hard.  No Mercy.  Sweep the Leg, Jimmie T.

Coming Back to Life

Slow, slow process it is restoring an old home.  The boarded up windows have awesome curb appeal.  I think they represent an attractive nexus of haunted old home out of Scooby-Doo and straight up crack house.

"We would have gotten away with it, too, if it wouldn't have been for you meddling kids..."

Some other pics from a beautiful weekend here.

Seriously, I get to sit on my porch and see this

Gives one perspective on multiple levels.

What he means is Old Testament, Mr. Mayor, real wrath of God type stuff.

And the Buckeyes did send down their wrath upon Happy Valley, and it was good.  As was discussed by those in attendance at Joel's apartment moments after kick-off, I now deliver to world wide web the following prayer for all righteous Buckeyes to recite as needed:

Our Father, who art in heaven,

"Woody" be thy Name.

Thy touchdowns come.

Our defence's will be done,

On earth as it is in the 'Shoe.

Give us this day at least 50 points.

And forgive us our turnovers,

As we punish those who trespass into our redzone.

And lead us not into the Outback Bowl,

But deliver us Roses.

For thine is the Scarlet,

and the Grey, and the golden pants,

for ever and ever.

Amen.

Props to Joel; that's the kind of prayer I can get behind.

Past Pics

Still learning about all the things we can do on this blog, and how to fully take advantage of all the cools thing we can do on the web.  This photo is a collage I made with some pics taken on my iPhone last summer, before we officially moved to the farm.  You can check out some other iPhone pics here.  Already this pic makes me miss the warm summer nights on the farm.

Entry with "holes" in floor

Office with new beam to support upstairs bath floor - closet removed

West pasture w/ geothermal hump

Field between west pasture and house (lilac grove on left) - more geothermal leavings

Geothermal hump where it comes into house (cellar)

Upstairs bath - closet removed

OK - For all of you wonderful and loyal followers of our blog clamoring for pictures, hope this meets the need. Unfortunately, most of what's going on is "behind the scenes": electrical and plumbing under the floor, as well as insulation - new electrical panels, sockets, and some recessed lights (not here yet). The contractors have left for the day, so no pictures of the insulated crawl. I'll try to get some tomorrow. HOWEVER, here's an interesting look at the removed closets. We knew it would make an amazing difference to have those huge dark things gone, but WOW! Really, the rooms are SO MUCH brighter and bigger. If you haven't already been told, the hacks who added the upstairs bathroom actually cut the floor joists in the upstairs bath to accommodate the most horrendous plumbing job known to man. The hideous downstairs closet (which was VERY sturdily built -- thankfully!), has been bearing the weight of the upstairs bathroom floor - YIKES! So, the beam you see in the office has been gouged into the wall's mortar/brick to rectify the situation and the closet has finally been removed :-). The floor tearing up to do all the insulation, electrical and plumbing in the crawl is probably not as dramatic as you might have thought. It's just two spaces in each room, downstairs. I only took a picture of one, the entry, but you get the idea. For you who haven't seen, please note the new paint job in the entry and office. I also included pictures of the previously referenced geothermal...humps. Just dirt mounds, now. I wasn't able to catch them in progress - hectic day of dog escape, Farmer Brown incident, and travel. Then I was gone the next day. So, I'm afraid humps are all we have left.

Hard Time

No real reason for the post, just waiting to wrap things up at work and I was finally able to pull this pic off my iPhone.  This is Grommet just prior to being rescued.  Funny little dog.  She's nimble as all get out, can squirt through a hole half her diameter, and climbs hay bales like a spider monkey.  Pretty sure she's a mouser, too, which is nice.  Helps to counter the million other things she does of which we DON'T approve!

Phase I

Quick run-down of the work going on right now:

• Geothermal heat (more accurately called geoexchange or earth energy)
  Progress: hundreds of feet of coiled flexible piping has been buried roughly 4 feet below ground in the west pasture, and the terminals have been inserted through the house walls of the cellar, waiting to be connected to the heat pump.  I think the heat pump goes in once the duct-work is retrofitted and the boiler removed.
• Crawl space insulation
  The foundation of our house is basically monster-ass wood joists sitting atop stone.  There is a uniform 16 inches of space beneath our floors and the earth, and nothing between us and the cold air other than the tongue in groove hardwood floors.  The sub-flooring insulation will keep cold out in the winter and in during the summer.
• Stall Mucking
  Mmmmmm, this was tasty.  We borrowed a friend's Bobcat and dug out several years' (if not decades') worth of compressed dirt, straw/hay, and manure.  The main animal courtyard was burried in roughly five (5) inches of this stuff, three (3) of those inches hard as wood.  It was all that Bobcat could do to break that stuff up into plates and load it into the pick-up...which I then drove to the field and dumped into 5 big piles that resemble the dinosaur poop from Jurrasic Park.

On the horizon:  new garage, barn restoration; kitchen/master bath remodel; perimeter fencing

Happy Halloween!

Say hello to the first Jack o' Lanterns at F1E! Each one represents a different event here at the farm. From left to right: Jason opening his credit card bill; Jessica talking to Farmer Brown; Jessica and Jason watching Farmer Brown pedal for his life with Luna on his heels; and finally Farmer Brown, himself, pedaling furiously with Luna hot on his heels.

We made our first Halloween at the Fort a productive one. Jessica stained a slew of pickets, and stuffed approximately 14 sacks with hay for insulation in the dog house, while I mended fences (literally, not metaphorically, lest the followers of the Farmer Brown saga get the wrong idea) and gates. After setting the Jack o' Lanterns ablaze, we settled in and watched the best horror flick I've seen in a long time. The flick was "Oregon vs. USC", and it told the story of an evil and arrogant football team which was brutally murdered in the dark, secluded nether regions of the Pacific northwest. If you like hard-core gore, senseless infliction of agonizing pain, long, drawn-out torture scenes, and seeing the bad guy get it in the end, then I highly recommend this flick.

Canine Update

As promised, pics of the new pups. Grommet is a two-year old amalgam of dachshund NOS (not otherwise specified), fearlessness, and sweetness. She loves sunbathing and exploring tight spaces, like those found under the porches and barns. Mowgli remains a mystery. He is in every was clumsy, clueless, and uncertain. He seems content either with the pack or lost on his own somewhere on the farm. His body is so loosey-goosey one wonders how self-locomoti0n occurs. At times he is pleasant, often he is a pest. The jury is out on this guy. Regardless, he and Grommet seem to be restoring Luna's sanity, which was their intended function. Given their efficacy in this regard, their acquisition is roaring success!

Did you know goats bite?

They don't, actually, but they do sream like hell.

For over two hours yesterday Jessica and I endured a relentless cacophony of demonic bleats and spasmodic flurries of tiny-hoofed fury, as we made our first attempt at goat shearing. To the objective observer it must have looked like a grizzly combination of mixed martial arts and satanic ritual. We stepped-on, tied-up, head-locked and body-slammed anything with hooves.

In the end we snatched victory from the shears of defeat, and we smote goat ruin on the pasture-side. After the carnage we stole from the battlefield with the spoils from our conquest: one burlap sack filled with roughly two pounds of dirty goat hair; as well as every shred of goat dignity poor Lilly and Lotus had managed to accumulate thus far in their heretofore peaceful lives. If barnyard animals are coif conscious, then our poor goats' immediate futures will surely hold humiliation of untold measure.

This is how we hoped it would go. This is how it went. To be fair to us, it was our first time. I'm sure the goats pray it was our last. Sadly, for them, Jessica has already commissioned the building of a goat alter shearing table for next year.

Barn at dawn

Greetings from F1E. More to come soon. We added to the family yesterday, welcoming Grommet and Mowgli (MOH-glee) to the dog pack. Luna is (thus far) very happy!