[Bootsandheels]

Started…
(October, 2, 2011…Sitting at my computer…the sun just going down now at 8:30 PM…hummingbirds buzz at the feeder outside the open window 4’ away, a cool sweet breeze floats in with a smell of sea air.)
Finished…
(December 18, 2011 Sunset now at 4:45 PM, chilly and wet, snuggled on the couch in my green robe and slippers with Aisha & Leo on either side of me. Thinking about my past year here on the farm, moving in two weeks time into the next chapter of my now single-again-life…)

I think most of you by now know that over this past year I took up with a goat wrangling butch. I’m sure that this simple statement conjures up a variety of ideas, and believe me I have heard all of the jokes, and been made fun of around this website on more than one occasion…it’s all good, and very much expected. But let me tell you a little bit about what my life has really been like over this past year and a few of the priceless things I’ve had the priviledge to learn while being here on these 7 acres of emerald green on this mystical Isle known as Vashon, WA.

I’ve learned that I can hold a newly weaned baby goat on my lap to comfort it upon arrival from being taken from it’s mother.
They snuggle and snore just like a puppy, and cuddle into your warmth like a baby. This is hands down one of the most precious experiences I’ve had so far-my butch in one chair and me facing hym, just having our usual end of the day conversation, but each of us holding a very sleepy baby goat that has finally stopped crying, suckling on our fingers.

I’ve learned so much about goats…I was dreading it, but really they are quite fascinating. They are dog-smart, have 4 stomachs, eat the sharpest thorns FIRST on blackberries, thistles, etc. They can die if they eat anything in the rhododendron family (which is an indigenous plant here in the NW-go figure) and must be treated immediately with charcoal, and fluids. They have absolutely NO gag reflex to be able to get the poisonous plant out of their systems…so of course the first thing they eat when they escape-which they do A LOT is go for the poisonous plants. So contrary to popular belief, goats cannot eat just anything.
I’ve learned that if you hear a goat grinding it’s teeth, it means it’s in a lot of pain…which comes immediately after the above said carnage of Rhodie plants. I’ve learned that there are many different breeds of goats…and my least favorite was the La Mancha because they have absolutely the smallest ears, and if I had to rename their breed, I would call them ET goats…they look like ET. I rather like them now, because the aforementioned baby goats were La Mancha’s…and something that strange looking in baby form just melts my femme heart…

One of my jobs this past year was to help feed and care for ALL the rescue animals on Frog Holler Farm…yep that’s the name…because frogs are prolific here in the summer months, and that’s what the folks call this area of Vashon.
I have fed, watered, chased, been chased by,knocked over and doctored up about 130 goats, 2 horses, 1-1800lb Jersey steer with BIG horns,
1 shorthorn dairy cow (rescued from the veal factory), 3 self shedding sheep called Katahdins, 2 gay male pot-bellied pigs…(yes you read that right and don’t ask please), and 3 dogs-1 crazy border collie who herds the goats, 1 rescued German Shepherd guard dog, and 1 rescued toy dog who you cannot ever get really mad at for peeing on the floor occasionally and who’s name is Leo (as in “The Lion”) for taking on the Jersey steer his second day on the farm…

I have been swarmed by bees and stung repeatedly after losing my footing trying to turn on a rusty irrigation pipe, (the nest was in the ground-who knew! Picture a femme running for her life across an open field tearing off her clothing…oh ya…hot stuff! LOL)
I have had my thumb almost bitten off by a pot bellied pig were it not for my acrylic nails, and am pretty sure I have mud on every pair of my boots and heels and probably won’t ever be able to get it all off…and if you are wondering…NO I don’t wear those to feed them all…I have a nice butch pair of Bogg boots for work around here…and when those are on my feet…you better believe I get down and dirty but in 30 mins flat can be dressed to the 9’s and girly once again… I am still one of the very few women that I have seen on this island that wears any heels at all…and I anything over a 3” heel gets comments galore…too funny.

I will miss the farm but not the mud and muck, I will miss all the amazing funny animals, but not their equally amazing smells, and antics that almost did me in at times, I will miss the goat wrangling butch who helped me heal with her amazing unconditional love through the toughest breakup in my life on record…But not her way of life.

We meet the people we are supposed to meet and have in our lives for a reason so its said…and I believe this to be true. Some we fall for, some we dearly love for just a season, and some we still scratch our head over wondering… what the hell was that?

Lessons…Experiences…Gifts. Perhaps it’s just my age now, but I see each person, each experience as precious and important. Like a chocolate sundae, I don’t want to miss any of it and want to lick the bowl to make sure I get every last bit of it all…because I don’t want to miss it…
These things that are so priceless for me to learn right now…and sometimes I don’t know it until I get ready to move on to the next adventure that I was immensely blessed to have experienced any of what I just walked through…at all.

Boots

©lkfox 2011