Oh! The Places You Will Go

I'm lucky. I get to see things like this every day in the area I live: Sonoma County, California. I was once commenting on a friend's blog that I was envious of families who pack up and move to places for the summer. First of all, it's hard, even in these times, to be able to afford that in California, but my friend nicely reminded me, "Sharon, but don't you live in a place people go to on vacation?" And my comment was, "But if you're there every day, it doesn't seem like a vacation." She was right. And so was I.

I subscribe to a number of travel blogs and am tempted by the photos of places I won't likely see in my lifetime. Exotic places. Colorful places. For the few seconds I read about them, and lusciously scan the photos, I am there, knowing that's as far as it gets.

I look out at my garden, and my chickens and see work, even though the beautiful grape-laden hills are all around me. There is the sawdust to move, the chicken feed to empty into the feeding cans, the weeding and dead-heading in the garden. And darn those zucchinis - how come they seem to blow up overnight and go from gourmet table fare to chicken food? You don't pick them? The plant thinks it's done and goes home to the vegetable Heaven somewhere. I stew over my tomato plants that just decide to die. Hello? Can't you give me a clue why you are turning brown? Too cold? Too much water? Your buddy over here has been producing for weeks, and you decide to go home. Not nice.

Not every wonderful place on my list has blue water, umbrellas and lounges. Or spas. But most of them do have something to do with water. At the Kenwood Inn, for instance, there is this huge waterwheel that goes around and around, and I love falling to sleep to it on the few times I have stayed. I wrote a story taking place there so I had a good enough excuse to indulge myself when my finance allow. Some day. When I've sold a bajillion copies of all my books.

These have been very challenging and stressful days for me. I find taking a mental time out and going some place for a 5-minute vacation a necessary evil. Is there some dark lurking prince behind one of those palm trees? Who knows. Afterall, it isn't me that's traveling to those places, but my heroines. Looking for love in all the right places.

Where do you go when you like to escape the world?

Days of Wine and Chickens

This is a great day. Any day I get dirt all over my body is a great day. I love to garden. I even love tending my chickens.

So, today is my first day to begin planting my garden – one I haven’t had for over 2 years now, ever since our house fire that pretty much sunk us in every respect, not the least of which is financially. But I digress…

I’m thinking about posting “Ode to Spring” things, but I can’t wait to get out there and get my hands and face dirty. For over 2 years my chickens have had their way with my garden—ate all my rhubarb, asparagus and artichokes—things I had grown for years, and things they told me at Western Farm Supply they wouldn’t touch. They even ate remnants of catnip and ALL my horseradish, although it took them 2 years to do the latter. I don’t think any of them could ever carry a disease—it’s been burned out of them.

They’ve given me a bumper crop of colorful eggs I trade at the local Farmer’s Market, for veggies and veggie/flower starts. Okay, fruit, and organic sheep sausage, English pot pies, fresh fruit turnovers, hot sauces, lemon and orange-flavored olive oil (try using it in your favorite corn bread recipe and they’ll never figured out how you did it) and occasionally cheeses and fresh crab. I’ve also traded for wind chimes that drive my brother crazy (he hates noise) tablecloths and cutting boards.

So my beautiful soil, with all the chicken poop and sawdust shavings from 2 years of henhouse cleanout, the virgin soil every gardener loves, rich with compost, and free of a single weed, rototilled to perfection (it was my valentine’s present from my hubby) is ready for my touch.

I am orgasmic!

So, if you don’t hear from me for awhile, I’m in the garden, caked with mud. Entertaining my chickens.

Oh, and here’s a little secret I’ve learned about chickens, lest you think I am a Pied Piper or witch or something. They line up for certain things. One of them is $1.00 loaves of bread from Bimbo Bakery. God bless Bimbo.