Panama Farm Life December 16, 2024

 Panama Farm Life October 30, 2024

This morning...complete silence. I am awake before Codi. The fur babies on the bed stir and seek my hand for a morning scratch and doze off once again. The night before unleashed the most hellacious lightning storm of the season. Gary and I counted the seconds between the flash and the thunder. Close. Too close. Our solar charged batteries did not waver. We have power this morning and the farm came through the night in one piece. This time.

Last year around this same time the farm took a direct hit. Our electrical grid, security cams, internet and gate motors ...toast. Lesson learned. Reconstruction includes copper grounding rods and surge suppressors at every building, electrical box and gates. And internet cable replaced with fiber. Cost? Don't ask. Peace of mind? Maybe not priceless but damn close to it!

The pig screams. Still dark in this early morning, I grab the hand-held spot light and survey the area below from the terrace. Neighbors have reported jungle cats in the neighborhood. Porky does not appear but all is quiet again. Then I hear two grunts from Che's stall. Ah...ok. A familiar dance. Porky sleeps in Che's stall under the hanging hay net. Che awakes, moves to the hay... steps on Porky. Porky screams, moves out of the way grunting his displeasure. A love/hate relationship. But a relationship. The pig chooses to sleep there knowing the hazard.

Earlier in the week, the days unfolded in typical fashion. A metal part on the hay elevator broke just as 180 bales were delivered and ready to be stored up in the barn loft, delivery of necessary construction materials for the new villa were again delayed, a giant hairy spider needed a bit of tough love to vacate the stairwell in our house, the head of a bird was left on the lower terrace minus the body and the puppy, Lilly, caught and swallowed a mouse. Whole. Nothing permanently damaged, no one died. And then there was this opossum... a large carcass in the bottom of the garbage can. I can only guess it smelled the remains of the soup chickens, gnawed through the lid and died of...overeating? At least it died happy. I tell myself this to assuage my guilt. I take these instances gracefully. Gary not so much.

I enjoy a total of an hour spent with Pilar, Amanda's almost 6 month old baby girl. She delights me. She is my late-in-life surprise. A very happy baby who now recognizes me with a beautiful toothless smile and a cackle that only babies can do. If I visit with one of my dogs, double points. Not that she lacks fur to touch with three pony-sized Brazilian Filas and a cat in her household. Already she has learned how to softly pet and pat the animals who respond to her by moving closer to lick her cheek. This child will go places in life. She is already doing so attending farm calls and meetings with her mom and logging highway miles in the car full of vet supplies.

Later, I check on the tile work in the new villa. All good there. Except...a large army of knuckle sized red ants have blazed a trail along side the driveway carrying large pieces of green leaves. Leafcutter ants. The death knell to anything green that grows. I make a mental note to deal with them soon. Malatov cocktails thrown into the nest comes to mind. Likely a mound of special ant pellets will take care of them. More gentle to the environment.

After a few somewhat rainless days, the heavy rains are forecast to return. The mountains are now lustrous green and flowers burst forth as a response to the warming sun. The weather oscillations will continue through early December until dry season takes a firm hold.

Coffee is ready, the dogs return from their morning business and the day awakens across the valley.