Birthday Boy

Today was Goddy's birthday, and I KNEW it was his birthday and reminded myself of it last night, but still managed to neglect the magic "Happy Birthday" words until the man himself reminded me. Way to go, Gremmy.

Well, thank heaven for Max, the ultimate birthday present, and our niece Olivia and nephew Thomas. Max provided lots of opportunity for Goddy to put his considerable baby whispering talents to work.

And Livvy and Thomas came over armed with birthday cake and ample hugs. All was forgiven and we had a lovely day catching up with family.

That's what this trip is about. Reconnecting and just being. Sure, we'll see many lovely things and experience new places but mostly we want to savor long moments with family and old friends.

Birthday morning tea after a visit to a nearby bakery.

So today we spent those moments sitting on the couch sharing stories and memories, enjoying togetherness. Of course, we got so busy talking that I totally forgot the camera, but I suspect we'll see more of these young people in the days to come. Aren't we fortunate?

New Zealand to the Max

We're on our way to the newest grandbaby! But before we get there tomorrow, we've been enjoying family time.

By the ocean at Maraiti

Goddy's cousin, Dave, lives in Auckland near the airport and has been a pillar to us travelers. He gets up early to meet us at the airport, supplies us with a cup of tea and other hospitality and sends us on our way in his sturdy silver Volvo. He's done this twice now for us and also for our sons and daughters-in-law. It's a gift appreciated beyond words.








Tonight we're in Hamilton with Goddy's brother Steve and sister-in-law Peta. These two are superb cooks and since we're here between our birthdays, they put together a Kiwi nosh for us. Roast lamb and vegetables, mint sauce and gravy, and for dessert, the following amazing pie...

Avocado & Lime Pie

Base
1 packet crushed gingernut cookies
100 g (1/2) butter

Filling
Rind and juice of 2-3 limes
250 ml (1C) cream - whipped
1 avocado mashed
1/2 tin lite condensed milk

Method
Melt butter, mix with cookie crumbs and line a greased 8" pie pan or springform pan with the mixture.
Put in fridge to chill
Mix the filling and pour into the base. Chill for an hour or so before serving

I had two pieces of this, and could have had more.

There's only one hitch to this yummy pie - you'll have to wangle an invite to our place because we'll be bringing home the Gingernuts! I'll hide some in the back of the cupboard.

It's Not a Small World

I'm sitting here on our deck, looking to the west and watching the sunset. But I'd really rather be flying into that sunset and beyond, all the way to the other side of the world.

We're grandparents x5 now, with the birth of a son to Tyrel and Caroline in New Zealand. And the reality of just how far away they are is really setting in - about 14 hours travel time and 8500 miles. A bit too far to just jump in the car and go see the new bubba.

I kept thinking today, how did my mother do it? She was a long-distance grandmother to our three boys when she was my age. And she kept it up for the next 16 years. I guess you deal with what you know and create your world accordingly. My mom did an excellent job of being a grandmother in her reality.

Well, our reality is that we know what it feels like to cuddle a days-old baby and have constant updates. Curse the instant gratification mindset that we've gotten used to. We realized we'd have to wait on some things with this one but it's killing us!

Yes, its a big world out there and we're getting a lesson in that right now.

Playing Hooky

One of my favorite authors, Susan Wiggs, asked today on her Facebook page, "What's your favorite way to play hooky?" Timely question, since I decided to indulge this very day!

I loaded Danny into the trailer and scooted off to Camp Sherman to have a bit of thinking time and to enjoy a lovely September day under the Ponderosa pines. I've been mulling these past few weeks about finding a new home for Danny. My reasons are that I feel like I need an equine that doesn't require me to be on the top of my game all the time, and the opportunity had arisen to purchase a seasoned Missouri Foxtrotter who is kind and gentle.

Dealing with mules can be like having a perpetual teenager. They test boundaries and act goofy and can get into mischief, but the good ones, like Danny, retreat gracefully when faced with the brick wall of an alpha owner. I guess one day I just didn't feel like being the wall. I didn't want that niggly I-wonder-what-might-happen-today feeling. Which was kind of dumb because once we get going, hardly anything ever happens. It's just that when it does, it's kind of spectacular.

Like the day Danny got away from me while he was on the halter and ran amok around the ranch, coming to a final stop after skidding quite a ways on his side on the paved parking area. I was sure he would be maimed for life, but he got to his feet and stood there with his ears at half mast and his head down. He accepted first aid quite meekly and hasn't pulled that trick again, mainly because I learned my lesson too.

Today I conquered the butterflies in my tummy and the result was an excellent ride, a reminder with Danny's floppy ears that mules are a cut above the best horse (let's agree to differ on that one, ok?), and I was able to just sit there and enjoy the ride. Well, most of the time. We did have some conversations about eating along the way and we both won and lost some of those battles. It's interesting to be trotting down the trail, doing leg yields and have your mule grab a mouthful of bitterbrush before he collects and moves off the leg.

But the end result of the day - Danny is staying and I suspect we'll play hooky again.

Grown-up Pony Camp

I've just returned from three days of horse camping near Mt. Hood with my riding buddy, Gayle and her mare, Ruby.

 Since this was my first horse camping experience, I took Peanut because she's little and easy. Gayle and I both agree - she's graduated from pony to first-class horse! There wasn't anything we did all weekend that Peanut wasn't interested in trying. Well, ok, she did think Timothy Lake contained a horse-eating monster and wasn't about to endanger her life by doing something so stupid as wade around or, heaven forbid, swim in the lake, but she was enough of a survivalist to drink out of it.

The frightening Timothy Lake with Mt. Hood looming.

The trails in the area, most of which are part of or connect to, the Pacific Crest Trail, are just lovely. Almost all shaded, hardly any rocks and no scary steep bits. We shared the trails with hikers, mountain bikers and other riders and everyone had a smile. Except for one hard-core looking hiker. Maybe he was one of those wilderness junkies who think multi-use is a swear word. There were many peaceful miles of pure enjoyment at being out on the trail with friends.

Heading to Little Crater Lake with Gayle and Joy, a friend who joined us for a day.

Clackamas Meadow

We stayed at Clackamas Lake Campground, a site in the Mt. Hood National Forest that allows horses as well as regular people. Big trees provide ample shade and privacy and it was a serene place.

Peanut in her spiffy camp digs.

Gayle, Joy and Gayle's dog, Elle.

Ready to hit the trail!

Serene that is until Thursday, when Portland began to heat up and the urban jungle hit the national forest. Thankfully we had to endure just one night of kids screaming, dogs howling, horses whinnying and our adjacent campsite neighbors arriving around 11:30 pm and blowing up what seemed like dozens of airbeds.

Most of us can cope with a night of irritations when the morning brings cool quiet and the promise of another adventure. Mornings were my favorite time. I'd wake up early, struggle into several layers of clothes and stride briskly down the road to the long drop. The horses were waiting for their breakfast, so I'd toss them some hay on the ground to keep them quiet while I filled their hay nets with a bigger feed. Then I'd put on my little jet-boil billy for a cup of tea and get the fire going. Sitting beside a crackling fire, holding a warm mug and reading devotions...doesn't get much better.

Little Crater Lake. Really little, and really cold.

It truly is cold! 34 degrees. My feet were numb in seconds.

Now, I'll admit my enthusiasm must seem a bit corny to those of you who've grown up camping or who are so adept that you can decide to go at the spur of the moment. I like to think I have a refreshing naivety about the whole camping culture. I love that it reduces your world to what you have with you and what's in the immediate vicinity to explore. I love that it fills the senses and be recaptured with little effort.

That sweet and serene recall is handy when part of the experience is very bad. We were nearly home when a car turned right out of an intersection into our path. Gayle swerved to avoid it - generally a hazardous thing to do when towing a trailer - but in this case it saved the lives of our horses. The car hit the back wheels of Gayle's truck but she regained control and was able to pull over safely. We exited the truck howling like banshees at the poor elderly woman who hit us, at the cars that weren't slowing down as they passed and at the universe in general. When we realized the horses weren't hurt, the other driver wasn't hurt and Gayle's truck was driveable, we calmed down enough to thank God for the angels we'd prayed for at the start of our journey. It could have been so much worse.

I've returned to real life thinking this camping gig is ok. I'm starting my camp box today, and am looking forward to more quiet mornings, winding trails and dinner by the fire.

Pony Fun

Those of you who've seen my Facebook photos this past week know I've spent it with my 6-year-old niece, Vivi and my sweet pony, Peanut. It's been a week I've dreamt of since before children actually. I kind of wanted to skip the whole parenthood thing and go straight to being a grandmother. Yes, my mom did explain how things work but still, one can fantasize a bit.

Vivi, being a bit older than my grandchildren allowed me to jump-start the dream, bless her dear heart. She's animal mad, fearless in a really good way, a great sport and doesn't mind getting dirty. And she really wanted to learn about horses.

So, as part of her repatriation to America (she's spent all her previous years in Asia where my brother worked for Nike) and to give her the chance to really get acquainted with Peanut, I invited her to the ranch for Cowgirl Camp.

We started off with a shopping expedition to our favorite Redmond store, Big R. It's the go-to store for local ranchers if you want clothes, hardware, camping stuff, animal food or ammo. We got clothes...

New threads and giggling at Uncle Goddy 

First morning in the new boots and jeans, heading down to the ranch

Leading Peanut down to the grooming area. Not many 6yr olds can manage to get a hungry pony past green grass. Vivi did.

All ready for the first lesson

By the second lesson, this is how the pair of them looked. Pretty nice!

We did horsey stuff in the morning and other activities, such as eating ice cream and doing crafts, in the afternoon.

The catchphrase for the week was, "Cowgirl Up," and you know, I didn't have to say it very much at all. There were a few times when she got tired or hot or cold or flibbety when she heard it, and I even had it said to me one time.

Cowgirling up with the manure rake

After a couple of days of lessons in the arena, Vivi was ready to hit the trail, so we explored the forest behind the ranch. The ever faithful Trail Max went along, happy to be allowed to blaze the path ahead of us.

Counting tree rings

Max and Murphy did their part, tolerant dogs that they are. Sweet giggles erupted from the bedroom in the morning when Murphy would jump up on the bed to wake Vivi. Max gave a little growl when he needed time to himself and Vivi respected that. I was quite impressed with that. I think this kid has a future with animals.

I've always suspected that for me, the best years with the grandkids (and Vivi) would be post-baby/toddler. It was the same with our boys - I managed to get them out of nappies,  and kept them fed, hydrated and clean(ish). People would tell me, "These baby years will go by so fast and you can never get them back," and I would silently cheer.  I couldn't wait to get to the fun part, such as flying kites, treasure hunts and hikes.


This week with Vivi, the fun part was watching her create with Duplo,

playing Dog-Opoly in the evening,

laughing at her crazy antics in the chair we named Pepper Ann,

and of course, times with Peanut.

See you at camp next year, Vivi!

Beefy Things

We're getting to the beef processing time of year. Its when we select and weigh the beeves that are finished and ready for the next phase.

Cultural side note...apparently "beeve" is the accepted term for a grass finished steer or heifer here in the US, according to The Stockman Grass Farmer publication. (I'm happy about that because a dear friend and customer wanted to call them beeves before we realized it was ok.) In New Zealand we refered to this class of livestock as "cattle beasts" or "the beasties." We're getting better at calling them beeves, and it does have sort of an of-the-land ring to it.

Anyway, after weighing, the customer is invoiced and then about a week later the processing begins. Don't worry, I won't show photos of that, mainly because I get faint at the sight of blood and so any photos would be of the sky as I'm lying on the ground recovering.

Every year at calving I wonder how these personable little creatures...

 can possibly grow up to be somewhat personality-neutral, beef producing converters of sunlight and chlorophyll...

 But they do as they head into their second summer.  After those winter coats are shed, the muscle definition (read steaks, roasts and burgers) really shows up. The endearing calf curiosity that had them racing around in groups during the previous summer is replaced by the cycle of head-down-and-eat-then-chew-cud-then-stand up-and-begin-all-over-again.

These are cattle with a purpose for their lives. They aren't named or fawned over but we sure do admire their ability to provide. It's a privilege to work in tandem with the natural cycles of life. And when someone asks, to be able to say, "Beef, it's what's for dinner®."

Here's what happens on weighing day...

The cattle come into the yards where we have the scales set up.

Guess which of these tools I use when working with the beeves (hint: it doesn't have any white on it.)

Here's the weigh platform. It's very accurate. Personally, when testing scales by standing on them I prefer them to weigh light.

The read-out. Bless the person who perfected electronic, battery operated scales.

#18, weighing in at 1238 pounds.

Oops. Forgot to shut the gate.