Every night,
Every night, I ask myself the same question: how did it get to be ten o’clock already? Yet a mere four hours earlier, when I notice the time I luxuriate in the knowledge that I still have a full evening to myself, to do whatever however I feel like doing it. And then it all slips away. At ten, I start worrying about how and when to go to bed, even on weekends; if I miss my window of feeling tired, my system cranks up again into a second wind, and then I’m full on again until after midnight. Which shouldn’t matter on weekends, but it does, if I tinker with my sleep habits too much (staying up late! sleeping in late! fun!) I wind up migrained and malaised. It seems worse on days like today, overcast, gray, bleah.
Spent the day helping Christine and AJ on the farm, doing clean up projects like spreading manure, seed and mulch hay on the newly opened up section of yard which was left after the hay shed and miscellaneous implements were skidded/slid/dragged and tucked away on the far corner of the property, near the slowly emerging sand arena. We spent some time picking rocks out of it, and once A showed Tony how to run the new tractor, he began work on carving out the unfinished portion of the arena. The goal is to eventually have a level, slightly sunken riding ring that won’t cause water to drain into the pasture, while not letting it just collect and stand in the ring, either. Ah, swales.
The best part about life in northern New England (aside from the eternal cycle of neverending winter, mud season, black fly season, ceaseless rainy season, one month of 98 degree weather, cold and rainy, then back to neverending winter again) is the endless supply of rocks that keep coming out of every paddock and riding arena you attempt to build. We spent some time picking rocks out of the paddocks before C scraped the far paddock level using the tractor scoop. Notice I’m limited to mostly picking rocks and never even get near the tractor, except for the time A picked me up in the scoop, drove into the garage and pinned me to the rafters. Fun fun!
[God help me, right now I’m watching the Nascar all star race and laughing at Darrell Waltrip commercials while nattering on about farm work. I’ve made the transition from college-educated desk jockey to hayseed hick in no time at all. Well, dip me some chaw and call me Cletus!]
We finished up by tearing down one of the walls inside the shed to make even more room for the hay we’ll be buying for the year. With four horses now we’ll have to nearly double the amount from last year’s haul. I helped Christine with the evening chores, and spent some quality time with my two horses, particularly with Keane, as he’s just a weanling I need to do short lessons and constant reviews of leading and handling. Two horses! I never imagined when I gave up my last horse after being divorced as a young, struggling college student that I’d have such an abundance of horse flesh. But those’re also stories for another day.
Spent the day helping Christine and AJ on the farm, doing clean up projects like spreading manure, seed and mulch hay on the newly opened up section of yard which was left after the hay shed and miscellaneous implements were skidded/slid/dragged and tucked away on the far corner of the property, near the slowly emerging sand arena. We spent some time picking rocks out of it, and once A showed Tony how to run the new tractor, he began work on carving out the unfinished portion of the arena. The goal is to eventually have a level, slightly sunken riding ring that won’t cause water to drain into the pasture, while not letting it just collect and stand in the ring, either. Ah, swales.
The best part about life in northern New England (aside from the eternal cycle of neverending winter, mud season, black fly season, ceaseless rainy season, one month of 98 degree weather, cold and rainy, then back to neverending winter again) is the endless supply of rocks that keep coming out of every paddock and riding arena you attempt to build. We spent some time picking rocks out of the paddocks before C scraped the far paddock level using the tractor scoop. Notice I’m limited to mostly picking rocks and never even get near the tractor, except for the time A picked me up in the scoop, drove into the garage and pinned me to the rafters. Fun fun!
[God help me, right now I’m watching the Nascar all star race and laughing at Darrell Waltrip commercials while nattering on about farm work. I’ve made the transition from college-educated desk jockey to hayseed hick in no time at all. Well, dip me some chaw and call me Cletus!]
We finished up by tearing down one of the walls inside the shed to make even more room for the hay we’ll be buying for the year. With four horses now we’ll have to nearly double the amount from last year’s haul. I helped Christine with the evening chores, and spent some quality time with my two horses, particularly with Keane, as he’s just a weanling I need to do short lessons and constant reviews of leading and handling. Two horses! I never imagined when I gave up my last horse after being divorced as a young, struggling college student that I’d have such an abundance of horse flesh. But those’re also stories for another day.
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