Waldo

I understand how mothers set the table for their sons missing in action - for years. Its not just to keep hope alive, but to make sure one is NOT doing something that the cosmos would take as a sign that he could now die. The 'sighting' of Buddy was a tugging of the heart-strings, but I think, an illusion born of wanting it to be true. So yesterday I took delivery of Walker, a two year old Great Pyrenees. He came in a wire kennel, covered in canvas on the back of a pick-up. He has more or less lived with goats on a farm all his life, but probably in a pen. Yesterday and today I have unsuccessfully tried to introduce him to the goats, but they always run off when he approaches, and he gives up. I will soon be very fit, hunting for goats at the far ends of the property, chasing up and down hills. They keep melting away, keeping quiet. I am going to get bells for the leaders - if I can ever catch them. (I remember those cow bells in Austria.) Meanwhile, a problem. I can't leave the dog alone and loose - he might well just follow me home, or run away. So I have to shut him in the barn, which doesn't help with the goat bonding. I got lots of feedback on Facebook about a new name. Walker won't do. I am experimenting with Waldo (from JP). Worried it might get shortened to Wally.

K9 resurrection?

Yesterday, Bob announced that Buddy had been seen somewhere along Sunny Slope Rd, clipped of his long coat. Or a dog just like Buddy. Today I posted mail boxes along the road. Could it really be, that Buddy could return from the dead, after a commemorative ceremony? Missing PRESUMED dead! And just after I had lost the phone # for the people with the Great Pyrenees, that I would have picked up on Thursday, to replace him. Watch this space.

Feast of the Hunters Moon

A small but select gathering. Perhaps what brought on the rain was the announcement that we would play cricket. Rain is then traditional. But we did mass with umbrellas to commemorate the life of Buddy, a dear friend and protector of the bush goats. We planted a black walnut - the most valuable hard wood - near where the old house once was. And beneath the tree, we stuffed farewell notes. John Llewelyn, dog-lover extraordinaire, who had met Buddy, wrote: "Thank you for your continuing joyful presence in the thoughts of your master and of all those others of us lucky enough to have known you." We checked on the ducks - still swimming as a single flotilla. And we danced to Fleetwood Mac, and Eric Clapton. When people drifted home late it was still raining.

Like a duck to water

For Beth, ducks had become old news. Of the five left after Jesse died last week, many did not even have a name. There was Artemis, and then ... It was time they left. After we perfected the art of corralling and swooping with a big net, they were soon each inside a cardboard box, and being trucked off to YB. I lined up the boxes at the water's edge, opened the flaps, and Christina shot some pictures of ducks Celebrating Freedom, shooting off across the water, with big smiles on their beaks. This morning they were still sailing around the pond, in convoy, this time with grins. They are rising up to flash their wings, splash-washing in the water, and dipping for worms. They cannot believe their luck. But then they have not yet seen (or heard of) coyotes. I hope they start frequenting the Duck Hotel moored in the middle of the pond - the Blue Zone. I used to worry about them being snatched by snapping turtles, but I was assured that these would only take young ducklings. Then today I saw the shell of a monster turtle over 15 ins long, that had fallen into a sinkhole and died. If there are more like that... I also saw a long black water snake. And Kelly said that when he lifted the straw bale out of the water, lots of orange snakes swam off. Later this was modified to brown. What do we have in the water?

Reclaiming the barn

Jay cleaned out the top floor of the red barn last week, making its lines sharper and the possibilities for 'remodeling' more visible. It is a cavernous space, some 40' square, on three different levels. The large central area could be used as a dance floor if the rough oak boards were sanded or covered. And a few steps down, there is a potential bunkhouse, about 40' x 10'. The pigeons that were roosting in the roof seem to have moved out, which is good news. Their guano line down the middle of the floor started eating into the wood. I now imagine that central space as a gallery cum seminar room, at least in clement weather. Currently it's open to the elements in various degrees, with the large loading bay in the front, and gaps between the vertical oak siding on the other walls. In the summer the gentle breeze keeps everything cool. The dutch barn design was ideal for loose hay. Now, as a barn it's obsolete. But as an architectural structure, it's pretty impressive.

But there is one problem. It still smells of goat. A little while back I fenced off most of the ground floor where they had enjoyed a free run. Today I raided unused fence-lines for 12' stock fencing, and sealed off their last gathering place. They still have the bull pen and the chicken coop for shelter. But now the barn can begin to sweeten up. One day I will clear out all the straw inside, and re-imagine the whole building. Then the dust would begin to recede too.

Welcoming the Other

I carefully planted hops and a grape vine to climb up poles from the earth onto the trellis covering the elevated front deck. The grape started climbing and then got stripped by caterpillars. One of the hops has reached about 10' and slowed down as if awaiting instructions. But something I did not plant has really taken off. It is coiling on the deck planning its takeover. Extensive googling turned up the name Cyprus Vine, and it is loved and hated because of its vigor. It has the softest fern-like leaves, and bright red five-pointed star flowers in profusion.

For Derrida true hospitality (if there is such a thing) happens when you even welcome the stranger who may destroy your house. Welcome Cyprus Vine! But I think I will keep a watch on it.

Crows 'n corn

The garden was a modest success this first year. Drought was a problem in the absence of a watering system. And open sowing faced huge challenges from local 'weeds', i.e. the plants already there. I never had time to hoe, nor the material for loose mulching. Everywhere I used landscape fabric things worked quite well. But the soil still needs improving. And only a few giant sunflowers actually made it. Zinnias were a great success - sown in the cracks of soil after weedfabric was taken up. Lots of cut flowers. Amazing basil. Lotsa squashes.

The final challenge came from four crows who descended like umbrellas with teeth on my few corn plants. And then the heirloom tomatoes. I never realised quite what a formidable problem they must be for farmers. I thought of scarecrows, but wondered whether wily crows would be deceived for long. Cheekwood has an exhibition right now. http://www.cheekwood.org/Gardens/Scarecrows.aspx

And here is Van Gogh.