The panel is now totally functional (hooray!!), and it has a much more sophisticated wiring situation now that a real electrician has checked it out. The only problem now is that my laptop battery isn’t holding charge, so I have to keep it plugged in whenever I want to use it. I wonder if that uses more battery than if it was holding charge. It really just means I have to leave the whole thing back at the house where there’s wireless internet, otherwise I’d have to lug the panel, battery, computer and everything else back and forth to type up my blog and then post it… (I’m at the tent typing into a Word document right now.)
Anyway!
The past few days have been quite eventful- from the goats RUNNING AWAY on Monday afternoon to cooking eggs on the stove inside the house, we’ve been working through the intense August heat with as much vigor as we can muster.
Events:
FLOPSY AND MOPSY ON THE LOOSE
So, we have had a hard time keeping the does on a regular milking schedule, partly because the only person who really knows how to milk them is Karen’s grandmother, so whenever she can come we milk them, and that’s not always the same time of day. To make matters more complicated, Karen works in Southampton a few days a week, and her dad just arrived from Colombia, which is the first time she’s seen him in 2 years. So, on Sunday night Karen spent the night with her family in Hampton Bays, but came back the next day around noon with her grandmother. (Karen is really in charge of the animals, so she told us not to worry about milking them until she got home.) Monday was especially hot and relentlessly sunny, so after milking the goats in the shade of their one little tree, the Sanchez family came down to the pool (or, as I call it, the watering hole), to cool off. We left the goats to graze as we normally do, thinking if they went anywhere it would be following us down the field (as usual). Flora and Little Bit were alone for no longer than about half an hour, but were absolutely NOWHERE to be found when we got back.
Hours we spent combing the property, calling their names, calling the neighbors, calling the police department, animal control, WLNG (a local radio station), everything we could think to do, we tried. We called the goats’ previous owner upstate, and he said we should just try calling out for them and maybe they’d wander back by nightfall. Nightfall came and went, and throughout the night there was not a single bleat or cry from the woods surrounding the tent that might have alerted us. In the morning, we were frantic, but I felt almost incapable to do anything about it because the sun was so strong. I kept in touch with my mom throughout the day (she’s in Maine with my dad for a week), and she kept me from panicking. We all handle crises in different ways, and mine normally involves lots anxious consideration while my mom runs around taking control of the situation. Karen, on the other hand, gets mellow. Very mellow and quiet and calm. Her whole family does. At one point, after we’d been calling for them for a while, her grandma shrugged and said, “They’re not coming back,” as if it was just a fact of life. If I had heard her say that (and understood the Spanish), and Karen hadn’t told me that once they were safe at home, I think I might’ve given up right then and there. There was (as has been a constant theme throughout this project) everything to do and nothing to do at the same time, and endless, impossible possibilities.
At around 2 PM, I called my mom again to check in, and she told my neighbor Joanne Comfort who has a farm on Lumber Ln. had found the goats at another neighbor’s house nearby. I screamed for Karen and called Joanne’s cell phone as we headed toward the southern perimeter of our property. When we got there, Joanne told us that Flora had been having a hard time walking, and both the goats looked lean and dehydrated. Little Bit was hesitant but still willing to walk back homeward, but Flora, who was clearly dehydrated, taking shallow breaths and grinding her teeth, stood motionless with her eyes slightly open even on the shady driveway. Joanne said they might’ve been drinking from the chlorinated pool, and I was wondering if pesticides had been sprayed on any garden plants they’d eaten. Flora was so resistant to walking that Joanne had to drive her little green farm buggy over to carry her back across the field. I got in back and Joanne lifted her onto the flatbed, and I stayed there with her, holding her tight as she stepped all over me trying to back herself off the buggy. Karen walked behind with Little Bit until we were about halfway back and we thought Flora could walk the rest of the way. She did start walking, but after only a few minutes in the direct sun, she stopped short and wouldn’t budge an inch. I stood with her for a while, trying to calm her down as Karen took Little Bit closer to the tent to get some water and food she could bring back. (I hindsight, this might not have been a good idea; even though Little Bit was willing to approach the tent without Flora, being separated from her might have stressed them both out even more.) A few long, hot, desperate minutes later we got some water for them, but neither would drink. After waiting a few minutes and trying to get them to hydrate, we finally just splashed them and urged them towards the shade near the tent, and they finally started walking again.
It took a long time for either of them to start eating or drinking, and Flora didn’t leave the pen (which is filled with sun in the afternoon), until we brought them both to the shady area behind the tent. Karen made a series of calls until she got in touch with a vet who told her that Flora was probably having a digestive issue since she hadn’t been urinating or defecating since she came back, so Karen ran out with Orlando to get milk magnesium to clear her system. They had to force feed it to her with a long necked bottle, which made her cry and scream for the first time since she’s gotten here. It was such a terrible sound, but it had to be done, and she’s feeling much better today, albeit a little skittish. Karen’s grandma milked them last night, but since they hadn’t been drinking much water, there was much less milk, even though they were three milkings behind. The milk we got yesterday I didn’t want to drink last night because I was afraid they might’ve ingested something weird that would be present in the milk. But I’m drinking it now! It tastes ok- we called it “adventure milk.” Some farmers say you can taste a goat’s day in their milk, which makes sense to me, the same way you can taste a summer in wine. (Next year’s vintage, even though half the crop’s been destroyed by the weather this year, should be pretty good.)
Last night, once the goats were asleep in their pen, the day darkened strangely quickly, and the wind picked up, rippling the tent walls like sails. There was clearly a storm coming, and I couldn’t start a fire in the pit. Franco was over, and he was going to come help, but I couldn’t tell if or when it was going to rain, so I just gathered some logs, 8 eggs (that Karen had already scrambled), and a little satchel of cherry tomatoes and walked over to the house. I had to add more eggs from the carton in the fridge (local brown) to feed the whole group, which I thought was a good idea anyway because no one is living at the house for another couple weeks. I cooked the whole thing in the stove in the living room, and Franco built a little a-frame stand to support the pan over the fire. Karen and Orlando stayed at the tent, but came over a little later to eat with us.
It’s weird to spend time with people who aren’t doing the project, but still participate. Gaby, for example, weaves in and out sometimes, but spends the majority of her time out at the farm with us. I just wish I didn’t have this feeling of uncertainty about what I’m doing out here. If the point of the project, as it was for a while, is to live sustainably without estranging ourselves from friends and family, we are doing it well, because there are almost always people here, sleeping over in the tent, lighting candles with us, eating fire grilled homegrown vegetables. But there is an integral part missing from their experience, even though they get to see the contrast. As much as I love their company, we’re not keeping it the right way, I’m afraid. We won’t reach that point of utter community unless we really LIVE together. (But I’ll probably revise that thought soon enough)
There are a few major realizations I’ve made by working on this project, and some very important elements that have not been present in our life out here, or at least not effective in the sense that they are making life out here better.
1. Community
A dedicated, hardworking community with shared principles and a common vision is necessary for the integrity of a project like this.
2. Solitude
As important as friends and family are, to fully appreciate and reflect on our days out here, and to develop a sense of what we are each looking for, time alone for meditation or writing or thought is essential for spiritual health.
3. Exercise
Before I started the project, I told myself I’d be doing yoga every day. But because of busy schedules and lack of routine, (which I tend to avoid in general) I often miss my chance. Our lifestyle is inveterately active on the farm, weeding, gardening, milking, carrying water, cleaning, biking, etc., but swimming and yoga, for me, are two perfect outlets for stress that really improve my mood and attitude.
4. Nutrition
Getting all the nutrients we need hasn’t been a problem, but variety has been a little limited, at least compared to the way I eat at Ross throughout the year. Our diet has consisted primarily of eggs, raw goat milk, quinoa, and walnuts. Other than that, we basically have whatever is ripe in the garden. All our staples are high in protein and omega-3’s, so we’re in good shape, but unless we make a big salad, we’re a little low in the greens department, and we’re feeling the absence of sugar. (My mouth is raw from all the tomatoes I’ve been eating, but the cherries are everywhere in the garden and they are so sweet and delicious.)
What I need to keep telling myself is that this is shaping up to be a stumble through for what could be a remarkable success next year. The best I can do right now is experiment to see what works and what doesn’t, and just keep better track of my activities for reference.
What makes me feel good?
What makes others feel good?
What reminds me of how beautiful it is to live this way?
What is harmonious?
What can I learn from others?
What can I teach others?
How can I seek balance?
Who’s with me?
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