We start off with sprucing up the garden and making it look less like the shit hole that the high tunnel was intent on turning it into. I start in on some light weeding.
That turns into heavier weeding.
Eventually I am a weeding machine. I at some point decide that I hate all the weeds in the garden, and I will murder them with my bare hands. While I have previously solidified my existence as a non-psychopath due to not wanting to harm animals, I wonder if there is some sort of psychological problems that manifests in wanting to destroy nature. I do not wonder very hard though, because there are plants to kill.
I feel very sustainable and organic today because every plant that I dig up, I feed to the pigs. The Lion King's 'Circle of Life' plays in my head. I am happy that the pigs can eat my vegetative enemies. It is only fitting, since I have been dining on nothing but from-the-farm pork sausages recently. I think the pig's name was Venus. She was friends with these pigs. I do not tell them this.
"So you want me to get fat and then...what happens again?"
Lauren asks me when I plan on being done weeding, and instead of telling her the truth (NEVER!), I cede that perhaps I am done now. She gives me a few pieces of spare lumber to denote the beds, but my love of lines gets the best of me and the beds end up like this:
Beautiful.
Then it is on to
cleaning up what Lauren and Ed call The Boneyard. I am disappointed at
the lack of bones, but there are plenty of thistles.
Motherfucking thistle. Let's talk about thistle. Thistle is a useless plant that has giant leaves that will stab you right in the leg just because you're trying to dislodge it from the earth. Nothing likes thistle. Other thistle doesn't even like thistle. Thistle is the bitchy girl with braces who offers to blow you and you're reluctantly like, "Okay..." and then you wake up in the hospital and your penis is gone. Thistle is an asshole.
Naturally, I spend my whole day with it.
Motherfucking thistle. Let's talk about thistle. Thistle is a useless plant that has giant leaves that will stab you right in the leg just because you're trying to dislodge it from the earth. Nothing likes thistle. Other thistle doesn't even like thistle. Thistle is the bitchy girl with braces who offers to blow you and you're reluctantly like, "Okay..." and then you wake up in the hospital and your penis is gone. Thistle is an asshole.
Naturally, I spend my whole day with it.
Fuck nature.
I remove all the thistle from The Boneyard, and figure that is that, but Lauren points to another thistle across the yard.
"Could you get that one too?" Sure, I think, no problem. I just mutilated about twenty of those spiny bastards, so one more couldn't hurt.
My stupidity is solidified when I approach the final thistle. It is a behemoth, a monster thistle from which all other thistle sprang forth. It is the Zeus of thistle. Hot, sweaty and tired, I have no desire to fight with this kraken plant, but being the indentured servant that I am, I have no choice in the matter.
"Could you get that one too?" Sure, I think, no problem. I just mutilated about twenty of those spiny bastards, so one more couldn't hurt.
My stupidity is solidified when I approach the final thistle. It is a behemoth, a monster thistle from which all other thistle sprang forth. It is the Zeus of thistle. Hot, sweaty and tired, I have no desire to fight with this kraken plant, but being the indentured servant that I am, I have no choice in the matter.
Is it cool if I just burn it down?
Honestly, I don't even know where to begin with this thing. I stare
at it for a bit and then poke it with the spade, but my efforts produce
nothing. So I start cutting off the leaves with the shovel, hoping to
get some clarity on my horrible dilemma, but all it elucidates is that
this plant sucks. I dig at the root, and dig at the root, and dig some
fucking more until I get the satisfying feeling that the thistle is
going to come up. I pull hard and!
The fucker rips in half. Seriously, right down the center of the stalk. I hate this thistle. I hate it with my whole being. I stab the spade into the ground again and pull up the rest of this asshole vegetation, and throw it over the fence.
Immediately, the goats all come to see what I am up to. Lauren said that goats do not like thistle, but they start to nibble, and then full on nom the shit out of the thing. It is a beautiful, cathartic moment. I feel like Genghis Khan routing my enemies from their homeland, and then they get eaten.
The fucker rips in half. Seriously, right down the center of the stalk. I hate this thistle. I hate it with my whole being. I stab the spade into the ground again and pull up the rest of this asshole vegetation, and throw it over the fence.
Immediately, the goats all come to see what I am up to. Lauren said that goats do not like thistle, but they start to nibble, and then full on nom the shit out of the thing. It is a beautiful, cathartic moment. I feel like Genghis Khan routing my enemies from their homeland, and then they get eaten.
Victory is delicious.
The goats have helped me vanquish my enemy, which means it is time to
repay them in kind by giving them torturous nail trimmings. Given that
the ground has been wet, this means their hooves will be nice and soft
and good for cutting. Ambitious Roxanne decides to fuck over Future
Roxanne and trim a bunch of hooves. I get through three goats before
Future Roxanne comes back in time and punches Ambitious Roxanne in the
face.
The punch lands me right in bed, where I take a nap. It is a much needed nap, because the day is hot and long, and I have a pony to ride.
Today, I am committed to jumping Coco. She may not like it, but having shed my previous dislike of making girls cry from the day before, I am ready to do things she does not enjoy.
We warm up, and then queue up for the jump. We canter towards it, take the first jump, and then--
She pulls off to the right and avoids it completely.
NOT TODAY, PONY!
Under Lauren's tutelage, I wrangle the pony into doing my bidding. I hold her left rein tight, and make it evident that there is no way she is getting away with trying to buffalo me again. We queue up, run to the jump, she feints right, and I pull left...
I'M JUMPING ON PONIES!
Well, not literally jumping ON the pony. But I am jumping with ponies! Coco cedes defeat at tricking me out of jumping, and we spend the whole afternoon learning to ride together. By the end of the day, she is fully trusting of me on her back, which is not something I would have said twelve days ago.
Lauren compliments me on my progress, and says that I seem to have a natural affinity with ponies. It is the best thing anyone has ever said to me. I try not to die of happiness, but it is a near thing. Coco and I then ride around for an hour, alternating between running hell-for-leather across the pasture and then just walking around like we will never have another responsibility in our lives.
The punch lands me right in bed, where I take a nap. It is a much needed nap, because the day is hot and long, and I have a pony to ride.
Today, I am committed to jumping Coco. She may not like it, but having shed my previous dislike of making girls cry from the day before, I am ready to do things she does not enjoy.
We warm up, and then queue up for the jump. We canter towards it, take the first jump, and then--
She pulls off to the right and avoids it completely.
NOT TODAY, PONY!
Under Lauren's tutelage, I wrangle the pony into doing my bidding. I hold her left rein tight, and make it evident that there is no way she is getting away with trying to buffalo me again. We queue up, run to the jump, she feints right, and I pull left...
Clearing Mt. Everest over here.
I'M JUMPING ON PONIES!
Well, not literally jumping ON the pony. But I am jumping with ponies! Coco cedes defeat at tricking me out of jumping, and we spend the whole afternoon learning to ride together. By the end of the day, she is fully trusting of me on her back, which is not something I would have said twelve days ago.
Lauren compliments me on my progress, and says that I seem to have a natural affinity with ponies. It is the best thing anyone has ever said to me. I try not to die of happiness, but it is a near thing. Coco and I then ride around for an hour, alternating between running hell-for-leather across the pasture and then just walking around like we will never have another responsibility in our lives.
Eventually we must return to life, though, and I take her to the barn to feed her her medicine. I sit in contentment, delighted in the afternoon, not even remembering how much I hate thistle.
And then I see her.
For the two weeks I have been here, there has been a, shall we say, rogue chicken. She is a Cornish hen, and according to Lauren and Ed, she is basically feral. They have been trying to catch her for ages because she is big and beautiful and will make lovely chicken babies, but the bitchy bird that she is, she remains elusive.
Now here I sit, in the barn, and she is there. With four walls around her.
I poke my head out of the barn and ask Lauren to hand me a net. What follows next is one of the silliest moments of my life. I consider marketing chicken-chasing as a cure for depression, because you cannot take yourself seriously or not laugh your ass off when you are trying to catch a chicken. It is an absurd endeavor. I chase the hen into a corner, trying to bop her on the head with the net to catch her, but she evades and runs faster than Usain Bolt on PCP. I chase her all around the barn, and then suddenly, I lose sight of her.
I am upset, thinking she got out of the barn. But I have been too vigilant. I blocked all the exits.
She is in here.
I tiptoe around the barn, checking through the window of each stall, but I only see the smaller hens scratching for bugs. No big fat red Cornish. I refuse to be outsmarted. I pick a stall, and go in, creeping up to a small wooden box. I see a small black hen hunkered down, and trying to hide under her, the Cornish.
It becomes a game of air hockey, where I hold the net over the top of the box and slide it quickly back and forth, only instead of trying to repel a puck, I'm trying to capture a chicken. Realizing she is cornered, she dives for a hole in the hay bales. I panic, thinking she will escape, and throw the net away and snatch her by the leg.
The moment I grab her, she seems to sag her shoulders in defeat. I add the count of enemies destroyed today: 21 thistle, 2309482304 weeds, 1 chicken.
It is a Good Day.
Lauren and Ed are astounded that I have caught her. I can actually feel myself rising in esteem. Instead of being a worthless city girl, I am the Catcher of the Rogue Chicken. I make plans to have that added to my birth certificate. The people must know.
I take my rightful place as hero of the farm, and we sit outside for hours, because it is a perfect afternoon with just the right amount of sun and breeze. Ruby comes over to congratulate me on my victory as The Most Awesome Person Ever.
Bestiiiiiieeeessss!
My goal at the farm was to be best friends with all the ponies, and it only took twelve days and six apples to achieve my goal. SUCK ON THAT, LONG-TERM GOALS!
I guess I can die now.
Already in heaven.
GOAT OF THE DAY: Odysseus
Odysseus really just doesn't give a fuck. I have not seen this goat do anything that could be construed as 'active.' He is the goat I most frequently find in this position. In fact, he is the only goat I find in this position. I doubt he will be embarking on any major quests that take him across the ocean any time soon.
Odysseus really just doesn't give a fuck. I have not seen this goat do anything that could be construed as 'active.' He is the goat I most frequently find in this position. In fact, he is the only goat I find in this position. I doubt he will be embarking on any major quests that take him across the ocean any time soon.
"A little busy here."
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