Cool as a Cucumber

Ughhh... So sweaaaaty...
What's it called when you're just sitting in front of the fan with a glass of ice water pressed to your wrist, not moving, and you're still sweating? Shvitzing? I think that's it. Feel free to correct me, Jewish friends.
Seriously, my skin contantly glistens with sweat. It might be sexy if I didn't also stink so bad. And my hair wasn't so frizzy. And the heat didn't make the mere thought of skin-to-skin repulse me so.
Anyway, I visited my friend's garden yesterday. Nicole is new to gardening, and had a lot of questions for this seasoned veteran (ha!). She was worried about proper basil picking technique, and why she didn't have any squash yet. I put on my best farmer face, trying to reassure her with what little knowledge I have. The truth is, her garden is beautiful. She is doing everything right. I couldn't help but feel a little tinge of pride- that maybe our little farm has helped inspire her, or given her the encouragement she needed to dip her toes in the ocean of self-sufficiency. It is a small thing, yes. But this is what it's all about, no? Influencing others in a significant, positive way?
But back to the garden. And her lovely little cucumber blossoms, so adorably star-shaped and hopeful. I wish I had my camera with me, because I was a little obsessed with them. Might have something to do with our oversight in the cucumber department this year. (How does one FORGET to plant cucumbers? And of course I just found a wonderfully easy pickle recipe that I will never, ever get to use. Until next year.) And then my amazing friend Nicole, who was already taking my heathen children for the afternoon, even though she had to mow her lawn with a (gasp!) push mower, because her poor husband has ruptured a disk in his back (eek!), did something so very wonderfully generous, and thus indicative of her personality.
She gave me her one perfectly perfect cucumber.
I know! I love her.
And guess what I did with it? No! Not that, you dirty, dirty bird. Sheesh.
I ate it for lunch! All on it's own, it was that delicious. And pretty.

And lucious.
And then I put some of the slices in my ice water, because that's one of my favorite things to do.

Yeah, I threw a lime in there, too. I'm crazy like that.
And then I ate the limey slices out of my glass after I finished the water. And I am still sweaty and frizzy, but I'm starting to think that I might be able to handle this summer thing after all. It's opressive and overwhelming at times, but really, what choice to I have but to let it crash over me, like a big old seaweed-laden wave?
Oh, and for those of you who are concerned about my caloric intake, don't worry! I had a nice nutritious zucchini muffin for dessert.
With butter. :)

I loves da beach

Warning: This blog entry has nothing to do with farms or farming. Just in case there's someone out there who comes here for such information.
Stop laughing. It happened. Once.

This is about boys on the beach.

And sandy dogs.

And little girls who are NOT tired, Mama. Not even a little bit.

And sunsets that bring tears to your eyes.

And how easily you float in the salty water, as if you could stay there forever, sleep there, bobbing with the cormorants. And how the fading light and the lazy waves make the water look black and thick, like ink.
But mostly it's about the irrational, yet unavoidable, desire to stop time. To keep your kids, and your friends, and your friends' kids, and yourself, and the dog, and the strangers on the beach, and the ocean and the sun and the clouds exactly as they are right now. Forever.

On Lambing

Sheep are famously dumb- known for their ability to get themselves in trouble. And, like, die and stuff. They do pretty stupid things, like get their heads stuck in electric fences, and have lambs on the coldest morning of the year, and forget which lamb belongs to them. And they make us do really stupid things, like heave hay bales when we're really out of shape, and use power tools in the rain. But sometimes, (accidentally, I'm sure), sheep get it right. They go into the barn when it's raining. And feed the right baby. And let us help them. And we humans end up figuring things out, too. Like how to milk a sheep. And how to hold a drill in the pouring rain.

And how to help when we thought we had nothing left.

Because, even when we're "sosososososososososososo tired, Mom!", and despite their inconvenient choice of birthdays, these animals are, after all, here because of us. Oh, and so that Dogwin has someone to bark at.

And unlike Chick Day,the actual birth of a real live animal on our farm could never fail to inspire enthusiasm. And humble us. Because, though we've had our share of misfortune in our limited farming experience, on the whole, we are damn lucky.

Farmer Kate figures a few things out

Oh joy! Oh rapture! Did you see that? I managed to successfully upload a video! Do you know what this means?!? It means that you guys get to see my stupid little farm videos! Aren't you thrilled? Admit it, you on sitting on the edge of your seating, awaiting the next installment of RunAmok excitement!
Well, what it really means is I am now super-psyched to blog more often. More often than say, never. Anyway, to pick up on the Memorial Day fluff mystery, here are two videos that I uploaded to youtube, because it didn't work when I tried to put them here, and maybe they are too big.


Fluff 1


Fluff 2

Rain, rain, come and stay, go away another day

It wasn't a new experience, per se, but it's been so long that it felt new. Yesterday I was reacquainted with rain. And not just the annoying sprinkling, make-you-feel-more-sweaty kind of rain. Honest to goodness, thunder booming, overflowing the gutters, pouring down rain. Cats and dogs rain. This kind of rain:

It was all too much for Roosty, our pacifist rooster, who likes to hang out near the house, away from Major Deadly, the mean rooster, to likes to be mean.



Come on, Roosty! Get out of the rain! Don't you have a shred of self-preservation left?



There, that's better.

Anyway, it was all so exciting and delicious and refreshing, after weeks of no rain, that I found myself out there in it, laughing and taking pictures like a fool. But I learned something very important. Something I will take with me to my grave:
On a stormy summer day, it is much better to go out and splash in puddles, than to stay in with a thunder-shy dog wrapped around your feet. Especially when that dog happened to ingest a ridiculous amount of pork grease the day before, and is making you gag with his dog-ass stank.

Today, I learned that sometimes you have to just stop being hot and miserable and whiney in your dirty, hot house, and go for a boat ride with your family.

Yes, you WILL cool off, and instantly be in a better mood.

Toaster Oven Smores

You know what you can make in the toaster oven? I'll give you a hint:


Since our favorite lighter of campfires chose bedtime over smore time on this particular evening, we improvised. With heavenly results. Observe:


Maybe Emmett likes smores a little TOO much?