News From The Farm

This X every room in the house

It's the sweetest thing I know of

Just spending time with you

It's the little things that make a house a home
Like a fire softly burning and supper on the stove
The light in your eyes that makes me warm

Hey, it's good to be back home again
Sometimes this old farm feels like a long lost friend
Yes, and hey, it's good to be back home again

—Back Home Again, John Denver

***

The news isn't all bad.

I mean, sure, we're completely inundated with things we have no room for, but that's just logistics.

What's required is that we start making hard choices about what we need here vs. what we want. And if the gap between those thing is currently vast, well whose fault is that, anyway?

There's a Habitat For Humanity nearby, and a Salvation Army Outlet store. Farther away, in Kona, is the Re-Use Hawai'i architectural salvage store. Our loss will be their gain.

The paring process began yesterday, with a much-needed trip to the transfer station. We loaded up the truck* with as much non-salvageable stuff as possible and dumped it into an enormous bin. My soul felt slightly lighter, but to be clear there are many such trips in our future. It's either that or we bring in a 20-foot container, park it next to the house, and fill it up with things that won't fit in the house. I'm not saying that's the aesthetic we're going for here, but it is an available option.

***

Juxtaposed with our visit to the transfer station was our trip to the Hāmākua Harvest Farmers Market. We love a weekend farmers market (or two) and this one features fresh produce, arts and crafts, food trucks, fresh-made ice cream, live music, and a commercial nursery—all with an amazing ocean view.

We're hoping/planning for a Singing Whale Farm booth at this market one day. What we'll be selling is very TBD, but it'll start with the things we have experience with—eggs and honey. 

I joke about selling recreational weed as well, but since that's not currently legal in Hawai'i (and we have zero experience growing weed), that'll remain a joke for the foreseeable future.

***

Not a joke: this very busy weekend ended with me sleeping in the car with our resident polar bear.

After a long day running around barking at cows and turkeys and the neighbor's tractor, our 10.5 year-old Great Pyrenees jumped into the back of the car for a well-deserved bark-break. As the evening wore on, though, her nap turned into a full-on lethargy that we couldn't diagnose. 

Rather than drag her out of the car, I climbed in with a pillow and a sleeping pad. I'm no veterinarian, but I felt like the least I could do was monitor her for obvious distress during the night—or be there with her if she decided to leave us.

I fell asleep to the sound of her breathing—and woke up many times in the darkness listening for that sound. Eventually, gradually, finally dawn arrived, and she was still with us. She still seemed a bit groggy (or maybe that was me), but the lethargy was gone, and she ate a good breakfast. Afterward, in the morning light, I noticed a large welt on her nose. It looked like a reaction to a bee- or yellow jacket sting—which may explain her other symptoms.

Consulting this morning with the vet about anaphylaxis in dogs and a supply of canine epi-pens. Just in case.

***

In closing, the news from the farm can be summed up as somewhat vexing, occasionally worrisome, with a side of uncertainty—but not really bad. 

Sitting here this morning, we'll take that and be grateful.

***

(*Rhoda—for future reference, the truck's name is Rhoda, after Valerie Harper's character in The Mary Tyler Moore Show. "Tough, with a good heart.")