what is a “gumboot” and what is a “gumshoe”? what am i doing here?
i’m the world’s least likely farmer. i didn’t grow up doing farmery things with farmery people, although i could have. i come from a long line of gentleman farmers, so it might be in the genes. i’m learning by the seat of my pants, sometimes literally and sometimes painfully. it started with horse rescue. horse rescue became goat rescue and cow rescue and, inadvertently, chicken rescue. and from rescue, it turned into pet farming, which isn’t like real farming because i don’t eat my charges. gardening, too, which is fun because i live squarely on top of some pretty amazing glacial deposits (that’s “rocks”). i sit in an office by day and squander my evenings and weekends stringing fence, sticking needles into horses as needed, banishing weeds, and swearing at goats. i also have an embarrassing number of cats, a big dog, a small dog, and two grown children who pop in and out from time to time.
these are the stories (and verses) of my unlikely life on top of a mountain in a rural town in vermont, filling in the gaps between seasons and chores and the cycle of life that swings around me. it’s a paean to quadrupeds and hens and songbirds and weeds and all the lovely and awful things that my life can muster.
so, put on your gumboots and tromp out into the mud with me. maybe we’ll learn something we didn’t know before or didn’t know that we needed to know. be proper country detectives. gumshoes, if you will.