No Place Like Home

We decided to hit the road this Memorial Day Weekend and head down to Southern California for a little R&R at my BFF's house this Memorial Weekend.  After a rocky trip down there and over 11 hours in the car due to a tanker explosion on the 91 FWY, we were welcomed with hugs & champagne.  You just can't beat that.  The kids played, swam and rode bikes - all the while we drank wine, sat by the pool, laughed a lot and caught up on television shows I've dearly missed (Um, I caved and had to watch the Grey's Anatomy finale and the SNL featuring Betty White!).

Hanging out with a dear friend and her family was just what the doctor ordered.  It went fast, but it was worth the long journey.  The trip home went much smoother and I'll never tire of driving up our lane, seeing our multi-colored home and outbuildings dotting the hillside and the cows roaming on the pasture behind us.  Never.  There is no place like home.

For Love of the Game

G ended his Little League season this past weekend, hitting a double and two singles and getting as many grass stains on his pants as he could.  He collected his trophy, ate pizza, performed a Pee-Wee Herman dance on first base and acquired a new nickname - Grady "The Hit Man" Hecht.  He wants to drop Salas as his middle name and asked me if that would be okay with me.  Sure, why not?  He has high hopes for the big leagues.

I'm so proud of him and how much he's learned these last few months.  It was touch-and-go there in the beginning with the short attention spans of a gaggle of seven year old boys, but they came through and I guess we'll do it all over again next Spring.

I just hope the snack bar starts selling Cadillac margaritas.

Llama Love

Part of the reason we bought this house was that there were llamas grazing in the pasture next to our potential new-to-us-home.  Seriously, this was a draw for us.  Ah, country life.  They could be seen from the room that we hoped Grady would inhabit and his mornings would be spent waking up and gazing at these wonderful creatures.  Doesn't that sound lovely?  It is.  It was.

Our sweet neighbors who own Big Tree Llama Farm have lived in Valley Ford for approximately 35 years.  They moved here when Jim (the owner) was my husband's age and Jim is now 79.  They have raised dozens of llamas over the years and every year, for the past three years, they move the llamas to our pasture on G's birthday.  Each year G forgets all about it and then he's stunned that they are back.  Last year they brought tears to his eyes upon their return and that just melted my heart.

We have many names for the llamas.  They have given names from Jim & Beulah and then they have, um, our names.  When we moved in Grady named them Grass, Farm, Black, Fur & Pete.  The names have slowly morphed over time and one, in particular, is now Hog (for her love of food), but her given name is Lotus Blossom.  She is the middle llama pictured above.

My phone rang and it was Beulah letting me know that Miss Lotus Blossom had died and she didn't want this to alarm or frighten Grady if he happened to see her body laying out in the pasture.  This news just about broke my heart.  She was 23 years old and I'm told that's a real long time for a llama.  Llamas are fierce protectors and also have this gentle presence about them.  Long and lovely eyelashes, really funky teeth and soulful eyes.  She had the alias Hog and G fed her plenty of carrots on his birthday to keep her satisfied.

We ended up picking calla lillies and putting them on the tarp that was covering her sweet little llama body (to keep the turkey vultures away, of course).  We shared memories and kind words about her, as the sun was setting on the pasture behind our house.  G pet the plastic blue tarp and asked if he could just take one last look at her face.  He told her he loved her and was sorry he called her Hog.

I'm a little haunted at the loss of life I've come to experience in my own backyard over the last few weeks.  A cow put out of its misery via one big, loud gunshot within earshot of our home; I had to kill my very injured white silkie hen named Mama (truth be told Steve had to finish that job); and now Lotus Blossom is dead.

More than ever, I am reminded of the circle of life.  We are born, we live, we die.  That's all I know for sure.  Heck, isn't that all any of us know for sure?

Mother's Day Massacre

Oreo giving me her best "you looking at me?" looks

Purdy's Welcome Home party last Summer

Well, this Mother's Day started out with a beautiful handmade card from my sweet boy, coffee delivered to me in bed by my dear husband and donuts, yogurt & granola for breakfast.  Just lovely.  Mellow, low-key and didn't even have to leave the comfort of my much-loved home.  I never seem to want to go out on Mother's Day.  I've heard from my restaurant-owning friends that it's one of their least favorite days of the year.  Lots of expectations from the moms-who-don't-feel-like-cooking-because-it's-mother's-day and a lot of stress on the staff serving her and her family of loved ones.  No. Thank. You.

When Steve left for work this morning - I followed him out and he quickly turned around and told me something horrible had happened and to get back in the house.  Two of our chickens were dead and scattered around our front yard.  Just awful news.  I quickly went to find Grady and make sure he was preoccupied in the back part of the house, so as not to encounter the dismembered hens he named Oreo and Purdy.  I did tell him what happened and the sadness immediately set in.

My husband spared me the nightmarish scene, but it didn't make it any easier to take.  Two more of my sweet little hens were dead.  The tally was up to three dead in just about a week's time.  What the eff was killing my chickens?

Grady and myself set out to make grave markers, but we didn't end up burying the two hens killed on this Sunday.  It would have been too hard for me to process on Mother's Day.  G didn't seem up for a ceremony either.  We wrote their names on smooth river rocks and then put those into the chicken run with the other living hens.  We said a few nice words and that was that.

Roamer, Oreo & Purdy are dead.  Perhaps little chicks are in our future to take their place?  I'm not so sure.  What started out as a fun little experiment to provide eggs for our family and for G to sell locally has ended up as an emotional roller coaster.  We have learned a lot about raising chickens, but I never thought I would get so attached to these crazy little hens.

I am surely going to miss them.  Rest in peace girls.

Mini Maker Faire 2010

I ran into a friend of mine Friday night who is the Director of Maker Faire.  She was kind enough to tell me about the Mini Maker Faire at Sonoma Country Day School in Santa Rosa that was taking place the very next day.  She said Grady would love it.  She was absolutely right.

I've heard of Maker Faire and Make Magazine, but I haven't had the opportunity to attend - yet.  What an amazing concept.  Makers of all kinds  (toy makers, food makers, robot makers, music makers, and on and on...) gather and show what they've got.  There are 600+ makers scheduled for this year's show in San Mateo.  It's DIY on steroids.  There is a 40 foot rocket scheduled to be on exhibit and it's all about innovation and having a damned good time while you're innovating it.  It sounds intensely smart and stimulating, as well as engaging for all ages.

At this Mini Maker Faire there were kids teaching Grady robotics, as well as a table full of computers and VCR's that he could dismantle and use the components to rebuild his very own one-of-a-kind creation (which he promptly set about to do, as pictured above).

We also attended a film (maker) festival wherein high school kids created the movies we watched.  It was fascinating and refreshing to see the potential in all of the young minds that showcased their work that day.

We left the event energized and both of us were eager to learn more about the Maker Faire coming to our neck of the woods in a few weeks.  I hope I don't find my dying DVD player reincarnated into something else.  Actually, nothing would delight me more.

M.I.A.

Well, after a full year of raising chickens one went missing today.  We were in the yard mowing & pulling weeds and our little flock of chickens were scratching the earth for bugs and following us around on a sunny, Saturday afternoon.  We got ready to go to G's game and put the girls back into their run and one was missing.  The little one pictured above, Roamer.

The white silkies are fiercely independent, like to brood and nest.  I just thought she was lost in the weeds sitting on her eggs.  I live in a fantasy world.  I came home and walked to upper field and our field, too.  No white silkie to be found.  I am hopeful that she will return to the flock.  Steve and Grady are not so sure...