I still have it!

I spoke rashly the other day when I made the statement, "Of all the things I've lost, I miss my enthusiasm the most."  
How easily some things are overlooked!  

2nd iris of the year, a red one.

Every morning when I go out at the crack of dawn to check on the blooming and growing things, I find my enthusiasm.  How exciting it is to see a huge bloom on an iris that has never bloomed here before!  Or to walk beside the garden and realize the potatoes need to be hilled and know we'll be having peas and new potatoes in no time.  
The hummingbirds are back full force now, fighting amongst one another like so many wayward siblings.  I can't look at them without smiling.  
A loudmouth male oriole has been hitting the hummingbird buffet several times a day, and yesterday I noticed he had a girl friend who was enjoying the grape jelly I put out for them.  One thing about that male oriole:  He can't seem to keep his mouth shut when he's enjoying his grub, and I can hear him squawking no matter what room I'm in, with the windows open.  Folks, this is exciting stuff!  The trouble is, orioles are very skittish, so I can't make any sudden moves or noise inside the house or they fly away.  You should see me, turning off lights and sneaking like an idiot to the window to watch them.  
And then there's Jody, my calf.  She's eating grain and chewing her cud and grazing, apparently past the danger of scours now.  I won't worry about her while I'm in the hospital next week; I think she's outgrown the need for an hourly poop inspector.  All I have to do is have someone feed her while I'm gone.  
Yesterday I noticed that the same people from whom I purchased Jody have eight more heifers for sale; their Craigslist ad gave me information about my calf that I didn't have before:  
Jersey/holstein cross heifer bottle calves. Last 8 heifer calves of the season available Monday afternoon. Straight from a grass based dairy where the cows are producing 10,000 lbs milk with 5% fat test on just 1 lb of grain per day. If you are looking for a nice heifer to raise as a family cow, now is the time to buy!

*Most of the bull calves are spoken for, but if you want one to raise along with a heifer we can sell you one for $120.
Heifers are $275 and bulls are $120 each. Cash only, Please. 

Now I know more about Jody's past, and my enthusiasm once again rises to the surface.  

I read the ad to Cliff, and he sounded enthusiastic too.  "But I hate to get another one without you being here to take care of it and watch it next week," he said.  

I told him I don't want another calf right now.  For one thing, we'd have to make another pen; if you put two bottle calves in a pen together they suck on any bodily part of one another they can get to, usually the naval area or the little immature udders (which can ruin a milk cow's udder in the future).  But here's the thing:  one calf is a pet.  I can spoil her and halter-train her and thoroughly enjoy her.  More than one calf starts turning into a job.  

Jody is already part of the herd; ever since I got her, Bonnie and Clyde make it their business to come right up close to her pen to lay down and chew their cuds; cows are not loners, and they have already accepted Jody as one of them.  

So yes, I do have enthusiasm.  I just take it for granted and forget I have it sometimes.  I may be soured on the human race, but God's handiwork never leaves me bored.
  

Why I'm gardening this year

I've heard talk on the news about the rising popularity of home gardens; some are calling it "recession gardening".

That has little to do with why I decided to go back to gardening, in spite of my low energy level these days and in spite of knee pain.

I've always tried to at least have a few tomatoes, even in I planted nothing else. Because the only way to get a good tomato is to grow it yourself. That's been difficult because of the blight, but most years I've managed.

Last year Cliff and I started a garden, but in the hustle-bustle of acquiring our trailer house and all that was involved in that process, the garden went to ruin... rather like my Farm Town garden on Facebook, when I don't tend it soon enough.

Once we were settled in back here behind the barn, a few bushes and trees were purchased. Then I ordered tulip bulbs and dug up some of the iris and peonies in our old yard to plant here.

I had forgotten the little miracles that occur when you are planting and growing things... the excitement of waking every morning and walking the premises to see what new thing transpired overnight. A resurrection of my spirit took place when things started to grow and flourish here.

Cliff and his sister have a garden behind the rental place this year: Cliff likes that area because "if it grows up in weeds, nobody sees it".

True. But if it doesn't grow up in weeds, nobody, including me, sees it either. Out of sight, out of mind. So? It grows up in weeds! This illustrates why Cliff and I cannot garden together and keep our marriage intact. Another for instance: Cliff thinks tomato plants should be from six to ten feet apart, so you can get at the tomatoes from all angles without rubbing against the nasty plants. I, like Mother Nature, abhor a vacuum when it comes to dirt. Bare dirt is necessary between the rows in a garden (unless you employ the Ruth Stout method), but I like to keep it to a minimum, so my soil doesn't wash away or blow away.

Cliff plowed up a space for me, practically in our front yard, and I'm back in the gardening business. I brought in a long, white radish a while ago from my second radish planting; the first ones didn't do well, but these are looking good. The little row of lettuce is supplying us with enough harvest to have wilted lettuce every single day. The tomatoes I started in the house last winter from seeds are looking quite healthy outside and growing daily.

I've recovered that wonderful trait called enthusiasm, something I thought I'd lost with age.

Whether it lasts is anybody's guess. Maybe with the heat of summer the excitement will wear off and Cliff's worst fears (a garden growing up in weeds) will come to pass.

But for now, I'm just glad I'm able to get this much pleasure out of living, growing things.

Miracles are happening outside, every day.

Enthusiasm

I notice, as I grow older, enthusiasm has waned. I can go for days without getting excited over anything. That's why I so enjoy taking my dog, Sadie, on walks: She gets such a thrill over a good run in the pasture, and the adventure of chasing a stick, that I can experience her joy vicariously. Could this be why many of us older people get so silly about our pets? Because rambunctious dogs and playful kittens remind us of the exuberance of our youth, and how we used to feel?

Lately, I do seem to have my own burst of enthusiasm, but it still has to do with an animal.

It's my filly, Libby. I only bought her because I thought it would be fun to have a young horse around. I go through spells where I miss babies of any variety.
And since horse prices are at an all-time low, and my grandson is lately breaking and training horses, I figured the most I had to lose was $150, and maybe I'd have some fun with this girl... and Arick, my grandson, could be the one to take any risks riding her, when the time comes.

Several years ago I bought a yearling filly I thought I could work with, and we ended up selling her at a sale barn, at a loss. She never really warmed up to me. I couldn't even catch her. I've learned a lot from Mark Rashid's books, and probably if I could go back and do things over, it would be different (I've learned the number one secret at working with horses is plenty of patience and lots of time).

A couple years ago my daughter kept an Arabian gelding here, and I tried my hand at straightening him out. He was a head-tosser with a tendency to rear. I took my last ride on him on Mother's Day, 2005, when he reared up and came over backwards on my leg. I was sore for weeks, but thank God no permanent damage was done. So you'd think I would have given up on young horses. (This was after my introduction to Mark Rashid's books, by the way.)

Libby responds to everything I do with her. You can see her trying to figure out how to please me. Working with her has been most rewarding. But I take no credit for this little lady's manners: She came to me with a good attitude, and a desire to befriend everyone.

I kiss my horses on that soft, velvet part of their noses. Cliff thinks that's just plain nasty, but I can't help it. It's what I do.

When I first got Libby and tried to kiss her nose, it seemed to scare her. She'd jump and pull her head back as though she thought I was going to bite her. So every time I brought her in to work with her, I'd get in her face and make kissing noises until she allowed me to kiss her. Now, when she sees me leaning my head down, she extends her nose toward me, meeting me halfway for the kiss.

When Cliff and I take our morning walk, Libby meets us. When the people who board horses here go out to get their steeds, Libby is the official greeter. This isn't a result of anything I've done, because the prior owners said that's how she was at their house.

Funny thing is, they said she was never handled until she was five months old, after they sold her mother. For her first training session, they had to corner her in a barn to catch her, and literally drag her around until she submitted to being led.

Unbelievable.

Libby has not refused to do anything I've asked of her.

She has given me back my enthusiasm. She is the best Christmas gift ever.