Curb Appeal....

[~Sam~]

It's been a busy two weeks down here on the farm. I'm officially a Land Lady since Sunday. A nicer young couple and their three children, you won't find anywhere. I think that the cottage, itself, did the calling to these folks.

Now that they're settling in, and the chaos of changes-yet-to-come have come and gone, I can retreat, again, into my privacy.

It wasn't like this the weekend before last though. That weekend I was mildly freaking out. The very first inquiry we had about renting the cottage was from a woman and her boyfriend... a DEA agent. They "seemed" very interested in the place, who wouldn't be? And what could I say about his chosen profession except; "Oh... cool." I had advertised in a local paper, and I was obliged to follow the discrimination laws dictated by housing regs. So, we had them over for a buffalo steak B-B-Q to discuss the terms of the lease.

I'm looking at this guy over the top of my glasses... trying to figure out just where he's coming from. When we showed these people the cottage for the first time, we walked them around and then we left them alone in the place to talk among themselves. Mind you, we don't have a goddamned thing to be paranoid about here... but these agent types are so damned invasive of privacy and personal space that it makes my skin crawl.

We told them, as they were leaving the cottage three days before this, to just pull the door closed and I would come back and lock the place up again. When I did, I found the lightcover from an undercupboard light we had just put up, lying on the counter. I thought this a tad-bit passingly strange, but I put the cover back on the light and went my way... talking out loud to myself all the while I was in the cottage. Saying things like; "OK you mothers... I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing here spying on an old lady... wasting the tax payer's bucks. You all can just go thump your dummies, cause all I deal with here is hay and grain."

All throughout their visit, the guy would get up continuously and walk around Our place here... out-of-my-sight, and it was getting to me sort of small time.

Then they left. Next day, she calls me to tell me to go ahead and show the house to other people, that there was "no Com" (we have no cell phone sevice here in the valley)... and that milage from the cottage to his work was 7 miles over the allowed milage in his "G" car. I had already made the decision to show the cottage to others on Sat. night after they left, and I was hoping for just the outcome that happened.

But get this... After her phone call, later that same Sunday afternoon, Ken and I are walking down the road to check on the house. We hear this Wankel engine sports car come down Sam's Hill. We turn around to look at the car, it comes down the road to where we're standing, and guess who's in the passenger seat? Yup. Her. And another guy who's oh, so very obviously a cop... but she tells us that he's a "Spa Guy." I thought to myself, "I was born in the afternoon, but it wasn't Yesterday afternoon."

So, we let her show this "spa guy" the inside of the cottage. As they were leaving, we told them to lock the door and pull it closed. They left, and Ken and I walked back to our place to spend some time with the horses.

Next day, I go over to check on the place. The door is wide opened, and that light cover, which I had put back up very securely, was lying on the counter again. Curiouser and curiouser.

But, it's over... and we have fine folks in there now. But if "You Guys" are still interested in this tired old woman... I say still; "Go Thump Your Dummies."

I'll continue with "Curb Appeal" below.............

[~Sam~]

During that B-B-Q, the storm clouds were rolling in heavy. Raven was still the only horse we had, and by himself out there in the pasture he gets spooked by T-storms. So I went out to the barn, got his halter and lead rope, and trod my way down to the pasture to bring him in.

Should have left him there... but I didn't. As an Old Farm Wife once told me; "If my Foresight was as good as my Hindsight, I'd be better off by a Damnedsight."

As I'm leading Raven up the hill to the barn, lightning flashes directly overhead. When the thunder followed the flash, Raven jumped sideways towards me and stepped on my barefoot. Damn, damn, double damn. So now I'm limping around here with a couple broken bones in my toe and squashed joint where the toe meets the foot. No pain meds... I go under the pain and release my own endorphines, but pain still breaks through a little stronger than before so I know I'm healing.

That was two Saturdays ago. The following two Tuesdays ago, A friend and I brought Precious to live here with us. Horse People are kinda funny. Seems like nothing ever gets done in the time frame allegated to the chore. You always have to stand around and talk about some experience or give some piece of advice before you get started. That was what happened that day. But, after the necessary delays, we hitched the horse trailer to my truck, and loaded Precious. Only to have to back her out immediately. It seems that the paper wasps had made their nest directly over where her head would be tied. What a disaster that would have been for the mare. And after my friend sprayed the nest with water and knocked it out of the trailer, we loaded Precious again and were on our way home.

Raven and Precious are getting along surprisingly well. He gets some Awesome Air Time when he rears and bucks as he's chasing her around the field. No physical contact, just poses and threats... as my friend says; "good Horsey action."

She, my friend, and I spent a couple of hours in the pasture with the two horses, when Ken finally came home. It's interesting to note here that Raven has chosen Ken as 'His person'. Not a thing to do about that. And I like it fine. My friend trains, drives and races Trotters, and has offered to train Raven to drive. This would be Perfect! Kenny is not able to ride, and I can picture us out on the trail... him, driving behind Raven in a step-in cart... and me riding Precious bareback. Precious doesn't have an "accelerator". She was born and raised at the track. Taught to drive, but not to ride. I hopped up on her the other day in the pasture and she sort'a hung her head, turned it sideways to look up at me on her back, and said quite distictly, "OK, so now what are you doin' up there, huh?" But she doesn't know the leg signals for "Go". She said, "Why are you squeezing me? I don't know what you want." But after a few clucks and kisses, she did walk around, me up on her back holding on to a hank of mane, around the pasture at a very slow walk. That's the speed I likes... Slow. I know why her name is Precious. She has been nothing but precious since the day she hit the ground. And she Likes me! I guess you could say that Ken and I each have our own horses now. And that suits me just fine.

Came the time to put both horses in their stalls that Tuesday. I haltered Raven first, while my friend held Precious on a lead not far behind. I had turned my back on Raven, thinking to tie his rope to the gait, while I took the mare in first. Quick as lightning... he bit me on the back of my arm. It was a nasty bite, and I turned around instantly to look to see if blood was spurting from my arm and Raven was spitting a piece of my flesh out of his mouth. Just badly bruised, but in three seconds, I turned around and popped him squarely in his nose. He was nibbling on Ken's arm a few days ago, and when he made to bite Ken, he pulled his head back fast. Guess I had made an impression on him.

As with training any species of critter... it's important to Not get angry. Yes, I popped him. But I let the matter drop then and there. It's over, lesson learned, and now let's get on to the next matter at hand.

I don't know. These two young boys I have, Raven and Cody, definitely are possessed of a sense of humor. Rough play. They're both big boys, they both bite, and damn it all anyhow, they both have a penchant for trying to step on my feet.

Cody steps on my broken foot atleast 12 times a day. He's four and half months old now and weighs 50 lb. I had often wondered why I was constantly warned to watch my feet. The sign Pisces, of which I am one, governs the feet, and Pisceans are especially susceptable to injuries of their footsies. Go figure.

OK. Having already told you of my trip to southern Virginia last Friday, in another thread, ... I'll skip it. And, you know also that while I was away, Ken rented the cottage. Nuf said.

Having had only about an hours sleep that Friday to Saturday, I napped while Ken had to go to the office. When he got home that Sat. afternoon, we went to town to get Lease Agreements from Staples, marrow bones for Cody, and Movies for us. Our TV is still non-functional since lightning struck the satellite dish in May.

When we got back home, we passed a group of four kids walking on the road. I got weird vibes from them as we passed, and made a mental note to keep my eye on them as they passed through our place.

You see... a Road Runs Through It. And that's where "Curb Appeal" enters this thread...........

[~Sam~]

Curb Appeal ??? I got yer frickin' Curb Appeal.

Like I said, I had gotten a strange vibe from these kids as we passed them on the road. Ken and I took the lease packet and marrow bones into the house, and I went out to throw some grain and hay around. I gave Cody a bone, and thought him busily chewing away on it, so I left him on the back porch as I went out the front door.

As I crossed the road to the barn, those kids had just reached a place by the guard rail where they had a good veiw of the horses in the pasture. I wouldn't have minded so much if they just took a quick look and moved on. But they made themselves real comfortable like there by the rail. Laughing and giggling in a not so nice way. Pissed me off, it did.

Going to my truck and leaning on the hood... I stared hard at them. They knew I was doing it because they kept on looking at me and a giggling to themselves in the nasty way kids have.

Let me take this opportunity to tell you of Old Time Farm Manners. You see, if a farmer notices that his neighbor had just purchased a new cow or bull, he doesn't stop by the fence to gawk at it. He goes up to his neighbor's door, knocks on it, and Waits to be asked if he'd like to look at the "New Cow or Bull".

Having been raised with these manners, the kid's action seemed genuinely wrong to me. After all, how would they like it if I was walking along the road, noticed that they were having a family picnic in Their backyard, and I stood by the fence and gawked at Them? They wouldn't, I can guar-an-damned-tee you that.

An my horses Are my family. They're standing in my backyard, enjoying their liberty. If they had come to the barn and asked if they could look at my critters, chances are I would have bored them silly with all kinds of information they didn't want or need. But they didn't.

So.... Sam, being the mad dog bitch that she is... Snarled, growled and was otherwise down-right unfriendly to them. I've had enough experience with kids looking over a fence at my animals. First it's just looking. Then, when they become bored with watching the animals just standing there... they start to throw stones to make the critters move. Then it's bigger stones. Perhaps the next time that they wander down here without adult supervision, it's food they're throwing over the fence... food that will make my critters sick. It's happened before, and I don't want it happening again.

They got smart-assed with me then, and I told them point blank; "Your're fucking with the wrong person here, kids."

Then, one of them tells me; "I'm not a kid, I'm a parent accompanying my children." Well how the hell was I supposed to know? They were all of the same height and rolly-polly roundness. And she says; "What do you think, you own the road?"

At that point, I realized that any other words would have been pointless, so I turned around and went back into the barn to divy out grain. I'm in the grain room... and Ken yells out to Cody... who had turned into a black streak running up Sam's Hill after these people. And out I go... grain scoop full of grain in my hand, calling after Cody to "Come".

Can't say I didn't deserve the limping walk up that hill with my broken foot. Can't say it at all. But the group was laughing and playing with my pup all the way up to the third telephone pole that marks the end of our property. Saying; "Just ignore her." and giggling in that fat little giggle all the way.

They did stop though, at that pole. And I was able to get Cody's attention by slapping my thigh. I said, in a voice that they could hear, and nicely..."Thanks for stopping." He came running back to me, and I rewarded him with "Good Boy's" all the way down the hill and into the barn, where I put a bridle rein on his collar to keep him in one place.

It grates on me to have to have a farm dog on a leash. But if that's what it takes, then that's what it takes until he matures enough to understand things like territory... And this is his.

I kinda feel like I'm living through Burl N. Corbett's book; "A Haven From Violence." A book about city folk and new housing developments taking over rural Pennsylvania, not too far from here. I thought I had understood the dilemma's that Burl had described within, but I really didn't have a clue until our immediate area began to have hobbit's mounds all over the place. (New building sites) Damned Hobbits.

I stayed pissed for hours after the confrontation. Thinking all those things I could have said... after the fact. You know what I'm talking about... all those really cool, smart replies, that seem to evade your tongue while you're actively arguing.

Anyways... I do hope that I've made my "Curb Appeal" strikingly evident to those who walk the Road that Runs Through Here... "A crazy old woman lives in that house at the bottom of Sam's Hill. She growls at children. She may even bite."

Have a Good One Folks,

Sam

http://www.hipgallery.com/photopost2/data/500/638Raven_Precious_08-04-04.jpg
Raven and Precious... taken from where my truck is parked. The road and guard rail are off to your right, about 30 feet.

[oldwolf]

Yah - and that's why I like the hollow - no way in, unless on purpose - no road running by -ceptin I 390 (LOL) - and we're planning on trees and even closing the mouth of the hollow to block both sight and sound... But who knows what time will bring.

Enjoy reading your posts and hoping that round heads and pointy heads can still get along even when words are let slip - the intent that goes beyond the moment, the Who of which we Are must govern our connections.

My love to you and Ken

Blessing to you both and Wholeness be yours.



We enhance the quality of Existence
We fulfill our potential in a manner beneficial to All
We seek Full Awareness, Total Cooperation
and Complete Union with our GodSelf

Surrounded by Love........Mind Creates the concept
Full of Love...................Desire provides the motivation
Channels of Love............Doing is the test
One with Love

Life is an opportunity and becomes what you make of it

May the Light of Love ever Guide your Way
Grow on ... Enjoy !

Peace Blessings
Love

oldwolf
nomadhermit@hotmail.com (nomadhermit@hotmail.com)
Waysharer@yahoo.com (Waysharer@yahoo.com)

[~Sam~]

Well... knock me over with a feather. btw, that feather is from a Scarlet Macaw. A bird of water... even if the water is from the rain forest. And I did say that it smelled of petshop food.

The road traffic Is annoying, but... it really isn't all that much. We are very rural, and if 20 cars go through here at peak travel time, that's a lot. Don't like any traffic, but this valley is water rich, and tree blessed, with lots of alone space to get lost in. And having traveled extensively around the US in my early 20's, I've found that this truly is the best place on earth... IMHO.

I think that you have more heavy, clickity-klackity noise from I-390, as I recall. But those trees should help.

And let me ask you something. What's a true friend really about, if'n we can't shout and jump up and down and yell at each other when it counts? Then let it all pass and still remain friends.

Like I told you before, I'm not a supplicant... and you're preachin' to the choral director... but I'm sneakin' down the loft stairwell to smoke a cigarette.

Love Ya Bro. Best wishes to Aireal.

Sam

http://www.hipgallery.com/photopost2/data/500/638Spirit_-_Rain_Maker.jpg
Let all be as water over or under the dam.