Thursday, January 13, 2005

Of Hothouse Skins and Wind

Husband’s parents were up for a visit yesterday. They are in the area because an aunt is sick unto death and they of course want to be with her. Plus someone dying also means a lot has to be taken care of. It was good to see them and hopefully a good break for them too.

So we had pizza with sauce and cheese made on the farm and pound cake with butter and eggs from the farm with real ice cream and real whipped cream both from the farm – “real” and “from the farm” being pretty darn synonymous.

While I did that stuff, they visited and went down to the hothouse with its new ribs and put the new skin of plastic on it. A few extra hands and not too much wind made it easy – or so it seemed to me as it was up and fastened down by the time I got to meander down that way.

I always liked being in hothouses. There used to be tons of them, little ones, scattered all over and I remember making the rounds of them with my mother. I don’t know what she bought but I always loved being in them, their warmth and smell and looking at things. As soon as the skin was on it was 70 degrees inside and I began thinking of repotting my wasabis and aloes and feeling the dirt in my cuticles.

Well, this morning I went out to milk and looked down the hill to see bare ribs sticking up. Big winds last night, and more today, and it is naked. Turns out the cleats on one side didn’t get screwed down -- the pizza was done a little too soon. Plastic looks intact. Rain and cold is coming but right now there is too much wind to do anything about it. So the plan is to wait for the rain and calm then go get wet putting it back up before the cold gets here because you can’t handle plastic in the cold. Hopefully we’ll get the plastic back up, screw the cleats down this time, and it will hold. And then I'll get a hot soakie bath with some good smelling essential oils in it.

Although it may not stay up and I may not get a soakie bath. Life is like that. Best laid plans of mice and men and all that.

But the baby goat is fine by the way, as I figured she was. Babies have to sleep a lot and their moms will lay them down somewhere and go off and the babies know to stay there, unmoving.

No comments: