Bloom Where You're Planted

A stubborn and foolish nineteen year old immigrated to the U.S., determined to prove that she didn't need anybody's help.  She was going to make it on her own.  Baffling how stupid youth can be.







Twenty-two years old that Christmas morning and regretfully, wisdom wasn't one of my stocking stuffers... That would come much later.

I am Canadian, but my Alabama roots are two decades strong.  This is home, where friends know to lend a hand before you even ask.

My Spring trip back to Canada had been pushed back to August and then shoved into October due to Cole's surgeon's advice.  As I'm still paying off the last surgery, that future trip was in doubt.  I travel cheap: two weeks out West, 5600 miles driving, well under $1000 for everything.  Two weeks of lost wages, now that's what hurts. 

Enter Jinx's veterinarian, who also owns a bunch student rental houses, she offered me all the rollover work the first week in August.  Rollover is unique to college towns.  It's one week in between semesters where units changing tenants are vacant.  One sleepless week of resurrecting apartments desecrated by students.  It pays well.  Years ago, when I had employees, we would live out of my truck, working straight through the week, day and night, taking naps in the backseat.  I've only dabbled in it the past few years because it is so brutal; but this year, I'm going for it!  Canada, here we come, thanks Martha!!!

I get by with a little help from my friends.

All of us in the Smith clan have figured this out.

 

 

Axel was in lockup one morning, the herd had wandered away, but look who stuck with him:  his best buddy.

 

 

Cole's buddies are lending him a hand too.  His canine pals sojourning with us on the farm are helping to pay for his physiotherapy.  Three times a week, Cole spends an entire day at rehab.  One total hour of massage, work in the pool, agility work, all for $25/day.  I don't know why it's so cheap and I won't be asking that stupid question:  "Shouldn't you be charging more for this?".  The physiotherapist is insanely devoted and I'm allowed to stop by to visit--we get along great!

My Comeback Kid:

 

 

I can't wait to hit the trails with my kid again.  I'll be ready too.  I finally broke through a mental training barrier on Sunday.  It had been a while since I had run over 20 miles and I had begun to doubt if I could do it.

 

 

This is what I figured would happen.

Happily, I did my 20 miler.

 

 

 

 

Wasn't perfect though.  I started too late in the morning and by noon I was feeling heat exhaustion setting in.  I finished my last eight miles later in the evening.  Barrier broken, now moving on!

I can officially begin planning the running trip.

 

 

Maine, New Hampshire, Quebec, Ohio, state parks along the way, brace yourselves, we're coming to a trail near you!



Happy Birthday Angus!

Tomorrow will be Angus' 11th birthday.  We celebrated today, he's a horse-- what does he care!

All the equids were invited for shredded carrots, pears, oatmeal, molasses and beet pulp.

Morel invited herself.

My first video montage and it didn't cause me to have a Tourette's attack.  I'm evolving, how scary is that?

Home at Last

Instead of the old file in the cake trick, I employed the bribe them with homemade brownies trick.

With that, my oxen were released to me on Wednesday night.

Back home safe and sound.

Briefly got stuck trying to back the trailer into its parking space.  Ended up fishtailing it in...when the ground is less saturated, I'll straighten it up, wash it out, reload all the equipment back into it and be ready for the next run to the vet school.  Something tells me this tornado season will be busy.

Vindication.  It is 6 miles to the vet school on foot.  I had my GPS watch this morning when I went to collect my car that I had left there overnight.  I had believed my first run from there to be only 4 and couldn't figure why it had taken me so long.  It probably is only 4 if you drive the main roads, but (Dad don't laugh) I prefer the more scenic, less travelled road.  I'm renowned for my detours.
It's not always about getting from Point A to Point B, it's about enjoying the journey.

All's Well That Ends Well

Last night's rounds of storms were predicted to be worse than the previous night's.

 

 

Considering this is what happened on the other side of the county, I was preparing to spend the entire night in my storm shelter, or as my friend, Gina, dubbed it:  the Tomb of Doom.

The back flooding issue has, hopefully, been rectified. 

I have a 4" ventilation stack on the bunker, but I wondered if it was sufficient for a long 12 hr stretch.  Online research uncovered a 1960's era experiment on the matter.  Remember, this is the time of the Cuban missile crisis when atomic bunkers were popping up everywhere, a time before guidelines were adopted for the use of animals in experiments, a time where an Air Force serviceman was just a guinea pig. 

It appears that without an intake and exhaust stack, I don't have enough air circulation in my shelter for an overnight sojourn.  Apparently.... it wouldn't be a good idea to fall asleep in there...

Knowledge is good.

Having an invitation to overnight next door in a big sturdy brick house is better.

The little piggy who lives in the straw house gathered up her posse and spent a very uneventful night at a house where they serve homemade strawberry ice cream.



Storm Shelter Drill

One reason I love trail running is that it allows me uninterrupted time to live in my head... to come up with more projects and tasks to further complicate my life.

Example:  Monday morning.  Dire storm predictions were looming for the next 56 hours.  I was eager to test my new storm shelter.  The horses, who eschew the safety of the open bay in the barn when the noise of pounding rain on the metal roof gets too loud, would be safe thanks to Dr. P's mustangs.  Yes, I have wandered off in search of them during bad lightning storms to find that the savvy mustangs take the herd out of the open, away from single tall trees, to low level copses of trees. 

The donkeys sometimes have different ideas.

 But, the oxen... those morons have zero sense.
The thought of emerging from my bunker to find 6000 lbs of barbecue under a tree was troubling me.  My endorphin saturated brain came up with a plan on the last lap around the farm.
I shall take them to Auburn University Vet School to board for a few days.
God, I'm brilliant.

And insane-- they go hand in hand. 
Mack needs to swallow magnetic boluses to safeguard his rumen from punctures from any metal he may accidentally ingest and Tommy's allergies are acting up (yes, really). 
Only one client suffered a rescheduling.  Her daughter is an equine veterinarian, so Mrs. Collins is a sympathetic soul. 
I even left my truck and trailer parked at the vet school and ran back home.  After a good run in the morning, a killer workout with Ike, a long day at work, I was out of steam for the 4 mile run home.  I made the mistake of running in my trail shoes, I felt every pounding step on the pavement. 
With the smell of paint still strong inside the storm shelter, I planned to hop in just before the heavy rains rolled in.  I could sleep until 1 AM, according to the radar.  According to the pounding pain in my left foot, I could not sleep at all. 
2 AM, Cole, Jinx and I were settled in our bunker.

 

 

I positioned my laptop on the cooler and we watched a documentary for an hour, the thunder and heavy rain were muffled, it was very serene.  Until I discovered an indoor waterfall started filling up the bunker.  The heavy rain was causing pooling outside the trap door.

 

 

It got worse, but we stayed inside because it was even worse outside.  By the time the rain subsided, the water was right up to the top of my sleeping platform.

 

 

 

I finally got to sleep a couple hours at 6 AM. 

How to fix this wee little problem before the second round of bad weather arrives at 2 PM today?  If only my brain weren't so tired!

 

A friend told me yesterday that I shouldn't worry so much, that I should have faith in God.  Here is my rebuttal.  I thank Providence for: putting a sturdy vet school facility 4 miles from here, for my bunker and for the power of creativity. 

 

Best illustrated by this story...

The Mississippi River begins to flood.  Residents evacuate.  One man decides to stay, "God will protect me", he says to the neighbor who offers him a ride on his 4 wheeler.  The flood waters rise, the man is now stranded on the second floor when rescuers arrive in a boat.  "God will protect me", he says again.  He's on his roof when the National Guard helicopter tries to save him.  He declines the help.  Once drowned, he arrived at the Pearly Gates and bemoans to St. Peter that God failed him.  Peter tells him:  "he sent you a 4 wheeler, a boat and a helicopter, what more did you want?". 

 

 







Houston, we have a problem

The weather forecast for Monday night through Wednesday is grim:  flooding rain and threats of tornadoes.  There's a lot of waterfront property in Loachapoka these days.

In the nick of time, I have finished my storm shelter.  All I can say is that I hope to never truly need it.

A month of fixing, painting, digging, more digging and on Saturday, she was planted.

Ground Control to Major Tom. Take your protein pill and put your helmet on. 

Commencing countdown, engines on.

 

Two of the three space cadets tested out their new bunker.  Cozy.  The shelter is chained down to concrete piers, buried with more rebar and concrete along the sides... we shouldn't get sucked up into a vortex. 

 

 

 

The third cadet is recovering nicely from surgery.  He's been released from his crate and can wander freely around the house, reclaiming his couch and his spot in bed.

 

In lieu of enjoying a relaxing Sunday playing in the gardens,

 

 

 

I devised a way to frustrate myself for 5 hours.  When the railroad ties were recently replaced, many fell down the steep embankment and were not collected.  (Now, I know why.) I envisioned my driveway delineated by sunken railroad ties.  More digging, just up my alley.

 

Angus was enlisted to help snake the ties.

 

 

Fail. They were too snarled in the woods for him to pull out.  Besides, we were getting much, too much help from the other horses who were being total pests.

 

Next brilliant idea:  get the truck stuck.  10 minutes to realize those railroad ties would not come willingly.  30 minutes to lay a road of limbs for the truck to free itself.

 

 

Project abandoned.

 

 

Comic relief provided by Morel who jumped into the cab while I was busy hooking up to my trailer.  How did she know that I needed my frown to be turned upside down? 

 









Mr. Bean Rides Again

Introductions are in order.

Dearest friends, this is Pink Swan, my first peony to bloom at the Parker Plantation.  I've left a trail of peonies across Lee County over the past 20 years. 

Now for my Mr. Bean reference.
I know my manner of living worries my loved ones.  True, if I had a TV to occupy my time, I'd have far less opportunities to injure myself.  But, I don't plan to croak from a massive cholesterol induced coronary on the couch.  If you hear that the oxen have trampled me to smithereens, then you can know that I died doing something I love and somebody had better get their butt down here to take care of Cole and company!
Be thankful I'm not as driven as the people I admire and wish to emulate.  Then you'd have something to worry about.

Dean Karnazes, running phenom, best-selling author, has run marathons in every continent, yes that includes Antarctica.  He'd give any parent a full head of gray hair.

 

 

 

#421 is Nikki Kimball, a woman my age who wins most ultra marathons she runs.  The picture is from this month's Marathon des Sables in the Sahara.  The toughest foot race on Earth: 156 miles in 100'F temperatures, divided into 6 stages, runners pack all their own supplies (food, sleeping bag, ect), the organizers only provide water and tents. Nikki won the race, of course.  In the picture, she was encouraging her main competitor to pass the slow pokes. 

She lives in Montana and runs with her pointers... remind you of anyone?

She took a bad fall during a run with her dog, leaving her with a deep gash in her leg... similarities are astounding, aren't they?  She ran the Marathon des Sables with this injury, more worried that if the organizers knew of it they'd disqualify her. 

When Cole and I do our Northwest trip this Winter, I will make it a point to join one of her Nordic skiing adventures.  I'm hoping some of that craziness rubs off on me!

 

 

Have skis, will travel.

 

Recent injuries have made me realize that I need to treat this ageing body with more compassion.  I have officially dropped out of my Brazilian jiu jitsu class (with much chagrin), but I'm thinking of joining the kick boxing group -- see, I'm progressing!

I'm not 'that' old yet, but a lifetime of manual labor and years of doing my own stunts have put some serious miles on my odometer.

 

As a kid, whenever we'd fall out of trees, wreck our bikes trying to fly off loading docks, try to take an inflatable dingy down waterfalls, do spectacular Super Grover moves off a horse's back, fall off the back of speeding snowmobiles, thought it was a good idea to try out the competition ski jump at night with regular skis... I can go on but I would be in breach of the confidentiality agreement my cousins.  We weren't concerned about maiming ourselves, it was keeping mum and never telling our parents.

 

But, here's the good news.  After a week of lazing around, waiting for that crunching feeling to leave my neck, I went for a wee 5 mile run yesterday.  No pain. I'm baaaaack!  Mr. Bean rides again, baby!