Pictures from our trip

Saint Paul cathedral in Saint Paul, MN.

Columbine, Saint Croix river.

Bugs everywhere!

the Saint Croix river

Minnesota Canoe

Molly and Milly

There will be more in the future but here are some for now! A weekend of sailing and farm exploration and then we will be heading back around Thursday. Can you believe it’s 90 degrees today–in Minnesota!

How to properly enjoy your day

 What do you do on a beautiful day downtown? Put on a  knit hat that’s two sizes too small, a shnazzy pink leotard, and your new tennis shoes, and then dance until you fall down. Awesome!

Late night escapades with raccoons in your underwear. . .

Ok, so I worded that funny. Here’s the story:

Lately raccoons have taken over our yard after dark, and I mean literally taken it over. The dog spends all evening whining to get at them, though if she did I’m sure they would not be worse for the tussle. Usually around 3 or 4 in the morning she wakes us from her crate because they have gotten so noisy that even in her little “cave of solitude” she can’t resist complaining about them. And they are noisy. They go about rototilling our leaf-mulched yard. It is full of worms, I know this for a fact because I was poking about in the mulch myself a couple weeks ago, happily noting that the barren and lifeless dirt under it is now alive with little wrigglers feeding on the compost and leaf mold.  At least it was full of worms. Probably the raccoons have eaten them all now.

The first few times we knew they had been in the yard, it was because they tried to get into the chicken coop and left muddy prints all over it and bent some of the chicken wire.

Then we saw 5 of them in our neighbor’s side yard, just chillin’. They saw Ci and didn’t seem too worried. We watched them for a while and even woke up Molly to see them because she had been asking about them. They were almost cute, in an intimidating, giant rat sort of way.

Next they were out at 4:30 AM when Spencer left for work on his bike. And as soon as he was out the door Ci took up her whiney refrain in the crate, even venturing a little bark for good measure ( alas, she does not really comprehend how much that could lower her life expectancy in a house full of sleeping babies). I got up, threw a big blanket over her crate in protest, and peeked at a big momma coon and two or three babies, one sans tail, digging about in the leaf litter very happily.

Next occurance, we lay in bed sometime around 3 am, and Spencer slept through a whole chorus of whiney yips and yaps as Ci signalled that those coons were in the yard again, so close she could taste them. Spencer really is a champion sleeper when he gets a whack at it. Which is rare these days for any of us. And I could hear the girls tossing a bit in their sleep to the sounds of our excited dog, which is not a happy noise at 3am–the tossing that is. Well, the whining too. I woke Spence up and explained what was going on. We lay still a minute and listened to the rustling of the raccoons in the compost pile, but the thuds, clanks and scratching noises that began momentarily signalled that this was now war.

Spencer crawled out of bed about as enthusiastically as you might expect, actually probably a little more than that really, because we knew how shifty these guys were about our hens. They were on the roof of the coop trying to peel up the corrugated metal roofing (luckily there were two more layers of wood under that) and clawing at the latches on the doors. Spencer ran out, clad in the shimmering blue of a hero (ok, the cottony blue of boxer-briefs) and proceeded to yell very quietly at them to “shoo”. There were three this time and they weren’t babies. They were some of the big boys of the neighborhood, obviously quite happy and not in a hurry to leave. One began to waddle up to Spencer. Probably he just wanted to shake hands and introduce himself, but Spencer didn’t risk it and grabbed a stick. It was sort of a small stick. About the size of a ruler and the width of a pencil–but he threw it. And the raccoon stopped moving forward. But he did hiss, which wasn’t very friendly of him. So Spencer grabbed another twig and tossed it in like manner. Feeling very insulted, the raccoon waddled away and climbed over the fence, followed shortly by his buddies. Only to return moments after Spencer crawled back into bed. We gave up–let the hens fend for themselves, damnit. We need sleep.

Come morning everyone was fine.

So between the rats in the attic and walls, the raccoons at night, the hens we keep for eggs, and the coyote-wannabe in her crate, I guess we’ve sort of brought the country in to the city. At least the pests, that is.

Lucky Lucy and the Yolo Bypass Wildlife Area

Yesterday we stopped on our way back home from Davis to eat a late lunch at the Yolo Bypass Wildlife Area. Bagels and cream cheese were tasty, the sun was bright, and the birds were very lovely. By request, here are some pics of the “new” truck–it looks less gigantic out there in the open spaces. Later this week we might look at a travel trailer to go with it, but we’re not certain about that. Still pondering Iowa, still trying to figure out how to farm in California, and still getting four pretty eggs every day from our hens. This evening we are going to indulge our lazy, silly side and watch the Oscars with my family. Of course, I could work on sewing my leather purse while I watch, so maybe it wont count as being lazy:)

Po-tay-toes. . .

This company puts out an awesome little catalog/growers guide that has tons of helpful information on growing and storing potatoes. It’s free! Now if only I had somewhere to grow potatoes. . .They sell some really beautiful varieties too, like these ( Adirondack Blue, Blossom, and Purple Viking)–

Lucky Lucille

That’s what we’ve named our truck. She’s big, she’s a diesel, and she needs a new paint job. Lucky Lucille is in fact too big to drive to work every day in an economically pleasing manner, so Spence will ride at least part of the time, and because she was a little cheaper than we had figured on, I might buy a bike for around-towning with the girls. Being a 3/4 ton long bed, she doesn’t fit particularly well in our urban driveway, but sitting parked beneath the elegant trunks of the tree of heaven out front, I can look out and easily imagine her pulling our home. Now if only some kindly person would donate a classic Airstream to the cause.  .  . actually whatever it is, it needs bunk beds in it. Mol is quite set on that and it seems like a pretty reasonable condition to me.

Goodbye Beasty!

So, we sold the Vanagon today. It was weird. It was sad. It was kind of strangely freeing. It felt, to be exact, like the first small step towards ‘something else’. Away from the city, but I’m not really sure where. I would be very happy to be on the road again but a big part of me wants to settle down somewhere soon at least semi-permanently. We’ve moved almost every year for the past six years–If I count the times I moved right before I got married that’s eight moves in seven years for me.

I’ve travelled a bit in those years too–at least one month out of each year, which is pretty dandy if you ask me. Been to New Orleans, New York City, Upstate New York, New Jersey, San Antonio Texas, Chicago, Michigan’s Upper and Lower Penninsulae, a little of Canada (long enough to see two moose), small town Georgia, and once almost went to Mexico on accident. The best places I’ve seen were Ohio and Pennsylvania, but Wyoming was sort of haunting and Iowa was very green. California up and down has a million good things to be said for it–besides the cost of living and all that agribusiness going on in the valley here. It contains both the ugliest place  I have ever seen and the most beautiful. I’ve been all over my state and there are still so many things I haven’t seen yet. We have a love-hate relationship for sure. Is this where I will make a farm? Not sure.

Opportunities in Iowa are appealing. But the next little step is buying a tough vehicle of some sort. We’re thinking a diesel truck.  After that’s decided, I guess we’ll figure out Iowa.