Back Again

Deer Season

Deer season. Every year, it stands in the way like a big block of granite. Deer season is the winding down of gardening, putting in root crops and greens in preparation for the winter. It's time for packing in the brooder, with the last of the meat chickens in the rear view mirror, already processed and in the freezer. It's the time during which the empty freezers are slowly filled with scraps for the dogs and ground venison for us. I was working two jobs during deer season, both at the kennel and processing meat as fast as it would come in. Every day, we'd plan ahead: gardens, chickens, dogs, and such, for "after deer season." Everything comes to a standstill, other than cutting, grinding, and packing deer meat.

This year was more difficult than most years. Dan, due to his cancer treatment, was SO limited in what he could do. I did the sorting, the cutting, the packing, the cleaning up; he picked up the carcasses and ground the meat. It was a tough time for both of us, with both of us fighting exhaustion but unwilling to let the season pass. It was deer season that forced me to admit that I needed to start cutting back. I applied for early Social Security and, fortunately, was approved. I just needed for the months to pass, just to get there.

Depression

Of course, it was inevitable that everything would catch up with me--and it did. December was a hard slog, depressing, wet, and cold. I hate the short days. Dan was feeling tired and ill again, with the new round of chemotherapy. It seemed that spring would never get here. We put the last of the meat in the freezer, knowing that we didn't have enough scraps for the dogs for the year. The weekend that I was supposed to have my break and go to Texarkana for a dog show, Texas and Arkansas got hit by a major ice storm. The same system ran rampant through our blueberry bushes, freezing back newly forming flower buds. I tore my rotator cuff--ouch!--but still had to keep going at work. I had a hard time sleeping, getting to dog training, convincing myself that working was a good thing. Last month, the majority of my goat herd died due to bad feed. Everything culminated with my seventeen-year-old little mixed breed dog, Trouper, passing on last week. As sad as it was, I think it overflowed the levee. It was time to pick up and start moving on.

Rising From the Ashes

The nice thing about life is that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. (I can't take credit for that. It's like Newton's Third Law of Motion or something.) Life is bouncing back. The garden is doing well. Widget and Yuma are doing well with Wednesday night classes. I have a new puppy to play with (Yay, Goth!). Two days ago, I wrote my resignation letter to bring to work on Monday. I'm already putting together weave poles to start training Yuma and Badger in agility. I already have the flirt pole ready to get Pip and Yuma training in Fast CAT. Next week, I'm buying the new post for the training ring, so that I can repair the fence. I'm getting a new buck kid as a companion to my remaining goat, Screechy. I have plans to attend dog shows in May and June, as well as an obedience trial in July.

Best of all, I feel like writing again. I know that life won't be completely easy after I retire, but I have a positive outlook right now. I need people to bear with me as I make my adjustments, but everything will come in time. Best wishes to everyone that might see this post--take care and be well!