Moving back to Toas...the Universe is talking to me

My own silence weighs on me with the burden of a necessary self-examination. Trust your intuition, even if it appears there are no options. When your body and emotions are telling you something is not right, when your kids are acting crazier than normal, and your dog/puppy has turned into a psychotic attack dog, when your house plants are suddenly all sick and dying, and the recently (past two and a half years) quiet parrot has started screaming like a banshee again, when you're afraid to go outside and feel like a prisoner in a strange house, maybe it's time to listen to what the Universe is saying.

We moved the farm to New Mexico over the past two months. We are just outside of Taos in a place that is not unfamiliar, but strange with the taint of money. Is all of Taos like this? I just don't remember. Maybe I didn't care.

Tipped trailer, surprisingly not damaged...except the hitch.

On the move, I wrecked the trailer on La Veta Pass...flipped it on its side on a patch of ice...thought I was going to flip the car too, but managed not to. And as we came to a stop facing the wrong direction on the wrong side of the road, facing the guard rail a few feet away, my adrenaline shooting through my veins, it did not occur to me how close to death I had brought my children and myself, but how that damn pass seemed to have it in for me. It was on the other side, heading up from Taos that I hit a deer some years ago and trashed the front end of my Xterra to the tune of five grand. Lucky for me no one was hurt in either of my La Veta Pass adventures, but I sure have a hard time driving through there now without a full blown panic attack coming on.

E-ship shell, sage and Taos Mountain

But now we have landed in northern NM and the weekend we had to build a chicken coop was one of the coldest all year. The arrangement we have now puts the llamas and chickens some miles away at another property until we can build them fences and shelters here near the house we are renting. They are in the shell of a burned out Earthship on the north side of Taos, but you can't see them from anywhere, unless you are really looking for them.

Passive solar chicken coop in Earthship shell

We managed to get the coop built and everyone arranged, but it still took several lights for warmth and a few weeks for our hens to start laying normally again. I guess they are traumatized too. We did lose a few to coyotes, I'm guessing. All we found was a mess of feathers that might have once belonged to one of the four missing hens. Now, the chickens are guarded by llamas who are enclosed with electric wire.

Nothing is ideal, but we are getting by. We have found a few egg customers already and Richard touched base with some old co-workers at the Corps.

Taos is Taos...so much the same but with more people now. There are places built up here too, just like in the big cities. There are kiddie car shopping carts here too, but some of these have their own bumper stickers, reminding the young drivers to treat everyone with kindness. There is an Occupy Movement here too, but I have not met anyone or gotten involved yet. It seems I'm too caught up in the drama of my own life. I was reading Howard Zinn's A Peoples History of the United States... and got way too angry with the founding peoples of America to continue, convinced that we are now in some strange tenant farmer situation, and I'm angry and disappointed at the elitist, judgmental folks who run the world. (Yes, I have been examining my anger issues and trying to release my need to draw these situations into my life.) It would seem that 1% of the white and powerful, the rich and corrupt, have been doing bad in this country since it's very beginning.

I am driven more than ever now to find a community of like-minded folks who want to be the positive change this planet needs to survive the coming downfall of the powerful American reign. I think a lot of the west gorge area and the mesa where people seem to make their own rules. I long to meet and talk with some of these open minded folks to see how their community differs so vastly from the mainstream world where resources are hoarded and people are exploited to gain more.

We are still searching for our piece of land to build our little sustainable farm, and I'm afraid that the place we are now is not really doable for more than the very short term. It is an emotional minefield of some variety, and the energy is wrong. I'd love to have some peace and not have to worry about my dogs and where Richard left something, and how the llamas and chickens are so far away.

Since we moved into this house, I have been dreaming of Paris. Weird. At night I dream of moving to France...packing, getting on a plane, making all of the arrangements. Can't figure it out. When we lived in Portland, Oregon for a total of four miserable months, I dreamed of Africa. I never did figure that out either, but I'm guessing it has something to do with being in an unhappy situation and looking for a way out.

I certainly don't want to offend anyone, and hope I don't, but when the kids, the dogs, the bird, the houseplants and my dreams are all telling me that something is not right, shouldn't I do something about it?

Maybe the Mountain is testing me again. But you know what...I won't be chased off this time. It doesn't even matter. I won't go back to a house that is on the verge of falling into an old mine shaft because of earth tremors caused by fracking. No way.

I made it back to my beloved NM and I'm not leaving. Stay tuned though. We may end up out in the sage sooner rather than later.

This is my new kitchen view.

An Arroyo Seco sunset through trees...another view  from the house.

Nothing beats a New Mexican sunset when the sky is on fire and the day goes out like a fresh painting. I have come home to the land of art, where every scene is a magnificent creation by the Master Artist.

After the press, covenant police

Ah, so now it comes...the people against sustainable living. "Not in my backyard." While I was doing my Wii fit exercises, there was a pounding on the door, followed by high barking of two watch dog chihuahuas. Richard's at work, the children are running a muck, sick with colds caught at the Pediatricians (of course), and I look my best in cut off sweats and old T-shirt. But who should be knock, knock, knocking at my door, the developer of the subdivision herself, waving some paper at me..."We have covenants here."

"Yeah, I'm aware," I reply.

She told me her phone had been ringing off the hook with complaints from the people who live here. Something about the newspaper and a barn, tires, animals and pallet fences.

Huh, all in one swoop. "So what exactly is the problem?" I ask.

No permit for this barn.

Don't need one. The barn is under the required size for a permit. Am I sure? You bet, we did that intentionally.

She went on to ask me if the barn would look like the house. Yeah, same color with a red roof, like the house trim, I said. Too many animals. The covenants tell me we can have two large animals on our lot. I count the llamas, although they are "miniature" and the two of them together might weigh as much as one horse. Too many goats? Yeah, probably. We want to see how they all milk and keep a couple of the best milkers. The town said we could have chickens and that's not in the covenants anyway. All of our buildings are within the required setbacks, and the town told us we didn't need permits for Ag buildings.

"Barbed wire."

"What about it?" Complaints...but the only barbed wire we have is on a roll, wrapped in plastic, waiting to be placed in between earthbags to hold them in place, eventually covered by more earthbags and stucco. The covenants say we cannot fence the main road line of our property with barbed wire fence. That's the only mention of it. We could technically fence the rest of our property with barbed wire, and one of our neighbors does indeed have his property fenced in barbed wire, even on the main road side. And I like my pallet fence, I told her. It doesn't look that different from the wooden privacy panels you buy at the big orange store. She agreed. There's nothing in the covenants about pallet fences.

She just wanted to give us a copy of the covenants, she said, in case we never got them. I asked her why people move to the country and then try to turn it into suburbia? I asked her why it wasn't expected for a family to move to the country and put in a garden and raise some chickens and even supply natural, raw, fresh milk for their kids? She thought that was okay. I told her I'd love to share our farm fresh eggs with our neighbors, and vegetables too, but the covenants do say we can't run a business out of the home. She didn't think there was anything wrong with selling eggs to the neighbors. Hmmm...

I told her I'd love to put in a huge, ugly metal garage like my neighbors, but I didn't have that kind of money, and in this economy, I had a right to live as sustainably as I could. I told her we don't have money for fancy fences or siding for our barn right now (I want to stucco it too...mostly we don't have enough time, but there is the money issue). I told her I'd love to bring in some fully grown trees to block my view of the neighbors, but that wasn't possible. I told her we planted tress, 200 of them last year, and that in twenty years, maybe the neighbors wouldn't be able to see us anymore.

She told me if we were abiding by the covenants there was no problem, but that she would check with the town on Monday to see about that permit thing. (Isn't she on the zoning committee?)

In the end, I think I had her seeing some of my points, realizing maybe we weren't doing anything wrong. Or, maybe she, like so many others talks out of two sides of her mouth. She (or her deceased husband) wrote the covenants for this subdivision.

So, what's the problem? Richard came out of his office to see what the commotion was, and offered to talk to anyone about their concerns over the earthbag barn. I told her we'd even hold a town meeting if they wanted. Did I set us up for a lynching?

As far as I know we are within our rights, not breaking any laws, rules or covenants, but it sure is a big pain in my butt. I wish our neighbors would man up and come and talk with us about what is going on, maybe they'd learn a thing or two. Maybe, they'd appreciate that someone in the town and community is going to be growing some clean, local, natural food.

All said and done, I think this woman is a nice enough person, and I don't hold anything against her. I hope she doesn't show up with the "petitions" she mentioned the neighbors talking about, but I'm not sure what they could petition, since we aren't violating anything. I told her with our "neighbors" driving fifty up the road in front of my house, I needed a fence to keep my little kids safe. She said they were working on that problem, but there wasn't much they could do. Can't enforce the speed limit, but can harass property owners because the neighbors are afraid of what they don't understand? Bring down property values? Sure, the neighbors we do know have told us their houses aren't worth the mortgages, just  like the rest of the country. Whatever.

Maybe I need to circulate a petition that bans airborne pesticides and herbicides from straying onto my property and presenting a health risk to my family and animals, and garden.

So, what's gong on here? Who knows. Maybe they don't like Richard's long hair, but ironically enough, he's about as straight edged as someone could ever be. Oh man, give me Taos and the weird New Mexico world any day. I'd love to have neighbors with dreadlocks and tattoos and piercings....if they were environmentally and spiritually aware, doing their part to change the world. Isn't it funny that most of the time they are? It is the black sheep, the lunatic fringe who will save the world, or die trying.

We need a real farm and lots of land...with no covenants...in the southwest, with enough moisture that we can garden, and not too high that nothing will grow, and cheap enough we could buy it, and put up a tent while we build a house made of earth that does no harm to the environment.

Why would a building that is so environmentally responsible offend people? Here's what it will look like, sort of. It's the building at the top of the page, in the header. Imagine it more closed, a pale beige color, with the buttresses turned a bit different to protect the door, and with a metal red roof. Is that offensive? I guess we could make it square, if that's what they want.

Not sure what to do with this. Keep on marching forward I guess. Honk if you support the farm!

Moving past the Holidays

The Holidays are a crazy time with senseless shopping, running around delivering gifts, trying to make sure everything is just right for that "big" day. And for what? The opening of presents. That's all that seems to matter. But, here in our house, we wait until after breakfast to calm the frenzy. It wasn't too bad this year...not many unthoughtful gifts. In fact, my second eldest daughter came home and stayed overnight. She helped with dinner and everything was nice. Family time. And then it was over. After dinner, my sweet older girl hightailed it out of here with any ride she could find. She had things to do, man. And I thought, "Thank God Christmas is over!" Another year survived.

We stayed up and watched the eclipse on December 21, the Winter Solstice, and that seemed more real to me than "Christmas." The moon turned red, or more like a faint peach color, glowing in the night sky. It was pretty cool, and although I was more caught up in the color and shape of the moon, seeing it from an artist's perspective, I realized that the short dark days were coming to an end, and that this moon, this solstice, ushered in a new era of more enlightened thinking for our planet, for our culture...I hope.


I have been noticing the lengthening of days already, even by a mere few minutes a week, and it lifts my spirit as another Christmas fades into the past. My darkest hour. It sure feels like it sometimes. I took the tree down this year two days after the big event. Some years it comes down the day after. To my surprise, some of my family members are still giving gifts. What? It's over! Let it be over! I don't want to shop anymore. I have a huge family and feel inclined to give after receiving. I know it's nonsense. The whole thing is nonsensical really. Back to the pagan holiday of Yule- giving a "gift" was supposed to be a moment of joy, of brightness to ward off the oppressiveness of the long, dark nights. We bought the little ones flashlights for Christmas, and they love them more than anything else and they have been warding off the darkness nonstop. Some of the gifts we get at this time of the year make me think of a commercialized society. Token gifts. Why bother? I have to figure out how to turn this thing around so it becomes more about time spent together...good food, good music, good conversation. Let's lesson the hectic pace of Christmas just a bit.

We also closed on our house in the Springs this week, and as I signed the papers and handed over the keys, I tried not to cry as I said goodbye to my old Victorian girl. She's a beautiful house. Wrong place and way too expensive for us, but I loved her dearly while we were enclosed in her warm safe, homey arms. Great memories. But now, we can focus on our little farm here and move in another direction.

Chicken fort

Richard has been moving chickens around. For Christmas, I got the stinky baby chicks out of my "studio" (spare bedroom, storage, office), which is a delightful thing. The babies in the big coop moved up to the chicken fort in the upper garden, and the little babies, including my white silkie moved down to the "brooder" in the big coop. Musical chickens.

chicken house in chicken fort

 

Reds in new chicken fort

This new chicken yard gives us the ability to separate flocks. The new babies will comprise a new flock of twelve. The older chickens in the big coop are still having issues with plucking each other and a general bad attitude since I had those lavender guineas in with them, and even though the guineas are gone, the weird behavior continues. I don't want any of my new chickens picking up these bad habits. The chicken fort in the upper garden will allow us to use the chickens in that garden for bug control and fertilizer.

We are still working on fencing and hope to get the north east corner of our property done with the pallets to allow the chickens in the lower garden, the aggressive poultry, more room to roam. Maybe if they have more to do, they will stop beating on each other. Maybe they are fighting over Charlie the Roo. Maybe I should take him out of the picture. Who knows.

On a side note, the two little fuzzy chicks are still tiny in comparison to the faster growing standard size layers. I've had them separated by twos in their respective rubbermaids in my office. The little black and white Cochin is the tiniest of all, but carries the biggest attitude. I wonder if it is a rooster. Ever since I've had him, when I change out food and water, he/she attacks my hand, and not just a pecking, but a hold on and tear off the skin kind of attack. He/she is a little pit bull of chickens. I was thinking of allowing him to grow enough to turn into dinner maybe, but when I moved all of my youngest chicks down to the brooder, the little Cochin Napolean seems to be getting his own dose of abuse--getting stepped on and chased by his new/old chicken room mates. And I, being who I am can only feel sorry for the little guy. Is it his fault he's smaller than anyone else on the farm? I suppose that would give anyone an attitude problem. His future remains open as we wait and watch the chicken antics in establishing a pecking order. The little white Silkie is still the cutest thing, her feathers growing over her eyes like some crazy Andy Warhol hairdo. I love her, still.

So, with the hectic holidays, we are trying to play catch up. It might snow tonight, believe it or not, so we are trying to get the animals and the farm ready for the storm and the very cold temperatures that are predicted. We have to hook up some sort of heat for my two remaining guineas, who ideally should be warmer than chickens, so Richard is on his way into town to get some hay for the llamas and extension cord for a heat lamp for my pet fowl. I really don't like cold, or snow, but we sure need the moisture. We had a weird day last week when it rained all evening and never turned to snow. In Colorado? Weird. It felt like some Spring or Fall night when I went out to put the chickens to bed. Warm. Odd weather is a comin' and we better get used to it, I think

Other news? Well, we took the Billy and Lily the goats back to their home. Breeding time is over and hopefully all the girls will have babies in the Spring. We have to order more kid jammies for the little ones that will be coming. Goat pajamas are the cutest. We sent out a flyer on the CSA with Christmas cards but still have no takers, yet. We are still trying to rouse enough interest locally to purchase a dairy cow communally, sharing milk, expenses and chores. If we could afford to buy the cow outright, we would and just sell extra shares, but we don't have the $1300 a local dairy is asking for their bred yearling Jersey. So, we may have to wait on a dairy cow. And we are working on turning the dining area of our kitchen into a more friendly public space to hold classes in the future.

We recycled some dressers and found some cheap plywood that will be stained to make into a desk/counter/workspace area. I'd like to get real cabinets, upper and lower to hold our canning supplies, dairy supplies, soap making supplies, etc.

Also thinking of putting in a three compartment sink. It is so difficult to wash those big cheese and canning pots in a standard kitchen sink. Would it look too weird, I wonder? Planning a greenhouse on our patio, on the south side of our house. If we could turn it into an enclosed space, it would get solar gain to let heat into the house and we could of course grow our plant starts out there. I'd like the south side of our modular to turn into the front face of an Earthship. Wouldn't that be something?

Found some leather scraps to sew on the bottom of my felt slippers. We did finish a tin can man which we gave to my mother for Christmas. It's a big hit, but I forgot to take pictures. Working on another. Always staying busy here on the farm. So much to do with kids, animals, crafts, gardens to plan and remodel projects. The next year will be full of wonderful things!

Farm with a view

view from my kitchen window--today

I do live in a gorgeous place, with Colorado being what it is, and have a lovely backdrop of mountains in both my front and back yards. I can stand at my kitchen sink and stare out the window as I do dishes, looking up the path at the llama barn, which hides the ugly little water tower that supplies our small town, and instead pulls the eye to the dark green of the Wet Mountains in the distance behind the barn. If I'm lucky, my fluffy, cute llamas will be hanging out in this picture and I can consider myself blessed to be living this life right now.


Today there is a storm hanging over the Wet Mountains and the air is chilly with the threat or promise of snow. Slowly, the silhouette of the mountain range disappears into the gray clouds, and I shiver, happy to be wearing my warm alpaca slippers.

The greenhouse is almost sealed up, and I'm thinking of putting injured guinea in his playpen in the greenhouse, where he can be warm and close to his guinea friend in the pen ten feet or so away.  Then they can talk to each other as much as they want to. Now, they have been "talking"--yelling and squawking--when I leave the kitchen door open to let in the warm afternoon sun. Today, however, it is far too cold to leave the door open, but the guineas are still trying to talk through the walls. I'm sure Richard, who has gone to work in his office, appreciates the guinea social hour. I think maybe after this weeks freezing night time temperatures, I will relocate my injured, feathered friend to the greenhouse so he can get acclimated back into the outdoors. As tempting as it is, I don't really want the guinea as a house pet. It's already a circus with two toddlers, the cats and dogs. Adding the clown faced bird to the mix would be more than I could tolerate. Think of the carpet scrubbing I'd be doing then...

northwest perimeter

While Richard has been outside, working on electric perimeter fence (those llamas won't get out again), and getting the upper garden ready for sheet mulching, I have been working on our farm logo. I even took a moment to paint a picture to use as a backdrop. Wow, doesn't a paintbrush feel awkward after so many years? I'm still trying to integrate the logo into the picture and have simplified the shapes to create a more generic logo to use on product labels.

lower east perimeter and Pikes Peak in the distance

With the mountains in so many of our views, it seems somehow necessary to include them in our farm logo. Stay tuned for the final image.

Richard has begun his own blog about the farm, sustainability and related topics regarding the world and the crises we face now and in the near future. Finally he's on board the ship to save the planet. The revolution has begun. Check out his blog at  greendesertecofarm.wordpress.com
And yes, that is my painting in his header.

Running with the llamas

Today I had a nice visit with two of my Aunts and two of my cousins, who came to see the farm and my little ones. It was great fun. I was telling them the story of our morning farm activities...


I was cleaning the house, preparing for the family visit, when my eyes were drawn to the window as Richard went running by. What on Earth?, I wondered and ambled back to my bedroom to get a look out the back windows. And there he was, and it looked like he was messing with two large animals, cows? I thought, was he trying to shoo them away? It wouldn't be the first time there were cows wandering in the yard. But no, those weren't cows...they were my llamas! How did they get out?, I asked myself over and over, as I leaped over a million toys and dodged two small children who were very loudly and adamantly telling me that the cat had just thrown up on the living room floor. Oh boy!

"No time, no time," I yelled. "The llamas are out!" My brain was working hard and fast now. How would we catch two llamas, who were now free on the range, when we couldn't catch them in their pen? Think! Food? Llama candy? They loved the guinea food and would eat it out of my hand, and even come running if I had the guinea bucket out. Giving them llama candy I actually got to touch and pet them. Okay, guinea food and some halters. And the car. And the two little kids. "Kids, get your shoes on!" I yelled.

I got the little ones in the car and ran to get the halters and leads, all the time watching my two prized llama babies running across the field and Richard running after them, like a bad movie. Now he had a bucket, which he held out in front of him as he ran, offering it to what, llama butts? He who runs with llamas.

What did I think I was going to do? How could I possible make this situation better? I quickly dismissed the fear of my llamas running off into the woods, farther and further away. Would we actually be able to get them back? We needed help, I thought. Who could I call? No one. All of my neighbors were on the verge of elderly. Would any of them be able to chase down two teenage llama boys? Nah. It was Richard and me, and so far, he was doing a bang up job.

As an after thought, I let my two chihuahuas out of the house and told them to get in the car. Then I grabbed their harnesses and leashes, wondering where any of this would lead? I sped down the road as the llamas crossed to the other side and headed for some trees, doing everything they could to avoid Richard who was huffing and puffing by now.

I pulled into a driveway, thankful this house was for sale, and jumped out of the car, my heart pounding wildly. I grabbed my little cup of llama candy (guinea food) the leads and halters, and headed slowly towards the rebellious camelids, speaking softly and shaking the seed. I threw the halters to Richard. They looked at us with suspicion and ran back across the road. Now what, I wondered, and then remembered the two little dogs in the car who were barking furiously. Maybe they would scare the big animals back home or at least towards our farm, which was up the hill some distance.

I let out my little female chihuahua, the barker, Kierra, and let her run. Richard followed with the llama halters and leads. "Get the llamas," I told the tiny dog who charged the nearest llama, Vador, the black one. Now Vador is always interested in tiny creatures, like small children and guineas, and he turned and looked with amusement at the little dog who was sniffing at his feet. He stretched his long neck down to get a good sniff at her too, and then he began to dance, and I thought, oh dear God, now he's going to stomp on my little dog.

"Kierra," I yelled, hoping she would back off. I ran over and offered the llama candy to Vador, who fell for it and stuck his nose deep into the cup to reach the seed. I threw my arm around his neck and Richard put his halter on and snapped on the lead. "Tie him up." I yelled and turned to the other llama. "Turbo, come here boy," I said and shook the cup at him.

Richard had tied Vador to... the neighbors' gas meter? Really? "I don't know if that's a good idea," I said, but Richard was gone. He had grabbed Kierra, who had been running off into the neighbors' yard, and was now taking her back to the car. Turbo, meanwhile, was headed up the road with no interest in me, the llama candy or his buddy Vador. He, in fact, was so proud of himself and his new found freedom he would occasionally kick his feet into the air like some happy little bucking bronco llama.

I quickly untied Vador and decided to follow Turbo up the road. At least he was headed in the right direction. Richard followed in the car with the kids and dogs. So we walked, my llamas and me, all the way home, and when we reached our driveway, Turbo looked at it and began to walk on by. I called to him and led Vador into the yard, hoping, and praying that Turbo would worry and follow. (Normally, Turbo is the protector, and when Vador goes anywhere, Turbo follows, or tries to.) Sure enough, he was following us. Around the truck and up the path...and then he wasn't.

Turbo had detoured off into the upper garden, toward the guinea house, so I pulled Vador back around that way too, and used his lead and his big old llama body to trap Turbo, until Richard came to the rescue with the other halter and lead. After that, it was easy. We lead them back into their pen and I gave them each a little llama candy and thanked them profusely for coming home.

Then I headed inside to scrub cat puke out of the living room carpet.

And here I was wondering what I was going to write about. Later I thanked Richard for giving me some good blogging material.

Always make sure the gates are closed. And make sure again, just to be safe.

Kierra: llama herding, working dog