Monday, October 17, 2011

easy come, easy go.

it's nearly halloween, yet still indian summer. daytime temps are in the 80s and 90s, and barely dip below 60 at night. months have passed since i've blogged. last year's lambs are living in a new home, on a vineyard in sonoma. we have a new set of caretakers after michelle started a full-time day job. the summer flew by after james came home, and now he's off again, working on the east coast.

early september was cool enough to bring on rutting and mating in the flock, which still continues. the upside is that the rams are moving around more, slimming down a bit, and grazing again. on the downside, the boys have become a pack of snorting, girl-crazy lunatics who love to push and shove, and won't give a girl some space. levi and isaac have been shadowing poor maggie for the past 2 days. i arrived home to find isaac still by her side in the pen, panting like he'd just run a marathon. she was the first to come into heat last month, but apparently no one finished the job, so she's back in season. i guess we'll know if the other ewes are pregnant soon enough. if the expression on sarah's face means anything - a dietrich-like, squinty-eyed, i-want-to-be-alone look - she already has twins on the way.

the garden is overgrown, but still offering the occasional zucchini and pepper. next year, we'll move it to a sunnier spot, and hopefully plant raised beds in the front yard. the coral tree next to the current plot has grown so huge that the crops are in shade for much of the day. the saplings and herbs loved it, but corn, tomatoes and lettuce didn't do so well without full sun. after a late summer of non-stop figs, it's pomegranate season. there's also abundant green fruit on the oranges and tangerines, and avocados are nearly big enough to pluck. soon, the trees will lose their leaves, i'll be fertilizing with compost, and tucking in for the winter.

we had a major tree-trimming event this year - an all-day affair when 20-odd olive trees are pruned, leaving behind a huge mountain of mulch. an oak tree in front of the house was pruned last month, after its branches touched the roof and dropped a couple of tiles. oaks need to be thinned during summer, which we (unfortunately) discovered is also prime time for the birth of baby squirrels. after an hour of vigorous limb-cutting, the trimmers managed to down a squirrel's nest, and 2 little babies bounced onto the ground with it. james came into the house carrying what looked like a tiny little mouse, eyes still closed. he called leslie, a wildlife rehabilitator whose card was stuck on the fridge after multiple possum rescues. she told him to place them near the tree, as the mamas will often come to claim their fallen babes and carry them to a new nest. alas, at the end of the day, mama had not returned, so we began feeding the babes with kmr (a kitten formula) via syringe. they're now nearly 9 weeks old and healthy, after nurturing by a village of people - james, me, the caretakers, the dog walker and leslie herself (who babysat them for a week when i had to leave the country for work). thankfully, they're now eating on their own, after weeks of hand feeding. they're living in a fabulous little cage next to a window in the brown room, and are partial to pears and walnuts. i'm hoping to move them outside in the coming month, and release them over the course of the winter. they'll need shelter and food available until they learn how to build a nest and fend for themselves, which they would normally learn from mama. unfortunately, my tree-climbing skills are limited.

david, the bee man, made a return appearance this evening to remove a paper wasp nest in the bantam pen. he donned his bee suit just after dusk, accompanied by his young son, and deftly removed the small comb with a towel, placing it into a vented cardboard box. as he climbed out of his suit, we reminisced about his last visit 5 or so years ago to remove a hive in the wall of the barn. apparently my hair was brown then, and we had mentioned the possibility of selling our property to a developer. there aren't many big plots like yours around anymore, he said, then asked if he could pick some pomegranates to take home (he spied the trees on his way in, despite the waning light). i brought out a paper bag, and his son and i picked fruit in the dark as david finished packing his truck. he told me that tomorrow the wasps would be released, and would soon be buzzing around the hills in malibu. easy come, easy go.