The Smell of Harvest in Wine Country

One is hard pressed to find a more romantic land than wine country in the fall. When the vines pull heavy with ripe, inky purple shades of merlot, cabernet, syrah, and zinfandel, it is a time of celebration for humans and animals alike (some say the best way to know when to harvest is when the birds come to feast). Wine lovers come from all over to the central coast for "crush" time and all the wonderful, drunken harvest parties. It's a glorious time had by all.
Unless, of course, you live near Wildhorse Vineyards, which we do. There is one thing slightly less romantic than the rest of wine country during harvest time, and we are on the front line of this one thing. It's called the fermentation process. Don't get me wrong, fermentation is a thing of pure beauty because it eventually leads to the nectar of life, and I would never, ever insult it. HOWEVER, I will boldly issue the following warning: It is never a good idea to live in a trailer that is old, and therefore requires all windows to be open at night for ventilation, within one mile of a large winery. Around 9:45 each night for a little over a week now we have been the recipients of a southerly wind pregnant with the pungent scent of rotting grapes. The first few nights, being neophytes to harvest time, we assumed it was our trash collection (we have to take our own trash to the dump, so you can imagine how large the tower grows before we are forced to take it). It was that gnarly. But once we disposed of the trash and the smell continued to join us for aperitifs each night, we were at a loss. We busted out all the incense we could dig up out of our as-of-yet unpacked boxes and set it aflame next to our arsenal of candles. I am sorry to report that all our thick musky smoke did was cohabitate with the fermentation stench and drive us from our humble abode. This wouldn't normally bother us, except that fall nights (as of literally three days ago - before that nights were still like 75 degrees) up here are a bit chillier than in Newport Beach, and being driven from our trailer, even with the open windows, feels a bit like lying naked on cold concrete. And that is not romantic, not matter how you cut it. So with that my friends, I am off to try to cuddle our two dogs who may just be more pissed off about our harvest situation than we are.

Farm Dog Sam in the Goat Water

 

He had to ward off the three big goats to secure his position IN the water. He got tossed onto his back from a head-butt from Shirley, but he got back up to win the fight.

Son of a B#$@%, They're Not Ducks

As I sit here on our outdoor deck built around an one hundred plus year old oak tree, I can see one of our "ducks" sitting on top of the fence that guards the Avian Paradise. The only problem is, it isn't a duck. All this time we have believed that first we were raising two baby ducks that were abandoned, left behind or decided that a better life could be had in the big city. Then we were told that we were actually aiding and abetting illegal Mallards. And we were totally fine with that role. Well, it turns out, thanks to our friends Marley and Tony who came up this weekend, that our Mallards are not only NOT Mallards; they aren't ducks at all. That's not the worst of it, though. The worst is that they are GEESE. Before you jump to conclusions and think that we have a prejudice towards some birds and not others, let me explain to you the characteristics of North American common geese:

The smaller one, who is able to fly long enough to crap all over our drive

And the big-boned sister who may never fly, god bless her heart

 1.) They are huge. Much, much larger than your average North American duck. 2.) Because they are huge, they eat an unfathomable amount of feed. This would be fine if they also pulled their weight around the farm like the rest of us, but they don't. They eat, shit, and attack our dogs. Which brings me to the third point. 3.) Not only do they not lay eggs or eat down the weeds or cuddle on my lap; they are virtually the bird equivaliant of a guard dog. No joke. They are huge, angry and unpolitely protective of their things. Now that they are moving out of their adolecent years and into adulthood, their true colors are emerging. Where last week our dogs could chase them around, now they chase our dogs around. And not just chase - attack. The first time it happened was yesterday when our mentally challenged Min Pin, Sam, tried to eat their food. They took after him like he was trying to eat their young (which, with Sam, is completely plausible). He literally tore across the yard with tail between his legs, flanked on both sides by honking, biting geese. I bet they would bite out his eyes in a heartbeat if they could. 4.) The older they get, the crazier they get. And as far as I know, neither has any plans of packing up anytime soon (they have it pretty cussing good), so we are in for some serious barnyard drama for the next god-knows how many years. 5.) They are, how shall I put this? Stupid. Our guests spent several hours yesterday digging and building them a killer swimming hole, and they looked at it like it was a gaping black hole from which they shan't return (how DARE they treat our guest like that). Seriously? They don't even know a body of water when they see one? And they are classified as "waterfoul"? Oh, god help them. And us. 

This Post I'm Just Gonna Talk

I am procrastinating. I am really good at it. I believe there are few alive that could out-procrastinate me. I have procrastinated updating this blog for three weeks or so by doing everything else under the sun that I could possibly think of. And now, the only reason I'm actually doing it is because I'm procrastinating tackling the very tedious to-do list I have today. You would too, if this were yours:
TO DO
1. Call Paypal regarding the fact that they 1. never sent me a new card after I realized someone else was using my account and 2. that they sent me an electronic bill for that account that I can no longer access electronically to pay or even verify the charges. I tried calling yesterday and after five cussing minutes of "speaking" with the fake lady who tries to fend off as many customers as possible from talking to an actual live person, my phone drops the call literally within the first minute the man in India introduces himself.
2. Call United Airlines regarding the completely cussed up experience I had flying home last week. Long story short, they begged me (no, really) to give up my seat for a woman who HAD to get home that day, with promises of food vouchers, free transportation and a hotel for the night. Mind you, I was a 45 minute flight from home, and out of the goodness of my stupid heart, I acquiesced. I thought to myself, "Self, this could make a fun little solo date night. Eat for free, drink for free, sleep in a big comfy bed alone for free. Could be worse." And then it all went to hell. My food voucher was only 10 bucks, which won't even buy you a water in the airport. Strike one. Then I take a shuttle 45 minutes to my hotel and am told the moment the shuttle pulls away that no room was booked for me. Strike two. It's now 9:00 pm, I'm all alone in a part of San Francisco I have never even heard of, had an appetizer for dinner because that's all my stupid voucher would buy me, and there's no room at the inn. The only difference between me and sweet Mother Mary at this point was that at least she had Joseph with her. Well, that and she was pregnant with God.
So, the desk guy calls United and they basically spit in his face, and then I call United and they basically spit in my face. And I quote, "We're very sorry, Ma'am, but there seem to be zero rooms in the ENTIRE CITY due to an Apple conference. Good luck to you." Strike three. I look at the desk guy, he looks at me, we both shrug our shoulders, and he calls me a cab back to the airport.
It is now 9:45 pm. The ride back costs me $50 bucks (no voucher for this one), and when the driver drops me off and asks what I'm going to do now, I look at him, he looks at me, and we both just shrug our shoulders.
By the time I find a United supervisor and explain the situation, emphasizing the glaring fact that I was doing them a favor, not the other way around, he gives me a rather condescending look and says, "I'm sorry ma'am, but we only do service with certain hotels, and if they are all booked, there's nothing we can do." Strike four. I am literally at a loss for words. So I say, "Soooooo, what I'm I supposed to do? Sleep here on the floor?" He replies with the suggestion that I go downstairs to where they have all the outdated pictures of local hotels with the matching phones and start calling. "Hopefully you can find a room, and hopefully United will reimburse you." Strike five.
It is now 10:30 pm and I would have been home almost five hours ago had I been a selfish jerk like everyone else on that flight (I swear the United guy could smell weakness). I book the one room left in the city (which does not have one big comfy bed, but two singles), wait 25 minutes for it's shuttle to fetch me, and get to my room just before midnight. My room that costs $269 plus taxes and fees. When the desk lady asks me if I need help with my luggage, I laugh aloud. My luggage was not asked to give up it's seat on that flight, so it was right then rotating around and around the lonely carousel in San Luis Obispo. I tell her as much. She looks at me, I look at her, we both shrug our shoulders, and I slump off toward my room.
3-5. More phone calls.
6. Job search. I'm flat broke.
7. Start a club whose sole purpose is ensuring that the general populous is aware of the recent most disappointing comments Mit Romney has made. A man who will say, without apology, that the Palestinians (and he has met every single one of them?) "have no interest whatsoever in establishing peace" has no business leading a country that is inextricably tied to the conflict in the Middle East. I am literally speechless.

So as you can see, lots and lots of reasons to be procrastinating right now.

Now That’s What I Call the Beginning of a Compost Pile

And this is only the result of one hour’s work on a 50 foot strip of land. We have almost six acres. I’m seriously going to end up with like 37 composts piles. That should look real pretty.

Goat Herding Videos (I'm stepping it up!)

 

Hopefully, if my computer skills don't fail me, you will be able to watch four whole videos in this post of our very first attempt at goat herding! The three are in order from moving them out of the temporary pen we placed them in when we first brought them home to their new pen at the top of our property (about a five minute walk). They were sharing the Avian Paradise, but I dare say the ducks weren't too keen on this domestic situation. Every single time they ventured out of their cage to practice their flying skills (which i fear the fat one will never perfect), within seconds all three goats would rush in to eat the duck food. The ducks would quickly pit-pat back in after them, but though they put up a damn good fight for a couple of birds, the goats proved stronger...and faster eaters, to the ducks great chagrin. So, much like humans would, they sought their revenge. The second day the goats were munching on their food, they snuck away to the goats' side of the pen and preceeded to wolf down as much of the goat food that they could manage. I am not joking. This is how both species decided to maintain their shared living conditions. So as the human who created this blissful relationship, it was clear to me that Avian Paradise could not make an exception for goats. Ahh, how similar we all are (as much as humanity tries to deny it).

 



First Video:

Part I

 

Second Video:

 Part II

 

Third Video:

Finale!!

 

Duffy and Patrick (both born in March)

 

 

Baby Dwarf Goats!

The woman I spoke to on the phone yesterday about goats said, "Well, the first thing you need to know about goats is that they're addictive." What an odd thing to say, thought I. And then we drove up to Paso and out of Paso, up a long dirt road and finally up her driveway in order to meet her Nigerian Dwarf goat babies. OMG. Saying they are addictive is an understatement. If Jack wasn't standing right next to me, I would have stuffed our truck full of as many of them as I could shove in. As it happened, though, he allowed me two, but the woman threw in one more for the road. Ha! I love how people work out here in the country! So, without further adieu, I give you our two six month old little boys and our two year old girl (the pictures aren't good because I can't yet tell them where to stand for photo opps, but I'll post more once they realize I'm not the enemy who stole them from their 60 member herd of fellow vertically challenged Nigerians. Except that, actually, I am.):

Sure, they look like your average goats without anything to give size perspective, but below when they are next to Max, our 11 pound dog, you can see that I'm not making fun of them when I call them "dwarfs".

The tiny guy in the middle, who's face you can't even see in this photo, maybe has two inches on Max.

Avian Paradise

I still don't have any chickens, but that's only because I have no place to house them yet. When my students were here a few weeks ago they tore down the existing coops because they were, well, shit houses. The dude that farmed chickens here before us left an unbelievable mess behind, and its no wonder all his chickens got diseases and died. More likely they decided drinking the cool-aid had to be better than this cussing life and offed themselves in an overwhelming show of massive avian solidarity. At least, that's what I choose to believe.
Anywho, I wanted to pay tribute to my amazing helpers (Conner, James and Rae) by showing the before and after photos of what is now a two-duck resort, but what will shortly be a mecca for birds everywhere (but probably just for the two ducks and the five chickens). And actually, now that the ducks are pretty much full-grown, we've realized that we have been raising and housing illegal Mallards (thanks a lot Brianna and Magali!). And word on the street is that they will up and fly south for the winter. As a matter of fact, just this week I've noticed the smaller of the two sneaking behind the oak tree to try out her newly filled-out wings. I just can't shake the feeling they're planning something. And to think of all I've done for them.



The two buildings on the left were the existing coops. Everywhere you see plants, there are also deep holes for some strange reason.




Close up of the chaos

This does not even BEGIN to do the amount of shit in the coops justice.





Coops gone, plants pulled, holes filled. All in 100 plus degrees. Bravo, gang.

Who Knew a Goat Could be Just Like a Dog?

Out of our three new goats (each about 1.5 years old and all female), Daisy, the black and white, was bottle fed. Turns out, this results in the goat being more like a dog than a goat! We have discovered this in the few days we've had them because the moment we step into their pin, Daisy is literally all over us. She follows us where ever we go, nuzzles us constantly, and plays games with us, like chase and headbutting. It's amazing to watch, actually. She will push into our legs or hips trying to get us to play with her, and when we leave the pin, she cries for like 2 minutes! If she weren't so cussing strong, I'd even consider leashing her up and taking her for a walk. However, with two slightly bum knees at the moment, probably not a good idea. Plus, she could use a bath before I go showing her off to all the neighbors.
So here she is playing with Rae this morning. It's so stinking cute.

And here's all three of the gals with Sohie and Alanna, past students who stopped by on the way home from their roadtrip to San Franciso. We're feeding them oak leaves. It's like crack to them.

Goats!!!

There is so much to report, as I just realized I haven't updated this since July 24 or something. So sorry to lag so badly. We have had three of my students up here helping us all week, and we have had to work early mornings and late evenings since this heat wave drives us inside like ants around noon every day. The two boys, Conner and James, left yesterday, and Rae is here for 3 more fun-filled weeks of shoveling shit, raking, digging, planting, watering, tearing things down, feeding animals, weeding, sweating, swimming, and glorious sunsets.
The picture below is our fabulous five workcrew. We are not smiling, but that's only from pure exhaustion, not unhappiness. At least, that's what they all said to my face.

I just added this one because it shows the colorings of dusk. My favorite time out here.

Second bit of news: we are officially a farm now with today's addition of three goats! It took four adults to catch them in their old pen and get them up a ramp into our truck, but we did it. They are now in their new digs, and by the way they are chowing down on the pasture, they are fine with the upgrade. Let's just hope they aren't allergic to Eucalyptus leaves. If they are, they're gonners.

From left to right: Daisy, Tina and Kiki (already named by previous owner)