Red Paint

We decided to paint everything red to match the barn and the ground has turned the same red with all our efforts. My ankles are red, hands and legs. Even the pool skimmer is turning red.

It looks amazing and I'm tempted to paint the ground green where we hoped the grass would have grown by now, but instead - it's red.

Brent painted for days. He was full of paint and choking on it steady, so give him a good pat on the back to clear his lungs and appreciation. He's pretty amazing.

I've been working on lighting. We now have electricity out to the pool house (thanks Chuck) and to the pond. We've buried all the wires and even managed to get a flood light into a tree. I can't wait to see what it looks like at night. Unfortunately I won't be home during darktime until Friday becuase I'm working nights, so I won't get to fully evaluate the lighting until the night before the big party.

We're at the point where it's ready. We still need to do some clean up (lots and lots of clean up), but the major stuff is done and only three days before hand. Eke!

It's been a labour intensitve challange, but one that we've accepted with sore muscles and open arms. I'm looking forward to relaxing for a few days once this is all said and done.

We've managed to salvage some and make the hard decision to demolition a few unsavable pieces.

Billy worked hard today to clean out the farm animal stall and then load some steel. He helped build picnic tables at the beach on Sunday and I'm not sure he even wants to come back to finish the job on Friday.

Woofstock 2010

The farm girl hit the city on Saturday for my annual trek to the Big Smoke and Woofstock. I've never felt as comfortable or as happy as I do when attending Woofstock. A huge festival held in honour and joy of the dogs.

The twins and I travelled to Toronto on Saturday morning filled with excitement and apprehension at all the people and pets we'd meet. The streets were closed and the pavement is filled with dogs and happy human counterparts.

Gizmo and Taz slept fitfully as we passed through Burlington and Oakville without a single touch of the brakes. We didn't hit any traffic and only came to a halt on Lakeshore Rd to turn left onto Jarvis. I was heading for the underground parking garage just north of Front street in downtown.

I was nearly in a panic as I lined up with several other cars trapped in the underground garage searching for a space. After ten minutes of stop and go I spotted a pair of youngish girls and their dog piling into their car. I rolled the window down and asked if they were leaving. Yes. Yes they were! We had our spot. We waited and Taz barked excitedly at every puppy that was being loaded or unloaded.

I backed into the spot and started unloading. As I was putting the wheels on the stroller a lady pulled up beside me and asked if I wanted her parking permit – Could Woofstock get any better than free parking in Toronto? I was in for a good time.

My best pal Billy lives in Toronto and he met me at the corner of Jarvis and Front Street to begin our puppy adventure.

Gizmo was fearful, but curious and Taz was in her glory. She only barked at dogs that weighted at least one hundred and fifty pounds or more. She turned her pushed in little brown nose up at small dogs and would give a cursory “woof” to the labs and rotties. The great danes, mastiffs and other monster dogs were her favourites.

We tried to get Gizmo to walk, but he kept jumping into the stroller to watch from the safety of his bike carrier slash stroller. He felt safe and happy to ride protected from unintentional feet and intrusive noses. I had a few people make comments that a stroller for dogs was ridiculous or that my Gizmo was horribly spoiled. He deserves it. He deserves to ride warm and dry in his stroller and be able to enjoy the world. Until you walk a mile in their paws...

I had more people ask me where I got the stroller than negative comments. There were ten times as many strollers as last year and I was very comfortable walking around pushing Gizmo or leading my Princess Super Tassel Puppy Dog. I was a proud puppy mama.

Taz was delightful and full of her usual personality. She had enough personality to earn her the diva title which enabled her to have at least eight dress changes.

We found so many treasures and couldn't help but purchase a Sex in the City pink slicker complete with removable belt. Gizmo delighted in his “Born to Ride” leather studded jacked and varsity sweater. The outfits were at complete odds, but Gizmo made it work.

We stopped at lunch and I ate one of the worst pulled pork sandwiches of my life, but I was surrounded by lovely and wonderful dogs.

We did have some spotty rain, but we came prepared with raincoats (for all), an umbrella and the stroller had a rain shield. During the worse of the downpours we took shelter in one of the many concrete overhangs that litter the city.

The event ended at six and we took a brief break to enjoy a glass of wine and a beer at a local outdoor pub. The pups happily curled up in their stroller tucked under a soft fleece blanket. My smile was wide, my stroller loaded with puppies and packages and the adventure was not over.

I drove the ten minutes to Billy's apartment on the edge of Cabbagetown. We dragged everything up to the eleventh floor and collapsed joyfully on the couch with exhausted puppies at our feet. We went through our packages and recalled each adventure and purchase. We decided on thai food and waited to feed the twins until we went out to pick up the food.

On our way for food there was a homeless man who was yelling and ranting to nobody on the street. My sweet Princess Taz barked viciously at this man until he apologized for offended her delicate nature. Billy and I couldn't help but chuckle as the man had bowed and apologized to the eight pound blonde bombshell.

We watched movies, ate thai and drank wine. It was perfect.

In the morning we showered and headed to he beach to build picnic tables. Woofstock went on for another day, but unfortunately we had to cut the visit short to get ready for our big Engagement Celebration this Saturday.

After a gruelling weekend of navigating large crowds we were now building picnic tables at the beach; and Billy would finally learn how to work a chop saw.  

Bottling Wine

We bottled twelve batches of wine last week. We did six batches in just over an hour and think of ourselves as professional bottlers.

Of course, with every thing we do we think we're experts. Expert patio builders, expert pond makers, livestock husbandry and mechanics seem to be part of daily life. Not to mention heavy machinery operator, dog trainer and bunny wrangler. What a great life to live so many roles.

I'm a paramedic for money and a farmer for love. There are so many things here on the farm that hold my attention. The newly faced and painted pool house, pump house and dog fence all bringing vibrance and vitality to a neglected farm. Watching things come to life fills me with the warmth.
I am full of love each day I look out on the rising or setting sun knowing we have made this happen. Our hard work and passionate devotion have created this little bit of heaven for us here on earth. Amazing. Makes me grateful and appreciative of all the things we try, succeed and often times... fail.

The party is this Saturday. Gulp.

Fencing - Our Nemesis

We're at a point where we're starting to fix our previous fencing mistakes. Not the mistakes made by others, but our own errors in planning. There's a fair bit of fencing that we've managed to correct the past few days and it's made a huge difference in how we enjoy our new patio and backyard.

We've completely removed a section of fence and replaced this with a stretch of fence that runs in line from the house. We've put in a seven foot gate that we can open and gain direct access to the pond and the waterfall. It's mesmerizing. Friends bought us some anti-gravity chairs and I put them on the lower flagstone patio and stare at the waterfall listening to the comforting tinkle of water and feeling myself turn to liquid. This is a great way to relax, but is not over conducive to being productive.

We keep pushing posts and then pulling them out dissatisfied with their positioning. We'll wire and unwire to metal post. We fight with horse shoe nails and bent nails and nails too old to still do anything. We cut our limbs on bits of exposed fence. I can't remember my last tetanus shot as a rusty piece of fence scores an angry laceration up my calf.

Once we get the gates hung and ensure the fencing is secure we look at the last stretch of fencing to be finished. This is a thirty foot piece that is most prominent when you pull in the driveway.

We spend at least two days, possibly more discussing how we want this bit to look. Brent wants a solid sixteen foot gate so it's easy to still drive the backhoe or truck and trailer into the backyard. I want it to be manageable by one person and to look solid.

We debate, argue and finally decide that this is my project and Brent will be the saw man. I have drawn out the idea on paper and it will require quite a bit of material, but it's stuff we already have due to our great salvaging skills.

Using a six and a half by four foot piece of steel mesh that was once the table top in a greenhouse operation I use the hardwood slabs to build a frame. I build two separate gates that meet in the middle and are secured by two pieces of hardwood two by fours slid through a series of planks. It looks like it could hold in a rhino, so I think my three little under ten pound puppies will be safe (technically Poco is a whopping thirteen pounds).

I have one piece left and I'm trying to maneuver an eight foot by six and half foot wide piece of steel mesh when my finger gets caught between another piece of mesh leaning on the fence and the pain is incredible.

I can't look as I feel the exposed nerve ends firing in excitement. The drops of red blood splash in the mud and on the pavement and I squeeze my finger and try to cut out the pain.

After a few minutes and a bout of nausea I look at my damaged finger and it looks like I tried to put it through an industrial cheese grater. The skin is shredded on the one side and the finger nail is already turning a dark purple, but the most fascinating trauma is the crack that runs horizontally across the lower half of my finger nail.

Brent takes a quick look, turns pale and gets me a bandaid. I just want to cover it up so the air doesn't hurt it so much. After an appropriate pause he says "well, that's not going to be healed in time for the wedding."

I stare at him in surprise and he follows this comment up with "I guess you can just paint the skin on that finger to match the rest of your nails".

I swear I can hear him giggling as he walks away. I smile, knowing he's right. I wonder if I can paint the skin?

To date - I have yet to finish my fence line.

Taking the Backhoe for a Walk

At 6pm last night while sitting on the back patio Brent and I were looking at the fence line and decided we were against it's very existance, so at 6:30pm we started pulling it out.

We used the backhoe and a heavy eight foot chain to pull the posts and drag the old fencing away. There was a point where I was walking ahead of the backhoe holding the eight foot chain that was still hooked on the bucket of the machine and I giggled quietly to myself thinking I was walking the backhoe.

Our soft lunch break was to build a seventy square foot patio beside the pond. We had some left over stone and some left over patio stone and we figured why not? Let's build us a third patio. After enjoying the "newest" patio for at least fifteen minutes we were staring at the outbuilding that we're planning on facing tomorrow and decided we didn't like the addition.

About ten minutes after that decision we were pulling apart the attachment with the help of the backhoe. Part way through the project my dad showed up and we were both relieved to sit and enjoy an alcoholic beverage.

Sadly dad only stayed an hour and we were back at demolition. I was distracted by a wooden deck that is about seven feet long by two feet wide and I thought: Wouldn't that look awesome if we suspended in the pond as a dock? I grabbed two steel posts and waved Brent over.

I described my insane idea and instantly Brent was far more excited about our dock. We dropped the two pieces of pipe into the pond and gently placed the new dock on top of the pipe. Hmm... it was a little high in the pond side. I wonder if we pushed gently down with the hoe on the dock if it would sink slightly?

We gave it a shot and there was a loud cracking noise right before the last two boards on the dock exploded under the weight of the hoe.

Okay. Back to demolition.

We did another hour of demo before we were even close to being done. The dock was taunting me. I found a few pieces of hard wood and dragged out the saw, nail gun and fired up the compressor. I was determined to fix this damn dock!

Four boards, several nails and the backhoe in place before we were ready to move the dock. Between human and machine we muscled the dock into place and I gingerly took the first step. It felt pretty firm, but I'd be careful spending too much time until it's settled.

I spent a solid ten minutes sitting my orange chair on the dock enjoying the new view without the ugly pig shed in the way. I only got ten minutes because Brent decided he really wanted to get a pool.

No. It never really ends.