The Arches

This morning Randall opened up the new site for the yellow BlueBird school bus - up the road and around the corner. It is a special space of arching osage orange trees, and in the evening light it is quite magical.

Rock Fence Trail

This morning Randall created a new trail along the rock fence that marks my boundary with Bob, up to the top of the hill on the left above the pond. The trail begins at the top of the small field that will make an amazing place for a large red sculpture. The trail ends in a lovely gladed area where I will put a picnic table. Isn't this a great colour!

Just before tax day!

So much has happened since January.

1. Swash disappeared without trace.
2. Rex died in the barn for no good reason
3. A very old goat lay down and could not get up again. I nursed him for two weeks. Allen and Shelly gave him antibiotics, and vitamins with an intravenous drip. I gave him an anti-worming med. Nothing helped. He just could not get up. Finally I took him to Doc Walker in the back of the pick-up, and he administered a lethal injection. I went home for lunch. After lunch I was about to take the goat to Nashville for an autopsy when I heard him bleating from the back of the truck. I think he was saying "I'm not dead yet." Doc Walker told me to bring him back and the second time he died peacefully. The autopsy showed he had caprine arthritic encephalitis, with lesions in his nerve pathways. That's why he couldn't get up. It can get passed to young kids by the mother. Mostly it affects old goats ... Sibnce then we have had four new goarts, one of which disappeared.

 4. I got a new puppy from Bob's, next door. He is one of a litter of six abandoned in Estelle's rental house, with mixed half Great Pyr and half farm-dog. Bob caught him first. Then he escaped. Then Zach caught three of the pups and I brought him back to the barn. I gave him a 20' tie line with access to the barn, and the goats, to get him used to everything. On the eight day he tangled up the line and pulled out of the collar. But he decided to stay, and yesterday he was running with Zip. Training! And genes. He will be huge when he grows up. I have called him Sox, after an old dog of my Grandad's. He had the same smell as Sox I (not just generic doggie).



5. At the weekend I bought a 1985 BlueBird yellow school bus, 90 seater. It will be delivered on Friday. At the moment it is a fantasy space. Play space for Oscar? Another writing space? An American icon.

 6. On Sunday, Jana Harper's Image and Text class came and installed the first phase of Wordscape.
Here are some of the word-signs in the truck.

J.L.Austin: "There will be no books in the running brooks until the advent of hydrosemantics."

But check out Ian Hamilton Finlay's Little Sparta.

January Kid

He/she is the cutest little creature. Born probably last night. Why do they give birth in below zero weather? Could it really be that it's a selection principle. The first hurdle: survive bitter cold. Sibling sadly dead.

Water water everywhere

We are made mostly of water. And yet water outside of us needs constant negotiation. This is what happens when you leave tap dripping to stop the pipe freezing. Inside the cabin there is ice flooding. Heaters and towels everywhere with the sinks and shower pan blocks of ice.
I hope everything is not ruined.

At  midnight last night as I was retiring for the night I discovered there was no water in the bathroom sink. Then there was a snap and a sound of rushing water. The pipe had burst and was gushing into the basement. I turned off the water and went to sleep. Joe and Cathy came round in the morning and mended all four broken pipes under the two sinks. We are so dependent on heat, electricity, water ... and when one goes (like Heidegger's broken hammer) the depth of our dependency becomes visible. So much of our lives we are walking on high scaffolding.

Joe Davenport came to feed the dogs etc this morning and on leaving reported we had a new arrival. One live goat and sadly one dead one. I went to buy more straw for bedding in the stall, and some proper goat food and then headed up. There was still umbilical cord dangling from mom, but the dead goat seemed stiff. I reckon they were born last night (when the pipes burst?). I got the young'un into the stall and having trapped three  goats in the central area by the promise of dog food, finally coaxed mom into the stall, with yet another goat, and finally then let that third one out. Force just doesn't work. Food and guile are the only paths to success. And then a big bowl of . . . . water, of course.