Panama Farm Life October 8, 2024
Tap, tap, tap. Codi's wakeup comes a bit early this morning. 20 minutes early to be exact. 5:10a. His determination is clear so I swing my legs out of bed avoiding Lila, Lilly and Marta snuggled up tight against me. Outside the lights twinkle in the valley below appearing as if the sky and the ground have reversed positions and the stars now hug the wet ground. The rain was demonic the day before lashing the farm with fury and sending the horses back into their stalls for protection. Water puddles persist on the clay pastures as the sun climbs.
Codi sprints out the door anxious to start his farm rounds. I, on the other hand, move slowly toward the kitchen to start the coffee and take inventory of my various aches and pains in this damp morning. I hear my dad's words in my head, "aging is not for the feint of heart". Each time he would tell me this, I would roll my eyes. Now, I just smile to myself.
I return to my still warm spot on the bed and the canine girls reposition themselves to ensure bodily contact with me. Gary is still asleep. Good, the morning ritual did not wake him. I try to go back to sleep. Nope. The brain is awake and active. A thought pops into my head. Well, more like a punch to the face. Today is my older and only brother's birthday. Today he would be 76 had his street drug addiction not controlled his life and brought it to an end at age 64. My thought is redirected by the pink rays of the dawn. I again carefully rise from bed and retreat to the kitchen.
Outside, the farm inhabitants stir and the tall bamboo grove gently moves in the morning breeze setting off a ripple of chirps and twitters from the resident birds. Porky grunts for his breakfast, the horses bang their grain buckets and the canine girls are now up and barking at the awakenings. I open the front door and the pack bolts out of the bedroom, careens around the corner into the hall and out the door for their morning routine, howling with delight as they go. They will be back shortly knowing that their breakfast is waiting. The cats circle my legs demanding their food.
A message comes in from Amanda. She won't be on the farm today. Could I administer an injection of antibiotic for one of her patients boarding with us. Sure. She has me well trained as her vet assistant. Gary has backed away from hands-on work with the horses. Injury to him is now a clear risk given that his reflex response and strength are not what they were.
Nothing much more on the calendar today...except the ferrier is due, one of our regular construction guys may come to continue work on the master bath tub and tile replacement. I have more painting to do and direction of our farm worker, Alex, to cut down the tallest bamboo surrounding the new villa. This, to prevent a vicious beating of the solar panels when windy season begins at the end of January.
I take my run to the Tuesday Market, a farmer's market that provides everything from fresh veggies to herbal remedies. This regular Tuesday morning chore provides a chance to visit with my friend, a Canadian that bakes gluten free goodies to sell. The best! I stop at the paint store prior to order what I need and pick up on the way back home. The day is easey peasey so far.
Back at the farm with all the supplies and then my WhatsApp dings... freight has arrived at the depot, the horses need more alfalfa pellets, grain and wood shavings that are used for dry bedding in the stalls. Shoes and nails are needed for the ferrier. As lunch warms, I consider where I need to be and when after the housekeeper is fed. The gathering clouds then decide to release their collected moisture and the afternoon downpour begins. Early. The injection can wait.
Alex flags me before I get out of the lower gate and asks if I could pick up some supplies for him. Of course. The pickup knows the way to town, avoids the potholes, lurches to the side where the uphill traffic occupies their half in the middle on the blind curves. Nothing slow about my reflexes. Can't be. The pickup dodges the big truck filled with squacking chickens, a lost tourist in the oversize SUV and the local guy on the motorcycle with a heavy hand on the throttle. Perlina takes good care of me. She is a 2019 pearl white Mitsubishi pickup and a very different ride than the wheels in my prior life. And I love her.
Again back at the farm, the rain subsides. I ask Alex for his calm hand while I inject the big mare. She barely flinches. Job done. A quick english lesson for Alex and a spanish lesson for me. The rain again moves in. The painting can wait. The girls are waiting for me as they nap together on the outdoor dog bed. My day is done.
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