Tag Archives for farm

Farmhouse Mirage

The first evening we were at the farm I looked out the sitting room window toward the barn and I thought there was an animal perched on a cement block beside the barn.

I was told it was my imagination and that it might help if I put my glasses on. In defiance and determined to prove my friend wrong – and in spite of my pain – I put on my rubber boots and coat and walked out into the damp beginning of a rainfall. I gingerly found a safe path down a small slope in the back yard, squeezed myself through the narrow space between the fence and the chained gate dividing the yard from the field and limped my way over to the barn.

What I found sitting on the cement block was not an animal (dead or alive). It was a pile of rocks that appeared to have been arranged to look like an animal. I supposed it was intended to scare off any more turkey vultures from taking up residence in the barn.

After seeing this, I limped back to the fence, squeezed my way through the narrow space between the gate and much more slowly found my footing back up the sloped mound in the back yard. By then it was raining big, heavy raindrops. Each drop that landed on the top of my head felt enormous. With the rain coming down I crossed the back deck and walked through the sitting room door. I was greeted by the questioning eyes of my friend: was it an animal or are you seeing things? I did not satisfy her with a response.

I was seeing things. I am seeing things. Things that are there and things that may never be. I’ve reached a point where I can accept that my condition – and the chronic pain it has caused – is not temporary. Months ago I was certain that my reluctant surgeon was going to perform surgery that would repair my health and end my pain. But that’s not going to happen. At best my congenital condition – which at this point is a working diagnosis – will be repaired but the repair will give rise to serious complications. And the pain I now live with every day will remain and by all accounts may get worse.

So, there may not have been an animal by the barn, but I was willing to take action to find out what was out there. The determination that made me get up and walk out into the damp evening is what I’ve depended on my whole life to carry me through difficult situations. And it’s the same quality that continues to hold me together as I live through this illness.

 

Santana – Mirage (with lyrics) – Borboletta 1974

Farmhouse Infestation

One night at the farm I fell asleep watching the silhouette of ladybugs move across the screen of my laptop. The two insects flew and crawled in criss-cross paths from the top to the bottom of the lit screen and hypnotized me into slumber. It is safe to assume that when my laptop powered down and the light went out the ladybugs returned to their regular haunts behind the curtains covering the window above my head because I woke the next morning to a gentle buzz coming from that direction. When I finally sat up in bed I was surprised to see about more than a dozen ladybugs flying, crawling, and on their backs in the space between the recessed window and curtains.

I watched them for a while. Some flew a short distance then landed on the curtains and started inching their way over the soft white waves of fabric that probably seemed like an endless sea to them. I grabbed my smartphone from the night table and tried to take a picture of a tiny ladybug as she crawled up the curtain. But the zoom couldn’t focus on her tiny moving body. Then because I got too close she started to open her wings as if anticipating a danger she might have to flee. I backed away.

Determined to get a picture I opened the curtains to get access to her siblings that were moving purposefully along the window sill. I took a shot of one of them – I think the zoom captured enough of her details. Then I lay back in bed and watched a few more of the black-dotted, red bodies move across the curtains a little while longer before moving my sore body out of bed to go downstairs to take my late morning mixture of medications.

Farmhouse Infestation Ladybug

Farmhouse Infestation Ladybug

I cautiously navigated my way down the stairs and found everyone in the sitting room. When I recounted my ladybug tale I learned that there were more of them downstairs and in other rooms of the house. After a brief chat my friend that was hosting the farmhouse getaway turned on a shop-vac to continue vacuuming up another kind of infestation: cluster flies. At any time of the year there are dozens of flies trapped on flypaper that is taped to the inside of all the windows of the house. Those flies that don’t stay stuck to the flypaper die shortly after and fall to their deaths on the window sills, between the panes of the windows, and in hidden corners

Later in the day my friend explained that these infestations are the result of a few things: her farm is a working farm with almost 100 acres of land that gets fertilized with manure to grow grain for animal feed. The fertilized fields attract a variety of bugs and animals – bears have been known to come down from nearby hills. The house itself is about 100 years old and there are crevices that have developed between the baseboards and the walls and floors into which the flies and other bugs lay their eggs. These eggs are able to survive in the safety of the crevices and then hatch to produce this mass of bugs.

I reread that last sentence and realized it makes it sound as if there was a swarm of bugs flying through the house. That is never the case. It’s just easy to notice the intermittent buzzing and their bodies darting around the rooms. And it’s easy to see the flies that have the misfortune of landing on the transparent flypaper on the windows or all the bugs that have come to rest on the window sills.

Bugs aside, I enjoy visiting this farm. I’m getting used to the flies, but I would prefer infestations of red-winged ladybugs because anything that can draw my attention away from my pain for a while is a welcome distraction.

Phish – Farmhouse

Farmhouse Retreat

I’ll be leaving the confines of the approximately 600 square feet that are my apartment for a few days. A close friend has invited me to spend some time with her at her farm a few hours outside of the city. I like it there. The house sits on a rolling 100 acres of farmland. It is spacious but the individual rooms are cozy, and the stairs creak when you climb them. The house is far enough away from the road so it’s always peacefully quiet and when the sun shines it finds its way in through every window it can reach.

Getting to the farm will be tough. I have difficulty traveling in vehicles since becoming ill. My pain is aggravated by the motion and the terrain being travelled over. I feel every start, bump, and stop. Sharp turns and potholes are the absolute worst thing my body must endure. When I’m being driven by a friend or family member they are mindful of the need to move as smoothly as traffic will allow, but on occasions when I travel by taxi, I find myself holding my breath and white-knuckling my way through the ride. It’s incredible how something I never gave a second thought to when I was healthy now creates such anxiety and elevates my pain levels.

One of the nice things about this trip to the farm will be the days in between the car rides when I will have time to rest my body. It usually takes about a day for my body to recalibrate to my normal pain levels. When the pain settles I will be able to claim a spot on the couch to look out the sitting room window and scout for the turkey vultures that make their home in the barn. When I eventually sleep there will be complete darkness because there is no light pollution to creep in through the curtains. And we will have meandering conversations over large mugs of coffee that will take my focus – even if it’s just for short moments – away from my pain.

At the end of the long car ride it’s nice to know that all I’ll have to do is take it easy…

 

Eagles – Take It Easy