tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-126456972024-03-18T05:47:47.973-04:00Meals I Have EatenA blog chronicling my departure from urban life on the east coast to sheep farm and cheese making life on the west coast. Still recounting the meals I have eaten in my new setting, but with more sheep thrown into the mix. cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.comBlogger3855125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-7823008491994798142023-01-16T15:39:00.000-05:002023-01-16T15:39:01.119-05:00Dwindling Summer and Fall of 2022 and a Touch of 2023<p>Well we are in 2023 now. Honestly I think I may feel like it's 2020 for the rest of my life; I can't quite account for 2021, though I guess it would be easy enough to look at my 2021 round up post. I imagine it would be fairly similar to this entry. As always, photos are not uploaded chronologically for reasons that are above/beyond my pay grade. I continue to dye my hair - reddish in summer, purplish in winter. I keep thinking about trying just some kind of dark brunette - in the same family as my actual hair, just with a hint of gothy-cousinness. This was later summer, so the zinnias were popping. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3OKI6GxIr4CoRTBR9LdK9cQy4g9qerN_daSn29G1f8DKbIWdU2wvXpeK4Y5yZTjfKD5wPjbHYjfaszltMcTo8H-xMP2CemOPy51u5sKU6t9vEcJ0AmCIeEXXd4ytJ46424K0lDjmM9Nd9Ue_NJi61LgBrgMQwtXkw0bWFYpdrkfEeHy-umYI/s3088/zLj1AM8TRsKv50idBctrLw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3OKI6GxIr4CoRTBR9LdK9cQy4g9qerN_daSn29G1f8DKbIWdU2wvXpeK4Y5yZTjfKD5wPjbHYjfaszltMcTo8H-xMP2CemOPy51u5sKU6t9vEcJ0AmCIeEXXd4ytJ46424K0lDjmM9Nd9Ue_NJi61LgBrgMQwtXkw0bWFYpdrkfEeHy-umYI/w480-h640/zLj1AM8TRsKv50idBctrLw.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>I invited my father and his lady friend to come to the area at some point in November. Then I invited old Maryland friends to join us for lunch, which they did, and then I took them all up to the knob for the good views. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3d_xr578ZqgNpCFd1goHqAChCsbut6gDM-yjoRtU1b_IT23KSXU4jVBQeHQLxQb0zTvBadIqniYzaNJU1cFAH70EYMzpDxYey0rucKbCRBNF7U0IeT6bO4glVZJUDN9SVn5IzZXG4_b2GhrR3XSsmQ1qC_c-TYDNPCesUre_pEPkyP7Lg35U/s4032/ZKxNowsEQ0+zTZq87qcRuQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3d_xr578ZqgNpCFd1goHqAChCsbut6gDM-yjoRtU1b_IT23KSXU4jVBQeHQLxQb0zTvBadIqniYzaNJU1cFAH70EYMzpDxYey0rucKbCRBNF7U0IeT6bO4glVZJUDN9SVn5IzZXG4_b2GhrR3XSsmQ1qC_c-TYDNPCesUre_pEPkyP7Lg35U/w640-h480/ZKxNowsEQ0+zTZq87qcRuQ.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>New Year's Eve was spent with friends. They made bao buns and spring rolls and introduced me to a new space-themed version of Catan. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy59G_R8WXIlhw2oiErnxTdbB1WwrP1zbxxIq2jdDzcmqhWfZsFy9xHNBGE8X3JG-8vHxNVf36Ipd9-7wkiNopIv3fryxrC0dFrSkEkbxPR6swCC6g8aGvRF2NeNlgyLQVc4vZ_alzADHT0DbVlkSsqBPoWGSZUEOBkNgVUBQDrJLpBXbrPec/s4032/ZKnQHOs1QOG6K37kPCZk2A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy59G_R8WXIlhw2oiErnxTdbB1WwrP1zbxxIq2jdDzcmqhWfZsFy9xHNBGE8X3JG-8vHxNVf36Ipd9-7wkiNopIv3fryxrC0dFrSkEkbxPR6swCC6g8aGvRF2NeNlgyLQVc4vZ_alzADHT0DbVlkSsqBPoWGSZUEOBkNgVUBQDrJLpBXbrPec/w480-h640/ZKnQHOs1QOG6K37kPCZk2A.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>The skies continued not to disappoint. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSkfZ_uxA0O_UYnsLezfSDN5D497CzRnfiszjy8t-JvAX_jhqL4SgVYP8qOVSyOF5Ngx028fbqzFC-6sLEADXjUZNQHjE7AY7ZKIl1eaCLC9NulaNxgzQa1C8fApT_78EsXw88moS-Jdp8LqP6XRjtACaQOKiQnn1XalQB2Z31upxVL5nFiU/s4032/YR9roRQURWunRSwjPMu4mQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSkfZ_uxA0O_UYnsLezfSDN5D497CzRnfiszjy8t-JvAX_jhqL4SgVYP8qOVSyOF5Ngx028fbqzFC-6sLEADXjUZNQHjE7AY7ZKIl1eaCLC9NulaNxgzQa1C8fApT_78EsXw88moS-Jdp8LqP6XRjtACaQOKiQnn1XalQB2Z31upxVL5nFiU/w640-h480/YR9roRQURWunRSwjPMu4mQ.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Ideally this would be paired with the photo taken in July 2020 of me holding baby Hippo and Birdie, but the blogger gods do not agree. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDzRp7JOUmIlZ2PDewGknChY4e8sif5tgqJWqJt1E6V5mgRXXH08Kn4iQoIBncnbaB2gPx3JmN54C5NYUma_LjWE5ajkjUfnVdJCZlrCottY51Z0CJcVZL0q4w7e6kX4-Uj4xFRn71fNrqPvqeXxpp9g650bODXLP5CfbE4m3TXfrV7B3x8w/s4032/y4zAlr15QjKxGkCi2y+3tw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDzRp7JOUmIlZ2PDewGknChY4e8sif5tgqJWqJt1E6V5mgRXXH08Kn4iQoIBncnbaB2gPx3JmN54C5NYUma_LjWE5ajkjUfnVdJCZlrCottY51Z0CJcVZL0q4w7e6kX4-Uj4xFRn71fNrqPvqeXxpp9g650bODXLP5CfbE4m3TXfrV7B3x8w/w480-h640/y4zAlr15QjKxGkCi2y+3tw.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Went on a tour of a nearby plot of land that is going to be turned into public lands with access to the New River. The skies were on fire as our wagons wended their ways back to our cars. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2Y0mV1lcg_lS7HTw1cU-ymLL7_VgwbRUg5W7sup84iG5DtBb0_aE5_A2lG31zv06u6Ak1Qnqie4gWIlNV18WDf8kl0vxdsa6DGVAXYVNuLLpYFk25FtCEJ7guneHQJM6T0euSFkXSM1LG503_Y98r8uOJp4XWKVwpx2jbnSxSujtmJcDpvI/s4032/xIZ6Rn%25FRju4lnEWokJ1aQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2Y0mV1lcg_lS7HTw1cU-ymLL7_VgwbRUg5W7sup84iG5DtBb0_aE5_A2lG31zv06u6Ak1Qnqie4gWIlNV18WDf8kl0vxdsa6DGVAXYVNuLLpYFk25FtCEJ7guneHQJM6T0euSFkXSM1LG503_Y98r8uOJp4XWKVwpx2jbnSxSujtmJcDpvI/w640-h480/xIZ6Rn%25FRju4lnEWokJ1aQ.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>In late August my godmother came to visit and one night we were out on the deck, drinking wine in the fading light and darkness. We both heard what sounded a lot like a kitten mewing...but it was dark and I refused to investigate. But a couple days later, the saga of kittens began in earnest. The story would be better told with appropriately chronological photos...but of course no....so this is Patches, the third kitten I found over the next week or so. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUl-CxcSncFXGVfoqtrdg7VnsFM7GARCUlu1Ul2c4z6Ug8o8_oey7dEo3WGwxo9YMQdCwk00GM1ashUYmL_-pwvXLP-qIPxpPw6DQqq0dUKMblJym16Au47-oV_AjRS4aA0ENd44u5SBV3mRwwaUmAo8nTnlh5oTwnlndS0M7_V5z3qncg1s/s4032/W2tVhDb3RIWl5CCwtoWBpQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKUl-CxcSncFXGVfoqtrdg7VnsFM7GARCUlu1Ul2c4z6Ug8o8_oey7dEo3WGwxo9YMQdCwk00GM1ashUYmL_-pwvXLP-qIPxpPw6DQqq0dUKMblJym16Au47-oV_AjRS4aA0ENd44u5SBV3mRwwaUmAo8nTnlh5oTwnlndS0M7_V5z3qncg1s/w480-h640/W2tVhDb3RIWl5CCwtoWBpQ.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>I decided to care about the World Cup this year, and chose to root for Argentina because of Lionel Messi's story, which I had only learned a couple of days before the competition began. So when they won in the most dramatic and stressful way possible, I was glad I had thawed a steak to celebrate. I think it's a NY strip steak? I forget. Anyway, cooked just a touch south of rare, with chimmichurri mashed potatoes and garlic mushrooms. De-fucking-licious. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKh64IvrpldiP9HPekK0XfQtmBtbklAgXssVcrS-luS1UNVywVoiNR89069w6eT55QmVoDiXfJ0yjzFkohZsyggnyWBH18Tzeqm9nXH7T6Cd5yYV8uldzt22n4UgVIWqIHA2_V8U7ClRDMjS34y_5unRzlRAzXVnjvtCixIePISA7gieo24E/s4032/VugCia60QsyMhz28YE1qmw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjKh64IvrpldiP9HPekK0XfQtmBtbklAgXssVcrS-luS1UNVywVoiNR89069w6eT55QmVoDiXfJ0yjzFkohZsyggnyWBH18Tzeqm9nXH7T6Cd5yYV8uldzt22n4UgVIWqIHA2_V8U7ClRDMjS34y_5unRzlRAzXVnjvtCixIePISA7gieo24E/w480-h640/VugCia60QsyMhz28YE1qmw.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>At some point in the summer I visited Sewanee and accompanied my father's friends to an evening of music 'downtown.' <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirgtISW-gRKN0YQwLHxjSsa7wYGmz-OtPKy-dU_P6jqwTIL5cYAUABFEHBJLwiab8CRTsnjiAjADgik7A4qLYYLM-pkqJ-vD9z8hYkkPdGPklNxwQQeSjLBqM-FGldxscb9MEC70-uDEldkQ2WUQcgtYGgJj_IZBhOn75bsOmZlP9LE9qSjv0/s4032/VkrD43RrTqKBMesrV1QNrQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirgtISW-gRKN0YQwLHxjSsa7wYGmz-OtPKy-dU_P6jqwTIL5cYAUABFEHBJLwiab8CRTsnjiAjADgik7A4qLYYLM-pkqJ-vD9z8hYkkPdGPklNxwQQeSjLBqM-FGldxscb9MEC70-uDEldkQ2WUQcgtYGgJj_IZBhOn75bsOmZlP9LE9qSjv0/w640-h480/VkrD43RrTqKBMesrV1QNrQ.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Also during the Sewanee trip I took the dogs on a long walkabout town in improper footware (re:sandals). Combined with a hike or two I did to get to swimming holes, and walking home from the music evening in cowboy boots, I developed a foot ailment that my cousin's podiatrist husband diagnosed as plantar facitis. I've had to be more careful about my shoes since then, as I woke up one morning with my feet on fire and a lot of difficulty getting around. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkpVJUjmL3RarfQi1DsiaJd1Rg58lepJcdmAM6tIJhAH0Kk9VZfa0aOtrHohQ42Ei6-P2ZJPiEO8keOx51x0DmU24tbi9zYx9npCW24FKrEUBiPbJsEqJE_OGJGUKhkC4F-C08EVaI7e1tJZ-XwYYhLOgbR7rpCyYeNVUO-A86RWdH1iNyj2o/s4032/s5fB8WCxTTqWCDe2V4ig3A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkpVJUjmL3RarfQi1DsiaJd1Rg58lepJcdmAM6tIJhAH0Kk9VZfa0aOtrHohQ42Ei6-P2ZJPiEO8keOx51x0DmU24tbi9zYx9npCW24FKrEUBiPbJsEqJE_OGJGUKhkC4F-C08EVaI7e1tJZ-XwYYhLOgbR7rpCyYeNVUO-A86RWdH1iNyj2o/w480-h640/s5fB8WCxTTqWCDe2V4ig3A.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Also went to the Grayson Highlands annual wild pony auction. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_VleF0rnM2ko2iqGsRNqIFDNoOcDJziEIh5UqNb_qS6pzzR_D88L92GTr2aXt-F_VR6OJ--ObEge6IzWONHeUO_YoXHIkCbqeHGckeutMQh53JLWqqze7b2O-CU5FMpqSiEv9Eyq1igjMsmOOZBY9bYCQLBHdF5nSNwDciXTXPfFuUVIOfMo/s4032/Rf5VT5reRG2ejiweXXnlpA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_VleF0rnM2ko2iqGsRNqIFDNoOcDJziEIh5UqNb_qS6pzzR_D88L92GTr2aXt-F_VR6OJ--ObEge6IzWONHeUO_YoXHIkCbqeHGckeutMQh53JLWqqze7b2O-CU5FMpqSiEv9Eyq1igjMsmOOZBY9bYCQLBHdF5nSNwDciXTXPfFuUVIOfMo/w480-h640/Rf5VT5reRG2ejiweXXnlpA.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Zinnias.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinmNT49ORvDlLqsbtALkp9rf78vON2SGZmSn1wPH2mYzE5WLl28tbpa3O4n74ve8rUA0dhcCKfDHJ0MQfjHCqaqMfoEAb9dBNRNCRpi8L06y1mwS0rspu8bsyrqlo-dvNVy3gNNXpJzjTV5tzYyW5Oy6f44DOwCW84UV60He9usZZIWxsGOkI/s4032/rBi7urgYTueVgcIj9f%25Ifg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinmNT49ORvDlLqsbtALkp9rf78vON2SGZmSn1wPH2mYzE5WLl28tbpa3O4n74ve8rUA0dhcCKfDHJ0MQfjHCqaqMfoEAb9dBNRNCRpi8L06y1mwS0rspu8bsyrqlo-dvNVy3gNNXpJzjTV5tzYyW5Oy6f44DOwCW84UV60He9usZZIWxsGOkI/w480-h640/rBi7urgYTueVgcIj9f%25Ifg.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Birdie the mudbug.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5t3D5VpK8rzKsalcfkkonUbV-esqtNU8ud2AwAIkncp9sLdWA5bJazI7BXqL9W_eudt7iauyPhmQPKkb6O6nkIOq6tWEyws6nnOiTv3ZD9fKX5HHDr-9a1AlyoTTJ_dJ0C9wL21oVdi3LxjQSW1_d4oB8JOBPmzgStKeqOewRZnV7lmesJIg/s4032/r2+sznP9TYCTJMt2DucuWA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5t3D5VpK8rzKsalcfkkonUbV-esqtNU8ud2AwAIkncp9sLdWA5bJazI7BXqL9W_eudt7iauyPhmQPKkb6O6nkIOq6tWEyws6nnOiTv3ZD9fKX5HHDr-9a1AlyoTTJ_dJ0C9wL21oVdi3LxjQSW1_d4oB8JOBPmzgStKeqOewRZnV7lmesJIg/w480-h640/r2+sznP9TYCTJMt2DucuWA.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Christmas Eve lobster with potatoes and green beans. I've been thinking about lobster since last year, when the seafood market I most rely on had them available...except the day of pickup suddenly they did not, which made me very upset. So a year later I decided I was going to scratch the lobster itch with a lobster purchased by the more nearby grocery store. Could have been a little bigger, meat-wise, but definitely didn't disappoint. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKvJ_fHLAUk9B_9AYjCXDuHTb5w2_IQHe011EZAHKMHGvGxSuxwbnNgU57H5tsEABgxiPqPM7vu4IUbAf0CzevoieC61anWOdds9u0epFGOTRzJJ4N5J2zEqbWPZNi2SA3VrAzjGMQq20zwClt10GU-7WrPWJC9OvJOCBdD_hBXZwU-mbOkxY/s4032/PyLiTHW2RT6v62A0O5QFqg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKvJ_fHLAUk9B_9AYjCXDuHTb5w2_IQHe011EZAHKMHGvGxSuxwbnNgU57H5tsEABgxiPqPM7vu4IUbAf0CzevoieC61anWOdds9u0epFGOTRzJJ4N5J2zEqbWPZNi2SA3VrAzjGMQq20zwClt10GU-7WrPWJC9OvJOCBdD_hBXZwU-mbOkxY/w480-h640/PyLiTHW2RT6v62A0O5QFqg.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>So it started with one kitten living in the basement of the building next to my property. Then I found another kitten in the shed near that building. Then I found ANOTHER kitten in the brush on MY property. Then I realized there were two more kittens in the shed, but they were wily/less interested in befriending me. Then it seemed like they disappeared...but really they had made the journey from the shed to under my porch. Found a fourth hiding where my propane is stored below my grill. And then finally this one...who was the most wily. The dogs tried eating him and in saving him from them, he understandably lashed out and bit me! <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KC6hzGxzLhEt4zZCNogSjb5UH4XBV2esMWjlHKWinJSFYGdW7-NmoZxsmvsPJuUIQ70YKtn9OKRZBEcwdotg2cVXv9PE-jT28wvRTyvXOoR3LUzuA1xTOjPOnSzbVvaia3Vbh5GA20qWW3Zq3Q26j1HoL2PWByb7OpDq4fKNbN71wncQ8MA/s4032/poSEcbG7RY29rc8THbSpSQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_KC6hzGxzLhEt4zZCNogSjb5UH4XBV2esMWjlHKWinJSFYGdW7-NmoZxsmvsPJuUIQ70YKtn9OKRZBEcwdotg2cVXv9PE-jT28wvRTyvXOoR3LUzuA1xTOjPOnSzbVvaia3Vbh5GA20qWW3Zq3Q26j1HoL2PWByb7OpDq4fKNbN71wncQ8MA/w480-h640/poSEcbG7RY29rc8THbSpSQ.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>The skies the evening I found kitten number 3. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAhoc6g87sBqSvNtDH-jb1evpmUo8rVmzdqdWFvDFbewusiG5CREKsPS6WvooLeYNq2Gc4CG-0eyEJJaeeBCuotyHCtkskPcFa_wj8Bvey7RsDNjXuTlENya6NfIDsf-dacQjpwLANApTKctfFiM-RN87bUA94gBIZXbwj2Z4Qw2XGIZvxgI/s4032/pG6o9bM+TqiSfHU4a7ivpA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrAhoc6g87sBqSvNtDH-jb1evpmUo8rVmzdqdWFvDFbewusiG5CREKsPS6WvooLeYNq2Gc4CG-0eyEJJaeeBCuotyHCtkskPcFa_wj8Bvey7RsDNjXuTlENya6NfIDsf-dacQjpwLANApTKctfFiM-RN87bUA94gBIZXbwj2Z4Qw2XGIZvxgI/w640-h480/pG6o9bM+TqiSfHU4a7ivpA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Just more good sky.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIxolbWIlEZIaW-uxkGI0HM7iDgp5uCKTA3l34eCp9a8t2ClT6bJz3CbWHy13YvnNbL1N7WQmrRLWsyXoczJ0QrPlN_Y3Nv1UJS357CGoQ9x5zl75Xw-3kYz1XkAoGa2UeEQrSPCKBtkq3DOAXlTVA_K5cRMGFGJkPelREqJPdislvtHYwy0o/s4032/OAIh871FQXyzS+4t39CX7Q.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIxolbWIlEZIaW-uxkGI0HM7iDgp5uCKTA3l34eCp9a8t2ClT6bJz3CbWHy13YvnNbL1N7WQmrRLWsyXoczJ0QrPlN_Y3Nv1UJS357CGoQ9x5zl75Xw-3kYz1XkAoGa2UeEQrSPCKBtkq3DOAXlTVA_K5cRMGFGJkPelREqJPdislvtHYwy0o/w480-h640/OAIh871FQXyzS+4t39CX7Q.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Pony cowboy. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNpwdHu6bTxY3AZ8-_9eoJqY_zulGl77yHwKLsSaOkIs43guUa95pwq_hRnqOe8riD3mMo4ELZsjoEi8mDmQLX2f1W8LnNsc9g5pLOtDWBZVNAv8wzapHknV9egS3p6Kd89N5fh0WavNlqsx1dnnMdIHfu7y-hCLDVVQmpoORVT3KKhJg1V4/s4032/oa8fK4ClQn6fYVQ12xg4PQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNpwdHu6bTxY3AZ8-_9eoJqY_zulGl77yHwKLsSaOkIs43guUa95pwq_hRnqOe8riD3mMo4ELZsjoEi8mDmQLX2f1W8LnNsc9g5pLOtDWBZVNAv8wzapHknV9egS3p6Kd89N5fh0WavNlqsx1dnnMdIHfu7y-hCLDVVQmpoORVT3KKhJg1V4/w480-h640/oa8fK4ClQn6fYVQ12xg4PQ.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>What I see when I'm taking out my trash or walking to get the mail. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGRULbwj2q4H465hl0a1VIQcJD5tl04cXVSmywhbYZO4fjspYHw0xzbX25WgTsGh4LlRK7lDcYrQ11Oh1w4F7P7wm__i0bAQDuwbGKbstS3jBLiQC6cumflTd1GHmiYrJSp8w43IX8FLCsXQEp16NvhLgyhc2FQ_BklttmGFSWE77rO-rOqI/s4032/O9SZ32%25lTaim6phRzI+FiQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihGRULbwj2q4H465hl0a1VIQcJD5tl04cXVSmywhbYZO4fjspYHw0xzbX25WgTsGh4LlRK7lDcYrQ11Oh1w4F7P7wm__i0bAQDuwbGKbstS3jBLiQC6cumflTd1GHmiYrJSp8w43IX8FLCsXQEp16NvhLgyhc2FQ_BklttmGFSWE77rO-rOqI/w640-h480/O9SZ32%25lTaim6phRzI+FiQ.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Four chicks hatched this summer. Three of which were roosters, which was too bad. I already had two roosters and not many hens (started with 10 now have four), so last month it was time to dispatch/harvest/kill some of the extra boys. A friend and her son came by to help with the processing, as it has been quite a number of years since I've butchered anything. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJjgGlbcrMSCEedAJJOLTQ0kbQR6-P93kCPrNwXM7y9VRd-Q62o0KjszJlA_YM_DBr9tNvoQOiplq_CGL5gbxM-ruioyg0-EJk22Hj2wAje9RyKWGlG36cpKSbtFsDw6tBRIrmMXtLEPrFbMGPqjUZhCX-ha_GIyYIzIRbrHVmhwTRQwmECxA/s4032/Nzs70kAqQhqZ6jieJv5Gtw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJjgGlbcrMSCEedAJJOLTQ0kbQR6-P93kCPrNwXM7y9VRd-Q62o0KjszJlA_YM_DBr9tNvoQOiplq_CGL5gbxM-ruioyg0-EJk22Hj2wAje9RyKWGlG36cpKSbtFsDw6tBRIrmMXtLEPrFbMGPqjUZhCX-ha_GIyYIzIRbrHVmhwTRQwmECxA/w640-h480/Nzs70kAqQhqZ6jieJv5Gtw.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Went pretty well. We half hand plucked/half used the plucker she brought with her. I think next time if it's four birds or less, I'd just hand pluck. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgNWcN0k7SgFiHcteISgISAyYw1plORJ-PyZoW72QMHhVtN56rEdCIhyZezE8JHNkSLb_rwQGnM4gTqSnLnVOsDrNHNFx-ZKtlmNsOHkSKjGw3fjxwYkscN0qkhKXuhEXgXGSECVf8PjCi_1ZyUB6iVlveWM3ff-USplxFVQR-7C1_ZBgtbI/s4032/mRLEQDXvR3KW2Zj7Ulahyw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZgNWcN0k7SgFiHcteISgISAyYw1plORJ-PyZoW72QMHhVtN56rEdCIhyZezE8JHNkSLb_rwQGnM4gTqSnLnVOsDrNHNFx-ZKtlmNsOHkSKjGw3fjxwYkscN0qkhKXuhEXgXGSECVf8PjCi_1ZyUB6iVlveWM3ff-USplxFVQR-7C1_ZBgtbI/w480-h640/mRLEQDXvR3KW2Zj7Ulahyw.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>I've been thinking off and on about whether I'll die unhappy. Like, if I'll die and look back at my life and be filled with regrets. I don't live my life constantly looking at things and regretting them, which I think sets me up pretty well for a death without regret, at least mostly. I have not become a renowned artist or writer. I have not found lasting love. I have not had a brood of children, or even a child. These are all things that I did hope to accomplish/do at different stages in my life, but I'm not crying about it most of the time. And I've been thinking about how even though I haven't become particularly successful or interesting, I've lived a number of lives in a couple of places. If death is the end, and there is no afterlife or reincarnation (which is what I think most of the time), then I feel like I've had a nice range of life experiences. Even if I haven't backpacked the jungles of Thailand, had a passionate affair with a Frenchman, published a novel or found someone to love. Point is, in relation to the photo below, is that a lot of the joy I get from life is in the beauty I can see in it. There are very few days that I don't find something in my immediate surroundings that I find beautiful, entertaining or special in some way. Thank goodness. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwEFdsltbgy0TsrwQTD5Qeo5PYot-t1XdtfHVPFRWLeas2aH-ZlfSCpFMWKbSn6HrZskJVI2IM9pjjwRgSwItNpPwozDhJigzN_iqbKuNuhwzJaVTsYjGQVIQmo2yYYFOMhfDT888NwBlEgm20AaNqa2-7cWK1xqsqT9pSKHYdKYUkJF2_gkU/s4032/m1za%25HQiQC6459sdl1sYNw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwEFdsltbgy0TsrwQTD5Qeo5PYot-t1XdtfHVPFRWLeas2aH-ZlfSCpFMWKbSn6HrZskJVI2IM9pjjwRgSwItNpPwozDhJigzN_iqbKuNuhwzJaVTsYjGQVIQmo2yYYFOMhfDT888NwBlEgm20AaNqa2-7cWK1xqsqT9pSKHYdKYUkJF2_gkU/w480-h640/m1za%25HQiQC6459sdl1sYNw.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>I remembered how much I like to read in fields this summer. I rented my pasture to my neighbor, as I still haven't pulled the livestock trigger for myself, and that meant my field reading sessions were even more entertaining and lovely. The first time I came out, the horses were totally miffed. They knew me, but they didn't know the blanket I was sitting on. They did a little wary cantering about before investigating and deciding I was harmless. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaH75tG62j-CQ8D-hb3tiFhfLy6tQuAHnEM0G7XY8svM1g0GhoCSFleQEK7hh0v_zoj-s-225yqjyvHYyakVK_Kn_6b2Z-iA512_5I4hRye7CCSLaR2qHU2-jswzjHVAR390Gct5chQgDxzuyjljSdlcXqZIgAKogwF657-4bJTBuwkbZWHw/s4032/m0KhkeE+Q9mF0ng5PyEaGg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBaH75tG62j-CQ8D-hb3tiFhfLy6tQuAHnEM0G7XY8svM1g0GhoCSFleQEK7hh0v_zoj-s-225yqjyvHYyakVK_Kn_6b2Z-iA512_5I4hRye7CCSLaR2qHU2-jswzjHVAR390Gct5chQgDxzuyjljSdlcXqZIgAKogwF657-4bJTBuwkbZWHw/w480-h640/m0KhkeE+Q9mF0ng5PyEaGg.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>A majority of the Ohio family came down for a visit in July. Between my house, an RV they rented, and an Airbnb just down the road, everyone had a place to sleep. We went tubing on the New River one day, but mostly we all just hung out on my porches, which was exactly what I love doing!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7HeqkAUo9bcVwpIIpnwIeKOTUogYnXn3ndcc9T0PjXf7OCnlIGpxDz90NMQWJb68xRm1FigBAiksOHKyX7XHKU98qRchN_qYLo1p90eJuXMjuEWz7L4hMjhIx0YSUl6UpD84q1mSUOPvTyal8dk9gD0OUF7dSw6-T5M1OT9zL9nbHhMQlZU/s4032/lURaoAOsTy2htlz+FWc+ZQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht7HeqkAUo9bcVwpIIpnwIeKOTUogYnXn3ndcc9T0PjXf7OCnlIGpxDz90NMQWJb68xRm1FigBAiksOHKyX7XHKU98qRchN_qYLo1p90eJuXMjuEWz7L4hMjhIx0YSUl6UpD84q1mSUOPvTyal8dk9gD0OUF7dSw6-T5M1OT9zL9nbHhMQlZU/w640-h480/lURaoAOsTy2htlz+FWc+ZQ.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>The last of the Americaunas killed by probably a raccoon or mink. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMW0nughvvnlKQOckso_brUQQFD5zcKpQV1NiQlR1VA7BT1HFN72vUcEkdaw19lo2eRfNCELObfckHacG7HCyuKXH9lgiXuXz1Q2VqwOayctzH_u-oFDy3wc3C0DAO1xKMlWL4sSvwAV3HUbd6kTY4j-QBRggCoDJkiqHYUsrVVxmx6e3gFRc/s4032/kpoNux7VSvGZQ%250X19wnVQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMW0nughvvnlKQOckso_brUQQFD5zcKpQV1NiQlR1VA7BT1HFN72vUcEkdaw19lo2eRfNCELObfckHacG7HCyuKXH9lgiXuXz1Q2VqwOayctzH_u-oFDy3wc3C0DAO1xKMlWL4sSvwAV3HUbd6kTY4j-QBRggCoDJkiqHYUsrVVxmx6e3gFRc/w480-h640/kpoNux7VSvGZQ%250X19wnVQ.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Morning mist chickens. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8pIZ-pZiS6rg8DvfDb1p-IgkxzdGok7cKAgeq6mFdZWZHhq2YaCSxl7AVG6vhIQW090xXyfxnSKSS4bHAq9sXaLCtCxvlrOwBsLN8WS1VwcRMOXjfj62hcoveFh-oI-CuKHxOK8asujtv1RRm5X9YShYrF-I5OGqQt9yRb64GuzfDsl6jTw/s4032/kKivUSJORT+AEWQbzPfWYw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8pIZ-pZiS6rg8DvfDb1p-IgkxzdGok7cKAgeq6mFdZWZHhq2YaCSxl7AVG6vhIQW090xXyfxnSKSS4bHAq9sXaLCtCxvlrOwBsLN8WS1VwcRMOXjfj62hcoveFh-oI-CuKHxOK8asujtv1RRm5X9YShYrF-I5OGqQt9yRb64GuzfDsl6jTw/w480-h640/kKivUSJORT+AEWQbzPfWYw.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Tuna! She was the first I found. Just like this really. I took her home with me, then felt like maybe that was the wrong thing to do, so brought her back, but then never saw a mama....so I decided that even though I didn't want a kitten, I'd have her as a kitten. Felt like fate before I found FOUR more!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1PHzioZM8bwFvMTXey5GeaP-OV-xUMmizQTavvJ50SFuJMBw85Sl7JnS8wUVQ1YLjjY1cgGbK5JcP9qkPhMRRG4EVIjfGEGdUdBxu5nqM7SmjmUqOrbGaXkMgGPnF9gPHu-ZiVqr4du1cV2Me4GJ0cheqr_buWxlquerGLss3058zIoCIJUU/s4032/jeHxK8wwR6uprpCBo4JRng.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1PHzioZM8bwFvMTXey5GeaP-OV-xUMmizQTavvJ50SFuJMBw85Sl7JnS8wUVQ1YLjjY1cgGbK5JcP9qkPhMRRG4EVIjfGEGdUdBxu5nqM7SmjmUqOrbGaXkMgGPnF9gPHu-ZiVqr4du1cV2Me4GJ0cheqr_buWxlquerGLss3058zIoCIJUU/w480-h640/jeHxK8wwR6uprpCBo4JRng.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>NYE Veuve Cliquot being poured. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYWzE27FuX9VPPfUHuHFtx9Hm3oS-N9hhbDzoWCLHfviyDGB6Q4INl8nzj78wBOuFxoVvoVG_5-FtflBvc8zgMePcCc3gH2oo2uFuFiywRs5NgKvEcjSKiYYrX30u8CrbUHcAzrG3hJyG27bQXBP-GCM_w5sw_s43U1qBBgXYWObkvaPPQpQo/s4032/IVR49RmeQii%25A7lxE43hsw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYWzE27FuX9VPPfUHuHFtx9Hm3oS-N9hhbDzoWCLHfviyDGB6Q4INl8nzj78wBOuFxoVvoVG_5-FtflBvc8zgMePcCc3gH2oo2uFuFiywRs5NgKvEcjSKiYYrX30u8CrbUHcAzrG3hJyG27bQXBP-GCM_w5sw_s43U1qBBgXYWObkvaPPQpQo/w640-h480/IVR49RmeQii%25A7lxE43hsw.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Saw some good rainbows lately. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5E4IEmkmxIcESimXDC9bhilcSVebyPj8MurCngclmhe0H4sXS3jOT2bFSq7Pq3QwLpkfB_9fuqgRX_FXK3LXjDx0KA6FvC7jCuTthLbMsnkFc2HDCOkGuO4TFd9JirMasJ8LcRrvnJiUk7F7qA0tqQkk2X8PBVuFMa5CDoFNgj21Vzwz4DK0/s4032/Itw7E3yaRNC1spComYQ%251A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5E4IEmkmxIcESimXDC9bhilcSVebyPj8MurCngclmhe0H4sXS3jOT2bFSq7Pq3QwLpkfB_9fuqgRX_FXK3LXjDx0KA6FvC7jCuTthLbMsnkFc2HDCOkGuO4TFd9JirMasJ8LcRrvnJiUk7F7qA0tqQkk2X8PBVuFMa5CDoFNgj21Vzwz4DK0/w640-h480/Itw7E3yaRNC1spComYQ%251A.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Beluga. So I decided to keep Tuna but then the kittens kept rolling in, and I knew full well I did not want five cats. Beluga was the biter/last kitten that I caught. In a way, he was my great white whale, hence Beluga. He is a lover. Even though the dogs did try to murder him, he has absolutely no fear now. Birdie and Hippo also are no longer trying to murder any kittens, though I wouldn't say they are very happy by the feline additions to the household. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13T5cGcqzVbvx8kPG6JXT1TM12_xLe6mprhgntnGfVothbAFQGrSyH0ZGO4h5gDtniIbunaDq_WwDmYfvs9hQYm6iVR9wx97mZ2CXEC-NOQvMHU3hTwaZvZup8vt-eL7GIsw647m6Q-EorFTUDttoebsDfcT5ilv_g_xcooHTlY26mon6gxA/s4032/IfG0z55+Tpy+%258S4GcBwIA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13T5cGcqzVbvx8kPG6JXT1TM12_xLe6mprhgntnGfVothbAFQGrSyH0ZGO4h5gDtniIbunaDq_WwDmYfvs9hQYm6iVR9wx97mZ2CXEC-NOQvMHU3hTwaZvZup8vt-eL7GIsw647m6Q-EorFTUDttoebsDfcT5ilv_g_xcooHTlY26mon6gxA/w480-h640/IfG0z55+Tpy+%258S4GcBwIA.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Meal prep with family. This was an assembly line for bacon wrapped chicken breast with a brown sugar etc. rub. Grilled by Andy and Isadore. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6iujUFkFxFE33J16-m54Rb9wA2j-D7R576_-hx5BZlg3nWlfBnH_mpFs0y24gW5ERHS7AmqPmkVMJWSIUIktbsMyGHJC_Nu7LE_YMmmRy59Sf3KN4FtNTgs520SOxo9RkDgaLdLYdO3yWU4lKbaqhVjX7oiFSDs0KZKDHlJ3wrGGIg2ZVHW4/s3088/hoPd1oiXRPiBfz63qULviA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6iujUFkFxFE33J16-m54Rb9wA2j-D7R576_-hx5BZlg3nWlfBnH_mpFs0y24gW5ERHS7AmqPmkVMJWSIUIktbsMyGHJC_Nu7LE_YMmmRy59Sf3KN4FtNTgs520SOxo9RkDgaLdLYdO3yWU4lKbaqhVjX7oiFSDs0KZKDHlJ3wrGGIg2ZVHW4/w480-h640/hoPd1oiXRPiBfz63qULviA.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Hippo the goof and Beluga the boy. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWOJKm7VsYEKTS9q9hK1IW_uETwu0SDwJIy2yyT-0CT7vrbKUavE2se10yeh1vDAqAWYCceFp5GACopLdgG08CNMILz-le_U2ahiKVviMPufvBjFVD3nFpBKoypgelXgCeyOEP8wjyw8z9yAXfa-EyO411u1I1y6O7lJzihWUldEwJmMYh7I/s4032/giD1bcLvQl2MHTgU16dFVQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWOJKm7VsYEKTS9q9hK1IW_uETwu0SDwJIy2yyT-0CT7vrbKUavE2se10yeh1vDAqAWYCceFp5GACopLdgG08CNMILz-le_U2ahiKVviMPufvBjFVD3nFpBKoypgelXgCeyOEP8wjyw8z9yAXfa-EyO411u1I1y6O7lJzihWUldEwJmMYh7I/w480-h640/giD1bcLvQl2MHTgU16dFVQ.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Found my first indoor snake this summer trapped in a mouse trap. I'd actually seen this snake the day before...coming out of the floor where my washing machine's pipes go under the house. So I wasn't surprised to find this guy in the trap. I took him out and released him and tried to fortify the floor hole to prevent future snake visitors (probably not well enough though). <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN0MYYNLG_2HmRGepo78VdDOHZZMggbbIfjQidHbiPasn9gAWY9jAgIU4gyyIkP2Er_KartLqDAd22BEMocOBkkHLKBnBbqlcWVyzNUYAK-2Uw2A01ptiQjqH2qS6-e41qTk8uzHGwde0h8P29X2cZwhXJ9_S4yfvXgEJCpBhzemJWJp6xPYA/s4032/GAdmaWmnRD+tbd5MmBynhQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN0MYYNLG_2HmRGepo78VdDOHZZMggbbIfjQidHbiPasn9gAWY9jAgIU4gyyIkP2Er_KartLqDAd22BEMocOBkkHLKBnBbqlcWVyzNUYAK-2Uw2A01ptiQjqH2qS6-e41qTk8uzHGwde0h8P29X2cZwhXJ9_S4yfvXgEJCpBhzemJWJp6xPYA/w480-h640/GAdmaWmnRD+tbd5MmBynhQ.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>A summer field walk with rose. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBuVHQZMKbBXLhFzOKEwfHiZK2Nm3W96Q3b06lxS7vL5sNGy2bbQa4Agcpn3WFrwy_GWlSECT4clugSFNlQ0vLYu_bTT9Q9vp4RwB5vrZgF24QhrdjbdX2rnmmQj6lA9Lgpzqqdcva_PfRmOD0a5FIiKZCBnz8X0mY5u8xh9DuiZ0MFKJXK4/s4032/fviJYif8Q9WUHdb+GymVrQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBuVHQZMKbBXLhFzOKEwfHiZK2Nm3W96Q3b06lxS7vL5sNGy2bbQa4Agcpn3WFrwy_GWlSECT4clugSFNlQ0vLYu_bTT9Q9vp4RwB5vrZgF24QhrdjbdX2rnmmQj6lA9Lgpzqqdcva_PfRmOD0a5FIiKZCBnz8X0mY5u8xh9DuiZ0MFKJXK4/w480-h640/fviJYif8Q9WUHdb+GymVrQ.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Keep on painting badly. This is sushi. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkw_wBYriQYnILamKJp19at7kj_Ub0A9SHvDBLIEvVPPVWBnu52IaT1v_u2JPHp_oCXj6E1PLmMPfjUs1kRubzne14iJSTivuOq-dEdbG4LE2Yov--Z3hOCGrgJVkSfA4o4HEd6Y_pH9C817QcOv-KqnXNmnVmRgRUozPFQIKwD4ddCPRjDpY/s3516/fullsizeoutput_2696.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2590" data-original-width="3516" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkw_wBYriQYnILamKJp19at7kj_Ub0A9SHvDBLIEvVPPVWBnu52IaT1v_u2JPHp_oCXj6E1PLmMPfjUs1kRubzne14iJSTivuOq-dEdbG4LE2Yov--Z3hOCGrgJVkSfA4o4HEd6Y_pH9C817QcOv-KqnXNmnVmRgRUozPFQIKwD4ddCPRjDpY/w640-h472/fullsizeoutput_2696.heic" width="640" /></a></div>Headed up to NYC for a visit with Louise and Tony and their kids. It was supposed to be a longer trip, including a lunch at Le Bernadin, a jaunt up to the Hudson Valley, and an omakase meal in Philly...but I got Covid and Louise got Covid and I left in a hurry after only three days. This is me having a tapas dinner with a different friend and being very happy about the softshell crab special. Unbeknownst to me...I had Covid. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY1XgC-or7IEPyOsycQERr_VNjpZo7tibWy1JU9ksxaaAZ-G5KN7omERYgpe5dPhFbq3PpkpRJnaOLNYrxVlmWU9byZImjF_dotv_hpqrUEHMWg1v1Zy8IDzGaKCytI6-O1nMgSIblCpVKQjxaLjsehxPGauRe5TpBhnzF1mmbZ45MjeAlDaE/s3386/fullsizeoutput_2339.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3386" data-original-width="2726" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY1XgC-or7IEPyOsycQERr_VNjpZo7tibWy1JU9ksxaaAZ-G5KN7omERYgpe5dPhFbq3PpkpRJnaOLNYrxVlmWU9byZImjF_dotv_hpqrUEHMWg1v1Zy8IDzGaKCytI6-O1nMgSIblCpVKQjxaLjsehxPGauRe5TpBhnzF1mmbZ45MjeAlDaE/w516-h640/fullsizeoutput_2339.jpeg" width="516" /></a></div>Sexy summer selfie with hat?<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qfOVAXvFIl1m-WEK7dwPTMY3MKixFCK6cpT7FvM3yrxk1ILffIDfhZXZWImDDaO_8-aBjBdJ2Dl4WLeQF24sbtqAzK4yQ6i5S08OMNoNSz-vCIFYoKSk60zU_lhZELwfhGphQokfn81cwd6CSVqGt_icQ7tATgC_5bUVOQolBtQSCx4VjLA/s3088/fullsizeoutput_2136.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qfOVAXvFIl1m-WEK7dwPTMY3MKixFCK6cpT7FvM3yrxk1ILffIDfhZXZWImDDaO_8-aBjBdJ2Dl4WLeQF24sbtqAzK4yQ6i5S08OMNoNSz-vCIFYoKSk60zU_lhZELwfhGphQokfn81cwd6CSVqGt_icQ7tATgC_5bUVOQolBtQSCx4VjLA/w480-h640/fullsizeoutput_2136.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>An outtake of trying to get everyone into a photo. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWzGKgb-FWDuBONjpkY6PGwZffRuDWY7dUVPutmZLuJWdb-a11M9RDPttF5PMm7c8gaU7SRNJ5dqtzKhwwSiHbZvHPkjn3rQkJTi3VTUjs39Rtnh29wnj46Kz6ABHDHu5DvVr1VUivttezZfbeHrASA44_Zgo1LJl3-tzM3YayUJmvmj5Ofc/s4032/fullsizeoutput_222c.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDWzGKgb-FWDuBONjpkY6PGwZffRuDWY7dUVPutmZLuJWdb-a11M9RDPttF5PMm7c8gaU7SRNJ5dqtzKhwwSiHbZvHPkjn3rQkJTi3VTUjs39Rtnh29wnj46Kz6ABHDHu5DvVr1VUivttezZfbeHrASA44_Zgo1LJl3-tzM3YayUJmvmj5Ofc/w480-h640/fullsizeoutput_222c.heic" width="480" /></a></div>When I came back to get Tuna and already knew I was going to keep her like a chump. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcE4fM6tzpTdn57qAolJWSw94I3svlylYyr44O7zSsO10T-o6xNKBeEuTcHN6HuTfNd2gh3XQR5omJnhR284rUSHFYKoOq7unbnY_75_RY3zHCnflfOaw1rfShGxTzAGcrDV6287uejPVsh__KstMBCRczZKZxmvdtgLmtweZ4jaYEb8OsxzY/s3088/fullsizeoutput_23f9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcE4fM6tzpTdn57qAolJWSw94I3svlylYyr44O7zSsO10T-o6xNKBeEuTcHN6HuTfNd2gh3XQR5omJnhR284rUSHFYKoOq7unbnY_75_RY3zHCnflfOaw1rfShGxTzAGcrDV6287uejPVsh__KstMBCRczZKZxmvdtgLmtweZ4jaYEb8OsxzY/w480-h640/fullsizeoutput_23f9.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>I went on one date this summer. The guy was a park ranger within an hour of me and graduated from a liberal arts/brand name college up north, so I thought we had some similarities in background and locale. Unfortunately he was also kind of a jerk. Or maybe I was the jerk. Mostly him. Made out in a parking lot then never saw one another again. He said I didn't have a sense of humor. I might have argued that I do have a sense of humor, I just didn't like his aggressively sexual jokes that he kept telling after I had expressed how much I did not like them. In any case, I took this selfie a day or two after our not very successful meeting. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6UIpDyOORc_AOjMMsFvhIk9P70EmtREMZ4uBwXkmjGr6HL_KUL1z8flyRrB15RA4ifTZp31Px9tI8sZG0O2vyw7y9K4TPbZuetQX0YPtXRYYwkfDwXMQ9V2338MtssYIgzOu4Nze2jTud1nd6lwhQPthhGdfOV4wC25DQt6MDmszV_xhMAU/s3088/fullsizeoutput_23c8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6UIpDyOORc_AOjMMsFvhIk9P70EmtREMZ4uBwXkmjGr6HL_KUL1z8flyRrB15RA4ifTZp31Px9tI8sZG0O2vyw7y9K4TPbZuetQX0YPtXRYYwkfDwXMQ9V2338MtssYIgzOu4Nze2jTud1nd6lwhQPthhGdfOV4wC25DQt6MDmszV_xhMAU/w480-h640/fullsizeoutput_23c8.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>Horses in the woods are fun to find. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbHTRyfhKPlQ6L4nCns96_wl7Ptwz4sSLxAjN1r37iEp0ZSdNb_eoTHe_oAqOpE_bBBIsBkFjVhj8mlRmkjIY28GrZ2da7MsWXYR0iPCG5B3ksbphp0fSdhkqQPyRGWK9j-2pNJ2k_s2EPKhKQmwwnlXI9uV14HQLUrf80ng84OcVjyFU6PQ/s3088/fullsizeoutput_23ad.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbHTRyfhKPlQ6L4nCns96_wl7Ptwz4sSLxAjN1r37iEp0ZSdNb_eoTHe_oAqOpE_bBBIsBkFjVhj8mlRmkjIY28GrZ2da7MsWXYR0iPCG5B3ksbphp0fSdhkqQPyRGWK9j-2pNJ2k_s2EPKhKQmwwnlXI9uV14HQLUrf80ng84OcVjyFU6PQ/w480-h640/fullsizeoutput_23ad.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>Lil home at night. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwdHf1X5P-wwjT_njIuxy5LdWrORqT_Bialx5IUcOup6dOUl6Hap4ytNlZ8eDDsK1A4tK_77snYMXuudvLgOnG1_F5eePMfV5Nu_C_6jOATNk39WGoEWvGzf4Q26-2JquQRXrrc7BqEI4uo8eSn9nK2LfsyhkByc0egYf81VXMsdN6NCGZeQ/s4032/F08B4FA6-A515-4DE6-BF3C-60C8EF19DB9A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwdHf1X5P-wwjT_njIuxy5LdWrORqT_Bialx5IUcOup6dOUl6Hap4ytNlZ8eDDsK1A4tK_77snYMXuudvLgOnG1_F5eePMfV5Nu_C_6jOATNk39WGoEWvGzf4Q26-2JquQRXrrc7BqEI4uo8eSn9nK2LfsyhkByc0egYf81VXMsdN6NCGZeQ/w640-h480/F08B4FA6-A515-4DE6-BF3C-60C8EF19DB9A.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Tuna when she was itsy bitsy and sitting on a painting. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6Segmy1rdTB-WUAuDZ-0CdxHm-rVu9kz72tay5PMcDQugLgAexdMFWb7wqJjV3znsb2jhzR2f13gpJWZ2NOWMmzpPGHJjMF772viYYGRIGZu3TyhHJ5G1waKnnyaDC3kMwTLd842zc5DXPF_7dL2Pg_H9V26vAHv1UhQMCVv26NKNF-FD9g/s4032/EbxbCZHZT82iUu8Yk3kkow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6Segmy1rdTB-WUAuDZ-0CdxHm-rVu9kz72tay5PMcDQugLgAexdMFWb7wqJjV3znsb2jhzR2f13gpJWZ2NOWMmzpPGHJjMF772viYYGRIGZu3TyhHJ5G1waKnnyaDC3kMwTLd842zc5DXPF_7dL2Pg_H9V26vAHv1UhQMCVv26NKNF-FD9g/w640-h480/EbxbCZHZT82iUu8Yk3kkow.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>I forget what happened, but I do recall that this cheese plate/martini/book combo was a reward for something stressful. Maybe the kittens? Maybe something else. The book was really solid. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgroVILm-b4UwbtX4FAftO0C1l-km7tqfgW82oqJMw5sRq1pJws0p0e5eeqSaR5dj9pHac_GkUKPXSaFT4OfdqUPdphmeDANgnowA2fhzL6MIwj33W7zCEV9u2Rr6IJMDzi3QY_wkSHuagagH85MW6q9BQPa4p7glIfWSDrrq2j84_-tm6A-lI/s4032/DmiR%25lcmRdmH7Z9YrjOTag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgroVILm-b4UwbtX4FAftO0C1l-km7tqfgW82oqJMw5sRq1pJws0p0e5eeqSaR5dj9pHac_GkUKPXSaFT4OfdqUPdphmeDANgnowA2fhzL6MIwj33W7zCEV9u2Rr6IJMDzi3QY_wkSHuagagH85MW6q9BQPa4p7glIfWSDrrq2j84_-tm6A-lI/w480-h640/DmiR%25lcmRdmH7Z9YrjOTag.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>This might look like he's being fierce or aggressive...but really it's just Beluga mewing for pets and attention. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSu7hiCoD3EWzwZxyRvoXLKjT8S1dzIg5o3aO23eQLi3-4Xr--y6uuyQNz6i5ZWj2EwRd2ktxgPq2I0HMu9P4ywib5mOJl83eAfZ4u5ARStCOMBtXsVoOAll2RCLTxX82u5O9sy4NzCQZDBmyZ0Rj2FgfsOuYd38xr11DX5QnHX1xeKYMpfWI/s4032/d3jz1h5RSzS3FNv1fb3Edw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSu7hiCoD3EWzwZxyRvoXLKjT8S1dzIg5o3aO23eQLi3-4Xr--y6uuyQNz6i5ZWj2EwRd2ktxgPq2I0HMu9P4ywib5mOJl83eAfZ4u5ARStCOMBtXsVoOAll2RCLTxX82u5O9sy4NzCQZDBmyZ0Rj2FgfsOuYd38xr11DX5QnHX1xeKYMpfWI/w640-h480/d3jz1h5RSzS3FNv1fb3Edw.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>I did finally get the whole pasture fenced in, which was a big job and a big thing off the neverending to-do list. Bud on the new posts. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTaQGLYX8GWGFq1hE-qSGxhwHEOsgqDfldEZ-WyGpeWjlBt297335oesfgITkHT7E-bbcMSJk2WiCPOaiJgUSYB081SVupSeen7sgGEroNrv-wD2hKXfXEPaX_jgC1Oy-y18-zwqh4_FX3Wm0P95I6ROIIsnL6ojL9xlowG3UgtWIRDWljrc/s4032/CmEDccdNT7+MHoFgh%25fkPg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTaQGLYX8GWGFq1hE-qSGxhwHEOsgqDfldEZ-WyGpeWjlBt297335oesfgITkHT7E-bbcMSJk2WiCPOaiJgUSYB081SVupSeen7sgGEroNrv-wD2hKXfXEPaX_jgC1Oy-y18-zwqh4_FX3Wm0P95I6ROIIsnL6ojL9xlowG3UgtWIRDWljrc/w480-h640/CmEDccdNT7+MHoFgh%25fkPg.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Fall delivered this year in terms of foliage. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwS7-qZZD87a5gqLB2vw3DstS4E3hjyQH0gtJlGGMK2WFldmte5CsxXe0SsX5EB2GBNJLZsaKS3qtbOINuWCJWXMweZsCpWFn8g45yp-mA07Q8jEWCqyL3nZ6cjNLFzZQCP7PGMV9h_MfMH5qVA11eTXcAfSSK4s2gSpBHbsr_P2kL79n6GE/s1800/CC018586-5B1B-4A5C-9036-22F71A3D248B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwS7-qZZD87a5gqLB2vw3DstS4E3hjyQH0gtJlGGMK2WFldmte5CsxXe0SsX5EB2GBNJLZsaKS3qtbOINuWCJWXMweZsCpWFn8g45yp-mA07Q8jEWCqyL3nZ6cjNLFzZQCP7PGMV9h_MfMH5qVA11eTXcAfSSK4s2gSpBHbsr_P2kL79n6GE/w512-h640/CC018586-5B1B-4A5C-9036-22F71A3D248B.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3iMd6Z6CIeYHDdExVnXdWaErpkUpYUdk7LAO05T1w3LjztzFR8lcEujqyaSz-IsHHLy1ADXMR1O6XDY79Cu-odexETzYFys08jMGmmHhtIWVjMg8ShqNMrEv7XeFtPfA80_io9z191Na7183v0t5yHLedbWdNeoeQidyy4z_nSsmycO1dok/s4032/C7nRBgqAS2OgqkYfU2g9qA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3iMd6Z6CIeYHDdExVnXdWaErpkUpYUdk7LAO05T1w3LjztzFR8lcEujqyaSz-IsHHLy1ADXMR1O6XDY79Cu-odexETzYFys08jMGmmHhtIWVjMg8ShqNMrEv7XeFtPfA80_io9z191Na7183v0t5yHLedbWdNeoeQidyy4z_nSsmycO1dok/w480-h640/C7nRBgqAS2OgqkYfU2g9qA.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>She is such a floof. I call her Tuna muffin sometimes. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhyz-nE_QXtkjp88NGAgb97lrGvUY63GgRKc6ZckZKKwBktX9Y6g0VszJ_tyvA5exVeXyS9KV0I3Zr4qMB4Fz3kMR2sAY__S0sr6j1U82G_D53zngxiEqhVDvIbzBejP-0TgTB7YuZ1IV_g8HuZH5SAfjf_C3YW-ZK95GU5MHMJSPycT-Cag/s4032/c3Taj2h0Qz6gUIcFSDcUvA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhyz-nE_QXtkjp88NGAgb97lrGvUY63GgRKc6ZckZKKwBktX9Y6g0VszJ_tyvA5exVeXyS9KV0I3Zr4qMB4Fz3kMR2sAY__S0sr6j1U82G_D53zngxiEqhVDvIbzBejP-0TgTB7YuZ1IV_g8HuZH5SAfjf_C3YW-ZK95GU5MHMJSPycT-Cag/w480-h640/c3Taj2h0Qz6gUIcFSDcUvA.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>The arrival of the fencing folks. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmG7aXeR8ZXdLB_YDNkBVj11CqI--MCDxXer-4xh199CK8Ptndpy-ecjXGZqU6bss_C0MHMz4e1bxqi6PxhytrfYcQ25NS7xATlPQdJq8prpGZYF8iSAM2VUFchkvLPD6x00XlBw5kJTkb5VL7GpsrAHuCWuptuxniyM3HiGmqNp32MziRdus/s4032/c2KB6rE+RfeZ2HucFFxqeA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmG7aXeR8ZXdLB_YDNkBVj11CqI--MCDxXer-4xh199CK8Ptndpy-ecjXGZqU6bss_C0MHMz4e1bxqi6PxhytrfYcQ25NS7xATlPQdJq8prpGZYF8iSAM2VUFchkvLPD6x00XlBw5kJTkb5VL7GpsrAHuCWuptuxniyM3HiGmqNp32MziRdus/w640-h480/c2KB6rE+RfeZ2HucFFxqeA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>I'm struggling with letting the kittens/cats outside. When they were very little like Tuna was below, I definitely didn't want them outside unattended (nevermind that they were living their lives unattended until I intervened and probably would have been fine). But now they're bigger and I still get worried. Today I let them out for a bit, and tried to stay inside and do my own work, but I couldn't help but keep checking on them. I don't know what's wrong with me. Well, partially it's that as a kid I had two different cats - Tibbie the Tabby died because she was hit by a car and Chelsea (also a tabby) died of feline leukemia. I realize you probably can't catch leukemia out in the world, but I always felt like they both died because we let them outside. Like I see all these people with cats that just roam as they please, and I know I want to be a person who can be chill with that. But boy do I worry. Boy do I let them out only sparingly. And boy, I sure am going to try and loosen up. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUd61LmwIpl_9yo6ztSHY74jS6yoNnfS2eZQgvtuwJ5pd3x3ubyqvc2CTwG6D541YJacW142F_keFpIwJmmh_5scENh683rjM5-I8ub2mNir2iPfGSx6A2E-3MCfBrZFd9XCyd6icXpOz-AUSG7kRJss9Men0DTTRa6o4qOhQ6QjKQVm5G_Q/s1800/BF49971E-6BC0-42B7-A404-38B98A2B80FA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUd61LmwIpl_9yo6ztSHY74jS6yoNnfS2eZQgvtuwJ5pd3x3ubyqvc2CTwG6D541YJacW142F_keFpIwJmmh_5scENh683rjM5-I8ub2mNir2iPfGSx6A2E-3MCfBrZFd9XCyd6icXpOz-AUSG7kRJss9Men0DTTRa6o4qOhQ6QjKQVm5G_Q/w512-h640/BF49971E-6BC0-42B7-A404-38B98A2B80FA.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>The 'before' to the photo above's 'after.' <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguu6ipGeyiL0Xvi7AiqvR04zs-ChhE56BfjF7bGbl1EU1I8GDkW-uCd6UcyaZKJ-M__1JCXhiaNuexXjujBdI8JxxCnOoiG9CPs-HSLtv2r-a770DpK0dyOo2JHDkCf5j_1H8fzHE9LKWvZm_-Hdl64E_3zSqsyuFmuNYQkdJs7iMXY7-bpLA/s1419/BB3DE747-F166-4EFD-B0F4-9E6746328994.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1419" data-original-width="1146" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguu6ipGeyiL0Xvi7AiqvR04zs-ChhE56BfjF7bGbl1EU1I8GDkW-uCd6UcyaZKJ-M__1JCXhiaNuexXjujBdI8JxxCnOoiG9CPs-HSLtv2r-a770DpK0dyOo2JHDkCf5j_1H8fzHE9LKWvZm_-Hdl64E_3zSqsyuFmuNYQkdJs7iMXY7-bpLA/w516-h640/BB3DE747-F166-4EFD-B0F4-9E6746328994.jpg" width="516" /></a></div>The remaining rooster. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAcyIQjQtXggLTOJufzrtCLhGwAfzf6JiuxQToiLHEntZ0g-xk6M0DUXYB6sGAYoV3w7tXXN7i9lFQueAaoKH8sWdYm_NShp9XbeFQHdgwWciFj2GmLrmlcIECuEoiJPIsLwd2yk-shQ-yjAuWA5-JGK9AodK5YdJOq2kmBoYXZYc2l1o4ZX4/s4032/Awl+HkWaRS6TEqN9Ke1vWg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAcyIQjQtXggLTOJufzrtCLhGwAfzf6JiuxQToiLHEntZ0g-xk6M0DUXYB6sGAYoV3w7tXXN7i9lFQueAaoKH8sWdYm_NShp9XbeFQHdgwWciFj2GmLrmlcIECuEoiJPIsLwd2yk-shQ-yjAuWA5-JGK9AodK5YdJOq2kmBoYXZYc2l1o4ZX4/w480-h640/Awl+HkWaRS6TEqN9Ke1vWg.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Pretttty. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKn6CfRGVRWBYSF2z2dugrquxpSl5QdkMno10Akn794zkiKMhgEXIKjyfm0lm68lSXYyiKf5JIV9iz4K1pllaZQtOxLXTu8DlQXUO7ZoXvRiFuRXdYrvpYFRXZE4H-vbmcnmsXY2fW2_NoDZfrxOSFjEFAa1PVNrQ23v0oIDhLu9XXAfUvZ_s/s4032/ARAC8xWVS1yjV+AzIbvM9A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKn6CfRGVRWBYSF2z2dugrquxpSl5QdkMno10Akn794zkiKMhgEXIKjyfm0lm68lSXYyiKf5JIV9iz4K1pllaZQtOxLXTu8DlQXUO7ZoXvRiFuRXdYrvpYFRXZE4H-vbmcnmsXY2fW2_NoDZfrxOSFjEFAa1PVNrQ23v0oIDhLu9XXAfUvZ_s/w640-h480/ARAC8xWVS1yjV+AzIbvM9A.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpocxbGn3VYirRcLO1xOzEgJuwZYugonGszzdMnZk9dG8TFzczw8Th9WaO877Bv9Yg-84XvijzTIo012QMOJVE-Ii1mUJxHoYcCq7zSxucz6BsNpNdHeOStTIW5SOna2a3KlX2WhYxujbiXqBMvaXbDgmj8yypxD5kmpbYw180bbBNYc3l2jY/s1800/86572942-2CCA-4B4F-B205-B0C5A3F03618.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpocxbGn3VYirRcLO1xOzEgJuwZYugonGszzdMnZk9dG8TFzczw8Th9WaO877Bv9Yg-84XvijzTIo012QMOJVE-Ii1mUJxHoYcCq7zSxucz6BsNpNdHeOStTIW5SOna2a3KlX2WhYxujbiXqBMvaXbDgmj8yypxD5kmpbYw180bbBNYc3l2jY/w512-h640/86572942-2CCA-4B4F-B205-B0C5A3F03618.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>Orca! Orca was the kitten I found in the brush on my property. I'd heard her mewing for at least a day or two but the way sound travels made it hard to figure out where she really was, and then all the ground cover made it even trickier to find her. Hippo "helped." She and Beluga both have six toes. Once I caught all five, I had initially decided I'd keep Tuna and Beluga and bring the three tortoiseshell kittens to the local shelter. Little did I know that is NOT really how it works. The shelter was at capacity and no other nearby shelters would take them because I didn't live in their respective counties. It was kind of stressful - I was keeping the torties in a a big crate outside until it got too cold and then they were brought inside...but still caged as five kittens running loose in my house was too much for me. There was a lot of angst and worry that I was going to be stuck with them all, but eventually I found a rescue up in Blacksburg that was willing to take them. My vet and all nearby vets also were booked very solid for spay/neuters and I had begun to despair that Beluga would reach maturity with his balls intact...so I was relieved when the rescue woman said she could arrange for all of them to get spayed/neutered. At the last minute I decided I couldn't part with Orca, so now I have three kitten cats even though I'd been pretty firm in my feeling that I was never going to have cats again, and would never again deal with litter boxes. Joke's on me for sure.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaU5EOP63z1XTDPiuvv5tN5mYf-YlWvJ5yIUHFA55Vklv1iyFKAza_sp2xGxxZ0W67RMrwE6DUWEc1p6P8CpAlm21F_Xfxpv8_Sg0PDhIAlzGFgrh1qiw3OZsH9_c9m4D_3LJqj4S62ngOKu5z5iL8-7IoN5cQF6y4lYB4kQeE7kmr9bNTtf8/s1800/6237FBA7-32C4-4651-9D67-39742B6AA48F.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaU5EOP63z1XTDPiuvv5tN5mYf-YlWvJ5yIUHFA55Vklv1iyFKAza_sp2xGxxZ0W67RMrwE6DUWEc1p6P8CpAlm21F_Xfxpv8_Sg0PDhIAlzGFgrh1qiw3OZsH9_c9m4D_3LJqj4S62ngOKu5z5iL8-7IoN5cQF6y4lYB4kQeE7kmr9bNTtf8/w512-h640/6237FBA7-32C4-4651-9D67-39742B6AA48F.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Fat Tony and the kids went up to visit his family the weekend I arrived in NYC, so Louise and I got to hang out just the two of us. We went to dinner at a restaurant in a building that was formerly Jean Michel Basquiat's studio/owned by Andy Warhol. </div><p></p></blockquote><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2mooxc__jmQ_psF2-RvdeN2htg6G2JgX6OkmQxTYiMFDgKA8uLcac9MnbrCxhqBkeuUP663ugYawp8W0hBofaOCEczWYbtz82zkqBFVMKoN8xIgDxarUQIqaov1WY2elukUgcD_jwT9x_fhfs6TeL5H4mooZpZkBjmunTFtulAi65-YJ2aA/s1440/36B49138-C616-47D3-8E61-68F55C9FB4ED.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI2mooxc__jmQ_psF2-RvdeN2htg6G2JgX6OkmQxTYiMFDgKA8uLcac9MnbrCxhqBkeuUP663ugYawp8W0hBofaOCEczWYbtz82zkqBFVMKoN8xIgDxarUQIqaov1WY2elukUgcD_jwT9x_fhfs6TeL5H4mooZpZkBjmunTFtulAi65-YJ2aA/w640-h480/36B49138-C616-47D3-8E61-68F55C9FB4ED.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>The three torties in their big ass crate that I adapted so they had an 'upstairs cozy bed' area while 'downstairs' they had a litter box, food and water, and a tiny amount of space for play and shenanigans. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMSlot5HCsVWiOMaqB63MdxarrP0yWRycMidck62dHemuZ0GLGqsCMbTDdjr0gS1iPTtFAcyRnpwxEW8bDaFT8l_EZ6xgFdHvVC5Y_P1P266UFaalCq8hQ0zZrsTYsFkS1z4jQuJTCT5YBMW_sDHjgcbt5Kqr4i3PLUHMMLkc3ABdYs118oI/s4032/23DE681A-4445-4B1B-87CC-F89CF97A8E5A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMSlot5HCsVWiOMaqB63MdxarrP0yWRycMidck62dHemuZ0GLGqsCMbTDdjr0gS1iPTtFAcyRnpwxEW8bDaFT8l_EZ6xgFdHvVC5Y_P1P266UFaalCq8hQ0zZrsTYsFkS1z4jQuJTCT5YBMW_sDHjgcbt5Kqr4i3PLUHMMLkc3ABdYs118oI/w640-h480/23DE681A-4445-4B1B-87CC-F89CF97A8E5A.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>The evening I found Orca. I look like shit but the sky! I picked up my three and bid adieu to Patches and Grill Cat. The rescue lady was kind enough to let me know that they were adopted together within about a week. My greatest hope is that next summer/fall I don't have to go through this all over again. I mean little kittens are very cute but damn is it hard to find a way to get them out of one's house and into someone else's. Plus Tuna took about 10 days to reliably clean her own ass, which mean that I was doing that once or twice a day...not pleasant....not joyful. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjE6CDMtXoBSuFzrnc_6nM2eJbAEcUQWpbSfbjGuRYr5KZFSfq7frSAw9vWcmwriNIUX4nCt4N4R3izRRyjI-pl2J95sGTc1373KIhk1JBPq8ngaZ8DpwdXsTuMSZexjmMKIGbksj8cR4XYHqc_fcIAYbWqb8IQmW-_pW79zPd_h38bvNIwg/s1800/9B1857E9-851E-468B-A12F-F554C4B47ECC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEjE6CDMtXoBSuFzrnc_6nM2eJbAEcUQWpbSfbjGuRYr5KZFSfq7frSAw9vWcmwriNIUX4nCt4N4R3izRRyjI-pl2J95sGTc1373KIhk1JBPq8ngaZ8DpwdXsTuMSZexjmMKIGbksj8cR4XYHqc_fcIAYbWqb8IQmW-_pW79zPd_h38bvNIwg/w512-h640/9B1857E9-851E-468B-A12F-F554C4B47ECC.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>They are still not fluent. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPhpdywYj-LqBjmzHsvdRJuPbVaawyFuDwEBY216r24YvDYkuZeRZRJFEK_VQ1zx3IHwr4chAT8aYfSexn0EUsz26hWCw3rYFiTW-ZwGme89v9PhkjMjqJSBzHTZnIkKcX6aOLybKf5KjvJBOi_gY5-I1Hn0nlFimlCGGRc4Pidx5yM50wTI/s4032/8fuwn+OnQnO2Qh9GhWQw9A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPhpdywYj-LqBjmzHsvdRJuPbVaawyFuDwEBY216r24YvDYkuZeRZRJFEK_VQ1zx3IHwr4chAT8aYfSexn0EUsz26hWCw3rYFiTW-ZwGme89v9PhkjMjqJSBzHTZnIkKcX6aOLybKf5KjvJBOi_gY5-I1Hn0nlFimlCGGRc4Pidx5yM50wTI/w640-h480/8fuwn+OnQnO2Qh9GhWQw9A.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>High school buddy Seth and his wife Claire and their two daughters came by on the way home from Nashville in the fall. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGDjLBVPkxrjHCHN-Nec0LFzQ5RI_6d0kBMeu0RHIbWq_JPBvEgQJAVJ5kF9NTDfC9ftt0-NtBobaiuq-BBYQCptR2aDJdm_ecxjCkNaZImN4rny5DLN9JNQVIUtDtOcpx59-iUQORt11nTZMHi_p5pXoH79FbrN9dRDJPR9mhjVDjCxAg05Y/s3088/8ezYRcbITQiUQX1LeWJioQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGDjLBVPkxrjHCHN-Nec0LFzQ5RI_6d0kBMeu0RHIbWq_JPBvEgQJAVJ5kF9NTDfC9ftt0-NtBobaiuq-BBYQCptR2aDJdm_ecxjCkNaZImN4rny5DLN9JNQVIUtDtOcpx59-iUQORt11nTZMHi_p5pXoH79FbrN9dRDJPR9mhjVDjCxAg05Y/w480-h640/8ezYRcbITQiUQX1LeWJioQ.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>My Christmas/holiday card this year. On the inside is a different version where the words are the same, but the image is of Santa and the reindeer in the sky (and on fire) and a cauldron on the ground with a body of an elf going up in flames. Haha...and then cute photos of the pets and my wish that everyone has a lovely new year even though everything is garbage. I got a number of compliments - two different friends' boyfriends/husbands made it clear they thought I was a lot cooler than perhaps they had previously thought. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-OBEOueVIwYayaaGm1BddEKT1IVyYG0bwz9gN3DBKQ9W-I_HSgpxwIwsapvVBBemVtYJ-i5u7SPv22IbrmLBMU9SnBxGcAA00aAKNKe0Qn_G8ZeQzk7sunDDLHz7Axrj0NOfQPYGKWHGvgaIMClFJRRp5-_L8ZPNGlafqMXsnHlDNVSjdwg/s4032/8eTDXjTmRmidxV8a%25kwhPA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-OBEOueVIwYayaaGm1BddEKT1IVyYG0bwz9gN3DBKQ9W-I_HSgpxwIwsapvVBBemVtYJ-i5u7SPv22IbrmLBMU9SnBxGcAA00aAKNKe0Qn_G8ZeQzk7sunDDLHz7Axrj0NOfQPYGKWHGvgaIMClFJRRp5-_L8ZPNGlafqMXsnHlDNVSjdwg/w480-h640/8eTDXjTmRmidxV8a%25kwhPA.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>The garden did okay this year. I couldn't find watermelon starters, so none of them:( My DIY fence didn't keep the deer out though, and they ate ALL MY BEANS!!!!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuT2OYx6eMkXIDH0qxawyCLh0cuWQXpalP5mL9B8rk89jMfcP-re2L4oILrD-5asOtmp_JjoQUniP2Iezf5khjph2dFff_YmfJWEOLq51yBaNQQUlddi7EW16irK6iBIZbXyNp6A6gYWTtvyd4VCmUW6GYb40u5Ez1pcgjIDakLYY9fxDCxM/s4032/6sgTX2qRSuSrf0yyflCUKQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKuT2OYx6eMkXIDH0qxawyCLh0cuWQXpalP5mL9B8rk89jMfcP-re2L4oILrD-5asOtmp_JjoQUniP2Iezf5khjph2dFff_YmfJWEOLq51yBaNQQUlddi7EW16irK6iBIZbXyNp6A6gYWTtvyd4VCmUW6GYb40u5Ez1pcgjIDakLYY9fxDCxM/w640-h480/6sgTX2qRSuSrf0yyflCUKQ.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Woodsy horses. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQdRKCinF_3dQaG7AjznXYenFEcT4VMcJzaFZQrttUQbaV0IXyTNB-vIO4U4SFW-M8apJZ1z8MZ9p9AhU36NCFCkOTDF_xMLaLLovnxwoWhK27CglHx37fg9LdsM_ZWtjCrOIee3UTq06dbUSoWu8-y_Ze2ACUD6iHNYf6OqPP-TfKifzSKA/s4032/6mqlk2nSTGyewlwJxcUy0g.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQdRKCinF_3dQaG7AjznXYenFEcT4VMcJzaFZQrttUQbaV0IXyTNB-vIO4U4SFW-M8apJZ1z8MZ9p9AhU36NCFCkOTDF_xMLaLLovnxwoWhK27CglHx37fg9LdsM_ZWtjCrOIee3UTq06dbUSoWu8-y_Ze2ACUD6iHNYf6OqPP-TfKifzSKA/w480-h640/6mqlk2nSTGyewlwJxcUy0g.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Dispatched roosters. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweclCiH7nrQdm22rtraPTanaHcHFXkzyckWKvf62xC6uwZeSBYpmwsQQlHiJ0kgXF6HEa89SIHfyoj8q_2kp7o7gSvmdmzHLQcAuTY5ZXL41JSjf1oryo_00SfFW8X607VRTqcDtvy8EySl418ww6I03DIfjFHfAYUi07pCGayi8PYm4q-Rs/s4032/06ZdOGtNS%25KcT8UFGmN43Q.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweclCiH7nrQdm22rtraPTanaHcHFXkzyckWKvf62xC6uwZeSBYpmwsQQlHiJ0kgXF6HEa89SIHfyoj8q_2kp7o7gSvmdmzHLQcAuTY5ZXL41JSjf1oryo_00SfFW8X607VRTqcDtvy8EySl418ww6I03DIfjFHfAYUi07pCGayi8PYm4q-Rs/w480-h640/06ZdOGtNS%25KcT8UFGmN43Q.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Low hanging clouds. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvg6Y6OqHDJPTmCqTzPcx-3Ri8YW6LuMy6oInpPthIZ16QR6x3U5cTUf3It4uG_0G6K8v4ri8gibzejq2mE5EmDaBeO3onSTnwSta8ujVFkksHPAu5tY2AjGEdTGtqUykbtsYbj4U_cqa48516PXCiy2dQ5xN1wTEHCcZe6c7KcYTuB_DTLhg/s1440/5AB082E7-7FCD-4600-AB02-FA9AB9678AAA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvg6Y6OqHDJPTmCqTzPcx-3Ri8YW6LuMy6oInpPthIZ16QR6x3U5cTUf3It4uG_0G6K8v4ri8gibzejq2mE5EmDaBeO3onSTnwSta8ujVFkksHPAu5tY2AjGEdTGtqUykbtsYbj4U_cqa48516PXCiy2dQ5xN1wTEHCcZe6c7KcYTuB_DTLhg/w640-h480/5AB082E7-7FCD-4600-AB02-FA9AB9678AAA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>New work companion. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRMzyV50siqF_nC6TINGtx-c7AsmeOgoFdGbL-DoMujGRd9KfB2vgvrkc-yLRx-3Rg7KH0SxH6GgG0yCRcuXUM0vxMmJoFp7MkgMxRMCGsjda38GSgdHk9YQmWHngq-b_x5ejEs7-pB5-EK83-iiM2tCTkejN6_ymn-FuJ7z6vsz9Ve_ip-I/s4032/4u2zGcNQTfuZDbgit8e05g.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRMzyV50siqF_nC6TINGtx-c7AsmeOgoFdGbL-DoMujGRd9KfB2vgvrkc-yLRx-3Rg7KH0SxH6GgG0yCRcuXUM0vxMmJoFp7MkgMxRMCGsjda38GSgdHk9YQmWHngq-b_x5ejEs7-pB5-EK83-iiM2tCTkejN6_ymn-FuJ7z6vsz9Ve_ip-I/w480-h640/4u2zGcNQTfuZDbgit8e05g.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Finally went to a lookout not too far from where I live...which gives you 360 views of the mountains. Not in this photo, but I could see my house from up there, which was really neat. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yossA3IEA_xfgIPqGd7LIvIfZVUiYja6QidxlrLPu-JsKG3NKxHIhFvH76eG8eK1uYyOT7D94jP_y2AjlAw21i6Fd3XlnyoJ8SlfRKhLBIXzuHzpZNgVv12UQ8auE38Ia1Ht6h38ZhvAamdQeQG58mHbzswDmvq6GEZW4PiPq-D2hStVXXo/s1440/4B9B00B9-B3A8-49FD-8926-F25B50B95B0E.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yossA3IEA_xfgIPqGd7LIvIfZVUiYja6QidxlrLPu-JsKG3NKxHIhFvH76eG8eK1uYyOT7D94jP_y2AjlAw21i6Fd3XlnyoJ8SlfRKhLBIXzuHzpZNgVv12UQ8auE38Ia1Ht6h38ZhvAamdQeQG58mHbzswDmvq6GEZW4PiPq-D2hStVXXo/w640-h480/4B9B00B9-B3A8-49FD-8926-F25B50B95B0E.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Kitten butt. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6yjr5D8yT5d8xBHRkdmU6XdWe8o6QXzezlXtn2TN_XHjHP2aKAnQxhcWRJxbV_6OaI0m19eCsJ8GbTZUsvPVIrCbrMRcTagKCp5WJr0R9uZ81G2u__H-fcsW3dpxTTl5_ngJjJnGH4LbZ49ZWD5sH-PMIjbmHDqMP0acRVv-MCB3WBbEONeg/s3088/3Vy5LB3sTWGIGpFMbp2bCA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6yjr5D8yT5d8xBHRkdmU6XdWe8o6QXzezlXtn2TN_XHjHP2aKAnQxhcWRJxbV_6OaI0m19eCsJ8GbTZUsvPVIrCbrMRcTagKCp5WJr0R9uZ81G2u__H-fcsW3dpxTTl5_ngJjJnGH4LbZ49ZWD5sH-PMIjbmHDqMP0acRVv-MCB3WBbEONeg/w480-h640/3Vy5LB3sTWGIGpFMbp2bCA.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>One of the three roosters probably. Sadly the one hen that hatched was eaten by stray dogs a week after we killed the roosters. If I had known, I'd have killed her too so she wouldn't have gone to waste. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTs-upmCA_5oP5HWwDpIH_0UnV0TPiZoEyvm9gS30cRxAvOkLbkfgWNrx7BBlxd3qq-8vmNQJynWxuPvWbdz1WVCqmnU-IT4VEjeHKIvJjXNHfVO39woOYqajMUkN8ije6bLilKWKSeWwdQQf4ZcMJwV64tUVojoUEobh17t9wcPzawS8eSDM/s4032/%25Yy4xgknTMuf0SWLfApzPw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTs-upmCA_5oP5HWwDpIH_0UnV0TPiZoEyvm9gS30cRxAvOkLbkfgWNrx7BBlxd3qq-8vmNQJynWxuPvWbdz1WVCqmnU-IT4VEjeHKIvJjXNHfVO39woOYqajMUkN8ije6bLilKWKSeWwdQQf4ZcMJwV64tUVojoUEobh17t9wcPzawS8eSDM/w480-h640/%25Yy4xgknTMuf0SWLfApzPw.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Space Catan. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW-BJ8UBG2vAWKHHDAxdpMgi4P-YexOfq3ugMAHI7StWknncYxMX7d7UBGW3-ZhjvkwdDMirVt9ljQJReOD6cruBsm6qTUOWIrnzTUPbTcZekLcCzkGFzpwtXUcRtm_5ibVlnw7864vrqzNtue_QXJMFy7LwV4VuhvDqHgXL_EhB4hKkSdgRc/s4032/ZKnQHOs1QOG6K37kPCZk2A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW-BJ8UBG2vAWKHHDAxdpMgi4P-YexOfq3ugMAHI7StWknncYxMX7d7UBGW3-ZhjvkwdDMirVt9ljQJReOD6cruBsm6qTUOWIrnzTUPbTcZekLcCzkGFzpwtXUcRtm_5ibVlnw7864vrqzNtue_QXJMFy7LwV4VuhvDqHgXL_EhB4hKkSdgRc/w480-h640/ZKnQHOs1QOG6K37kPCZk2A.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>I guess that's about all there is to it. I thought I had more thoughts to write down, but at this point I am done. <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-78004613070129182432022-06-08T16:53:00.002-04:002022-06-08T16:53:19.643-04:00The Warmer Part of 2022<p>Is getting older just accumulating more and more forms of outrage? When my mother was dying, the BP oil spill and Chilean coal miners stuck underground were both stories that captivated the world. I remember her saying - or perhaps writing down and I read it later - that she felt as if maybe she was leaving the world before it all got much, much worse. I must admit I notice all the BIG BAD in the greater world, but my day-to-day is still fairly peaceful. I know there are all sorts of things I could do to be a slightly more active participant in terms of at least attempting to find better balance in the world - most of these things are donating to righteous causes, and I wholly admit I am not doing all that much. As is in evidence through these photographs, which, as always, are not in a strictly chronological order. </p><p><br /></p><p>For reasons beyond my understanding, my neighbor recently lost use of land he had been leasing for his horses. So he moved five horses and at least ten head of cattle into the parcel of land closest to my own. I even helped (a little) with making sure they went into that parcel of land and didn't just gallop away down the road never to be seen again. Now I get to see them far more closely and often than in the past. I've been given permission to go into the pasture with them, but I often just go up to the shared fenceline when I see them. I bought some past-their-prime apples at the grocery store and bring them with me in an attempt to better befriend them. They like the apples, but it's way too early for them to like me. These photos were taken earlier this week. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1JPZtoPSUu49m7argh6DfUALrFAEPrxlC4UjPti8swhdolU3OtEu0_dePgbBJLn-0PfnS9DlqUGeCPBPw9rnrgGEjBq_Iz7NjeiSWaPjQcHtZigPhSEtlO8QWLuCReHbah4aBUc4DM_-sZ6_lfUDLLf7C5BcQHOK3lWZ0NnOFg4_TFZv5x-4/s3088/fullsizeoutput_20e3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1JPZtoPSUu49m7argh6DfUALrFAEPrxlC4UjPti8swhdolU3OtEu0_dePgbBJLn-0PfnS9DlqUGeCPBPw9rnrgGEjBq_Iz7NjeiSWaPjQcHtZigPhSEtlO8QWLuCReHbah4aBUc4DM_-sZ6_lfUDLLf7C5BcQHOK3lWZ0NnOFg4_TFZv5x-4/w480-h640/fullsizeoutput_20e3.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5wuBigBQF_hCnEaj7VSbd_yBwD-LxBlVdmXi9p1vJLYxC6cN9wa8q-n5kxJIilu8MgHGIbqsa4n6urSt42IFn0BWLvq2bdpYlJjBYZSk8_SoBWwuumhxXB27smy6Q5OAC-zQ1BkcM7s9VpRQNY4-UMuiO5Qu33Mf22Aqgz9gUvt4En_Yy7iQ/s3088/fullsizeoutput_20e5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5wuBigBQF_hCnEaj7VSbd_yBwD-LxBlVdmXi9p1vJLYxC6cN9wa8q-n5kxJIilu8MgHGIbqsa4n6urSt42IFn0BWLvq2bdpYlJjBYZSk8_SoBWwuumhxXB27smy6Q5OAC-zQ1BkcM7s9VpRQNY4-UMuiO5Qu33Mf22Aqgz9gUvt4En_Yy7iQ/w480-h640/fullsizeoutput_20e5.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>This horse's mustache is just wonderful. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9e3oCqgU-z6WrfIHbnBQzifZ2qqV_grwAtS8Wlmx-AvqxzGQNSWdRYYPGD4QIjFRdg7x466kwfXj8qo3Wfqmw6pgueRhQIVPbhXLNwMViQBO6W161AFtNQCRCRDdNzUFpE2YOP7BZCDxGhdBcu6eKuqDDKKMUMXIIzA4Qu1dKNiPFbLhYXSg/s4032/MT7RGAOITkOnPIn5G8S+Rw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9e3oCqgU-z6WrfIHbnBQzifZ2qqV_grwAtS8Wlmx-AvqxzGQNSWdRYYPGD4QIjFRdg7x466kwfXj8qo3Wfqmw6pgueRhQIVPbhXLNwMViQBO6W161AFtNQCRCRDdNzUFpE2YOP7BZCDxGhdBcu6eKuqDDKKMUMXIIzA4Qu1dKNiPFbLhYXSg/w480-h640/MT7RGAOITkOnPIn5G8S+Rw.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>This past weekend I joined my friend A. and her family at the Blue Ridge Music Center and got to see a contingent of Winston Salem chamber orchestra players cover popular songs, and then Dori Freeman (who is a local artist getting some national attention as of late) play her own set before then being joined by the classical musicians. I found it a very strange choice to have the amphitheater built so that the sun was not setting behind it, but it was still a good sunset if you just turned around. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRT-BYt1rJLQtFfLLjH-kr2xYc2SBhfJyVNiWZWa1BYWsiQtfbOk3AwYAqV8JBesCYn5eSdzi6r5Js6YPqxwLtFBOMkJmkpfMmMWPb8apmCkpMla2K8rRgGbDVKDSCXoZVdjcPiOyaH1B0jgj1XBZBRxr1atiI7SJCMo3Gsb9YLGWzft2j9ig/s4032/8I6VhayTRk2nRxpsNHm5JQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRT-BYt1rJLQtFfLLjH-kr2xYc2SBhfJyVNiWZWa1BYWsiQtfbOk3AwYAqV8JBesCYn5eSdzi6r5Js6YPqxwLtFBOMkJmkpfMmMWPb8apmCkpMla2K8rRgGbDVKDSCXoZVdjcPiOyaH1B0jgj1XBZBRxr1atiI7SJCMo3Gsb9YLGWzft2j9ig/w640-h480/8I6VhayTRk2nRxpsNHm5JQ.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Recent lamb burger with not authentic tzatziki (no herbs just garlic, cucumber, salt and yogurt) and tomatoes. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Bmt1s56rY_fOyq1z6GRSPIkXSPjeJwKhctzmlvqryN5N7DdCONgbqaAR-ABZX2mZNT5OABc3K6jmFoRJ5ig2TsZ8QS2iXEFEOAPUlUlqwH3O31EpNiOFENz2Ia4qJmctIXLC4qVxSPdB5ifuGrM6tftt6KIB7Jc6kuacVbrejZjCHiYH818/s4032/9%258KcDJ0TjeIW9VWIHy9Tw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Bmt1s56rY_fOyq1z6GRSPIkXSPjeJwKhctzmlvqryN5N7DdCONgbqaAR-ABZX2mZNT5OABc3K6jmFoRJ5ig2TsZ8QS2iXEFEOAPUlUlqwH3O31EpNiOFENz2Ia4qJmctIXLC4qVxSPdB5ifuGrM6tftt6KIB7Jc6kuacVbrejZjCHiYH818/w640-h480/9%258KcDJ0TjeIW9VWIHy9Tw.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Back to the music night. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpFv953S2ubCa9nUt0MISPYpeBhR_4ZGvYVOlcT9kNQFrKaV4VOv2eE4eXuBVM3uuyVwUIGq3yQEvCoZWasUwNTaux-bDjs0NJu_R6NYniWSAqVIQiHY0oqb7tSaEUoBjfrC274NhnMV9W-6aMPsh5HKXQUQ-73_0TDiUSutI5E9HnWwjhXg/s4032/fullsizeoutput_20d6.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpFv953S2ubCa9nUt0MISPYpeBhR_4ZGvYVOlcT9kNQFrKaV4VOv2eE4eXuBVM3uuyVwUIGq3yQEvCoZWasUwNTaux-bDjs0NJu_R6NYniWSAqVIQiHY0oqb7tSaEUoBjfrC274NhnMV9W-6aMPsh5HKXQUQ-73_0TDiUSutI5E9HnWwjhXg/w480-h640/fullsizeoutput_20d6.heic" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6QAYuCT-bZl-TgKExx9-rtGdIbTBFogUkG7sRt95Yp3hjxlthN2CcjE2IJUVWqcsn2cE954j-4inXNhHClT4ioMLbw0BfWxKdb4c68ukAUQ-_oka4od-WK7sdv3RNTtEQoNJWQ55JzmwikezAOXhPRc8YujNwqiUGXdZrqKbtYZocvG8ghg/s3987/fullsizeoutput_20d7.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2552" data-original-width="3987" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6QAYuCT-bZl-TgKExx9-rtGdIbTBFogUkG7sRt95Yp3hjxlthN2CcjE2IJUVWqcsn2cE954j-4inXNhHClT4ioMLbw0BfWxKdb4c68ukAUQ-_oka4od-WK7sdv3RNTtEQoNJWQ55JzmwikezAOXhPRc8YujNwqiUGXdZrqKbtYZocvG8ghg/w640-h410/fullsizeoutput_20d7.heic" width="640" /></a></div>Baby Birdie deigning in sleep to a little leg spooning. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUax6nxGHnycbzvp-n1PI2kjKsdndJPap81T9AgHNL6ZeoonLNqea3rCOwTgjijl3g6tq2qtzDocjoHyiDncvOJpoquZtkNje5xzrxDV01PKyVBfti7JhAYpNKS24QhCJxHq1UfiT5XdxF-rziC-3cg0HSjV7qARler8bZOWWFErgLCnnS28I/s4032/cdkSqClMSkSPpykApGUROA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUax6nxGHnycbzvp-n1PI2kjKsdndJPap81T9AgHNL6ZeoonLNqea3rCOwTgjijl3g6tq2qtzDocjoHyiDncvOJpoquZtkNje5xzrxDV01PKyVBfti7JhAYpNKS24QhCJxHq1UfiT5XdxF-rziC-3cg0HSjV7qARler8bZOWWFErgLCnnS28I/w480-h640/cdkSqClMSkSPpykApGUROA.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>After a lot of delay due to two different neighbor men not coming through with their assurances that they could till up my garden, I bit the bullet and bought my own rear tine tiller. Put it together all by myself, and it started on the first pull. The late purchase order and delivery meant that I had to put a first bunch of transplants into ground I shovel turned by hand, and I've been kind of scrambling to get everything else in place. I've never played DnD but I think this year's garden energy is chaotic evil. I'm just slap dash putting things in the ground. Tomatoes aren't planted as deeply as they should be; I have no compost to amend the soil: my lay-out is totally not logical; the folks I previously was able to buy watermelon and okra starts from went out of business; two of the cucumber plants (silver slicers) I planted already look like they aren't going to make it. But I have already put in a whole heck of a lot of zinnia seeds in a few different places, and one whole package of pole bean seeds. And there are some sunflower seeds that probably won't amount to much. The three eggplants already are being eaten alive by little black beetles. I have yet to find the best way to prevent my paths from becoming overgrown with weeds, so I'm using landscape fabric liberally, which I think any real gardener would be appalled by due to the laziness as well as the waste of money. I'm hoping this upcoming farmer's market will have a couple more plants for me to buy. So far it's a mostly tomato/pepper garden. I decided I wouldn't try brussels sprouts again because they, too, were especially ravaged by bugs, no matter how much neem or diatamaceous earth I sprayed/dusted. In any case, here I am, slightly triumphant, after my second round of tilling (did a third one before I started planting). <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfCubnYu5yCqdUG3nSy3HBhs0aVteRJqtO4-7I37UoGZNkEsQYDg8yIwIubAFb-Xz7rOzN2nK_3RfCDmQGD69EBkmO8DPQMvhGhH93sQK640IVDp-ip9SLO-4d5OqcmnZGarUcTkcN_3mdvP2DmGq0vIj2ueTUKNSch3Lcz8qd_R0BrloS0Q/s3088/fullsizeoutput_20d1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGfCubnYu5yCqdUG3nSy3HBhs0aVteRJqtO4-7I37UoGZNkEsQYDg8yIwIubAFb-Xz7rOzN2nK_3RfCDmQGD69EBkmO8DPQMvhGhH93sQK640IVDp-ip9SLO-4d5OqcmnZGarUcTkcN_3mdvP2DmGq0vIj2ueTUKNSch3Lcz8qd_R0BrloS0Q/w640-h480/fullsizeoutput_20d1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>I totally dug up the funny, slightly too wet and weirdly clay-y and sometimes stinky iris bed that was so overgrown and choked up that only three or four irises would bloom - I got close to if not more than 100 rhizomes once I dug everything up. In addition to replanting some of the iris, I also planted two new rose plants, some peonies (which hopefully will thrive in later years), a lot of gladilouses. day lilies and asiatic lilies, aquiligia (which I don't think has properly rooted and thus the brown spot where I haven't mulched). The chickens are getting at my last nerve with their scratching up of the area. They're even worse in the garden - my fishing line fence line doesn't dissuade them. I spent a portion of today putting up better netting...but then ran out. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbL8ROXh6_uKELabyVdDDmNv28bxacqR-_-RBLkzYEaN5MF3dM2rbEe8yLDpylVtuqAP6y00JSaqx7MwXR1WtTnck_KBISNyXFBmvUQXMnJGENm_h2F0jkxHCdZQIMq93EGLUQcFRBsFDg7e4_FYtICvpAaOpwMWdiLRh1XuCxElU5Xan0UE/s4032/oB%25Bbu95SZi22RwSHzCKFA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbL8ROXh6_uKELabyVdDDmNv28bxacqR-_-RBLkzYEaN5MF3dM2rbEe8yLDpylVtuqAP6y00JSaqx7MwXR1WtTnck_KBISNyXFBmvUQXMnJGENm_h2F0jkxHCdZQIMq93EGLUQcFRBsFDg7e4_FYtICvpAaOpwMWdiLRh1XuCxElU5Xan0UE/w640-h480/oB%25Bbu95SZi22RwSHzCKFA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>I'm having quite a number of family members (12) come visit later in the summer. They won't all stay in the house as that is pretty much impossible, but I do imagine that we'll be doing a lot of home hanging out, so I bought some additional porch furniture so we can all have seats. I also unfurled the new shade-thing we installed last year (after I broke the previous one). <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVOB4XynM4N7KHDvsKULGQ4H_usRUOrY-g3YUGHgG-ez4S_VIVi44GlgzIN8UXvdlAOMShXC7tI1eYx-mcDzj3OJEMp4P2jwOKKOfmOpkRibIu2SzardLMJprsBFqXUIn0_er4QVJfSsmkPN0_V2vtUXxWL76Degezbd6xH3-jiZgR-Mibh0/s4032/wLti5ZZ+SKerDpZId7%256JA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVOB4XynM4N7KHDvsKULGQ4H_usRUOrY-g3YUGHgG-ez4S_VIVi44GlgzIN8UXvdlAOMShXC7tI1eYx-mcDzj3OJEMp4P2jwOKKOfmOpkRibIu2SzardLMJprsBFqXUIn0_er4QVJfSsmkPN0_V2vtUXxWL76Degezbd6xH3-jiZgR-Mibh0/w640-h480/wLti5ZZ+SKerDpZId7%256JA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Sunset evening time in the summer is really just a magic time. The nearby cattle or horses makes it even more delightful. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJcHZr6lZwHWe9kkTMu_hZvBgGmZrFN8FcaAGvKBmAMuu7NoGrHC_m31TZdMYxfx4oD_sjdIGjif8tQRvjC7-pwmITsXAVN5UcQzI16MeadFNOknuMTg-LOjLRi560HnOOMIDLBoxdH6r8D3WE8kTREW6uxsg8O7NA_cuqVUXeQ43v8OHmZE/s4032/+9m8bnLwQ3auWmw5x%25eRYA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOJcHZr6lZwHWe9kkTMu_hZvBgGmZrFN8FcaAGvKBmAMuu7NoGrHC_m31TZdMYxfx4oD_sjdIGjif8tQRvjC7-pwmITsXAVN5UcQzI16MeadFNOknuMTg-LOjLRi560HnOOMIDLBoxdH6r8D3WE8kTREW6uxsg8O7NA_cuqVUXeQ43v8OHmZE/w640-h480/+9m8bnLwQ3auWmw5x%25eRYA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>This peony plant was here when I bought the place, and it would always produce buds...that would not bloom. And yet this year they did! It's the only peony that isn't the white/pink color, which is pretty exciting. I think maybe they bloomed because we had A LOT of rain the week before? Who knows. I'm grateful to meet them. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6D4gNpqd1-CDxRed-epmCumCQDrLULhci9O-nZMBqszlXSjCoq8s_1A-h-rRDMLJckTgInvONusEWMomSwYag3Ek05ow_uk7zRmFFQ24OCIhJmEIATsL-xLuHZ_ofTIWtaDJS_891LDUs9wcLTPLsSVIKDhJabhvkLCG0tccQsGuKoOXviA/s4032/6NiWO+DsTDSWN+%25ndqfTpA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6D4gNpqd1-CDxRed-epmCumCQDrLULhci9O-nZMBqszlXSjCoq8s_1A-h-rRDMLJckTgInvONusEWMomSwYag3Ek05ow_uk7zRmFFQ24OCIhJmEIATsL-xLuHZ_ofTIWtaDJS_891LDUs9wcLTPLsSVIKDhJabhvkLCG0tccQsGuKoOXviA/w480-h640/6NiWO+DsTDSWN+%25ndqfTpA.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Like, really, it doesn't get old to have views like this on a daily basis. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxm6fGGJoKIqzXHZ6cswSUdgtH_Ug5KV6DpdirFZhC6hmS04MjUTy89rkzYdJ9xy4ZQIR4j4bTAfEdv9-3zUP6EJBLV8FX0Ukd-Et61zPqdtDbUTKbh8QWsBf_0DJSMeIiA1DWtJm3PI-9PGQ8GXvPdSEP3HLTdgsjYSYR-pgyS20RGzhzJMs/s4032/8OWMdgQHS2KHKs6U6z+gkQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxm6fGGJoKIqzXHZ6cswSUdgtH_Ug5KV6DpdirFZhC6hmS04MjUTy89rkzYdJ9xy4ZQIR4j4bTAfEdv9-3zUP6EJBLV8FX0Ukd-Et61zPqdtDbUTKbh8QWsBf_0DJSMeIiA1DWtJm3PI-9PGQ8GXvPdSEP3HLTdgsjYSYR-pgyS20RGzhzJMs/w480-h640/8OWMdgQHS2KHKs6U6z+gkQ.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>I'd long suspected that there was a patio hiding underneath grass where this...trellis(?)...is, but it was only in the last month or so that I bothered confirming the suspicion. You'll see 'before/during' photographs lower down. What I should have done is just been happy I found it. But I listened a baker friend from long ago commented on Facebook that if I didn't want grass to just regrow, I should take it all apart and do things better. At first I scoffed at the idea, thinking of the work and logistics involved, but then in a moment of blind hubris and overconfidence, I thought I COULD do it. Guess what!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWBOT515dNflddd8ITal7diyZnO0JBAbl7jUPt4FjSA9maKjyONOQoNACku68Wxt-Q41LpeZq5rqm5d6TaJ-Dj_GiCkPEWAmSL2DbnzSIrtSXYvIUClugeTxoIwYZK5R710zJAs7BhgqVhK91YfeQyxXTeJoXt26k_Dy7fHjsZv1a0ih2mUg/s4032/dB328nJlQzCIjGlr03v6xg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVWBOT515dNflddd8ITal7diyZnO0JBAbl7jUPt4FjSA9maKjyONOQoNACku68Wxt-Q41LpeZq5rqm5d6TaJ-Dj_GiCkPEWAmSL2DbnzSIrtSXYvIUClugeTxoIwYZK5R710zJAs7BhgqVhK91YfeQyxXTeJoXt26k_Dy7fHjsZv1a0ih2mUg/w640-h480/dB328nJlQzCIjGlr03v6xg.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>I can't! Somehow now there aren't enough stones to cover the area, even though there were enough stones originally! I have some thoughts about the 'why' of this, and plan on taking all the stones back up, laying down some kind of gravel, then sand, then stones and then more sand. But I am still too demoralized by the day I realized I should never have tried to do this in the first place. It may be one million years before this is resolved. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7P_83t0-SJIs_at4U5RMBlRFcsLyB1J3uxCQQxV6-CrfQ8Q7_WFnbIsFR32MilxUHRajtJL_KwBDI8ncy6XQNXsPHRwHazTgILbIASUcm8RvOSSibDNMHXYNHGjqj4akRAeG6MrJVIm0YzRMqiKRH-nhZawjn_Nm6NFmhwBWYInXNBevnoU/s4032/DBfb9oEJQDybM%25%25wb6oePg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju7P_83t0-SJIs_at4U5RMBlRFcsLyB1J3uxCQQxV6-CrfQ8Q7_WFnbIsFR32MilxUHRajtJL_KwBDI8ncy6XQNXsPHRwHazTgILbIASUcm8RvOSSibDNMHXYNHGjqj4akRAeG6MrJVIm0YzRMqiKRH-nhZawjn_Nm6NFmhwBWYInXNBevnoU/w640-h480/DBfb9oEJQDybM%25%25wb6oePg.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>But at least there are still horses to say hello to. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKsLAxh7NrkGja-J6x3DSi6dvcsNP5FN61Cqi7CmGbZCChthS6tpzNexwhFG9okRLNkzmlezRR04jjbjQmjZlJQeNZeYToKrTe5ltxkyso3o60T9oK3NJr80MyJPuPBBBlJNpToDfgLHztVs7ZWZz4IADcUQW8fyp07O0weH1rYFCGSevD3A/s4032/KH%25HzCpeRXaDpTauXkRWiA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKsLAxh7NrkGja-J6x3DSi6dvcsNP5FN61Cqi7CmGbZCChthS6tpzNexwhFG9okRLNkzmlezRR04jjbjQmjZlJQeNZeYToKrTe5ltxkyso3o60T9oK3NJr80MyJPuPBBBlJNpToDfgLHztVs7ZWZz4IADcUQW8fyp07O0weH1rYFCGSevD3A/w480-h640/KH%25HzCpeRXaDpTauXkRWiA.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Another fun discovery of the spring/summer, which I should have understood two years ago but better late than never, is that black snakes love to hang around in the rafters of my small barn. To say I was surprised the first time I looked up and saw a snake peering down at me would be an understatement, but now I frequently go out there just to look up and see what I can see. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDLvP31zhTOTJGiJzLETnJIGTGrmATvNICm-5cskHNg43w5twuMKgSEfAHE8X_YzyZdXuLS9cYUxUPgSqBfms284Ld78knC2jEt61njKEHCziaLcdQHoMGf-hI_laev9kza3DIeHpXPbU_6VHF063WxxCcjS6FaHtNUcZUjJdqbGByhajYBA/s4032/LUmBml8ZSP6kzfMdWLf45A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSDLvP31zhTOTJGiJzLETnJIGTGrmATvNICm-5cskHNg43w5twuMKgSEfAHE8X_YzyZdXuLS9cYUxUPgSqBfms284Ld78knC2jEt61njKEHCziaLcdQHoMGf-hI_laev9kza3DIeHpXPbU_6VHF063WxxCcjS6FaHtNUcZUjJdqbGByhajYBA/w640-h480/LUmBml8ZSP6kzfMdWLf45A.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Different view of redone flower garden? I'm going to put one of those kind of tacky reflective ball tings where the stone is. When I was a kid my mother and I would drive from our home in Maryland to visit her family in Ohio. My mother was a creature of habit in many ways, so the trip usually involved the same exact stops, year after year after year. And two of those stops were at pottery outlets in Zanesville, Ohio, and I was always most fascinated by the reflective balls on cement pedestals. And now I have decided the next time I visit Ohio, I'm going to go to those same stores and buy myself one. The end. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRdujfyqas2zVxc4xVCJ5ytvNtyNecnueq7LP9IMaotq6w7PaXpI8FuaynxPHGezY_tXce52PZq86KxwqF9lNvH1xWqWIj4PBROWRVI1vIC6_1JQiPBphBjIq9dbIw1cBcxMjsJ_cp_h8eEUT6b9_d9y8lq-3VpaZ2fWIriZ7Ft1KfdnLxSs/s4032/oB%25Bbu95SZi22RwSHzCKFA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRdujfyqas2zVxc4xVCJ5ytvNtyNecnueq7LP9IMaotq6w7PaXpI8FuaynxPHGezY_tXce52PZq86KxwqF9lNvH1xWqWIj4PBROWRVI1vIC6_1JQiPBphBjIq9dbIw1cBcxMjsJ_cp_h8eEUT6b9_d9y8lq-3VpaZ2fWIriZ7Ft1KfdnLxSs/w640-h480/oB%25Bbu95SZi22RwSHzCKFA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Sexy machine.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDKKxmpfEZfbTTVP7QONkovfnSZgHVL2mNoV072fF7PlkyljMW8vsXV_L2NCZmBJmpMWce3-sW0qBke911zUeQEJ1SvRbyMIJ6AftWsvdDhjuzquDuYWw4vedDhVuhSUQcCKQ4Ed6BHmg8rluyG4SrqRAJYLu9c81yLlRNwgMXe94nPbuU1tM/s4032/UXe4edEmTku4hn+5hfje6w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDKKxmpfEZfbTTVP7QONkovfnSZgHVL2mNoV072fF7PlkyljMW8vsXV_L2NCZmBJmpMWce3-sW0qBke911zUeQEJ1SvRbyMIJ6AftWsvdDhjuzquDuYWw4vedDhVuhSUQcCKQ4Ed6BHmg8rluyG4SrqRAJYLu9c81yLlRNwgMXe94nPbuU1tM/w640-h480/UXe4edEmTku4hn+5hfje6w.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Rafter snake!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglG0zYN2uOQOYlVqPNrq5d3kF3jLaoJJY6FXdxy0oX51J2LcYe7PU8JC8r_odbQ3BqHgxmqVyEe2CDMcVRuoEvEEbCflYoUS-UbCFRGEJV85EHuyUrf3bMNrsZ4vH_hexGYaAO58oMLeE_EUoxg6oCFWqzOQevfymBhRNvv7rUO3y4F6D2ifk/s4032/%25tZ1I+4WSJa1Y1ktY8q0bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglG0zYN2uOQOYlVqPNrq5d3kF3jLaoJJY6FXdxy0oX51J2LcYe7PU8JC8r_odbQ3BqHgxmqVyEe2CDMcVRuoEvEEbCflYoUS-UbCFRGEJV85EHuyUrf3bMNrsZ4vH_hexGYaAO58oMLeE_EUoxg6oCFWqzOQevfymBhRNvv7rUO3y4F6D2ifk/w480-h640/%25tZ1I+4WSJa1Y1ktY8q0bw.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Hippo very annoyed with me that I'm making her sit in front of a faint rainbow. Can dogs see rainbows I wonder?<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLawivbtGtsT3_feAAoMiV1hLDM_DPWZSuPeavJwIglFhA49saY5wAYbfW0K0POdkc3EXqHVMH63emyy7FyNo3X-aRbTNI3VI5qJFI-mEThM5vy5xoEIDebQYUzHohSn2vfKEmrWoL6xrMNuBDUkw9mAN8xplqSx_EjHi59r9ol3fe7csiSAo/s4032/+ERLi4R8Scq4d5Ndhx0pQw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLawivbtGtsT3_feAAoMiV1hLDM_DPWZSuPeavJwIglFhA49saY5wAYbfW0K0POdkc3EXqHVMH63emyy7FyNo3X-aRbTNI3VI5qJFI-mEThM5vy5xoEIDebQYUzHohSn2vfKEmrWoL6xrMNuBDUkw9mAN8xplqSx_EjHi59r9ol3fe7csiSAo/w480-h640/+ERLi4R8Scq4d5Ndhx0pQw.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>The hummingbirds arrived and were quite active. Then disappeared for a couple of weeks (I've deduced they've been nesting?). But are beginning to come back around. I need to change out the old nectar for new so they won't think of my place as the dirty dive bar of hummingbird watering holes. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigz9PNp7sQmty8t3KNUNA5fxqgbs119WZho5ZLmnjNi0kkfS8Wd783DFYUv_jhhiRDZZuz188t4L85Nq2ZvRUX5S07xfGf1dVXzWyybtZBOVTvDqwaIg5itwdl0OnSJOohlknPNk-By2GqlUhKWBBJ9zyVOCBx_wnWM8usKl7YjK4i9yqDrwU/s1440/0E4803CE-5E9B-4FB2-B7A3-55E7F3D58723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigz9PNp7sQmty8t3KNUNA5fxqgbs119WZho5ZLmnjNi0kkfS8Wd783DFYUv_jhhiRDZZuz188t4L85Nq2ZvRUX5S07xfGf1dVXzWyybtZBOVTvDqwaIg5itwdl0OnSJOohlknPNk-By2GqlUhKWBBJ9zyVOCBx_wnWM8usKl7YjK4i9yqDrwU/w640-h640/0E4803CE-5E9B-4FB2-B7A3-55E7F3D58723.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>I saw four snapping turtles in 24 hours. Two of which were inside my house yard fence. I poked one until it went away (or at least got out of my and the dogs' eyesight). I scooped another one up with a snow shovel and unceremoniously dropped it outside my fence. The other was trying to get into my yard via my neighbor's land, but I am pretty sure it couldn't possibly get through the fence. And the last one was just walking in the middle of the road a half mile from my house. Snapping turtles are like venomous snakes: I know they exist in my environment, but I'd very much like to believe they don't actually live in my yard. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwXc5_zAgkywqzVq_tMQbZAyc1OgTgVsjyUXnJ2U930NiNCShwh4Znt0gdd7QAMksYl5nqfL74Tw4okHX3_y1nWGCH6eaS4lMXMZzv9Qtj9sKaFJ2i-_Rxa9II3YVyjjO9JpUnj2q3ji5NwyJUu3flrN8_Ka_l60A3O1tvguAC78FbfysmJs/s1440/1F6B0EEF-A509-4F6D-BEF8-0F3414EB63EE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwXc5_zAgkywqzVq_tMQbZAyc1OgTgVsjyUXnJ2U930NiNCShwh4Znt0gdd7QAMksYl5nqfL74Tw4okHX3_y1nWGCH6eaS4lMXMZzv9Qtj9sKaFJ2i-_Rxa9II3YVyjjO9JpUnj2q3ji5NwyJUu3flrN8_Ka_l60A3O1tvguAC78FbfysmJs/w640-h640/1F6B0EEF-A509-4F6D-BEF8-0F3414EB63EE.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Rainbow with Roses of Sharon?<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkPWPBE4Y0e1dTebX2Ft53FBoe8Gl2DdDZ-dwrE12n-fMFw1cjOLoctlASt4DuCb73YpIVLX5fUeCd8kIrvL3q-lXM558YYzBDQKRjLPEB1cQbL3unXw0yyKRQGPRnV_igLf3e1nUiJC8QKp7LNhHY_iyHQOTVDxeRDVKaNGRaFkOEssarrc/s4032/1iwE92yFR2WpCpeTCxbD4A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWkPWPBE4Y0e1dTebX2Ft53FBoe8Gl2DdDZ-dwrE12n-fMFw1cjOLoctlASt4DuCb73YpIVLX5fUeCd8kIrvL3q-lXM558YYzBDQKRjLPEB1cQbL3unXw0yyKRQGPRnV_igLf3e1nUiJC8QKp7LNhHY_iyHQOTVDxeRDVKaNGRaFkOEssarrc/w480-h640/1iwE92yFR2WpCpeTCxbD4A.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>Egret by the beaver dam. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXMw-zTVcJkTmC4OM4Ikn2gWaLHhAs215t3XS5vgwQspLUnVdkCdtl339NBKGIkU1MLNiM6un3ClR9TonFoawJfAeKZHG4duRO8RMOjK8Uj_5ZwoevsZ_8wSU4vJMDkcRoo6y6QWD5yipE56cqpca3sge6R7sSfPItNcwUSJKRI-t2_xTZH8/s3780/2FDB738E-66C1-4127-B57B-2926527AE541.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3780" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXMw-zTVcJkTmC4OM4Ikn2gWaLHhAs215t3XS5vgwQspLUnVdkCdtl339NBKGIkU1MLNiM6un3ClR9TonFoawJfAeKZHG4duRO8RMOjK8Uj_5ZwoevsZ_8wSU4vJMDkcRoo6y6QWD5yipE56cqpca3sge6R7sSfPItNcwUSJKRI-t2_xTZH8/w512-h640/2FDB738E-66C1-4127-B57B-2926527AE541.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>This. I should have just left it like this. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9xuTVGy3zcfQKSslcO0r7lhbRcs3Td1RtzkrH-guHa1PE_P862ELY3RsKnStC3DH9ehLxDWYO8tmwYcQ6t_WSZWGtMVXRxNN0nocRaGp5Z5UnmpUmUT-wYjmtchO5ZaRaLKkjrfUF8XiQBkE7zYaUvtsQYWVlbNZPVn58n8R4fA6v2Bz5a8/s1440/4AC6D15D-9370-490F-8EF7-1DFB32EA22C0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1439" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9xuTVGy3zcfQKSslcO0r7lhbRcs3Td1RtzkrH-guHa1PE_P862ELY3RsKnStC3DH9ehLxDWYO8tmwYcQ6t_WSZWGtMVXRxNN0nocRaGp5Z5UnmpUmUT-wYjmtchO5ZaRaLKkjrfUF8XiQBkE7zYaUvtsQYWVlbNZPVn58n8R4fA6v2Bz5a8/w640-h640/4AC6D15D-9370-490F-8EF7-1DFB32EA22C0.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Mr. Ass and his fiancee were traveling to Asheville and stopped by for a very quick dinner and overnight visit. I was happy to see them and get to give them a very whirlwind tour of the property. Their visit coincided with one last cold spell before temperatures more consistently went up. Hopefully they'll come back another time when the fireflies are out (as they are now) and you don't have to bundle up to sit outside. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkU5LAk7RJP3JUjjVM0U8lzPu7Uq8Wgtu6UzzKCDI3eHukA0y1SSHNjmgpFUKWUcpr9cN5XbFPdfJW9MGZ2Ro_kh-cLftKTFXRIpYfO_rlK4j_PRLlvooxxZ3m7t38IniK1J-f5PEhsJoZNEYP3bWFlXQQgD-C2FAS8zno6aj3EzlBtBf0jRM/s1440/4E5B845F-70A5-48C7-A528-4A807CF7BD37.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkU5LAk7RJP3JUjjVM0U8lzPu7Uq8Wgtu6UzzKCDI3eHukA0y1SSHNjmgpFUKWUcpr9cN5XbFPdfJW9MGZ2Ro_kh-cLftKTFXRIpYfO_rlK4j_PRLlvooxxZ3m7t38IniK1J-f5PEhsJoZNEYP3bWFlXQQgD-C2FAS8zno6aj3EzlBtBf0jRM/w640-h640/4E5B845F-70A5-48C7-A528-4A807CF7BD37.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Flower bed once I dug everything up but before I put everything in. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwinRbG-zp2yYX8drHM7RRXfQh8KL_4kOHrXhK9bmCT4gIiChE6396aA1YTDkjTcSLLWtVPLIWTJPH3yfHb6Ed7w3FYNTrfMmUzqY9xPvaX1KvgGquZUEK-wPMXor4h009qznw1-jZNCZG2ez7Wnjmsgt8f1y1Nhy_mTzDHR9Rn_aLJUboLNE/s1440/07A40783-EE29-4028-81C1-F89BA9D0DB42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1082" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwinRbG-zp2yYX8drHM7RRXfQh8KL_4kOHrXhK9bmCT4gIiChE6396aA1YTDkjTcSLLWtVPLIWTJPH3yfHb6Ed7w3FYNTrfMmUzqY9xPvaX1KvgGquZUEK-wPMXor4h009qznw1-jZNCZG2ez7Wnjmsgt8f1y1Nhy_mTzDHR9Rn_aLJUboLNE/w640-h480/07A40783-EE29-4028-81C1-F89BA9D0DB42.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Irises my father dug up in Sewanee, which I planted in 2020, bloomed for the first time this year. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrihDmul73JdYJ7vkQxGHJ08C_BdQ9IXR7AlNGtLs6T9nE6gxUSEvh684YmPCZMMb1kPteoARyCmnzILiLLHBdJz3rfFclWlbG3wKR3SCA3J-LEA_nMJLbn_lJ21NOvPUpjaDiISHmnTrdEPIhnaB1gk1V_nBnPix6oQ_WevwyDwcYfwFXWs8/s1800/7173C905-B797-4423-85A9-7308101FE92D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrihDmul73JdYJ7vkQxGHJ08C_BdQ9IXR7AlNGtLs6T9nE6gxUSEvh684YmPCZMMb1kPteoARyCmnzILiLLHBdJz3rfFclWlbG3wKR3SCA3J-LEA_nMJLbn_lJ21NOvPUpjaDiISHmnTrdEPIhnaB1gk1V_nBnPix6oQ_WevwyDwcYfwFXWs8/w512-h640/7173C905-B797-4423-85A9-7308101FE92D.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>Before the patio was uncovered at all. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga4mIu5KECqm5wzDV1aW9zSq40NzZA2Gqs3EUzNIJsxBsj8hKXwTbG0zJqsx8Kzpb1kYK8zcpkifkFpo1Pq79fs8shvkQCb1-2vrVefYT6CoTsrecDlpMo5qUxfphL4vWzeiMulO90I93T2AU7Ue4x6UrSvvsayQ010z_c66I1r-MZaf__7-Q/s1440/34106A51-B8FB-4E83-AC9C-C133CE31BC8D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga4mIu5KECqm5wzDV1aW9zSq40NzZA2Gqs3EUzNIJsxBsj8hKXwTbG0zJqsx8Kzpb1kYK8zcpkifkFpo1Pq79fs8shvkQCb1-2vrVefYT6CoTsrecDlpMo5qUxfphL4vWzeiMulO90I93T2AU7Ue4x6UrSvvsayQ010z_c66I1r-MZaf__7-Q/w640-h480/34106A51-B8FB-4E83-AC9C-C133CE31BC8D.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>So bundled. So chilly.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ocP3fvTHEJH0V0cwHNiDISoNYUrwzH16x8eLEzOaSRYCMMdjdK3WkaSYsssLar5Rvty1Fq3liwfVaIO5LCXiankOQXH3SQNtPqtEbTIm5HSaN53--q_DBb4D0_QLb_cDy9e-ZygyVxMxljS7fSzKdF-soXPBs5Bwc7zRpZm7AnqAjoYvWSg/s1440/42502193-7D62-41ED-ADF4-118C6E2964D1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ocP3fvTHEJH0V0cwHNiDISoNYUrwzH16x8eLEzOaSRYCMMdjdK3WkaSYsssLar5Rvty1Fq3liwfVaIO5LCXiankOQXH3SQNtPqtEbTIm5HSaN53--q_DBb4D0_QLb_cDy9e-ZygyVxMxljS7fSzKdF-soXPBs5Bwc7zRpZm7AnqAjoYvWSg/w640-h640/42502193-7D62-41ED-ADF4-118C6E2964D1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Peonies before the storm that concluded with a rainbow. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnCCA2V53bnvMFKdnAxaQJXEPDYgr9oPSLMrmVPgThUeoxgFjTCiKIihabSHC5Z1tipP24lEzWIdvKhhdbdFjfC8jxi_RAeNw16aK20nzgVdJD-ciTxK_xkwPvfjf7R1ggA0BmOaYmPXF96_UT-YkbP-X8cjqFJP5Gb3AmteMN1FgLKMSHi4/s1800/A0612199-D7BF-45FF-9C51-B5CDFB99F598.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTnCCA2V53bnvMFKdnAxaQJXEPDYgr9oPSLMrmVPgThUeoxgFjTCiKIihabSHC5Z1tipP24lEzWIdvKhhdbdFjfC8jxi_RAeNw16aK20nzgVdJD-ciTxK_xkwPvfjf7R1ggA0BmOaYmPXF96_UT-YkbP-X8cjqFJP5Gb3AmteMN1FgLKMSHi4/w512-h640/A0612199-D7BF-45FF-9C51-B5CDFB99F598.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>Sigh.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG4YelTUAqI4HPX8EcxuUrl-OLd6ECpWD589DcGzY7IPHZHs0ATIsva0msSsSIZzUtBDwgYz3uMzQat4WvIry6s65W9Xda9btWS8eZwGza5jRG90AaxFI83Hz7qEx69DOEi2UnBfW2Pv3GxfphB5lNt16kp7eY4QSNn-AgcYs_ETDj2cjy8u4/s1440/DDDD8CE9-AC9F-414B-AC8F-FC1DE54748EB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1082" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG4YelTUAqI4HPX8EcxuUrl-OLd6ECpWD589DcGzY7IPHZHs0ATIsva0msSsSIZzUtBDwgYz3uMzQat4WvIry6s65W9Xda9btWS8eZwGza5jRG90AaxFI83Hz7qEx69DOEi2UnBfW2Pv3GxfphB5lNt16kp7eY4QSNn-AgcYs_ETDj2cjy8u4/w640-h480/DDDD8CE9-AC9F-414B-AC8F-FC1DE54748EB.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Gawgeous. This apple tree blooms so beautifully but then doesn't make any apples. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_hdH6OXKcpqIWH_KWUSMQXENFWkK5pHUd5kbSV3C07Q8zg0sCz3FZM5fJxSqwmtr-rlTFFk76vTiUmnbRV8bYk178NtM29VjTqd1R8oRRX5eTl_9nCaR7jlDes6FjTr6tfI9qKOtgc2TC4htNayvvR9ifr2wp_kVUVWPoX0qrnwPxIatM1E/s4032/FF31A113-32D3-456C-8917-A6E2514FEB7B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG_hdH6OXKcpqIWH_KWUSMQXENFWkK5pHUd5kbSV3C07Q8zg0sCz3FZM5fJxSqwmtr-rlTFFk76vTiUmnbRV8bYk178NtM29VjTqd1R8oRRX5eTl_9nCaR7jlDes6FjTr6tfI9qKOtgc2TC4htNayvvR9ifr2wp_kVUVWPoX0qrnwPxIatM1E/w640-h480/FF31A113-32D3-456C-8917-A6E2514FEB7B.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>I'm still doing my shitty little paintings. Sometimes I like to try and paint photographs of things on fire.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvFNuCs4qqFaYkWEY4Z5BOgxZr3lGAJJSvoorqsjF63ShDz960R2tSLXByoL6yA9XtIstxTRqjYl4xChKfAqnPrcXwYJtC5fzkVYtSAyN6un8-LVDnMdTn0aR3_9vuuDJTDS-Eh-PpzAbO5KsNrf4Gv3CI6KGOJSCO0-FSRzYo49trMwC4p3w/s3812/fullsizeoutput_20ad.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2744" data-original-width="3812" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvFNuCs4qqFaYkWEY4Z5BOgxZr3lGAJJSvoorqsjF63ShDz960R2tSLXByoL6yA9XtIstxTRqjYl4xChKfAqnPrcXwYJtC5fzkVYtSAyN6un8-LVDnMdTn0aR3_9vuuDJTDS-Eh-PpzAbO5KsNrf4Gv3CI6KGOJSCO0-FSRzYo49trMwC4p3w/w640-h460/fullsizeoutput_20ad.heic" width="640" /></a></div>First professionally done hair cut in 3 years. Still dyeing it at home and splattering my bathroom with permanent splotches of purple or red. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyBvZrnnhGrcUXWDOPW8qpjN_GCo4J-iRAeynQxy2ySzbEkxMML5Da0CZRMm0QFrqUXQekAP8Pm8dpwII9LRlyj7Ar82WEKQExhuF1xwpLOhBUfY4ReUN7oWD83MaI22fkL-yg2EIVGGt826JL5e68ROHAviv4bbuggWO0UnuJSym9X1cCf4/s3088/fullsizeoutput_207a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJyBvZrnnhGrcUXWDOPW8qpjN_GCo4J-iRAeynQxy2ySzbEkxMML5Da0CZRMm0QFrqUXQekAP8Pm8dpwII9LRlyj7Ar82WEKQExhuF1xwpLOhBUfY4ReUN7oWD83MaI22fkL-yg2EIVGGt826JL5e68ROHAviv4bbuggWO0UnuJSym9X1cCf4/w480-h640/fullsizeoutput_207a.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>Rainbow from afar. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnoub_GqsYx2zAI3OQfJKe-CfYmY3RrdiyfFtmcRHksH7OieO9tJ-1I_j5wHRtgm5ZWlasoNt2CQWI5bQByBLZzPi-UnP4zLYc7r8YrzaONKyJg1Rn7i2qGMJ7LvOQxcaBYKQSdufhrc09u4pMMWYkjhzUbp00nixGijtO6bmk9ltnxKpTGVQ/s4032/qSaa4+LyQda27+uj%25DaX4Q.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnoub_GqsYx2zAI3OQfJKe-CfYmY3RrdiyfFtmcRHksH7OieO9tJ-1I_j5wHRtgm5ZWlasoNt2CQWI5bQByBLZzPi-UnP4zLYc7r8YrzaONKyJg1Rn7i2qGMJ7LvOQxcaBYKQSdufhrc09u4pMMWYkjhzUbp00nixGijtO6bmk9ltnxKpTGVQ/w640-h480/qSaa4+LyQda27+uj%25DaX4Q.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Before I started digging up all the irises. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVk5XC2FP9YPKXAAGAkfNG4zzTHVIxY_JCvqIYFwEB7dIZHtVz84A56LS_IBxrPH0SlOckEPBddm6Oaqih6m6XjNj0zeqMnN6UBNPeqeCUI25nOa84rTv-8jQ-gnQlQ29bD3uAT0K11mVmz4G9Kq7Q2jehIc3uil-lj63xUbyrmxWYHm5SJB0/s1440/2B9FD6E0-A723-4DB8-8711-2410E13A258F.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVk5XC2FP9YPKXAAGAkfNG4zzTHVIxY_JCvqIYFwEB7dIZHtVz84A56LS_IBxrPH0SlOckEPBddm6Oaqih6m6XjNj0zeqMnN6UBNPeqeCUI25nOa84rTv-8jQ-gnQlQ29bD3uAT0K11mVmz4G9Kq7Q2jehIc3uil-lj63xUbyrmxWYHm5SJB0/w640-h480/2B9FD6E0-A723-4DB8-8711-2410E13A258F.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Early morning misty, frosty times.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-iLb71f0UcOIZzgFnJwEhb9hd9W0gAiVuJPxDT61v74NGIUgy-q-M3tSfM4mJ9hIaGr4Cnv3QEM0JyJTA2n8eOuXyFzwtvgY4u4x-8bZ4ay8DYZzE8kdTnYJt0_Hxohlt-AhtZKblXpm3QeKQLNskRjT21Yi7uVNp8hotgWHtj29R52S7jc/s1440/7DECFC71-35A3-4492-B1AA-E29D2A78814D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1082" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF-iLb71f0UcOIZzgFnJwEhb9hd9W0gAiVuJPxDT61v74NGIUgy-q-M3tSfM4mJ9hIaGr4Cnv3QEM0JyJTA2n8eOuXyFzwtvgY4u4x-8bZ4ay8DYZzE8kdTnYJt0_Hxohlt-AhtZKblXpm3QeKQLNskRjT21Yi7uVNp8hotgWHtj29R52S7jc/w640-h480/7DECFC71-35A3-4492-B1AA-E29D2A78814D.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>The few crocuses I plant that manage not to be eaten by rabbits or chickens. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU5H67fCBVVooXgnDs38BYN7iHBYis0hLhLEmamErDvLes2Ee4sGDCqWIkIVPpXBY-W7AQ_rhUoKZZNWyvAy5JFYVofgI9AoIVYg-c_wfc4_49KLt5hVpKBgW8GrrOVtNO4ctSTPT8vlSunl67vVogrDDFfApbACcFHY1Q0kvsVlBzarbXqGk/s1800/9E7CAEB0-2481-477F-A584-34E5078D94C8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU5H67fCBVVooXgnDs38BYN7iHBYis0hLhLEmamErDvLes2Ee4sGDCqWIkIVPpXBY-W7AQ_rhUoKZZNWyvAy5JFYVofgI9AoIVYg-c_wfc4_49KLt5hVpKBgW8GrrOVtNO4ctSTPT8vlSunl67vVogrDDFfApbACcFHY1Q0kvsVlBzarbXqGk/w512-h640/9E7CAEB0-2481-477F-A584-34E5078D94C8.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>Walked down to the beaver dam on a beautiful day. At this point their den is pretty far away from the dam itself. I don't go down there at the right time (dusk) to see them active nearly as often as I should. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2ipqfuQ9_p3KjZkOBmcg1fOEfZr3_U7lvv6vXJa6gXKJ6LRairSSls8zoxMZ9I5EuiflGrYJ-RckKJhpl6rJwvnvG7O51fu0J8Vinugvw-Hl6utXfXTOihViqnnesSdgnrj9iuBsTPcMRLRAkKprB3cknNryBJp5esATIsbZebdeofd9640/s1440/48B5C6FF-FEE7-49C5-80F1-54CDBDFB61E3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1082" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2ipqfuQ9_p3KjZkOBmcg1fOEfZr3_U7lvv6vXJa6gXKJ6LRairSSls8zoxMZ9I5EuiflGrYJ-RckKJhpl6rJwvnvG7O51fu0J8Vinugvw-Hl6utXfXTOihViqnnesSdgnrj9iuBsTPcMRLRAkKprB3cknNryBJp5esATIsbZebdeofd9640/w640-h480/48B5C6FF-FEE7-49C5-80F1-54CDBDFB61E3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>The dogs losing their minds about a squirrel in a tree. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzyhAFDz043Fo8eASWSmGBp_NcQTqQ7IINYt5pQuFetYi2JqGeDOEbl2ONhYKeA9NZVaLthkYYqBN3VR9Dw59o4d2ww5_-exMIWe1_oliU3Z20oARNS4_uAFn4pemjntXqxCOLRP4M11fgBB1dlGASh8jq4HeDu24fIf-VqxKy-q3KBkMubk/s1440/870C04F5-D820-401F-ABC8-2559AB861E21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzyhAFDz043Fo8eASWSmGBp_NcQTqQ7IINYt5pQuFetYi2JqGeDOEbl2ONhYKeA9NZVaLthkYYqBN3VR9Dw59o4d2ww5_-exMIWe1_oliU3Z20oARNS4_uAFn4pemjntXqxCOLRP4M11fgBB1dlGASh8jq4HeDu24fIf-VqxKy-q3KBkMubk/w640-h640/870C04F5-D820-401F-ABC8-2559AB861E21.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>I found a business that would help me with a few land projects in early March. They retrenched the stream/creek/branch that flows into the pond. So far its path is mostly holding, though there are some caveats to that.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczJizWhFe4kFAaxM8kPdPDJiock_PRk8N-_QK6kX1OW-nEAcgKXqv6ZKhDwpM_-U9XMfpOjssa4jTpt9iMagLlNwy44t0mcFtCGSEwrDJ98DTfFjOUi12mrMP5hMpylANLOaEGSiMT5-62zmLeM7xYpLuWYzGocRQqc0QrTl0Ln6VxW8JVlw/s1800/A8009FD7-627D-4503-BB52-45914CE0F43E.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczJizWhFe4kFAaxM8kPdPDJiock_PRk8N-_QK6kX1OW-nEAcgKXqv6ZKhDwpM_-U9XMfpOjssa4jTpt9iMagLlNwy44t0mcFtCGSEwrDJ98DTfFjOUi12mrMP5hMpylANLOaEGSiMT5-62zmLeM7xYpLuWYzGocRQqc0QrTl0Ln6VxW8JVlw/w512-h640/A8009FD7-627D-4503-BB52-45914CE0F43E.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>I didn't have them fence the pasture because their rates were higher than the other fencing folks, but I did have them fence in a section of land closer to the house that I'll use as a ram or pig enclosure. Now that everything has come back to life and greened up, it's a mess in there, so it might even make sense to get a goat or two to clean it all up. I should have had them bush hog it even more and then seed the whole thing so it'd be more grass and less...goldenrod and other such things?<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsBa8pxEE8P_thDRpPtky8v4qYT8tmRakQpllwM2zE8x13YTEgNgW1kf2RCTPxTkHiqWL1tWDJBUrdOtr5qTgmx83T49l6iwOeyTj2DA91r4_nAfSgx2HKcCl74I2YR_51L6Kgfz61TeEZHfe-oLzNwtzatSZ57nRi5BQexGed28iIJsbA_c/s1794/BE3C764D-7719-46C6-93AC-D13BB252FA26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1794" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmsBa8pxEE8P_thDRpPtky8v4qYT8tmRakQpllwM2zE8x13YTEgNgW1kf2RCTPxTkHiqWL1tWDJBUrdOtr5qTgmx83T49l6iwOeyTj2DA91r4_nAfSgx2HKcCl74I2YR_51L6Kgfz61TeEZHfe-oLzNwtzatSZ57nRi5BQexGed28iIJsbA_c/w514-h640/BE3C764D-7719-46C6-93AC-D13BB252FA26.jpg" width="514" /></a></div>I've also been doing a series of palette cleansers where I try to paint a Clearly Canadian bottle. None of the attempts are great, but I liked that this one turned out...a little sexy? If you see the legs, you see the legs...if you don't, you don't know why I would describe this as sexy.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2rEE9-VO_K2xiVL8a9OjcAPMqGVchee0_9KISiZ6DfcGZdYxIkmUyHprNtWWXO0hH7ZHES51VYDfPdzdY0bfkluw5vGjKDRJfetX_kPpBwkQPvQFPMaJDaXaf3qIbKBD98ZJy6nH2ZxAMhvOpJNbKD4EiVrBn29RhZM0LXY1AtuIg_Cgx0dE/s3828/fullsizeoutput_1f8c.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3828" data-original-width="2795" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2rEE9-VO_K2xiVL8a9OjcAPMqGVchee0_9KISiZ6DfcGZdYxIkmUyHprNtWWXO0hH7ZHES51VYDfPdzdY0bfkluw5vGjKDRJfetX_kPpBwkQPvQFPMaJDaXaf3qIbKBD98ZJy6nH2ZxAMhvOpJNbKD4EiVrBn29RhZM0LXY1AtuIg_Cgx0dE/w468-h640/fullsizeoutput_1f8c.heic" width="468" /></a></div>Another fire, but one I decided to get real surreal with. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8k70qESfwT878Kvro_oa-zF0jUTO38OtltFPs80g4xKxgsWLyZ-30HrvZ0dYX1GSdHXetwtkZYx6V2y8pDQI0zgTdZ4QB7snEzWz7L0lHEXUq2H5BEaEVLn0AAA5VLrCRrApd6dArcphWAS72maSnNNy3QoRq7rtXvve08cgx-x_725Zs5c/s3575/fullsizeoutput_1f86.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2608" data-original-width="3575" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8k70qESfwT878Kvro_oa-zF0jUTO38OtltFPs80g4xKxgsWLyZ-30HrvZ0dYX1GSdHXetwtkZYx6V2y8pDQI0zgTdZ4QB7snEzWz7L0lHEXUq2H5BEaEVLn0AAA5VLrCRrApd6dArcphWAS72maSnNNy3QoRq7rtXvve08cgx-x_725Zs5c/w640-h466/fullsizeoutput_1f86.heic" width="640" /></a></div>Self-explanatory.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVHIhBq6zln0KMSo9HM3bluIT3R-6-jpKBb95JAhQj3Vpb7pcH06U-2Uqy1Jv0JSYUDvcxXMjlASyZKniuxShMKvt1bo_JeRFcdtO-E1eMcVBQPEASZ9RqgAZIGWtbDux-F8Ks8dLJASDJSB4EKNxka1UYR0GGnBQvYPMjRZYv7WH9p80UV8/s4032/gxokB9KeS%25qgYZG7AQPwJw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVHIhBq6zln0KMSo9HM3bluIT3R-6-jpKBb95JAhQj3Vpb7pcH06U-2Uqy1Jv0JSYUDvcxXMjlASyZKniuxShMKvt1bo_JeRFcdtO-E1eMcVBQPEASZ9RqgAZIGWtbDux-F8Ks8dLJASDJSB4EKNxka1UYR0GGnBQvYPMjRZYv7WH9p80UV8/w480-h640/gxokB9KeS%25qgYZG7AQPwJw.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>The dudes who did the work had some fun toys. This one would mulch small trees down to the ground and into wood chips. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnA5OMdin2i8s37zebxD5vLsaLUxI3AXxOGlf-sfP-ZxIgeEYV_o5tVsgTKWNbm8zuekF0uK0t36hcZOruajOiIBzGqULDNWM5hYj5YMI26mYVnfmWGEouKVixqh_yUKMBXLjrgF2RHWcudoEcz3UjtytXrARB4eXxs4WFu6WWLOixRxcFbI/s4032/K1xyDF7bSFu1ZvlsverboA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRnA5OMdin2i8s37zebxD5vLsaLUxI3AXxOGlf-sfP-ZxIgeEYV_o5tVsgTKWNbm8zuekF0uK0t36hcZOruajOiIBzGqULDNWM5hYj5YMI26mYVnfmWGEouKVixqh_yUKMBXLjrgF2RHWcudoEcz3UjtytXrARB4eXxs4WFu6WWLOixRxcFbI/w640-h480/K1xyDF7bSFu1ZvlsverboA.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>House rose plant is doing well. I cut back the black walnut still trying to grow from its stump.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh56RJon8aTVbuepD2uWi24RtZZpldAnOoJ_rbJUOcGuPc_O_YrwvJJ_x6E2iGvTXibXbf26uTDF_tfmZ9oKKb4bTT8Qp4PV0k-ewIpRyX4eUPz4jS1p_boq5t-aiQdDJ1w6R7RBLz52pFe4zThv766BBSbBQLO45Ja0wBDwlVklrzE7B1fOnU/s4032/6IWAGsZ7TXKrWVo6LR%25bfg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh56RJon8aTVbuepD2uWi24RtZZpldAnOoJ_rbJUOcGuPc_O_YrwvJJ_x6E2iGvTXibXbf26uTDF_tfmZ9oKKb4bTT8Qp4PV0k-ewIpRyX4eUPz4jS1p_boq5t-aiQdDJ1w6R7RBLz52pFe4zThv766BBSbBQLO45Ja0wBDwlVklrzE7B1fOnU/w640-h480/6IWAGsZ7TXKrWVo6LR%25bfg.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>And I guess that concludes a bunch of photographs from 2022 thus far. While I have almost no hope for a successful or productive garden this year, I am still excited about summer. Though I must admit I'm finding myself seeking shade more often than seeking to soak up sun. I haven't gone on as many walks around the property in the last few months as I should, but I don't have any particularly good excuse. Well, for a couple of weeks one of my knees decided it was no longer happy being a functioning knee, so that may be part of the problem. But now it mostly is a regular knee again, so I should get motivated and get walking! Will I? Probably! But not as much as I should! Huzzah! cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-71278589661941172722022-02-02T19:19:00.001-05:002022-02-02T19:19:12.480-05:002021 Year In Review I Guess<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjY7zuFDosWc_EBt_mhEgkaTrTbetAfMugiueNwAwEqW2sBwKiOX7NPpKR7Lgb-cNDDtlKeR9lRodvnvvNNcSQgR2kYs8jX5m6J1JUu9InsqyB6Yuh6frK0FBzyNEy18rDMJXoxcQGNO8DVDheTkwaard67ml5pxOVVGpYjrZHCb_V9KPbeG0=s3088" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjY7zuFDosWc_EBt_mhEgkaTrTbetAfMugiueNwAwEqW2sBwKiOX7NPpKR7Lgb-cNDDtlKeR9lRodvnvvNNcSQgR2kYs8jX5m6J1JUu9InsqyB6Yuh6frK0FBzyNEy18rDMJXoxcQGNO8DVDheTkwaard67ml5pxOVVGpYjrZHCb_V9KPbeG0=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div>Well, apparently it's been over a year since my last check-in. I had a number of goals for 2021, some of which were met while others were certainly not. As is my wont, I uploaded a shit ton of photos, which are now in a completely random, non-chronological order that I am not going to bother fixing. A little before I turned 39 in 2020, I started dyeing and cutting my hair for the first time in over a decade. Originally I went purple and at some point went more red. Above is my red hair...and me...wearing lipstick about to get into my new used Chevy Trailblazer Suburban for a bit of a road trip. This would have been a little before Thanksgiving. <div><br /></div><div>Spring came and so did the peonies. Or at least the peonies that came with the house. The transplants from my godmother's house fire debacle survived being transplanted and their first winter (or second? 2021 and 2020 just feel like one long year) but did not bloom in any way whatsoever. I'm feeling slightly pessimistic about their doing any better this coming spring, but I'm happy to be surprised/proved wrong. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgYof_8UHNVQBtpszmS1f0WqkdCv2m04pAgceWm6x0_YWV-RksjJrJkXgvOoI4TlxT8H2k12lBgrWNW8_t9Jt23bihHmfZoMZOQwMKODUcWTFqR1-jnxSSAmGfgeLsWoY0FG4ZNAO48HCNsgBXNYydifoe_CfYB-_cHXl1k4GKgBnKdRmRxNU=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgYof_8UHNVQBtpszmS1f0WqkdCv2m04pAgceWm6x0_YWV-RksjJrJkXgvOoI4TlxT8H2k12lBgrWNW8_t9Jt23bihHmfZoMZOQwMKODUcWTFqR1-jnxSSAmGfgeLsWoY0FG4ZNAO48HCNsgBXNYydifoe_CfYB-_cHXl1k4GKgBnKdRmRxNU=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div>Okay, so now we're in early September when my friends came from Asheville and Toronto respectively for what I now think of as being a very restorative and fun visit. This is the Asheville friend's son and Hippo. Little people are such wonderful creatures most of the time.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgV3ciV8gWaxpP4_m0HyY3v3zGC7a74iaAwZzZqOlvV1gSMs5_KHg7gsJ8YCIghJskGrcZHeICUDHUeYOxz5VjPu7wiZOO13PGfVjQl0hLptdbHHtOUm_ZyI05AGXxEiD2BBEWHc2uYxWTJbjvE5kn8IrlTW2RPpxSirYIKFhdSBjuSpyAo14s=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgV3ciV8gWaxpP4_m0HyY3v3zGC7a74iaAwZzZqOlvV1gSMs5_KHg7gsJ8YCIghJskGrcZHeICUDHUeYOxz5VjPu7wiZOO13PGfVjQl0hLptdbHHtOUm_ZyI05AGXxEiD2BBEWHc2uYxWTJbjvE5kn8IrlTW2RPpxSirYIKFhdSBjuSpyAo14s=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div>I've taken to rounding up my meals maybe once or twice a month and just posting them to Instagram or FB. I've always been a fairly ambitious home cook, and the pandemic certainly has pushed me to figure out how to make a number of things...and perhaps even without the pandemic, my rural location/total lack of delivery or very interesting restaurants nearby would have pushed me in this direction. Here's a grilled steak with asparagus and green salad/beets/feta probably. I also have tried my hand at a few Chinese dishes, mainly a few key dim sum treats and some form of a sesame/ish Tofu. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7E5T5U9CQUdiZS-Uk02pG6loh5KHAHvhxSRjRPvE-EnGGbktqXXidjCfw4DjM0hUOqvPpzHdO49j6sD3dfgHoeyNsy1rlqOB7GElot2atpDg3aeHS5g391wgASgNL3_2Mq1rN8VRvu2F3uzSkNCutrrJMCTfotQWo9wx2PPPcvSrOhpj_7io=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg7E5T5U9CQUdiZS-Uk02pG6loh5KHAHvhxSRjRPvE-EnGGbktqXXidjCfw4DjM0hUOqvPpzHdO49j6sD3dfgHoeyNsy1rlqOB7GElot2atpDg3aeHS5g391wgASgNL3_2Mq1rN8VRvu2F3uzSkNCutrrJMCTfotQWo9wx2PPPcvSrOhpj_7io=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div>This would obviously be funnier/make more sense if it was grouped with the other selfies with text, but as I said at the start, I'm not messing around with re-ordering things. Note that the hair is purple whenever this was. Summer? Spring maybe.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN8lBfHFRsmS_K_sOI3lx8dNwuHS43TSGAiwxqt3-vHP4gcBqoV80Gvd-6RHAzpzCINepxWW--q9osmrzuM6k0qcHczppTEbfrExRyQNWHWlKbsr7OdCKFOImd6_dE1i-JA1Bgzlj6GFGpeqJnn27gPzCF4B0bpHtx1t4EPbTXD2lm1983Rs4=s2098" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2098" data-original-width="1576" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgN8lBfHFRsmS_K_sOI3lx8dNwuHS43TSGAiwxqt3-vHP4gcBqoV80Gvd-6RHAzpzCINepxWW--q9osmrzuM6k0qcHczppTEbfrExRyQNWHWlKbsr7OdCKFOImd6_dE1i-JA1Bgzlj6GFGpeqJnn27gPzCF4B0bpHtx1t4EPbTXD2lm1983Rs4=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div>I planted some extra daffodil and tulip bulbs that made the spring of 2021 even more delightful. Their's is a short but prolific season.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgajKUHaySMCQwh7feYQVq60Cwyh9i2PDcbaChIPNQAxnb9L22lVc7BIru1t2VnQ0yzBqik30WKEdkyL1z5GmXMVQQla7g4P9h_mhcrI3yPfPE7vdiULqYFQdhLZ_Nd6sfKwZ1qjO0iJqsALFoLYjiisZKJsKrgwc_K_Do-tXUabsk3BHjs8h8=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgajKUHaySMCQwh7feYQVq60Cwyh9i2PDcbaChIPNQAxnb9L22lVc7BIru1t2VnQ0yzBqik30WKEdkyL1z5GmXMVQQla7g4P9h_mhcrI3yPfPE7vdiULqYFQdhLZ_Nd6sfKwZ1qjO0iJqsALFoLYjiisZKJsKrgwc_K_Do-tXUabsk3BHjs8h8=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>One goal I had for 2021 was to put in a proper floor in the shed. I was introduced to a man named F. by my neighbor, who was more than happy to help me in this endeavor. I had not anticipated that he'd cut such massive holes in the shed to allow for the concrete to be poured, but thankfully he put things back well enough. Fun facts about F. He is 72 and was born and raised in Florida. How exactly he came to Grayson is not clear, but he lived here full-time for a while before going back to Florida and marrying his second (maybe third) wife. They are 7th Day Adventists. He, back in the day, participated in guerilla warfare somewhere in South or Central America...but not for any government or shadow government. We share a love of British mysteries. For a six-month period when he was living in the gulf coast area of Florida, he smoked weed...but not any more. He was afraid he might get addicted. It was very cool to see the concrete being poured, and I helped with prep and spread.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgr-0sG8xzrt6MbGKWVIUh1l4vHQCjLahmnJFxtaAga_x4s1MEyDfzOsmyN0NNnOh_Rws7YvxJuRdlcZX39aYHDAuY_t0zc8Zus1JQF99U63URn5pFiOMfVeQ-ylhw9n5z7SpbB4SH47oD4PHVCfEPPJbf3ZtzIhyKNh6alwbzPketDPjnh-ek=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgr-0sG8xzrt6MbGKWVIUh1l4vHQCjLahmnJFxtaAga_x4s1MEyDfzOsmyN0NNnOh_Rws7YvxJuRdlcZX39aYHDAuY_t0zc8Zus1JQF99U63URn5pFiOMfVeQ-ylhw9n5z7SpbB4SH47oD4PHVCfEPPJbf3ZtzIhyKNh6alwbzPketDPjnh-ek=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>This is not necessarily the best photo of a tomato horn worm in the world, but this specific finding/sighting was memorable because I literally didn't see the motherfucker for MINUTES and when I did, I yelled holy shit so loud my nearest neighbors (strangely enough, also 7th Day Adventists) most certainly could have heard me and tsk tsked.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEit4iPHkbU4sUh1A_bkoIcZIxluYCmAAU_imSlnwQGaNGBuCXwZtuTRMiAMoiJl0fhdYZ2Gzvep7StfNAW7c-qOqVsSVcKfQKJJFNTQfm1QD_wqPeXsnZ6ynuXiZ5xGoza8VW8OsoDXmXvUnJyXSgUjktwMeO2jsoNMv9fK06aTiy6sJX71F14=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEit4iPHkbU4sUh1A_bkoIcZIxluYCmAAU_imSlnwQGaNGBuCXwZtuTRMiAMoiJl0fhdYZ2Gzvep7StfNAW7c-qOqVsSVcKfQKJJFNTQfm1QD_wqPeXsnZ6ynuXiZ5xGoza8VW8OsoDXmXvUnJyXSgUjktwMeO2jsoNMv9fK06aTiy6sJX71F14=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Just beautiful Birdie taking a wee lil nap.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi--33pX1gWIuCL6htNI6-MGSaQ0SIIoPmtiAswGcNOfFV2DnPpBAgiI7tkj5cgTqjmRsdg2gbU4U4tK_cHpqn09DzxAn59YKLy2pc8GVBRKZplh_gKjF5Dm7jgKKvdhLJ1-vOe9NSjELa75klvccWdCejIouLRuReXUAzkN1jwfTOWvq7kuwo=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi--33pX1gWIuCL6htNI6-MGSaQ0SIIoPmtiAswGcNOfFV2DnPpBAgiI7tkj5cgTqjmRsdg2gbU4U4tK_cHpqn09DzxAn59YKLy2pc8GVBRKZplh_gKjF5Dm7jgKKvdhLJ1-vOe9NSjELa75klvccWdCejIouLRuReXUAzkN1jwfTOWvq7kuwo=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Fresher purple hair. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1IJsL0hOspG1Mj2psK5s5gXbvrXAChG-Ri9cYtHKov85570kPdKAAtMjGRPugiBbkj2bG_4Ibhm2ZUZ3srI6n2eqRSpI6J2BAUwoKsJ5dw7CFUWOH_rA1O6dC3Mv9Im2W-0eJY4OlD8wihJmgvz6iwgpblzvq5Z94yG96xFtPpXvd2GEkNrs=s2046" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2046" data-original-width="1537" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1IJsL0hOspG1Mj2psK5s5gXbvrXAChG-Ri9cYtHKov85570kPdKAAtMjGRPugiBbkj2bG_4Ibhm2ZUZ3srI6n2eqRSpI6J2BAUwoKsJ5dw7CFUWOH_rA1O6dC3Mv9Im2W-0eJY4OlD8wihJmgvz6iwgpblzvq5Z94yG96xFtPpXvd2GEkNrs=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>My house is unfortunately a little small for multiple guests. Thankfully the Canadian contingent are hard core campers and flew in with their own roof and bedding (which I supplemented as it gets a lil chilly in early fall in the mountains). The Asheville fam got my bedroom and bed, and I was on the sofa bed in the living room. Didn't work out badly at all, especially since we were all hanging out almost exclusively outside until bed time. This was as K. broke down the tent at the end of their visit and lil man C. seemed to be doing some kind of magic.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEix8AAO4pjGTGNLOsmIj7Uqp6A5blKmctZ1wv3QEM0BdiQXDWSAQ0BUdwjlE--3J7cfYE9hFXJ08r_s5BFmuDSdoJpX0jPmkemGb9uKkTaOc1FqrhH6eeVSwFiiOt6_hWlKDl-lxrFEyzPSJVM_a8pnhsX8W9y_vLv56umor9uZKJtAg5AMu5I=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEix8AAO4pjGTGNLOsmIj7Uqp6A5blKmctZ1wv3QEM0BdiQXDWSAQ0BUdwjlE--3J7cfYE9hFXJ08r_s5BFmuDSdoJpX0jPmkemGb9uKkTaOc1FqrhH6eeVSwFiiOt6_hWlKDl-lxrFEyzPSJVM_a8pnhsX8W9y_vLv56umor9uZKJtAg5AMu5I=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>In July I headed to TN to see my father and to see OH relatives. The OH crew was numerous and had rented a lake house about 30/40 ish minutes from where dad lives. One afternoon everyone came to dad's for a BBQ hang out.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgEPbl8nsoMoh6d7lm58-I_JMukyu7RZMsUHJo9neQTC6fvIAwguByC3T0Z0gf6zKpojS2MvyJXGa_OOkbOzQBmyQYD1d3V42G98uvLpxdiHWF41IqjckAtwSMWVS7gX2h5YIVB-ZzBtOMGTgftJyEZ_FBqoK2IlOw6-99oz3g0mUnxA1tfx8=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjgEPbl8nsoMoh6d7lm58-I_JMukyu7RZMsUHJo9neQTC6fvIAwguByC3T0Z0gf6zKpojS2MvyJXGa_OOkbOzQBmyQYD1d3V42G98uvLpxdiHWF41IqjckAtwSMWVS7gX2h5YIVB-ZzBtOMGTgftJyEZ_FBqoK2IlOw6-99oz3g0mUnxA1tfx8=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>A jar of pickled hot peppers and jalapenos from my garden. Refrigerator pickled, that is. I must have already erased the photos I had of the tomato jam I also made and refrigerated, or the 7 (count 'em SEVEN lol) pints of tomatoes I properly canned. It was my first real canning experience, and I do plan on being far more efficient and productive this coming season (will be buying jars and lids in the next couple of weeks so I don't have to deal with the supply shortages that inevitably take place in this area). <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUkQDFTMG4-yP1u3PKrcjzrqPidvd2wnzS4eJV_EXkm_1rQUVheLekMMttBJJTL8exMAsqjuBSKyUxqLWm2akknjrsyv_Uvxvud2twWLwcFkh9WcZSw4lLtjt3UodYkoMseZ6tyLQHH0wkdeFuWMnjEINuuy_cUKokbWedHTUpGrEyQus22RE=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjUkQDFTMG4-yP1u3PKrcjzrqPidvd2wnzS4eJV_EXkm_1rQUVheLekMMttBJJTL8exMAsqjuBSKyUxqLWm2akknjrsyv_Uvxvud2twWLwcFkh9WcZSw4lLtjt3UodYkoMseZ6tyLQHH0wkdeFuWMnjEINuuy_cUKokbWedHTUpGrEyQus22RE=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Purple 2.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwQVPB2WEQ5mB5YKxMk707RVsaKV1dWBs0onbRksVogLhhwZ_Y-Eaq7OSXRxdpY9pt93-v5pAiDIT4x5pQv6BPy5GU6lPLJMmtHs1omwDYVK0g0vHdYpQ7UyppJ1PVXFZdkzBH_LpUWnYm9Tx6IYcgwYODTMGq1sht5WWS_OXljLgEQQtyuLM=s2098" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2098" data-original-width="1576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiwQVPB2WEQ5mB5YKxMk707RVsaKV1dWBs0onbRksVogLhhwZ_Y-Eaq7OSXRxdpY9pt93-v5pAiDIT4x5pQv6BPy5GU6lPLJMmtHs1omwDYVK0g0vHdYpQ7UyppJ1PVXFZdkzBH_LpUWnYm9Tx6IYcgwYODTMGq1sht5WWS_OXljLgEQQtyuLM=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Neighbor up the road has lots of horses and has been very kind and friendly to me. I stopped by at some point last spring to see this maybe 4-day old foal? I love the idea of having horses, but not the $$ etc. of them, so I make do with the occasional walk on his property (with his permission) to say hello to one of his 20+ horses. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjaxI3OPU4ZDH0dH8WaHUc7VruU5RM-BDuXNwTNRBbf5iFOL5DrbKwuG-ANKLJUbDEhBQqho4iMl_OGC-X1KI70EH4io4BlxD2BUT5AM-zjKzCzSxOnfIVcWVNd2_oqZK0TGE88OjEYtuvELv3mcJSl3KlR1VSR4FYBoMSTYABqUm3a_-aPZeI=s1440" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1086" data-original-width="1440" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjaxI3OPU4ZDH0dH8WaHUc7VruU5RM-BDuXNwTNRBbf5iFOL5DrbKwuG-ANKLJUbDEhBQqho4iMl_OGC-X1KI70EH4io4BlxD2BUT5AM-zjKzCzSxOnfIVcWVNd2_oqZK0TGE88OjEYtuvELv3mcJSl3KlR1VSR4FYBoMSTYABqUm3a_-aPZeI=w640-h482" width="640" /></a></div>Just hanging out on the kitchen floor, as you do. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJfosVfe-EkL7OeGX3xmNlg-12tBL0Sk8YaYeWLEy4dvQ0jAoI_ciAuZfDto37Eyp41c7guHJdU5evmid0uT6kZnj6Y1quioiV5mQsvgW2A2wMFeiMy-CiM0ymi9JlZAR0UI1YuOKKIkWwxTEBvFJhL1OndQT_uC3iMyme8xcNgR3KoNrpLJg=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJfosVfe-EkL7OeGX3xmNlg-12tBL0Sk8YaYeWLEy4dvQ0jAoI_ciAuZfDto37Eyp41c7guHJdU5evmid0uT6kZnj6Y1quioiV5mQsvgW2A2wMFeiMy-CiM0ymi9JlZAR0UI1YuOKKIkWwxTEBvFJhL1OndQT_uC3iMyme8xcNgR3KoNrpLJg=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>We've had two fairly proper snows this winter. This was from just a few weeks back. My Honda Fit still isn't free of the snow/the driveway hasn't fully melted. I am very glad I had the common sense to move the Suburban up the hill, as its 4WD came in handy when getting in an out of the very icy/slippery driveway. It's mostly all mud up there now. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZL5URkg-aqd8V7N1MWfvzJmJhU-KcN2nZwofOAdltKI_sVI-fpZjLkVqfNC3PTKfKidiJMPhqbFmELq0UQyYYGMW7RKNP_OUEeKoW2lKnWILhZxXpY1GoDyPltwHs4dr0nEX_76jlP9XFWMl-SySYMpoVPXRY2Cc5InBdL5cI2aYMFpIVQYs=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZL5URkg-aqd8V7N1MWfvzJmJhU-KcN2nZwofOAdltKI_sVI-fpZjLkVqfNC3PTKfKidiJMPhqbFmELq0UQyYYGMW7RKNP_OUEeKoW2lKnWILhZxXpY1GoDyPltwHs4dr0nEX_76jlP9XFWMl-SySYMpoVPXRY2Cc5InBdL5cI2aYMFpIVQYs=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>I got about three really properly big watermelons this year. This was the one we cut open whilst the friends were in town. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhU0AgHSUALVaCToM-YkrXdNg8fMIAPhyMkvFvJgCxM0vGfvLp5vgOGgwW65C6TCjess9G0JpXTmIHBAO40IxbMdzVfm0juv5x0TJNLN242BiBq0ehUzTx3HIIlZwJD5GBvTupFMSEn7gQoJR85ncph8bGGmw7WOuHWeUwqvoT31Z96xJQ-tMY=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhU0AgHSUALVaCToM-YkrXdNg8fMIAPhyMkvFvJgCxM0vGfvLp5vgOGgwW65C6TCjess9G0JpXTmIHBAO40IxbMdzVfm0juv5x0TJNLN242BiBq0ehUzTx3HIIlZwJD5GBvTupFMSEn7gQoJR85ncph8bGGmw7WOuHWeUwqvoT31Z96xJQ-tMY=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>There's a beaver dam not too far from my house. Like, really close. During the warmer months it was quite an attraction, lots of folks driving very slowly along the road just by the dam to see if they could see them. Best time is dusk/twilight. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQBec82vC_QwptOjvtYRXuFiZDPYqgIhkj2X8ZdJCy0oIqekzLYIV9Xt_QnJk2bnz4LYyrfzMA3rcqp1qV6OuP_PcnkD2UBADDIeCt4IYuR-6S-boBIvDuaPRX1kmyRtD_YqpAGM7CgHYb8TzQ3iU0vqvL5QI4vTL6ZHoqzp2pdT89e2y0qB8=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQBec82vC_QwptOjvtYRXuFiZDPYqgIhkj2X8ZdJCy0oIqekzLYIV9Xt_QnJk2bnz4LYyrfzMA3rcqp1qV6OuP_PcnkD2UBADDIeCt4IYuR-6S-boBIvDuaPRX1kmyRtD_YqpAGM7CgHYb8TzQ3iU0vqvL5QI4vTL6ZHoqzp2pdT89e2y0qB8=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>In addition to seeing the Asheville folks in the fall, they joined me for part of my week at Edisto Beach. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0dHuoNXWbTZIuuZeBVCS-DQ-v5RrHViK0mxS_Nt3RX-eOVs6EkufDK8nNX1lHhjFxgtHm9Qf0dJQXBdrUzBvhDCrs46K6ADQbU4UA3Piqcou-NamiPpYZa0JIS9nS8hQBmbXsuY6r8fdzGVq011Te4d1NHLNn4vtVeEgvrsbjrzzuxkxrCDU=s1125" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0dHuoNXWbTZIuuZeBVCS-DQ-v5RrHViK0mxS_Nt3RX-eOVs6EkufDK8nNX1lHhjFxgtHm9Qf0dJQXBdrUzBvhDCrs46K6ADQbU4UA3Piqcou-NamiPpYZa0JIS9nS8hQBmbXsuY6r8fdzGVq011Te4d1NHLNn4vtVeEgvrsbjrzzuxkxrCDU=w512-h640" width="512" /></a></div>I think Hippo has a Winston Churchill vibe in this photo. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQnL7cTGkfympxymGKe6GA1OUxBuBPLA95ubqZ7-yVw9sYF4BXoGCTwOsD0LtSWNsOxcBUoo7DsW7Zchzb5rh6UDyG2dV6eStXvOt7gEmXN7Z9e8UnuoQSGXv2syr-gBeRwPbhi6KQn6d9NSP2XuDuM2wukkJknrzOIeT1CQrnWsUWeTxugPA=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQnL7cTGkfympxymGKe6GA1OUxBuBPLA95ubqZ7-yVw9sYF4BXoGCTwOsD0LtSWNsOxcBUoo7DsW7Zchzb5rh6UDyG2dV6eStXvOt7gEmXN7Z9e8UnuoQSGXv2syr-gBeRwPbhi6KQn6d9NSP2XuDuM2wukkJknrzOIeT1CQrnWsUWeTxugPA=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>My first garden year, I didn't mess with planting beans. Which was a total rookie mistake that was remedied in 2021. Here I am with my bean crown.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLJxbP50Nk1yvvotnmd7U6JxO8fVLUrQw9Y5lbdpgU6El5Ms-OKyXfi4aG31jgSkqQi9WDFsFjjcHH94nRDvmFldpg6xv0j90IXiEI4R0KJuWoYSiITEvXO6UEICizpJ28WXOP5KiGc8qbayRuYc-zV2RcMPPAktLnWpRgc2Mowi6Xo0P1yR4=s3088" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiLJxbP50Nk1yvvotnmd7U6JxO8fVLUrQw9Y5lbdpgU6El5Ms-OKyXfi4aG31jgSkqQi9WDFsFjjcHH94nRDvmFldpg6xv0j90IXiEI4R0KJuWoYSiITEvXO6UEICizpJ28WXOP5KiGc8qbayRuYc-zV2RcMPPAktLnWpRgc2Mowi6Xo0P1yR4=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>This Sussex hen took to trying to kick me out of my morning coffee spot for a couple of days because she had decided it was where she liked to lay eggs. Guess who won that territorial fight...it was me. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOdX6hxNsfrOeecoEBEW3u0eYfjlJNxv2TR4SQuWqw_Y4c1aB7R9KOCK0DZ-f6EVdWcx2UMhPtrAiuh-fIB9W_rMg34wh-FCnbuxyUz20ppSbUuG-5Qu5-ghG7xtxO3eIzmIHpVRGuoAP_2wd1sHlqW6FHv6gMncHwmd4jl0-rmA_Q6QzDODI=s3088" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgOdX6hxNsfrOeecoEBEW3u0eYfjlJNxv2TR4SQuWqw_Y4c1aB7R9KOCK0DZ-f6EVdWcx2UMhPtrAiuh-fIB9W_rMg34wh-FCnbuxyUz20ppSbUuG-5Qu5-ghG7xtxO3eIzmIHpVRGuoAP_2wd1sHlqW6FHv6gMncHwmd4jl0-rmA_Q6QzDODI=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Aforementioned watermelon was chosen and picked by lil guy C. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAgwkq_Jqvm-UNlc3OJix1glNUI6OJJ-YBC4XoAYa5HhQ9b15jySG4dA-gPjOFsGcChq0Yd74M1jvnFo4Rak4xP9VoAXanp-wz1jFN9z9tHxgWxyw5KvWoRmqc-Dyj2SrOrwZTRnN_wu2gdmP-Q1-xYBaZZHn7zQiPSkYDSfOmwE2uWB3V2mw=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAgwkq_Jqvm-UNlc3OJix1glNUI6OJJ-YBC4XoAYa5HhQ9b15jySG4dA-gPjOFsGcChq0Yd74M1jvnFo4Rak4xP9VoAXanp-wz1jFN9z9tHxgWxyw5KvWoRmqc-Dyj2SrOrwZTRnN_wu2gdmP-Q1-xYBaZZHn7zQiPSkYDSfOmwE2uWB3V2mw=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>I rarely eat at the squirrel table in my kitchen that originally was in my childhood home. The first pandemic summer, I took to making creatures from my daily garden harvests and continued that tradition in 2021. For a while in the first winter, I did a lot of puzzles on it. Now I've found a new evening hobby that totally supplanted my love of puzzles. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8X_wJyngkwLWfwdXWLULnir7sh2HWn5rgMlRVZOxE66a4xDguQDrCsqBjNmfSVC01e6MU4cjttJNreGFx_zpy8yDSwv49ECv_f1L4jERdxo80bHWZbvzJRM07-eISmvRioU2-65u9OXnUC7_UIwyVhSweEPS7g_cM3bsc_IlwQ4SWuKQegQA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8X_wJyngkwLWfwdXWLULnir7sh2HWn5rgMlRVZOxE66a4xDguQDrCsqBjNmfSVC01e6MU4cjttJNreGFx_zpy8yDSwv49ECv_f1L4jERdxo80bHWZbvzJRM07-eISmvRioU2-65u9OXnUC7_UIwyVhSweEPS7g_cM3bsc_IlwQ4SWuKQegQA=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>I hadn't been back to Ohio since my departure in 2019, and when I heard that my cousin's husband A. was turning 50 and they were having a party, I decided it was time to go on up and be at that party, which I did in November. This photo looks like there wasn't a party, but there was a party with multiple people and pizza and lots of pitchers of beer. I think it's the most normal pre-Covid thing I've done. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDXw0maH4oq-S7fD1kFUdxkbmDSvVnMsAUBG73r-WBQLll3iiOYRbo8dB51KlP9tTf7Hon5Us_AwXBFiBtsMakLpm0xgytyJW6FzRa3Iz_7uMHewDxEWTlFbBkBBYDf-VI3JxamET9Pb50a2OBRjX1qCxcdR67Lxn2dLrjxHNk5fbPTGPapHY=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhDXw0maH4oq-S7fD1kFUdxkbmDSvVnMsAUBG73r-WBQLll3iiOYRbo8dB51KlP9tTf7Hon5Us_AwXBFiBtsMakLpm0xgytyJW6FzRa3Iz_7uMHewDxEWTlFbBkBBYDf-VI3JxamET9Pb50a2OBRjX1qCxcdR67Lxn2dLrjxHNk5fbPTGPapHY=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Just a chicken on a fence.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiTiG84jxGndfdfbYl0o99iR0cjbIV4jXLA_--ozHmB9C6P-fl5N-N9lwCjUiq24ttGHsF5bdFyNFe0_QqXD-Nvw1B3rjRYwfSiniu6dCZWgcGgQlKkyxbaVo_DJbTdmERZockmgm6rRY35fxsETUJis7JPjo5M5P67D1voKSw3tW3Vb5cvGRo=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiTiG84jxGndfdfbYl0o99iR0cjbIV4jXLA_--ozHmB9C6P-fl5N-N9lwCjUiq24ttGHsF5bdFyNFe0_QqXD-Nvw1B3rjRYwfSiniu6dCZWgcGgQlKkyxbaVo_DJbTdmERZockmgm6rRY35fxsETUJis7JPjo5M5P67D1voKSw3tW3Vb5cvGRo=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Concrete floor all spread out. F. grumbled he didn't make it smooth enough...but considering how dirt/uneven the whole thing was prior, I'm still chuffed about it. The flooring motivated me to get some of the junk I inherited with the property totally OUT, and allowed for me to finally get a freezer, which is now chock full of all kinds of treats. Mostly meat. But also summer gazpacho and corn and garlic scape pesto. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgaEnz0PBuuebqqyX8GY_2tiT-vvEPkjqwsAD4LqJDQbRGj3tA2wR_GQA9kYY4BUJ2Vblw9U_-2e6LisBkCpEK_UB6CMpQ6AIBD2x4Detx_F6IMms31loIIXza98YPpgoePbnGnvz68hj8TGHF2161MuCd8h8aJbcJmR-XdHVlC_OkjRZhYALU=s1440" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgaEnz0PBuuebqqyX8GY_2tiT-vvEPkjqwsAD4LqJDQbRGj3tA2wR_GQA9kYY4BUJ2Vblw9U_-2e6LisBkCpEK_UB6CMpQ6AIBD2x4Detx_F6IMms31loIIXza98YPpgoePbnGnvz68hj8TGHF2161MuCd8h8aJbcJmR-XdHVlC_OkjRZhYALU=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>More of my tomatoes suffered from aphids or squash beetles or my own ineptitude this year, but with 30+ plants planted, I still got good hauls. I don't know what on earth I was thinking when I planted 7 hot banana pepper plants (other than the starter packs came in 6 so I planted them all). I did not need that many hot banana peppers. Meanwhile I only planted 3 okra plants, and so never got a critical mass harvested at one time. Shishito peppers and poblano peppers are my favorite. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjBHrjZmp7RYGuNXUKYo9lJS8ybmG-sOD-5ymGeDtTc07mxPD3awaTDRgcLhp463MnNAG3TwcxP5ywGKLxwqHvOobaztrq5WVuL8_6eSZehuE_8VFRqE72Lxu4GYr9Yem0W2rbXIIByoM9wxi6ZqPGFQn5IONBfdUEHxovu34koivexTNTjnzk=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjBHrjZmp7RYGuNXUKYo9lJS8ybmG-sOD-5ymGeDtTc07mxPD3awaTDRgcLhp463MnNAG3TwcxP5ywGKLxwqHvOobaztrq5WVuL8_6eSZehuE_8VFRqE72Lxu4GYr9Yem0W2rbXIIByoM9wxi6ZqPGFQn5IONBfdUEHxovu34koivexTNTjnzk=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>A misty morning.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi97Y3E_0474jiufxOPk0Jw_RtAexhr9874V3OpFjTcBDBizKlhxNmIZUaFWq1p1f6w2gAARsGJEtC0GBUjrGR5RTRp95RbeXyfSB9rJ4_Bi1hP5BDKwUYTTnq1HefxyyYzLHPgTJr_7uboYIzSvdonVmzRgrZTR8MSKzSBy58GI4Llnz50Hjk=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi97Y3E_0474jiufxOPk0Jw_RtAexhr9874V3OpFjTcBDBizKlhxNmIZUaFWq1p1f6w2gAARsGJEtC0GBUjrGR5RTRp95RbeXyfSB9rJ4_Bi1hP5BDKwUYTTnq1HefxyyYzLHPgTJr_7uboYIzSvdonVmzRgrZTR8MSKzSBy58GI4Llnz50Hjk=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>The original rooster that came as a 'freebie' with my chick order turned out to be a Polish breed...which unfortunately meant that within a year the hens murdered him. Well, pecked him to death because he was different looking. My aforementioned neighbor eventually convinced me to take one of his extra roosters, but I think this was taken when it was an all-girl flock. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-d9ZsvcqBXJQU8DON9ZMg7oafk3uhXpY-IoL07AF5zXRFAGIvt7UJVYnUHAG894Ka7XZvL7nPhqeXNFtoBW4BQg9dTdlq3V4aKULbMo0zGEgQyvUJ3gufeVYOKHyjtHHUhPWIhPL5XhhqzhMeRihYVXSX5lVdjxw_jac-FHdHlBNtq6o44vc=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-d9ZsvcqBXJQU8DON9ZMg7oafk3uhXpY-IoL07AF5zXRFAGIvt7UJVYnUHAG894Ka7XZvL7nPhqeXNFtoBW4BQg9dTdlq3V4aKULbMo0zGEgQyvUJ3gufeVYOKHyjtHHUhPWIhPL5XhhqzhMeRihYVXSX5lVdjxw_jac-FHdHlBNtq6o44vc=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Lil harvest basket. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpAFVNEew_6AKqk3vrf1qqtMxRjF7wh0gZoAfjXOeKYALOqiSG3JOCF9ne59BjC2KinFEyJizwm_hIfxY0HSiE08mAAtoVHw5vm2dUZlufbftA-oQAJC6J0qlyEJiiNQ80xKI-a55fIe-1nUBvOMSa5xmFiWnTenMY8IDW97ZudskCIdiu8zw=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjpAFVNEew_6AKqk3vrf1qqtMxRjF7wh0gZoAfjXOeKYALOqiSG3JOCF9ne59BjC2KinFEyJizwm_hIfxY0HSiE08mAAtoVHw5vm2dUZlufbftA-oQAJC6J0qlyEJiiNQ80xKI-a55fIe-1nUBvOMSa5xmFiWnTenMY8IDW97ZudskCIdiu8zw=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Spoiler alert. Kind of? I don't know. Just about two weeks ago I forgot to lock the chickens up for the night. Honestly, I'd forgotten a number of times in the past with no bad outcome...and yet I also knew that was just luck/I was playing with preda-fire. So it was a bummer to go out one morning and find that some murderous event had taken place in the night. One headless chicken's body was out in the open while two others were missing. Eventually, after walking around the area a bit more thoroughly I found one hen's head and the bodies of the other two. When the last of the snow melts I'll look for the other heads/body. Best guesses are fox, raccoon or mink....but root cause was my negligence. So now it's a flock of 7 hens and two roosters. At one point I was getting about 9 eggs a day, which was nuts...so maybe now that the number is lower and they're older, I won't be as awash in eggs. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZqKc60UpmiuKj8uhvD1hYbNlUgqwPkiRlFeG9PM2R8WqUID_YTpfgtTKbmGvEE8Nu3KUMqh_dNz-ETB7mjQOGNGWmKtmYpX0TVKknOvY5MSR8Ag-Org1hPyMMmVdMsli3QLALprwwDga8EfDDsVQicb6XUdQQE3Q4ouEo-BwGEM-91aKjqRo=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZqKc60UpmiuKj8uhvD1hYbNlUgqwPkiRlFeG9PM2R8WqUID_YTpfgtTKbmGvEE8Nu3KUMqh_dNz-ETB7mjQOGNGWmKtmYpX0TVKknOvY5MSR8Ag-Org1hPyMMmVdMsli3QLALprwwDga8EfDDsVQicb6XUdQQE3Q4ouEo-BwGEM-91aKjqRo=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Spring.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVXtV0lDzSgnKz4hPqxXGKP4-BsRPpALkFyDz1991nIfu0q2DJFNS0SnxqypL6BH4GcLcxxkBnIsgJQY_VPHYpKPcA-7HCcmyLVsYaoQtir3nT4TnXv__SapA07dhbmospYzwt6YcsBiFLYqHtziGGgTBncqltmUnb2kS8VwmOYMIB3I4p2cQ=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVXtV0lDzSgnKz4hPqxXGKP4-BsRPpALkFyDz1991nIfu0q2DJFNS0SnxqypL6BH4GcLcxxkBnIsgJQY_VPHYpKPcA-7HCcmyLVsYaoQtir3nT4TnXv__SapA07dhbmospYzwt6YcsBiFLYqHtziGGgTBncqltmUnb2kS8VwmOYMIB3I4p2cQ=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Took everyone on a walk of the woods. In this photo we were where I'd like to build a tiny house to potentially rent out or have as an overflow for guests. My hand is standing in for the roof of such a house. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8l6kJn_VHBGD4Ctv9dj0gQ8ZQorzrNADMOw4JOqKHZXUwkMg--4s8kZT3_sBewQcOUVeXZTeLiAOQZNd4JV_QZtGBuHm-q3ooa58cqiSvVdYcAPPDNmxLYYXwEEl0JcCmirbIEBH7_d5C-vK-VuBHPya3t9vu7R0JCi0-AtSKlwFRdShug6M=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg8l6kJn_VHBGD4Ctv9dj0gQ8ZQorzrNADMOw4JOqKHZXUwkMg--4s8kZT3_sBewQcOUVeXZTeLiAOQZNd4JV_QZtGBuHm-q3ooa58cqiSvVdYcAPPDNmxLYYXwEEl0JcCmirbIEBH7_d5C-vK-VuBHPya3t9vu7R0JCi0-AtSKlwFRdShug6M=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>At the beach. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLEbRW8hzts8Yw8FAUiWYpgpOC9KqKkhwQL-NkHYicTc2FxC8quOnohtxf8Z6DHci8OuVWRS0hD9YcuNQQQALjYrz3h9v8sWBs-vna5nTYfR35bf9XEGr6olKioE61wCpUL9nsH4oyM7mcF7IGxzF2MH-E61aQchMvwWFkPvx0DcdKINLr9XM=s3088" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLEbRW8hzts8Yw8FAUiWYpgpOC9KqKkhwQL-NkHYicTc2FxC8quOnohtxf8Z6DHci8OuVWRS0hD9YcuNQQQALjYrz3h9v8sWBs-vna5nTYfR35bf9XEGr6olKioE61wCpUL9nsH4oyM7mcF7IGxzF2MH-E61aQchMvwWFkPvx0DcdKINLr9XM=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Bean mustache. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhU0Q-oTe8fXa__Hdre_CvEAUopzelYEf2zDcEzizvzftHfzlzFcc3jiW_7_CrKaUmcFWRRBr9d41PhzmPJEzjublRPcqK0uVEOYA0Ovvnf2kSlVx535QHrQAt13p3IUbM1vjyjimCING5Hy6_WCnjAkKNIK2rXcAmiQ7KJAdP0ysPiwoA-GIQ=s2046" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2046" data-original-width="1537" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhU0Q-oTe8fXa__Hdre_CvEAUopzelYEf2zDcEzizvzftHfzlzFcc3jiW_7_CrKaUmcFWRRBr9d41PhzmPJEzjublRPcqK0uVEOYA0Ovvnf2kSlVx535QHrQAt13p3IUbM1vjyjimCING5Hy6_WCnjAkKNIK2rXcAmiQ7KJAdP0ysPiwoA-GIQ=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Every once and a while I'll buy a cantaloupe or other fruit from the grocery store just to give the chickens a little treat. They are very into it. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgg7YpbJdWlm18VoiXOHPRO2VPtPmaEA-Ul39VxpqjAvL5UbawxYt6bjyokZucqQEDoUEw4tGjnVTjibL9Mv9OvrK9EaSf2-li1qJfqh9aW9Y1B6YU4DtvTs_xtvGPrHqHOkavpbTof2ljoHZylGqnAp0yd7wb5ho8CvtD58nmLMfgQh10iRGs=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgg7YpbJdWlm18VoiXOHPRO2VPtPmaEA-Ul39VxpqjAvL5UbawxYt6bjyokZucqQEDoUEw4tGjnVTjibL9Mv9OvrK9EaSf2-li1qJfqh9aW9Y1B6YU4DtvTs_xtvGPrHqHOkavpbTof2ljoHZylGqnAp0yd7wb5ho8CvtD58nmLMfgQh10iRGs=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>We had a fire one night. The first outdoor fire for the boy. He got to stay up past his bed time, have smores and was transfixed by the flames. Unfortunately his parents had told him a lot about all the stars they'd see at my place, but on this particular night it was overcast so that wasn't quite accomplished. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhsyFyMy5UpdKF3zYCpuMmAayhOvLJK_VJJczqA4a2fbXtiIdWfpML7g7Ezzvxxnc1dNZ9RXp1L9S6COTKZIwt8gwsYH9QDH88rAj6Ro2Jl_O-EAFm9NhezAgrIWFMGnww53vLudnVaWNmJkcovbowGjUjRco6wHEcDsfmUb9BENOVJ_TS6IcI=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhsyFyMy5UpdKF3zYCpuMmAayhOvLJK_VJJczqA4a2fbXtiIdWfpML7g7Ezzvxxnc1dNZ9RXp1L9S6COTKZIwt8gwsYH9QDH88rAj6Ro2Jl_O-EAFm9NhezAgrIWFMGnww53vLudnVaWNmJkcovbowGjUjRco6wHEcDsfmUb9BENOVJ_TS6IcI=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>I've gotten really into flowers that I grow myself. I went hard for zinnias in the garden and was frequently rewarded. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhs68KJ-lgqzt4Kgu3S2iiDPuivlFCIC9vD-UY3DkmCOQ1d0qX92b1jN41o8oHwaN5d1iSDgNL7jos7Ogwks9uN45gZkkmHpZncXyPl7FrLAFb-oQ7BPDJo8rC3OWhAEgcYc1c6fB8A4-J1Sb10aeT4-8auI_wi6OpU8W6YtSqRWxvvUVUPmjU=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhs68KJ-lgqzt4Kgu3S2iiDPuivlFCIC9vD-UY3DkmCOQ1d0qX92b1jN41o8oHwaN5d1iSDgNL7jos7Ogwks9uN45gZkkmHpZncXyPl7FrLAFb-oQ7BPDJo8rC3OWhAEgcYc1c6fB8A4-J1Sb10aeT4-8auI_wi6OpU8W6YtSqRWxvvUVUPmjU=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Two hens went broody in the spring to middling results. One gave up without having hatched any. The other managed to hatch two...neither one genetically hers I don't think - they had the coloring of their dad/a Wyandotte. Both survived until the recent killings. Unfortunately the new girl, who had just started laying, was one of the fallen while the rooster remains. I feel bad about the whole thing, but I'm especially saddened/regretful because I had planned on killing the rooster for soup but had held off so he would be a friend to the hen, as the two of them were certainly the lowest ranked in the pecking order. He still is, but now I'm down an egg layer. I'm not sure if my logic or thinking on this is clear. Oh well. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimU1uPf4gmzkq4nLooU-CM9lckvk4yCY7rFPy0aUq-EkluELAUbNc0anFV5xxp-sErD-wk6jnRYZOnUjXnb9PEu7hJ1mjcjzF7PkcZvyJmgUDFQVgn4lV0DyG4-TVwfFsfJUNlejGjzUeG7chgTd18gFTJHgyGExsOJI2zqT6cJ6tyYM8mPZI=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimU1uPf4gmzkq4nLooU-CM9lckvk4yCY7rFPy0aUq-EkluELAUbNc0anFV5xxp-sErD-wk6jnRYZOnUjXnb9PEu7hJ1mjcjzF7PkcZvyJmgUDFQVgn4lV0DyG4-TVwfFsfJUNlejGjzUeG7chgTd18gFTJHgyGExsOJI2zqT6cJ6tyYM8mPZI=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>I added more dahlias to my dahlia patch with a pretty good result. Also, unpictured, gladiolas. They are so pretty!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcm7cM6msNCSigFC76zdLrdjo8U55HavIHNjsp_z3LvlX1SzAC1J3EgOPVHZ3vJ_g-qIXZV8XkLP-FfQ27CbWAAGfgXMeIiAUbUWPfxcxFpzaxXVIIfb5Q3ZNqelyp6ihmdc2zXf_iXqibMfXTXFU0uk8tmWKORpRSJ083To244RxUile5bN4=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcm7cM6msNCSigFC76zdLrdjo8U55HavIHNjsp_z3LvlX1SzAC1J3EgOPVHZ3vJ_g-qIXZV8XkLP-FfQ27CbWAAGfgXMeIiAUbUWPfxcxFpzaxXVIIfb5Q3ZNqelyp6ihmdc2zXf_iXqibMfXTXFU0uk8tmWKORpRSJ083To244RxUile5bN4=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Things that weren't accomplished include getting the pasture fenced. This was mainly not my fault. The previous year's fencing people and I had discussed them returning and I called to confirm...but they only got back to me weeks later saying they were booked for the year. Finding anyone to do anything around here is always a challenge. So I'm hoping they'll be able to help me this spring with the pasture/maybe pig woods project. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhvRAl7Wy2HCibMhk3C6jlZWgj985UYSXdMssQ1kqZacx2jnAOnTsKU_ICZvoOuBGy7jPFPr-KyFDikPBZ2J99vawrWApK_5KbkvX5bkovLLJOu26CaAtP4xx9y3w4RnzenX9bvxzSaKbkEuw6JWX4gVr3o4jgaL-DRDcV79SSLQrKDhgrNY7A=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhvRAl7Wy2HCibMhk3C6jlZWgj985UYSXdMssQ1kqZacx2jnAOnTsKU_ICZvoOuBGy7jPFPr-KyFDikPBZ2J99vawrWApK_5KbkvX5bkovLLJOu26CaAtP4xx9y3w4RnzenX9bvxzSaKbkEuw6JWX4gVr3o4jgaL-DRDcV79SSLQrKDhgrNY7A=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>View of my neighbors' wood pile/burn. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhiV1n7XEfR21kW__9beFHB7w9ZIeQXc2je2EebXa9sHNXrZrvtkY86OrFCUfJD2qv8mXj_muujaNINl6w1iyYx8Dx6Z8d9Fi_ipN-EiKPsZMdp2uljMBA2uifmhRMJNdUl8Eek5i362ibWo2X4ZREoxZDuogsYdwrnwYagE9PmQYLeaFFdj0I=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhiV1n7XEfR21kW__9beFHB7w9ZIeQXc2je2EebXa9sHNXrZrvtkY86OrFCUfJD2qv8mXj_muujaNINl6w1iyYx8Dx6Z8d9Fi_ipN-EiKPsZMdp2uljMBA2uifmhRMJNdUl8Eek5i362ibWo2X4ZREoxZDuogsYdwrnwYagE9PmQYLeaFFdj0I=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Geraniums in the morning. With chickens. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiMPaMDtEvNN7HpU1RS5T91z1LkEZXquCY5LJ_9yF8x0cj0DRN84XcTMPI6q9r4I59Hkbfx9LuiGrcUqQ0rbvJ30zeHV9eK68cUHugI2sDY9W-D0uHYpmrNFSo9T7THNR-VPF6dDIT0c52piKfgCIYIwJHdDHi_KqIDPQHdIzBN5NZ5AwO1VEU=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiMPaMDtEvNN7HpU1RS5T91z1LkEZXquCY5LJ_9yF8x0cj0DRN84XcTMPI6q9r4I59Hkbfx9LuiGrcUqQ0rbvJ30zeHV9eK68cUHugI2sDY9W-D0uHYpmrNFSo9T7THNR-VPF6dDIT0c52piKfgCIYIwJHdDHi_KqIDPQHdIzBN5NZ5AwO1VEU=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Other than a second infestation of termites in the spring (totally different location), the biggest ongoing house stress was a leak in the roof. It started in the bedroom and was terrifying so I called a roofer who came out and put some sealant on a few places and left. When I skeptically asked what I should do if that didn't work, he told me to get more sealant and do it myself. Which is....uh...not really ideal and also, what I did. So the leak moved from the bedroom to the bathroom and formed this nightmare water pimple. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggTtAaTMpYnDc95cbM8pfzEJNde_Ar44qyg6j-h-i6lBiLflbSoRBlpNIo-Ia8d0gcsydjJFcXhJKCPc_66qwmDrpK7Fs-icS1G-oK1FpdWSy5MFrkJ0gdKoherEIz-4KR7DbrTdmyZ55ZuJwBzoTM9GPrlC5yh4weHxEWyf2YvhyZxPaZDCs=s3780" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3780" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggTtAaTMpYnDc95cbM8pfzEJNde_Ar44qyg6j-h-i6lBiLflbSoRBlpNIo-Ia8d0gcsydjJFcXhJKCPc_66qwmDrpK7Fs-icS1G-oK1FpdWSy5MFrkJ0gdKoherEIz-4KR7DbrTdmyZ55ZuJwBzoTM9GPrlC5yh4weHxEWyf2YvhyZxPaZDCs=w512-h640" width="512" /></a></div>Again, these selfies might have been more entertaining in the proper order but meh. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9PmE5SS08BzRHC87xkmwnSmIjMYaTI_BXcUaEw14O7w45-dFj8ibD8_r3PsqJpslY5KHTiiACvmMW3QwSXpLxtP070vGvR10YX6i7s5QzHg9jmNJfSHxo1H21mkYxn1kvVQrGKn0rL3cVqEWcY9GTw82NXfo09AqQdGdQgG48lP1_Ce0nMF4=s2098" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2098" data-original-width="1576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9PmE5SS08BzRHC87xkmwnSmIjMYaTI_BXcUaEw14O7w45-dFj8ibD8_r3PsqJpslY5KHTiiACvmMW3QwSXpLxtP070vGvR10YX6i7s5QzHg9jmNJfSHxo1H21mkYxn1kvVQrGKn0rL3cVqEWcY9GTw82NXfo09AqQdGdQgG48lP1_Ce0nMF4=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>I took the OH crew to a waterfall while we were all in TN. Lady R. (on the left) and her pal generally enjoyed it though getting to it involved some steep bit and some super slippery bits that made everyone slightly stressed. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgGa8CyJbgry9QnKhRn-w29uW7rGonKAD-J-JrCg6ZKOnxoQhgbeRfuwqruH-eR-gKW-1J4KEjKTRQEOc_yIGGMx45PBeLuIb0xIeElNpyWUw4wo2yVmr4DjYI0v_lDNz5BCZxDrItyWRL4sfonbJf1V3d01teSzAAGkV2jqfjMqz3QHjkJhYE=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgGa8CyJbgry9QnKhRn-w29uW7rGonKAD-J-JrCg6ZKOnxoQhgbeRfuwqruH-eR-gKW-1J4KEjKTRQEOc_yIGGMx45PBeLuIb0xIeElNpyWUw4wo2yVmr4DjYI0v_lDNz5BCZxDrItyWRL4sfonbJf1V3d01teSzAAGkV2jqfjMqz3QHjkJhYE=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Hippo loves this neighbor dog. He doesn't come by unless with his owner, but the two of them are very good playmates. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg1GO7chJePj5z8Cwlm7SrokfL0iVeQ_YK3rbrfuwEkFp9XfW0dQ0AMyxCXOsZ7owEBeFU9xxH8EYDoHQanbae4Nivn4an-nQJhSHf4znW49m3HWzQVtLwhG3Gg10GZtPOECZ0P4BLAPclovBRgoutniPYcmeYH5rpdSgEj7njScKQ1Mn7fhGw=s1432" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1074" data-original-width="1432" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg1GO7chJePj5z8Cwlm7SrokfL0iVeQ_YK3rbrfuwEkFp9XfW0dQ0AMyxCXOsZ7owEBeFU9xxH8EYDoHQanbae4Nivn4an-nQJhSHf4znW49m3HWzQVtLwhG3Gg10GZtPOECZ0P4BLAPclovBRgoutniPYcmeYH5rpdSgEj7njScKQ1Mn7fhGw=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>I made the shed porch a much better 'hang spot' this summer. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieZoMbyqp0oNW0VggzwpGCorbx0_t9lynwHiyGEjUv5LHR-9aMUO1A4ibYdbhjpQbAFLa2YvGx9p1cuFn9fd1TdA_4jUFYyurxbV2b71LxkWrifkie5XZywHnYraY8KEPi2IuLaCtbycnh-U5uvIa5ho8ACPaO7UdoCYS6TETVSsG6kpDcqBI=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieZoMbyqp0oNW0VggzwpGCorbx0_t9lynwHiyGEjUv5LHR-9aMUO1A4ibYdbhjpQbAFLa2YvGx9p1cuFn9fd1TdA_4jUFYyurxbV2b71LxkWrifkie5XZywHnYraY8KEPi2IuLaCtbycnh-U5uvIa5ho8ACPaO7UdoCYS6TETVSsG6kpDcqBI=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>I spent numerous spring and summer late afternoons and evenings listening to music and reading every single one of Louise Penny's Inspector Gamache novels. Sometimes the chickens would join me. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNV6WTJfq8cvnk4nZpEZwJ6L6rBLBnDOCnCByBgbvDjxNCJR50xn98v-cMKS6os-CD3TjtNoorcPZtXzzVsi9SteLUpDxTCKuKGhnLkymUu1fVUsdrtfFfrOOXnDRClRpseUdrdda_uFkB2Ly09ElmQHb7G_9aXD4JuY6yKtt2DjHKeeMqfv8=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNV6WTJfq8cvnk4nZpEZwJ6L6rBLBnDOCnCByBgbvDjxNCJR50xn98v-cMKS6os-CD3TjtNoorcPZtXzzVsi9SteLUpDxTCKuKGhnLkymUu1fVUsdrtfFfrOOXnDRClRpseUdrdda_uFkB2Ly09ElmQHb7G_9aXD4JuY6yKtt2DjHKeeMqfv8=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Another very recent snow dog pic. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_Jb270Xwl6LZFrM43TDgp-UrPocAajDU1gHgl2ApYE2N-XA1aFHKsMoHqOZlNIN5Z3L0a9qd92uPLNtJj3bDmii3wfzkKfH0te-Fv6TzlAa-I9e9YOo5xxuhuRmKkx-WDq9KsyV7n8cCQ7SK9DiB06XiVRyDQoXGqfcyfNkDeqzR5nlN1zwc=s1799" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1799" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_Jb270Xwl6LZFrM43TDgp-UrPocAajDU1gHgl2ApYE2N-XA1aFHKsMoHqOZlNIN5Z3L0a9qd92uPLNtJj3bDmii3wfzkKfH0te-Fv6TzlAa-I9e9YOo5xxuhuRmKkx-WDq9KsyV7n8cCQ7SK9DiB06XiVRyDQoXGqfcyfNkDeqzR5nlN1zwc=w512-h640" width="512" /></a></div>Ha ha...and sometimes I give the chickens raspberries in the husks of their prior cantaloupe treats. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjH_uaP_QZn1bQksDSmosEryDDUuZRcOEKDuuEg_uhAq117ulOMkZJ44d3_RdGPWi3squdOtQ7dJZ-H2Zr7H6l4ryvpA-yU9acZXcdVTDmuqZxROTut3nsDVQGySKb_sEDpd02UvqmE2o1wzbGu5wzGFsHLw3lkaI95Bo0FZ3-685cp7oHc2Ss=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjH_uaP_QZn1bQksDSmosEryDDUuZRcOEKDuuEg_uhAq117ulOMkZJ44d3_RdGPWi3squdOtQ7dJZ-H2Zr7H6l4ryvpA-yU9acZXcdVTDmuqZxROTut3nsDVQGySKb_sEDpd02UvqmE2o1wzbGu5wzGFsHLw3lkaI95Bo0FZ3-685cp7oHc2Ss=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Flower power. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgm7zht5k3Ey07ctPDPnGNwoGOVCT7x7tsRgqFKUEQU4ejqlAQTeK6q-JOoSx1reGV8bnqIv5CcbnKNJaRa3oT4ykc_IlqpoC3lVYIhdBDxD8qDwuwvrMKrIaMfcjlbFFV8fyalt7CBhOydIdsubXRJIY3rTpWa29UYUpGdTDNloIc651psLjY=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgm7zht5k3Ey07ctPDPnGNwoGOVCT7x7tsRgqFKUEQU4ejqlAQTeK6q-JOoSx1reGV8bnqIv5CcbnKNJaRa3oT4ykc_IlqpoC3lVYIhdBDxD8qDwuwvrMKrIaMfcjlbFFV8fyalt7CBhOydIdsubXRJIY3rTpWa29UYUpGdTDNloIc651psLjY=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Beach bird. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimi7iCu_yeaUkKMyTgKWTZrSr5IRCrE4pC3hfW_DOdDmBAq5sT3BCgfDnP9j21ZmuoZSsSskaG4fOLFwwqFWahkeQ8AiiaJQtXXrf5Z2EQgIi7NxJedipklemvw4nImiUA-zHp5V7bODlaets3IJtw-T6kkE2fEV4glmz3F9LIwY6zShF3e0I=s1957" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1957" data-original-width="1714" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimi7iCu_yeaUkKMyTgKWTZrSr5IRCrE4pC3hfW_DOdDmBAq5sT3BCgfDnP9j21ZmuoZSsSskaG4fOLFwwqFWahkeQ8AiiaJQtXXrf5Z2EQgIi7NxJedipklemvw4nImiUA-zHp5V7bODlaets3IJtw-T6kkE2fEV4glmz3F9LIwY6zShF3e0I=w560-h640" width="560" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhKHweErw9fWbzmWzyJIYMLwPHAa-xVrKhS35UqFjATpnyumeolNOA8y2jC79gtIcVgKY-HAJhg16vMlqh3it2LbWb28wK2gxg6eLNSC0nQFeRUtL92q0IWZPVrzFG_hum4NESNO8ThAAd7k4ZRLuqK94LSPk1dI00zhb7feXIx2WwGwra08n0=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhKHweErw9fWbzmWzyJIYMLwPHAa-xVrKhS35UqFjATpnyumeolNOA8y2jC79gtIcVgKY-HAJhg16vMlqh3it2LbWb28wK2gxg6eLNSC0nQFeRUtL92q0IWZPVrzFG_hum4NESNO8ThAAd7k4ZRLuqK94LSPk1dI00zhb7feXIx2WwGwra08n0=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>They look so sad/alarmed. But they are generally happy dogs and act as an often unnecessary alarm system. Don't worry! If a neighbor slams their car door within half a mile of our house, I'll know! </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEip0S0plB2U73trlgtSRiw8R6dWmY5IZHw9BhjmAFC4WoAvtkLO5bX6w4pv6QNqFhRQ70X7mS4gZeBK_KOh9Z0GihN8rbqTJPEzLAwW2zqsEMOIhot9uP_yW98Vm7crzajmVjGKtyJw_HzxssCYZtLGge_HvJTVgZxdPnq6J2KOB0AAADp5UqI=s2100" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1574" data-original-width="2100" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEip0S0plB2U73trlgtSRiw8R6dWmY5IZHw9BhjmAFC4WoAvtkLO5bX6w4pv6QNqFhRQ70X7mS4gZeBK_KOh9Z0GihN8rbqTJPEzLAwW2zqsEMOIhot9uP_yW98Vm7crzajmVjGKtyJw_HzxssCYZtLGge_HvJTVgZxdPnq6J2KOB0AAADp5UqI=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Another vantage point of the ceiling water pimple. I will say that it wasn't totally full of water when I popped it. But still, not ever a thing you want to have happen in your home. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgY4IIXTmgWmhk95H_4gtfDCUY85OKxQU_Ph2VLsud5yQGfhFnN3T-s4zSK7hZ0EQ_fU0XZs2C5bQA65pro6G29zJbqScI9mDpFyB11psPVaD6KFssg4wv8bTx7pK8XFRWQ2HmoaLv1SyVgcqyKPxFbTf6qd-mLfdXIxlePMUo8IXi-9cXrwPE=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgY4IIXTmgWmhk95H_4gtfDCUY85OKxQU_Ph2VLsud5yQGfhFnN3T-s4zSK7hZ0EQ_fU0XZs2C5bQA65pro6G29zJbqScI9mDpFyB11psPVaD6KFssg4wv8bTx7pK8XFRWQ2HmoaLv1SyVgcqyKPxFbTf6qd-mLfdXIxlePMUo8IXi-9cXrwPE=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>This looks like fairly early garden days. First of the zinnias, and still flowering cukes...I find growing cucumbers slightly demoralizing, as they succumb to wilt or pests far more quickly than I appreciate. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBbvOB2UidBp_ucLTYgBllPac6xW5avQFzY58gHvkGUe1UGTQZc6xXskfh6B_PL7xTCWpv5f4RNI23WNOD9_tpViYuqx0maqIJf1Y8uq6Pluv-wkRW0A85yt4ic9H0olFKJ4GlYHQ0NPAgoO2fSr0e4xG5KT0PBOw4A7M1vaPlTgIgf_aZtgI=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBbvOB2UidBp_ucLTYgBllPac6xW5avQFzY58gHvkGUe1UGTQZc6xXskfh6B_PL7xTCWpv5f4RNI23WNOD9_tpViYuqx0maqIJf1Y8uq6Pluv-wkRW0A85yt4ic9H0olFKJ4GlYHQ0NPAgoO2fSr0e4xG5KT0PBOw4A7M1vaPlTgIgf_aZtgI=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Neighbor was once again kind enough to till up my garden plot. I am thinking about buying some kind of push tiller so I don't have to ask him to do it again for me. Even though a tractor is much more effective than a push tiller I would think. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7nbUR33knHgw-VazxBrz4KD-DPw6UJcYTdc6MKX7N4Ec7rhyfhavsaM5mN_CWkbVUiW6XvakO9OVwfUD5SwSsCH9QiMSXiV1izNZ4NDujPLinW67ZxafXeTSNxF__ss1UGc38hMdmgcFSh47zaCFOVPVj6M1AvupTzapRrB4WHU1ZCBYEbqA=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7nbUR33knHgw-VazxBrz4KD-DPw6UJcYTdc6MKX7N4Ec7rhyfhavsaM5mN_CWkbVUiW6XvakO9OVwfUD5SwSsCH9QiMSXiV1izNZ4NDujPLinW67ZxafXeTSNxF__ss1UGc38hMdmgcFSh47zaCFOVPVj6M1AvupTzapRrB4WHU1ZCBYEbqA=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Bluebirds got into a fight with one another...or some other kind of bird. Sadly this is what I found in the box. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjG31myqE8gl3-BhV-yLy9JQBRhzjmlK0VcTTsuiNByBoshg655G6sM8PHnACtr16QFVy76tPhQlqMPtp17RdsQcG9g6YqfzK5UA1xoT3mi2wdXEW925VcLN7NQZf6dKfptpA2powoEvve0YxmO8J2TlWLOjK0DowurLztCP5rXj1oZ5i3Tyoc=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjG31myqE8gl3-BhV-yLy9JQBRhzjmlK0VcTTsuiNByBoshg655G6sM8PHnACtr16QFVy76tPhQlqMPtp17RdsQcG9g6YqfzK5UA1xoT3mi2wdXEW925VcLN7NQZf6dKfptpA2powoEvve0YxmO8J2TlWLOjK0DowurLztCP5rXj1oZ5i3Tyoc=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Cuz and me at the b-day party. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnWbAIvJEyB0qyV_ZfTef37ShDt3R0_XHMPqd1dUv3bZ5IyamhdUpTndrc9E228cO3_uAwEMDYp0QNToP5I8DqvZzX95up_MflguXkcAcwwS8tnDatvC6dGeqYHiasX3ARf6P7NhvQqs_hL7PtbJOzHRnqyQULnT1O72vfvl0Fuc5OAZ9ihdQ=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgnWbAIvJEyB0qyV_ZfTef37ShDt3R0_XHMPqd1dUv3bZ5IyamhdUpTndrc9E228cO3_uAwEMDYp0QNToP5I8DqvZzX95up_MflguXkcAcwwS8tnDatvC6dGeqYHiasX3ARf6P7NhvQqs_hL7PtbJOzHRnqyQULnT1O72vfvl0Fuc5OAZ9ihdQ=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Cuz also came down for a portion of her spring break. Pretty much everything about my lifestyle isn't really her cup of tea, and it wasn't very warm, and yet we did have a good time together. This is us on the shed porch having palomas before a rain storm. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbjL0VszigZDtL2oP9DvLguCsm6B8Z-A49PlbZ0Vhl2m7rzSjvOB-HC8OLs9_XL-D_6yToUUjekwferUwPQLCEYjfVjbsYfwYRjJrv6UJbLsmtDpTMPffIMtPaMK0Ky7p1ogZ_Q/s3088/B63557D1-F21F-444E-A28F-C36648697699.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2320" data-original-width="3088" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbjL0VszigZDtL2oP9DvLguCsm6B8Z-A49PlbZ0Vhl2m7rzSjvOB-HC8OLs9_XL-D_6yToUUjekwferUwPQLCEYjfVjbsYfwYRjJrv6UJbLsmtDpTMPffIMtPaMK0Ky7p1ogZ_Q/w640-h480/B63557D1-F21F-444E-A28F-C36648697699.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>The hens often choose not to lay their eggs in the nesting boxes, which is frustrating. But it is kind of fun when I find one of their clutches. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgulu9Rj6H8ADCE8N5g7xKmkQN-X3NwTJVgoGhwuNLgWTXbM3Kv5DiQpIg3wE7gGQj65sy1Vkb2gE3CAgjkSzlClvihm7U0NuXBSzRZ-dfRqwD_fGkXUblEo647a-DbnEXYeLsNUdxIXRSogN66gdiKHDaHPYLiFMXKan-O7nUoAT1y6xq2zfM=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgulu9Rj6H8ADCE8N5g7xKmkQN-X3NwTJVgoGhwuNLgWTXbM3Kv5DiQpIg3wE7gGQj65sy1Vkb2gE3CAgjkSzlClvihm7U0NuXBSzRZ-dfRqwD_fGkXUblEo647a-DbnEXYeLsNUdxIXRSogN66gdiKHDaHPYLiFMXKan-O7nUoAT1y6xq2zfM=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Spruced up for friends. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-kdZUkXJRp-s4SE6X79F6-jKFg3ozC8_h9anJ_NI0nu3eOnnWmDer7K3AQajruIxvTfDBsE7HtPLOMOifHJfenuSXInruUOP4Bq3h6mkxiNIzh6P3DUk6Cuon77M-iWcl6K3z0Ej2YaUXWZKK76yPIyYnRX7UaoQTjpEGA-abzW1deFznLs0=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-kdZUkXJRp-s4SE6X79F6-jKFg3ozC8_h9anJ_NI0nu3eOnnWmDer7K3AQajruIxvTfDBsE7HtPLOMOifHJfenuSXInruUOP4Bq3h6mkxiNIzh6P3DUk6Cuon77M-iWcl6K3z0Ej2YaUXWZKK76yPIyYnRX7UaoQTjpEGA-abzW1deFznLs0=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Well this is supposed to be for a different post. My new evening past-time since sometime in late 2020 has been goauche painting. I paint little notecards that I plan on writing letters on, except some of them are so good (not objectively...just subjectively for me and my skill level) that they're hard to part with. Such as this one of Hippo as Mena Suvari in American Beauty. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8BX7TTj4pHPjM5RGgy9PBCKyeM6y_N2FxgffS4EU7t33Omy9VTatX8dXiyJMMkQmaj4NH_gjnTpMnUHXo2e-Y_H0W-xGm0JScWjpq0m2dnwnd8o_9RSWBJkVXFB7sXc-nD2NunnKZyoebXlFnOw5YNY2FV6-VOSG2GjSfsn4zOZO28dF6F6Q=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8BX7TTj4pHPjM5RGgy9PBCKyeM6y_N2FxgffS4EU7t33Omy9VTatX8dXiyJMMkQmaj4NH_gjnTpMnUHXo2e-Y_H0W-xGm0JScWjpq0m2dnwnd8o_9RSWBJkVXFB7sXc-nD2NunnKZyoebXlFnOw5YNY2FV6-VOSG2GjSfsn4zOZO28dF6F6Q=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>I think this is the baby rooster and me. Well, I know it's me, and I think this is the rooster. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6tFRXnm-AHE3yX6LBonfKX5In3G-7_g3OiK0ZqYbAgq4epSRxGZHkVHiVbDZLttjU7UctfINoLQPP4ADtHVw5sTvEONXPnyvJrTGzcnr_ijAqlgAkqII_lK4m9VjjX3Q63CMrqCsv02Ij-mVegrXG6NF_u6N-5sqtFUsIhIRy6XCmlJ7EsNk=s3088" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh6tFRXnm-AHE3yX6LBonfKX5In3G-7_g3OiK0ZqYbAgq4epSRxGZHkVHiVbDZLttjU7UctfINoLQPP4ADtHVw5sTvEONXPnyvJrTGzcnr_ijAqlgAkqII_lK4m9VjjX3Q63CMrqCsv02Ij-mVegrXG6NF_u6N-5sqtFUsIhIRy6XCmlJ7EsNk=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>I waited too long to properly etch my initials into the concrete, but this will survive for a bit. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgv6STnU-2TNyFStddBrMeqCieF3fX6LHuyYyDH5T4isRisC_hEGBl4H8wlXEAhIY2kSGo7ItCD0zW6VVtebyVEPA7Q_ePeP4AEEWAesFLybbPdjaLDt9n2K5VCGAj-Se8dZUPryhY2-3NvZiigs74ERjZ1Dn3WXrpYdiFl4I52mRYCO42RL28=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgv6STnU-2TNyFStddBrMeqCieF3fX6LHuyYyDH5T4isRisC_hEGBl4H8wlXEAhIY2kSGo7ItCD0zW6VVtebyVEPA7Q_ePeP4AEEWAesFLybbPdjaLDt9n2K5VCGAj-Se8dZUPryhY2-3NvZiigs74ERjZ1Dn3WXrpYdiFl4I52mRYCO42RL28=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>I did as the roofer said, and went up and put sealant everywhere in an effort to fix the leak...guess what happened! I didn't fix it! It moved again! <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgroO8JGO580-l0xdeQgeJ6DCdT9XJ3EOICAWE2Uv-LHo0Tdkl3V1F199rzDI9K6Y5fZ1kOVcKF47PwQ9ew8R63sxOoqEebxP99L0SyRy7LsmsGXX183yUZ3yCCCnY5Z2vUkZssLP1m2e4kKWN8eniy2FsxzShaYR7zT_w1Tb7y-2w4DM_tPGc=s2046" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2046" data-original-width="1537" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgroO8JGO580-l0xdeQgeJ6DCdT9XJ3EOICAWE2Uv-LHo0Tdkl3V1F199rzDI9K6Y5fZ1kOVcKF47PwQ9ew8R63sxOoqEebxP99L0SyRy7LsmsGXX183yUZ3yCCCnY5Z2vUkZssLP1m2e4kKWN8eniy2FsxzShaYR7zT_w1Tb7y-2w4DM_tPGc=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Peonies in the bedroom.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhd4wxi4P3n-v31Lhc_kACRrvbvJPUvkOC-GsgsDANgmBHJC6nq53HVBd7vTxu70X-xbfa9qUxaKT2f0dsLF7bhQLGvh7ArodYTLWhKwlqq9_7Ivlbm8tXu7l4wA3OgIBaCilJI4yi5RbzR_6XjFOiLWvqRBONvyvmzsYBRp8eMvvAYehVtwp0=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhd4wxi4P3n-v31Lhc_kACRrvbvJPUvkOC-GsgsDANgmBHJC6nq53HVBd7vTxu70X-xbfa9qUxaKT2f0dsLF7bhQLGvh7ArodYTLWhKwlqq9_7Ivlbm8tXu7l4wA3OgIBaCilJI4yi5RbzR_6XjFOiLWvqRBONvyvmzsYBRp8eMvvAYehVtwp0=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>The beach trip was one part with the Asheville folks, who understandably had a fairly strict routine/schedule with the kiddo. After they left, my friend A. came along with her friend M. and M.'s friend J. for a ladies trip. Much more wine (and weed) was consumed during their portion of the rental. I was very happy to get to play some Catan. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-ym7wdrqDgd599tzMGQEXK___4E9t0eLSfLXOO8uNpaecZY2HGc68Z5zVcu0zPrBNzIFcmQemKeYBEw8YnULCWsuelJxZFYyBNSE0GeuUt4Q2GzIqa6OpLAD0B4VnW4zVGzKhaDsR15NjsLw8S__ofJSC3UsxeuQvv1Q5dOZyhVA_WMy_XHw=s1200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj-ym7wdrqDgd599tzMGQEXK___4E9t0eLSfLXOO8uNpaecZY2HGc68Z5zVcu0zPrBNzIFcmQemKeYBEw8YnULCWsuelJxZFYyBNSE0GeuUt4Q2GzIqa6OpLAD0B4VnW4zVGzKhaDsR15NjsLw8S__ofJSC3UsxeuQvv1Q5dOZyhVA_WMy_XHw=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Me with a different watermelon. I juiced (put it in the food processor) a good portion of this and then froze the juice so I could have a taste of summer in the winter. So far I've made watermelon margaritas. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfiaQn7SpAQgxlxKK0RhuskyRMT1d_lyO2cSqFIr89llpBps1KrdVqmrgZn7z-pItJC3L1GxWkpUCCSyMuIoXIbsksTLstx4l8SCMzWptyG9dRGfBBE5SLgS3y-YoPIJ8_q6LttPmmakJ4fXQkUT4j1nL1xdlKJS70OpTA8RA4Onq4qPDtMWo=s2046" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1537" data-original-width="2046" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjfiaQn7SpAQgxlxKK0RhuskyRMT1d_lyO2cSqFIr89llpBps1KrdVqmrgZn7z-pItJC3L1GxWkpUCCSyMuIoXIbsksTLstx4l8SCMzWptyG9dRGfBBE5SLgS3y-YoPIJ8_q6LttPmmakJ4fXQkUT4j1nL1xdlKJS70OpTA8RA4Onq4qPDtMWo=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>The OH family rented a pontoon boat one day. This is us on the boat. I was a baby and would not jump off its roof even though ALL THE CHILDREN did. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiSAaF9MfTtjEL7pzu7WarZvukMZyq9f_qYuJ3dnN8towQq3evrskHlIRVx2cmpWC4Z9YJM6b32UOil3_hYQVmuRsDOjmoBZ-10NHAqb17ksVsm4kOkE4fa17si-ZYiZ5xns_1RrF9cRaI1OviLR6IcqNRnRnCFVlyX7b5-35VHgDGBJLXD1sc=s2046" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1537" data-original-width="2046" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiSAaF9MfTtjEL7pzu7WarZvukMZyq9f_qYuJ3dnN8towQq3evrskHlIRVx2cmpWC4Z9YJM6b32UOil3_hYQVmuRsDOjmoBZ-10NHAqb17ksVsm4kOkE4fa17si-ZYiZ5xns_1RrF9cRaI1OviLR6IcqNRnRnCFVlyX7b5-35VHgDGBJLXD1sc=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>My imperfect little house. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3kjW1-x2K0ycdyhQqQlsLMoMvUxgXWdTr4UO4KRktesbd0UFU7qGBFIq4G1Z46wZw0OwMCEA7Jam45a4RVSKCnY681cRLd1TIdM6ZYdDURysXX1dOEdliQhi0Z8jcZO_LM7oya_rgNwrhXSC8HR3Y6QxQT-GreqN9NWKRK8SBrdLdw503bQc=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi3kjW1-x2K0ycdyhQqQlsLMoMvUxgXWdTr4UO4KRktesbd0UFU7qGBFIq4G1Z46wZw0OwMCEA7Jam45a4RVSKCnY681cRLd1TIdM6ZYdDURysXX1dOEdliQhi0Z8jcZO_LM7oya_rgNwrhXSC8HR3Y6QxQT-GreqN9NWKRK8SBrdLdw503bQc=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>K. in the sofa bed with the pups. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhrDlCzlvNLmBkXHrLTIH5u5haq4lGKnWU9bUFTYmjVM_NHt0MeP-b-2vmMt6oeAhAWstg2EMHdqvA-QvzP3vVJAeOPnBmIydQRx65srVvduS92mDf_OntH9wFp0G2JfsOHvPYRSoDNeQi2BWQLIzH0d3YyIto3krDuA9yrR56GwD-Da5vizKA=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhrDlCzlvNLmBkXHrLTIH5u5haq4lGKnWU9bUFTYmjVM_NHt0MeP-b-2vmMt6oeAhAWstg2EMHdqvA-QvzP3vVJAeOPnBmIydQRx65srVvduS92mDf_OntH9wFp0G2JfsOHvPYRSoDNeQi2BWQLIzH0d3YyIto3krDuA9yrR56GwD-Da5vizKA=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Moving to the country is necessarily an invitation to have a smaller social life, but the pandemic made it even harder to form any kind of connections with anyone else. Thankfully by working at the farmer's market I was able to befriend A. and her husband and kids. Every three or four months I'll drive the hour to their place, with some kind of dinner dish and my dogs, and we have a slumber party kind of thing. Well, I just mean we eat dinner and have drinks and play Catan once the kids go to bed. It's been a true blessing in my life. Hippo loves A.'s husband of course. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlJFGiMf7nDpusqif3pdwM8MmTk_HQMeq_WxCrr9qh5MprV2kwcVAkz7fNgEj4Qe-X_I7_5fOUy-Sxk4iUDZhq_ZNzJImqcs6kc3NCfXt62TiYW-wnyL7KKQx81UawCNsGGM9xW0jF8U-MJPnZcCQgkFAyyaTwCb-Snjw3kZtN9OlotVbvXFg=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlJFGiMf7nDpusqif3pdwM8MmTk_HQMeq_WxCrr9qh5MprV2kwcVAkz7fNgEj4Qe-X_I7_5fOUy-Sxk4iUDZhq_ZNzJImqcs6kc3NCfXt62TiYW-wnyL7KKQx81UawCNsGGM9xW0jF8U-MJPnZcCQgkFAyyaTwCb-Snjw3kZtN9OlotVbvXFg=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>Pink hair. Don't care. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqn5-7pLeXP7-oYdWEL_-O0Sc6A23CvFR3dk1iQV_W7KF-8U0h4uQndJ05SQ5bc9sA5F5_3UQr9wdgdPdCUcRwOJnJgfnKu1HzTvZPNpRSRQpGkylxI74UNKATBLHWjJwhah5xsaak-J377MA10i0dEw8vnzzs_H1GVu4WN90BrTPOwgp1JC8=s2046" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2046" data-original-width="1537" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqn5-7pLeXP7-oYdWEL_-O0Sc6A23CvFR3dk1iQV_W7KF-8U0h4uQndJ05SQ5bc9sA5F5_3UQr9wdgdPdCUcRwOJnJgfnKu1HzTvZPNpRSRQpGkylxI74UNKATBLHWjJwhah5xsaak-J377MA10i0dEw8vnzzs_H1GVu4WN90BrTPOwgp1JC8=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div>At the top of my knob. Heh. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0PW4B2TtiT_qf0CSknYiy2zBLUixUrp5BTzlB7igjEM3BuH96golAmVMo_t1b8BKDkeaaoZnPSwpKfNVBoDdnJcf8dn2s33qLlwdZRdnUT_CZLbMdnIocfIgXWZWR6FOJHqxpGshDVfAaRRYwx-X1XCIy55g8YU1UWnF7azIEiDACnZpwseI=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0PW4B2TtiT_qf0CSknYiy2zBLUixUrp5BTzlB7igjEM3BuH96golAmVMo_t1b8BKDkeaaoZnPSwpKfNVBoDdnJcf8dn2s33qLlwdZRdnUT_CZLbMdnIocfIgXWZWR6FOJHqxpGshDVfAaRRYwx-X1XCIy55g8YU1UWnF7azIEiDACnZpwseI=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>I was told very soon after my arrival that this whole hill was going to be Christmas trees but thus far it has not become such a thing. Cattle are still on it, and I hope it stays that way. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4f75xfkreVes_EIvsjcIWb8DlfVjT3VEQxsaKLsPnk-pd-tfww6wUNkoEDl0vU4PWFpIoROqZ3JEg3bOhebSrYgQBIFv1wO1rHvSZhnTNlMvzQIzlSLO8Dcsmm9xkzm4RC1CHNOJ1Atk7o2Vw30EdKTFtHiTlBlvY1OrHt-ANQxatQF_il-g=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh4f75xfkreVes_EIvsjcIWb8DlfVjT3VEQxsaKLsPnk-pd-tfww6wUNkoEDl0vU4PWFpIoROqZ3JEg3bOhebSrYgQBIFv1wO1rHvSZhnTNlMvzQIzlSLO8Dcsmm9xkzm4RC1CHNOJ1Atk7o2Vw30EdKTFtHiTlBlvY1OrHt-ANQxatQF_il-g=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Side porch flower action. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqkK-sb6nazdBuoU9Nf1fnMdcwKrKJVasdtOEkCgH6Fhw07AXgw65WeBAFgKYRfoiiC9jpGi-HzxYKicylpO_oFxyRICfWWxWN2p1tzLZWOgWvAfOwYwg7P29qaiE7YzafrPzsVvNTFS-a8rNckoAuP3G9fX660I8d9viB6TPVaNeQ_uZficg=s1800" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqkK-sb6nazdBuoU9Nf1fnMdcwKrKJVasdtOEkCgH6Fhw07AXgw65WeBAFgKYRfoiiC9jpGi-HzxYKicylpO_oFxyRICfWWxWN2p1tzLZWOgWvAfOwYwg7P29qaiE7YzafrPzsVvNTFS-a8rNckoAuP3G9fX660I8d9viB6TPVaNeQ_uZficg=w512-h640" width="512" /></a></div>Homemade and delicious eggnog. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNd3Ek6QPc6JBw34-B3NfvjkSZ1gjvcRo_ZRpbZVQIYTHi1Oe3umygCIJKlFNMnQe_PZyqWye6Of6VQH64ryGXp_3drNhMunlXrM3RhxPT56mfJb-NJMsoMOs1l52PoIbLwvYuGbuvZCUlUIl8dJogEWrUtmh7yaFvAyYjxAmVnydbLsk-CTY=s3406" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3406" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhNd3Ek6QPc6JBw34-B3NfvjkSZ1gjvcRo_ZRpbZVQIYTHi1Oe3umygCIJKlFNMnQe_PZyqWye6Of6VQH64ryGXp_3drNhMunlXrM3RhxPT56mfJb-NJMsoMOs1l52PoIbLwvYuGbuvZCUlUIl8dJogEWrUtmh7yaFvAyYjxAmVnydbLsk-CTY=w568-h640" width="568" /></a></div>Sometimes it's okay to look back. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWaxIhkzckyIGLTI9tLIg6iENA3of7mspTwxU1rBBfxLjwaI4RVsrAAFpxQp-HxVy6autGB3OpopIMtl5CnrZGJnF_7-hCNqZSKcKyt2436SC8EsKDHfFCpFx7AzgRjachfJ3N9Il1nHYy7jog8STD0df1gcLSIQNSIJNMWxa63lzF7cj6uAQ=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWaxIhkzckyIGLTI9tLIg6iENA3of7mspTwxU1rBBfxLjwaI4RVsrAAFpxQp-HxVy6autGB3OpopIMtl5CnrZGJnF_7-hCNqZSKcKyt2436SC8EsKDHfFCpFx7AzgRjachfJ3N9Il1nHYy7jog8STD0df1gcLSIQNSIJNMWxa63lzF7cj6uAQ=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Even when I do get antsy to go somewhere, it's never because I'm tired of these views. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZPsdy2KX4sU4zk8g1qBYTRs0F3znB3TsRU0VcIqNi-iIwP-y-_-VEvAjWSYkS3j7IznMJsEYNScHLWpP4HTY3Ny1UHD6-sWmcQLexXgI1K6j-z9KQrInb05yLzsgl1UOJ9MzW1L3tXHcud3bJ9kIyLYBIlJXwLruJK5bh0BXaYX9e3ldUn-s=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhZPsdy2KX4sU4zk8g1qBYTRs0F3znB3TsRU0VcIqNi-iIwP-y-_-VEvAjWSYkS3j7IznMJsEYNScHLWpP4HTY3Ny1UHD6-sWmcQLexXgI1K6j-z9KQrInb05yLzsgl1UOJ9MzW1L3tXHcud3bJ9kIyLYBIlJXwLruJK5bh0BXaYX9e3ldUn-s=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Last spring's tulips along the driveway. I fear something dug up some of them since. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhESh9W6R8xb6-2PXorCa-U7KtYkhWaEf603AaZLFAe8E90dj5OfF2yQtS5iyQ63-3wDeKK3pK6OXk6wZoeAWsFYblswjnRrwwgpR8Srd-orGbO-xlQUrJ5ik6iicLUAJXTfn4jTpcyEv236SrjqMu545KhbDeHDas8Lqfo0fkgEjjlGoycEpk=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhESh9W6R8xb6-2PXorCa-U7KtYkhWaEf603AaZLFAe8E90dj5OfF2yQtS5iyQ63-3wDeKK3pK6OXk6wZoeAWsFYblswjnRrwwgpR8Srd-orGbO-xlQUrJ5ik6iicLUAJXTfn4jTpcyEv236SrjqMu545KhbDeHDas8Lqfo0fkgEjjlGoycEpk=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Old friend with weird housewarming planter gift I was given by a local friend. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZQZaLwPXvDNa8y83VaauMV1nJQhf_NteKN_KLQo4gVm__wDzdt7d72Pu-QLYpyRdRGgmblnjQc-X9afMkD7ygKUu-S0HhvwlYukgXqTi-x2aasEutNAtJaGAXLO27lXCTx6QP4Yd2K3o5BhfIq7IzYzNU25oW8u8-WKR0NcCZPPChPHA6ZBI=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjZQZaLwPXvDNa8y83VaauMV1nJQhf_NteKN_KLQo4gVm__wDzdt7d72Pu-QLYpyRdRGgmblnjQc-X9afMkD7ygKUu-S0HhvwlYukgXqTi-x2aasEutNAtJaGAXLO27lXCTx6QP4Yd2K3o5BhfIq7IzYzNU25oW8u8-WKR0NcCZPPChPHA6ZBI=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>This is 40. Selfie taken in my godmother's new home. She watched the dogs while I went up to Ohio, and then I joined her and her friends for Thanksgiving. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjw-HmKOTxOjT7BSJLQY57mAGvabHsq-uljqf_Rd0vYxmGaUOyAVz6lpRJ6kTy54F5I5c0aiEEtfu95dq3bhjIjBQa6UNoBcDA-Qgfh0nPFYkxFl5eZZJQ-o5D1c97lIvUyfhZPhJSTLV2aAvhtjLdvYBmVLpyMuOE9Yyf8S25iLyZxAVJrXvM=s2734" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2734" data-original-width="2320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjw-HmKOTxOjT7BSJLQY57mAGvabHsq-uljqf_Rd0vYxmGaUOyAVz6lpRJ6kTy54F5I5c0aiEEtfu95dq3bhjIjBQa6UNoBcDA-Qgfh0nPFYkxFl5eZZJQ-o5D1c97lIvUyfhZPhJSTLV2aAvhtjLdvYBmVLpyMuOE9Yyf8S25iLyZxAVJrXvM=w544-h640" width="544" /></a></div>Oh my god. How many photos did I upload?! F. smoothing things out. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkpHDEY36HXtwx-wTWX7BJDxxwc187AKpHHM0i4rLOQmtMlW1MBf21uaVkwIJyGEaK9L1VZ18HiZnVPZ-GTKYayLQzLHtfYGE0yYHGq8hPw9pTPF3JAaSbzIJhkeAe-7JUHVGStWm_ZfAxPPQ-FF-voeL_KCTmSqCnE39uJ0F-3429mvoqVg0=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjkpHDEY36HXtwx-wTWX7BJDxxwc187AKpHHM0i4rLOQmtMlW1MBf21uaVkwIJyGEaK9L1VZ18HiZnVPZ-GTKYayLQzLHtfYGE0yYHGq8hPw9pTPF3JAaSbzIJhkeAe-7JUHVGStWm_ZfAxPPQ-FF-voeL_KCTmSqCnE39uJ0F-3429mvoqVg0=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Fireside group selfie. I was so happy this took place. I hadn't seen K. in years and years (maybe 2015) and before the beach trip hadn't seen C. in at least two years as she and her hubster were in Japan and then the UK up until the Pandemic. When I moved down here I had dreams/visions of friends from the different eras of my life coming and visiting, and me cooking them lots of food and making cheese plates, and us staying up too late and laughing. The pandemic made those dreams/visions harder to come by. In my sadder sack moments, I realize that it may not strictly be the fault of Covid. Since I haven't gotten married or had kids, I'm an outlier within most all of my friend groups. They've got arguably more difficult schedules and commitments, which means that coming to the middle of nowhere to visit me is, understandably, not very easy or high on their list of things to do. Regardless, this visit was all I had wanted/dreamt of and gave me hope that others might come too and have a nice time. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8TkOs9rpNBB9dc09IRjLGfrcsYSsxgMGIyS8pIs9sogXLvVygUAcsAGsY1fgvESycX3-0W8RhvyNckmQlaMWnu7159q-pxHDPTD0--QoagLkFbnaOez-gj_e2Qiek11-G5JDq6AnORm4OEWoIeLssjIkQCD7xsMGN1ZBphf8r_5kz-Vp3C4I=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8TkOs9rpNBB9dc09IRjLGfrcsYSsxgMGIyS8pIs9sogXLvVygUAcsAGsY1fgvESycX3-0W8RhvyNckmQlaMWnu7159q-pxHDPTD0--QoagLkFbnaOez-gj_e2Qiek11-G5JDq6AnORm4OEWoIeLssjIkQCD7xsMGN1ZBphf8r_5kz-Vp3C4I=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Early garden times. I use ground cover because I'm lazy and don't want to weed. Unsurprisingly.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXkDpiM9Z65iMh0PzSQiu0MBKUIXWOl3Wf2nYftcTm_AzlHZMoGYk4uRS640G6LF_Tnvbvo1kKRG7byMkBJyTJZwlnAL5Wbtz8YwEPSa12_JuVTJD3OpXo7GaTngKChGw9pqEgdUNNM_SWbiAvi01P19Pjzg5Ada0ZVUk9GQ6V5r2t57KFse8=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiXkDpiM9Z65iMh0PzSQiu0MBKUIXWOl3Wf2nYftcTm_AzlHZMoGYk4uRS640G6LF_Tnvbvo1kKRG7byMkBJyTJZwlnAL5Wbtz8YwEPSa12_JuVTJD3OpXo7GaTngKChGw9pqEgdUNNM_SWbiAvi01P19Pjzg5Ada0ZVUk9GQ6V5r2t57KFse8=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div>Birdie and Hippo. Sweet cheeks. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRsyhLyB_6GPQRif8u7BLZvKQyyJdlNHnku0Q3FkVmGBFbyyQRHNxtu1S6up6Z1hP3uGoboblLn19usi-0BzhkZCyzyaU-OUV2CIHmliePQvzmmPTkaLWHo8AffdIV45arHQRWbjrNOjor3ywMd4_iH_LXb-t1m8V6LrTduiDXPJJ54BQrUyI=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRsyhLyB_6GPQRif8u7BLZvKQyyJdlNHnku0Q3FkVmGBFbyyQRHNxtu1S6up6Z1hP3uGoboblLn19usi-0BzhkZCyzyaU-OUV2CIHmliePQvzmmPTkaLWHo8AffdIV45arHQRWbjrNOjor3ywMd4_iH_LXb-t1m8V6LrTduiDXPJJ54BQrUyI=w480-h640" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijMwV3c6CsWC-_OdkJVJZGcn_459WLKQo1pPLR59yVsDYLgyDI_Ty2jpOyVnpzt70gYVNAdCjLGYEOyCjSRlawd4H1TGS1ojleDg4VnDKqsXNWYmTScVMoWTFG3u-U2o2AolMbCmHDRKSTReQ3ebzy93vAJxCAciKM1BiY13ZUZZ_bHnh5-lI=s1794" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1794" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijMwV3c6CsWC-_OdkJVJZGcn_459WLKQo1pPLR59yVsDYLgyDI_Ty2jpOyVnpzt70gYVNAdCjLGYEOyCjSRlawd4H1TGS1ojleDg4VnDKqsXNWYmTScVMoWTFG3u-U2o2AolMbCmHDRKSTReQ3ebzy93vAJxCAciKM1BiY13ZUZZ_bHnh5-lI=w514-h640" width="514" /></a></div>Burning of brush by X-Mas tree farm people. Beautiful from a distance. Less so up close and personal. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRzwdareQdFnwLbDZBDKfF6rhp6CFN8e5aWsAfbYtd1dHVNYUR-qzYcs_Fhf0GwNPdCvGCWeYtWcmxUPMJZvD5ze6BzFz4XgLY0SifFAchOmVLb8VH859GsK81l84lhpWhPdBXZ5jUQ32a6LyJEeIe45d6LK_P0YOM04Ns15FUq9j_kq_I88w=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRzwdareQdFnwLbDZBDKfF6rhp6CFN8e5aWsAfbYtd1dHVNYUR-qzYcs_Fhf0GwNPdCvGCWeYtWcmxUPMJZvD5ze6BzFz4XgLY0SifFAchOmVLb8VH859GsK81l84lhpWhPdBXZ5jUQ32a6LyJEeIe45d6LK_P0YOM04Ns15FUq9j_kq_I88w=w640-h480" width="640" /></a></div><br /> Phew. Well. That's it. That's 2021. <p></p></div>cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-51029469798145305802021-01-05T16:14:00.000-05:002021-01-05T16:14:29.790-05:00Big Ideas For Keep it Together Farm<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>I'm in the midst of my busy season, professionally, but have spent parts of the last couple of weeks beginning to think through Phase 2 of my homestead/prep planning. In 2020 I accomplished the following:<p></p><p>1. Getting the water issue with my house fixed and generally getting the house cute and live-able. Though there are still a number of improvements to make.</p><p>2. Getting a fairly significant amount of first-round fencing done, though the pasture is still not securely fenced for things like dogs, chickens or intrepid sheep or pigs. Ie: everything except cows or really dumb horses (my neighbor's horses have figured out ways to get onto my side in the past, although that's stopped with the new fencing that runs up one portion of the pasture). </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtsNNQ6opCf5etrGLntVbKjljZn4HtKE5UTMIdN-W6X7OpyGOo4IbFUPKJMVbUcRaKW1WsvjQ0AavhiNbw0J-8-HMhSiKCVTabVhxzdAaoZkJSA4qGFstB2BOosdaJUTzDo_Ppeg/s2048/9CBE125B-F6B4-428E-8547-4D8CA5452EAB.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtsNNQ6opCf5etrGLntVbKjljZn4HtKE5UTMIdN-W6X7OpyGOo4IbFUPKJMVbUcRaKW1WsvjQ0AavhiNbw0J-8-HMhSiKCVTabVhxzdAaoZkJSA4qGFstB2BOosdaJUTzDo_Ppeg/w640-h480/9CBE125B-F6B4-428E-8547-4D8CA5452EAB.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-q6L2TgmvaYP5u4JrRe_EOxAcfRHVQS4DyLcf0x2RoUELFypTMXDGt2qc_QTVXpQ4l2ist1IwRf9V_N77KlJWfsDqejqqm9XW9HniOumM6tVguU6M6wFG_MpHoPc8dbj6Refvw/s2048/9D8601AB-5420-4B99-9CFA-282C2441624F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-q6L2TgmvaYP5u4JrRe_EOxAcfRHVQS4DyLcf0x2RoUELFypTMXDGt2qc_QTVXpQ4l2ist1IwRf9V_N77KlJWfsDqejqqm9XW9HniOumM6tVguU6M6wFG_MpHoPc8dbj6Refvw/w640-h480/9D8601AB-5420-4B99-9CFA-282C2441624F.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p>3. Raising 10 chickens and 1 rooster and getting a fairly simple moveable-ish coop and electric netting and solar charger. Still waiting on the first egg though. Any day now I think...now that the days are getting slightly longer.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy7DGVwBMwwtAuS5pCu2ucvfKEgtMV94JEfEpqHs9rXvhr7I7iVg9TIcDcqWpNAHUuJ3rTy987D5DBzgcBK7jYIE8f-sV1yzcRTJM2yJtkKfurg5OJHWFt_DdJpXIkUlOE4nkJeg/s1800/3DF9F28A-2E51-4305-AB14-1582731C2490.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy7DGVwBMwwtAuS5pCu2ucvfKEgtMV94JEfEpqHs9rXvhr7I7iVg9TIcDcqWpNAHUuJ3rTy987D5DBzgcBK7jYIE8f-sV1yzcRTJM2yJtkKfurg5OJHWFt_DdJpXIkUlOE4nkJeg/w512-h640/3DF9F28A-2E51-4305-AB14-1582731C2490.jpeg" width="512" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">4. Getting a new puppy. Hippo is a weirdo, but one I'm glad to have added to my life. Even Birdie, who was initially very unhappy about it, has simmered down. This photo notwithstanding.</span><br style="text-align: left;" /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgGuBvg1DeOKPTQBA9qXW9AqHZnCSTBNgv5oeGqXcjhWpiC3dFMUtwTpF47J5sTE6H86yNmdMMNb3RHHwt9RkEtMCe0bLLU2hhaKUdaoEZPgGLqoNPeX2pJBSJAcXeG_CI8s6qw/s2048/F0BD1A60-A81F-4384-8DCC-A36152F7DC82.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgGuBvg1DeOKPTQBA9qXW9AqHZnCSTBNgv5oeGqXcjhWpiC3dFMUtwTpF47J5sTE6H86yNmdMMNb3RHHwt9RkEtMCe0bLLU2hhaKUdaoEZPgGLqoNPeX2pJBSJAcXeG_CI8s6qw/w640-h480/F0BD1A60-A81F-4384-8DCC-A36152F7DC82.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheUzhWU_hl7W6wD-LHqRT7wtF7zRrq1HO-YvnzoPs3Lyw6G-VJRaffQ3OSmraBkKowhsE9S5PvtstGYY4aFB9KCuaWjEYjg0L9hsQohXYOOEe5DFRLW9pBY03MWgWRdMkfEJfq5w/s2048/9E15F1B3-FC0D-4DF0-B9D5-31B826276592.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheUzhWU_hl7W6wD-LHqRT7wtF7zRrq1HO-YvnzoPs3Lyw6G-VJRaffQ3OSmraBkKowhsE9S5PvtstGYY4aFB9KCuaWjEYjg0L9hsQohXYOOEe5DFRLW9pBY03MWgWRdMkfEJfq5w/w480-h640/9E15F1B3-FC0D-4DF0-B9D5-31B826276592.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>5. Garden like no one's watching.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6QHs6k3F1cOQzYP766F5zRJvmucsT-oVG26JhqAg6witYA2Hz9pFjhKwwIiXarObyciXCfGg_4timgZli9g_0zjasNA_WZihZDq7BKwY1WKVhO7wBLocgATyYS5yjO-GLoTW7yw/s2048/E4BE37DD-1521-4AA0-AA31-5682BF227F1A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6QHs6k3F1cOQzYP766F5zRJvmucsT-oVG26JhqAg6witYA2Hz9pFjhKwwIiXarObyciXCfGg_4timgZli9g_0zjasNA_WZihZDq7BKwY1WKVhO7wBLocgATyYS5yjO-GLoTW7yw/w640-h480/E4BE37DD-1521-4AA0-AA31-5682BF227F1A.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgseUcM7Ir0vg50CDeFlMeJKvtwUa7PFmAKPCGIjcheLOkKLBUuZhi71lC4aaFqxT148YNeBFStTCnkXxSKgfV80jJoY0SbFugbZ3k4-S63M-PTDE-qxF4h_RtA3ZqWzUbEKtJcag/s2048/FC49DF25-5295-44B0-BFF1-7D556EEAB3D6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1638" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgseUcM7Ir0vg50CDeFlMeJKvtwUa7PFmAKPCGIjcheLOkKLBUuZhi71lC4aaFqxT148YNeBFStTCnkXxSKgfV80jJoY0SbFugbZ3k4-S63M-PTDE-qxF4h_RtA3ZqWzUbEKtJcag/w512-h640/FC49DF25-5295-44B0-BFF1-7D556EEAB3D6.jpeg" width="512" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrRu-MziEXRSLvUem3ZZ12qXJ2m1fS2KfLFIa6AtLbCm0p7g5SGLvAl1BJS__vHf5wNxE2Ml-5CUqK7y2I5195sXC-UkuLrrB5Ya2FjAsg0ESncxmG-rH-P9aZ260A0CzkuZXYQ/s2048/9A3C637B-EDDA-4E8D-840A-12D73C83A482.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXrRu-MziEXRSLvUem3ZZ12qXJ2m1fS2KfLFIa6AtLbCm0p7g5SGLvAl1BJS__vHf5wNxE2Ml-5CUqK7y2I5195sXC-UkuLrrB5Ya2FjAsg0ESncxmG-rH-P9aZ260A0CzkuZXYQ/w640-h480/9A3C637B-EDDA-4E8D-840A-12D73C83A482.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>So. What's next?</p><p>I knew from the start that I was going to hold off on really getting into livestock until I had more fencing in place. I also knew I was going to start out small, and perhaps never grow particularly big. Enough sheep/pigs to keep me in meat, and with enough extra to maybe cover some of the feeding costs. My overall idea is to have a flock of sheep for meat/skin production, a rotating bunch of chickens and pigs once a year. I see the potential for an extra boost of $$ in the skins, though I haven't run a single business model or numbers simulation to actually know the veracity of my intended idea. No matter. </p><p>So, lately, I've been thinking concurrently about the following:</p><p>1. Where I would put an initially small group of sheep. My old barn is not particularly large, but could provide shelter to ~5-7 sheep in inclement weather/during lambing. But I'd like to extend it. This would a) allow for a larger number of sheep to be sheltered while b) providing a place for me to store hay and grain out of the elements. </p><p><span> 1a. But if I plan to breed my own flock, I will need a separate enclosure for much of the year for a <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>ram/wether duo. The barn is situated in a way that it would not be easy to keep the guys and gals <span> </span><span> </span>separated without a lot of extra permanent fencing. Or at least sturdy panels of some kind. I think <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>for the pasture I'd be looking at some kind of basic 'lean to' that they could use to get out of the <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>wind/snow/rain when appropriate. But the kind that is portable so I could rotate their grazing area at <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>least once a week, maybe more. </span><br /></p><p><span><span> 1b. So in addition to the 'where the hay goes' and 'where the boys are' considerations. There is also the <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>question of breed. My inclination is a cross-breed. I've worked mostly with Icelandics, Shetlands <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>and E. FriesianxLacaunes. Icelandics have fairly lovely fleece variations and are a more moderately <span> </span><span> </span>sized animal. Shetlands also have nice fleece colors but are quite small in my memory. <span> <span> </span></span>Friesian/Lacaunes are generally larger but I've been able to handle them in the past - though those <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>were purely dairy sheep accustomed to a lot of handling on a daily basis. I'm beginning to get <span> </span>interested in the possibility of cross breeding Icelandics and Friesians...this would hopefully result in larger cuts of meat while retaining the more interesting variation of colors in fleeces (think grays <span> </span><span> </span>and blacks and browns along with whites and silvers). What I need to keep in mind is that when you <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>cross-breed you have to make sure that you're not going to breed a much bigger breed with a smaller <span> </span><span> </span>one and thus potentially make lambing very difficult on the ewes. I've begun doing research, and I <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>see<span> </span>a few examples of such a cross, but it doesn't seem to be super popular. Either that makes me a <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>genius or a fool. Or inept at research. Take your pick. </span><br /></span></p><p>2. I do hope to get ewe lambs this spring. But that would basically mean I would be feeding them til fall when I could breed them. Which I guess means I could start with just, like, three ewes and wait on a <span> </span><span> </span>ram til closer to the fall. Giving me more time to set up infrastructure. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAtLxqnzWjM95QT-w1q581Gv50tdIROb7mFQg26yoAt17vgwMw11tEA5QTx5wHFo7lvU8SAoaU8bisSNJrwGVMjYlRHQYIF_bb8wW4F6C-sEOSZF9p0kMuT0wJ4gPsFVMQOxJsQ/s2048/50D1942A-A139-4C67-A826-46F2E7318A65.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAtLxqnzWjM95QT-w1q581Gv50tdIROb7mFQg26yoAt17vgwMw11tEA5QTx5wHFo7lvU8SAoaU8bisSNJrwGVMjYlRHQYIF_bb8wW4F6C-sEOSZF9p0kMuT0wJ4gPsFVMQOxJsQ/w640-h480/50D1942A-A139-4C67-A826-46F2E7318A65.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><p>3. What infrastructure you ask? Well I think I'd like to dig and find my water line closer to the barn and add a frost-proof "hydrant" or spigot, so I could get water to animals in that portion of the property more easily. Ie: without running 100 ft + of hose from the house (which is already what I do for the garden). I am also hoping the fencing folks who did my first big parcel can come back and do the pasture. Ultimately I'd like to get water to the pasture too. The other day I walked up to my reservoir/spring box, and there is a steady overflow of water when the reservoir is full (sure, if I take a shower and do laundry it might dip a little, but I think I rarely make a dent in the reservoir's fullness now that the broken pipe is fixed). </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQvcMiIIc9tg9rL5VpCvEDGxmyX9shXyp6hiqtkYHp1sbCB0ek9gM71t7oKPJHbY3oslaJ-nWDH_38nQBiUiCIhDKEeRdX4qNKit0z1cC5b0QBgnrI25IMsaAb09gHOff4QZRyw/s1440/204DF644-6536-4D53-A9FD-4844C6DC7F6A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpQvcMiIIc9tg9rL5VpCvEDGxmyX9shXyp6hiqtkYHp1sbCB0ek9gM71t7oKPJHbY3oslaJ-nWDH_38nQBiUiCIhDKEeRdX4qNKit0z1cC5b0QBgnrI25IMsaAb09gHOff4QZRyw/w640-h640/204DF644-6536-4D53-A9FD-4844C6DC7F6A.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><p>4. Garden you say? So my first year was a fairly successful attempt. I got plenty of tomatoes, though I'll make changes to which varieties I plant. I went so hard on weird heirloom breeds, I didn't have as many just lovely slicers as I would have really enjoyed. Watermelons and cantaloupes too (cantaloupes from seed, watermelons from starter plants). Pests or blight demolished my cucumbers before they were really done producing, but I think I'll just be more diligent about neem oil this year, and maybe plant a 'distracting patch' of squash to lure squash and potato beetles away from the things I care about. I care not one whit about squash. Squash can squash it if you know what I mean. I also plan on at least doubling the number of zinnias and other flowers I plant both in the garden and around the yard. I've added peonies all around the deck and along one section of driveway, but they were transplants from my godmother, and experienced the trauma of a shit ton of heat from a fire, so I don't know how well they'll do, at least in year one of transplantation. Dahlias were a lovely surprise for me, having never grown them myself. Now all my tubers are in a box with wood shavings, awaiting spring. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigE5ZfVPCO2lr6mngOzUMGCPbs8Z5ZM4N88Z3dEyFnKeCy9gOSPBlfULBjwg3iIrSCvf97yjbvbEE2ZTE0-yEqYkhZvyn3b-Q9XMCx6hABGH_UKD6u-Oz09k_DK2C3T4qiIZMLGA/s2048/A342596C-9491-4A96-9A78-E19D10EFA90D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigE5ZfVPCO2lr6mngOzUMGCPbs8Z5ZM4N88Z3dEyFnKeCy9gOSPBlfULBjwg3iIrSCvf97yjbvbEE2ZTE0-yEqYkhZvyn3b-Q9XMCx6hABGH_UKD6u-Oz09k_DK2C3T4qiIZMLGA/w300-h400/A342596C-9491-4A96-9A78-E19D10EFA90D.jpeg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqP1iihz3IROli4JonvqyJZcXBfaPRXCVPJy-V2yQSCvTcLgPP4dRCfJ0XyO-x_goV5SumVuVCUyqHnK0TVIL6tLc-tKSBMZNJ2-84RZFDj-NqTGoTyqwW1Y72G-1eeahKk9-1iA/s2048/85415808-948C-4922-AFA9-2D853140B444.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqP1iihz3IROli4JonvqyJZcXBfaPRXCVPJy-V2yQSCvTcLgPP4dRCfJ0XyO-x_goV5SumVuVCUyqHnK0TVIL6tLc-tKSBMZNJ2-84RZFDj-NqTGoTyqwW1Y72G-1eeahKk9-1iA/w300-h400/85415808-948C-4922-AFA9-2D853140B444.jpeg" width="300" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivu-7xFVrZu_ThaxKDsHrEQ9a-eNm_BnlN6yrdyn221TvFjIgunnR5eyh2IptDZrWINlAyCHngNujo3xONxv1CwZGbdlbNnXoVxkUAaf6bOR0-NOm-oh_sgjQX5qGauAEHpF5OLQ/s2048/0013F49E-A23F-42AB-9F12-894F1B502A1D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivu-7xFVrZu_ThaxKDsHrEQ9a-eNm_BnlN6yrdyn221TvFjIgunnR5eyh2IptDZrWINlAyCHngNujo3xONxv1CwZGbdlbNnXoVxkUAaf6bOR0-NOm-oh_sgjQX5qGauAEHpF5OLQ/w480-h640/0013F49E-A23F-42AB-9F12-894F1B502A1D.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJl1Mqh7LNo2ZOkN5KVcvPFD2OgzH3_t_AoCw4nFIRLHeJcaQ74-U8qnzHestHuFcMaEh18LxWmexnViDIKhHbLryAEtCN3tVDBDB6xtC5JtUc_itIqoduo-nJGh6P25bSN3b8Lw/s2048/00D96329-FBB7-4221-BE55-330219FCCDDD.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJl1Mqh7LNo2ZOkN5KVcvPFD2OgzH3_t_AoCw4nFIRLHeJcaQ74-U8qnzHestHuFcMaEh18LxWmexnViDIKhHbLryAEtCN3tVDBDB6xtC5JtUc_itIqoduo-nJGh6P25bSN3b8Lw/w640-h480/00D96329-FBB7-4221-BE55-330219FCCDDD.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><p>5. Well I'm losing any sense of logic in my progression of numbers here, but, soldiering on: I'd also like to get some piggies. I've got plenty of woods for them to root around in...the question is a) how would I get water to them and b) how would I keep them in place. If relying on solar powered fencing, I think the juice wouldn't be nearly consistent enough with all the wood shade, and I feel like running electricity out to the woods would be inordinately expensive (even if, ultimately, I do want to build a tiny house in the woods and a bigger house on the knob, so that expense will have to be addressed at some point). So what I really need to figure out is how to figure out enclosures that don't rely on power, but that are strong enough that the pigs can't dig underneath and then escape. We don't want feral hogs. We want tasty contained future bacon. (These are not my piggies, but they are piglets I actually got to meet).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTK2JacqjBS7CGMidBF2au8HTfVx3Rf7Okboibe_JtCvBAJD2R4CrZ6D8aSGzWU5w-cMyEpvP3hwxCCO29y3HmBWWilPelDGk2xVIMU2ImDPGaHMXTe0sWkGlcEhUpR39-qJLnqQ/s2048/B271F324-3FE5-4A5A-B296-F6CE456B8539.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTK2JacqjBS7CGMidBF2au8HTfVx3Rf7Okboibe_JtCvBAJD2R4CrZ6D8aSGzWU5w-cMyEpvP3hwxCCO29y3HmBWWilPelDGk2xVIMU2ImDPGaHMXTe0sWkGlcEhUpR39-qJLnqQ/w480-h640/B271F324-3FE5-4A5A-B296-F6CE456B8539.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p>6. So maybe it's a matter of having the fencing people do the pasture, but also a section of the woods. I like the idea of putting pigs out on pasture, but that would be a rotational system that will take more time for me to put together. I've put photos in this to make it seem less text-heavy. But then I didn't really think about where to put them. So here you have a random Praying Mantis. You are welcome.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLe6yo9s7V-ykn1XgfkPJXmZPjYQG4nipgJvea66UvLBXIXsEubRqU98oURvosKj6hI863DFdCnUqBvTbpzpK4BlaYnwb0TpdDSwuOy2FDyoRd0V7FMx8gd75iTyEQEhyNxdHx1A/s2048/5F7C6CC2-5245-4B3B-8492-85F1B969BF07.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLe6yo9s7V-ykn1XgfkPJXmZPjYQG4nipgJvea66UvLBXIXsEubRqU98oURvosKj6hI863DFdCnUqBvTbpzpK4BlaYnwb0TpdDSwuOy2FDyoRd0V7FMx8gd75iTyEQEhyNxdHx1A/w480-h640/5F7C6CC2-5245-4B3B-8492-85F1B969BF07.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p>7. I also have been thinking about getting a batch of meat birds. Delawares specifically. They're a little different from the Red Ranger Cornish crosses most folks seem to favor around here, which of course makes them interesting to me. I don't know why, but I've never been particularly smitten with red/white birds. Delawares probably aren't as profitable or efficient. They are ready to be processed in ~ 13 weeks, which is a little longer than those aforementioned breeds. But I'd need a secondary coop/tractor. The one I paid a guy to make wasn't overly expensive, but it's not large enough for more than the 11 birds I have. I was thinking 15-20 meat birds, so a larger coop would be necessary. I do plan on buying more electric poultry fencing, and could possibly put both coops in the same fenced in area (once the new birds were of comparable size to the existing laying flock). Portable electric fencing ain't cheap. I'm already planning on getting a second charger and sheep fencing, which is $600+ and not enough footage without buying another bundle or two. The thing is, these are things I will need forever, so the upfront costs are unavoidable. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJAb1dStpYfn76PKP949eanYzrDuEfJdTx4fU9-lrNr71SjLNaUavh0YuRGTLp6h_nXrMI0DbXDFQZKgPNKQdG2jahizfFoz8a7iKHYUwgyfX3HhtHe3xLktS7xZgApZx8yVGIQ/s2048/C26A8E11-C35D-4BBA-9001-5A954D3AEAED.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJAb1dStpYfn76PKP949eanYzrDuEfJdTx4fU9-lrNr71SjLNaUavh0YuRGTLp6h_nXrMI0DbXDFQZKgPNKQdG2jahizfFoz8a7iKHYUwgyfX3HhtHe3xLktS7xZgApZx8yVGIQ/w480-h640/C26A8E11-C35D-4BBA-9001-5A954D3AEAED.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfOWU8TR-elCRV7dgQ9luP1Vah0eit_x_I6L-Z6mZKI76-stFQHd06kWQH0Od1C5hOG0vhbIVWqeWtHvausgZfQDyidNQczjlrnvou8vvpBJMCT0dUhVYz51qsBDcsju5PRSi6Q/s2048/724ABBE8-AAFA-4CEC-A736-47E493673228.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfOWU8TR-elCRV7dgQ9luP1Vah0eit_x_I6L-Z6mZKI76-stFQHd06kWQH0Od1C5hOG0vhbIVWqeWtHvausgZfQDyidNQczjlrnvou8vvpBJMCT0dUhVYz51qsBDcsju5PRSi6Q/w640-h480/724ABBE8-AAFA-4CEC-A736-47E493673228.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>8. With all this hypothetical butchering, I also need to be setting up some extra freezers. I do have a plan for this. My shed is located close to the house and does have power, so my hope is to put in a concrete/cement (I can never remember) floor this spring and put at least one freezer in there to start. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-y0L0HJRIgPZAsA-c-AhT1dCprAewfd3JZyJvEyjrlaBA4MkUeLsjqPzCm9ThRTg1lOU-fEIg4TYk8Gi7MPBxPHsUj64aqwyyXxsmMkDQlUkoUdwwkfcDuIPGwSWYhtwMEd1Xw/s2048/4356CDC1-5AF3-45A7-A6C0-D721F96E2678.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-y0L0HJRIgPZAsA-c-AhT1dCprAewfd3JZyJvEyjrlaBA4MkUeLsjqPzCm9ThRTg1lOU-fEIg4TYk8Gi7MPBxPHsUj64aqwyyXxsmMkDQlUkoUdwwkfcDuIPGwSWYhtwMEd1Xw/w640-h480/4356CDC1-5AF3-45A7-A6C0-D721F96E2678.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><p>9. When I do get animals out on the pasture/farther away from where their feed supplies would be, I'll need a mode of transport. I looked at an incredibly used tractor last week. It was a baby Kubota, which is the only brand of tractor I've ever driven, thus my preferred brand from lack of experience. It was old, overworked and had 2000+ hours on it and they were asking $7K!! I politely declined. But I do need some kind of vehicle that can help with certain tasks. I see-saw back and forth between a tractor or an ATV with a solid rear hitch. Honestly the ATV would probably suffice - I could haul grain/hay/water fairly easily with it (I used one for those very reasons back in Ellensburg and it did the trick). I also really would like to get a truck. This is both from a domestic and agricultural POV. The few last pieces of furniture I'd like to get in my life are some kind of sideboard for the living room, a linen chest for the bedroom, and maybe better coffee tables. All of which would entail a larger vehicle than the one I have to collect from wherever I might find them (I'm thinking older/used over fresh and shiny). And while yes, I'm sure if I asked real nicely one of the folks I've gotten to know here who have trucks would be willing to help, I am strangely reluctant to ask. Also, while I may slaughter my own chickens for home use, I would be going to a processing plant for the sheep or pigs, which means I'd need to haul them. Now, somehow this is different to me, and something I could potentially ask others for help with. Either borrowing just a trailer or a truck or both maybe. But ultimately, having a truck is a goal for 2021. </p><p>10. Other goals. Livestock Guardian Dogs. Eventually I'd like to get two, as they work best in a team. I worry that I wouldn't train them effectively. Though if they're properly bred it's in their genetics to stay with the animals they are charged to protect. I just remember these two brother Pyrenees back in NY...they spend more time escaping whatever pasture or pen they were in than protecting sheep. But if the fencing is done well, they shouldn't stray from the territory they've been taught to prowl. </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnr2jzywIO81Pljn1VukqUdMp2ECdguhLekDbo4r2m4Mc25Zpw6ZHYnPzGEem_NykUrcyJqXY37Fsf46VX77v2SeUnUGa-ByDiPcHwf0T08ZjjtONRghZvgZDX2GDHy4vjvCXfSg/s1440/A8B9E483-2191-4EDF-B39A-D9189C009E4C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnr2jzywIO81Pljn1VukqUdMp2ECdguhLekDbo4r2m4Mc25Zpw6ZHYnPzGEem_NykUrcyJqXY37Fsf46VX77v2SeUnUGa-ByDiPcHwf0T08ZjjtONRghZvgZDX2GDHy4vjvCXfSg/w640-h480/A8B9E483-2191-4EDF-B39A-D9189C009E4C.jpeg" width="640" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidEm_ko3e4nA_I4BbLPGHfZ7TxiAepEoXekJhZAU1A_g793rFfVUZXSOcIsfe3FdFxZo0NeCpITZDMCAGvCUmaaEGTcThRASQSrfIauHqIj5y5SBaEEGISo0uKAowGA1g8ZpXIsQ/s2048/7D275A67-4D42-4D34-9D1B-F6C573BDF3D9.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1539" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidEm_ko3e4nA_I4BbLPGHfZ7TxiAepEoXekJhZAU1A_g793rFfVUZXSOcIsfe3FdFxZo0NeCpITZDMCAGvCUmaaEGTcThRASQSrfIauHqIj5y5SBaEEGISo0uKAowGA1g8ZpXIsQ/w480-h640/7D275A67-4D42-4D34-9D1B-F6C573BDF3D9.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p>11. I keep meaning to get an accountant. As a self-employed/freelance worker, I always feel like there may be some way that I could be doing my taxes better. And if I have the goal of trying to make even a spot of money from all this farm stuff, I really need to learn about how to separate my personal income from farm income, and how I can write things off. It gets confusing to me - like if I use my personal money to buy fencing, can that be a farm write-off? Do I have to become an actual LLC or some shit to be legit? </p><p>12. Of almost no importance: the logo/design for the whole thing. I decided a good six years ago that my farm/homestead would be called "Keep it Together Farm." That is, indeed, a Bowfinger reference as well as my life philosophy. So at some point I'd like some signage but that's more vanity that usefulness. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfphd0awokm1LL6x7J9WKz2BVUXkcDKooi-c64iTI3jEGXit0oL4d9tJ-5RFb4pzvZTQWohrNx3pZABiEfmw1pqAR2pC_CIIOWR1Xit1Dlc8yDT5Oz21zj8yLb4v35s4THiEg3w/s2048/1F5F0E48-AF4F-499D-A3DC-CC604BB72127.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1638" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfphd0awokm1LL6x7J9WKz2BVUXkcDKooi-c64iTI3jEGXit0oL4d9tJ-5RFb4pzvZTQWohrNx3pZABiEfmw1pqAR2pC_CIIOWR1Xit1Dlc8yDT5Oz21zj8yLb4v35s4THiEg3w/w512-h640/1F5F0E48-AF4F-499D-A3DC-CC604BB72127.jpeg" width="512" /></a></div><p></p>cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-6898410104525312922020-10-03T10:50:00.001-04:002020-10-03T10:50:03.880-04:00I Guess We're All In the Handbasket?<p> I'll do another entirely ridiculous round of photos at some point, but right now I'm sitting on my side porch - Birdie by my feet and Hippo nearby - waiting for my phone to charge before I make the hour drive to W. Jefferson to buy my preferred box wine (can't find it anywhere closer), seafood, and a number of other treats and necessities. </p><p>In the last couple of months I've been struggling with the cognitive dissonance of America. I doubt I'm alone on that one. About a year ago I came down here for a two-ish-week stay to determine whether I could 'make a go of it' in an area that was obviously very "red" and pro-Trump. I knew I wasn't going to have a lot of liberal neighbors, but I wanted to get a sense of what the more progressive minded folks in the area thought about overall community and vibes. Everyone I spoke to acknowledged they were in the minority, politics-wise, but that nonetheless the idea of being a good neighbor was still a very large part of what made up the long-time locals' ethos. I've been here full-time since December, and I've largely found that to be true. I have three neighbors in particular who have offered help to me without my even knowing I needed it. Danny came by in the spring and offered to churn up a garden plot for me with his tractor. The slow-going, hand-digging I had been doing was fairly hard work and hadn't got me half as far as what he did in about 20 minutes. Hac helped me as best he could to suss out the issue with my water supply and now mows my lawn at what I can only assume is a discounted rate. Randy also tried his hand at helping with the water issue, and does a little extra mowing for me (well, that's not entirely altruistic, as he gets to bale it up and sell it as hay). No one has been too stand-offish or weird. Granted, I rarely go anywhere and haven't broadened my social circle much outside the farmers' market folks and the aforementioned three neighbors.</p><p>I did recently meet another neighbor up the road. She and her husband have a sheep farm, and I had looked forward to meeting them given my own interests and intentions. She was quite friendly and upbeat. I did her a very small favor one week - bringing her meat orders to the market so she didn't have to - and when she came by to pick up the cooler afterwards, we momentarily got into a discussion in my driveway. It was friendly on the whole, but we did somehow touch on politics. I wasn't surprised she voted for Trump in 2016 nor that she planned to do so again this year. What did take me aback is when she said (paraphrased but fairly accurate) "I just think about the America I want my grandkids to live in. Do I want it to be a free country or a communist one? You know George Soros is determined to make it communist." This is so far from what I consider truth, I basically laughed and said "maybe we shouldn't talk politics, would you like half a watermelon from my garden?" The fact that I, too, don't want America to become a communist country, but that she and I have radically different ideas of where the threat comes from stymies my sense of hope. </p><p>Danny, meanwhile, a few months back, asserted that wearing masks was going to cause a secondary pandemic of people "breathing in their own germs" and that masks caused legionnaires disease; a doctor told him. And Hac and I once got into a friendly discussion where we basically agreed that we didn't agree on much. Highlights from that were him saying that Mexican/illegal workers get paid more than white workers/don't pay into social security; that Nancy Pelosi raided the social security coffers to try to impeach Trump; and that all governors had asked Trump to let them decide how to handle the Coronavirus. At one point he said "you know when I watch the news with my wife and see what liberals are saying, I tell her they have the right to their opinion, but they're wrong." And I replied that is pretty much the same thing I think about a lot of conservatives. We laughed, and he left as still a neighborly friend...but geez. Hac also mentioned his concern that a civil war was brewing, and that he was trying to find a little more ammo just in case. He didn't want it. He wasn't gearing for a fight. He's not a member of the Proud Boys, and I wouldn't lump him into a white supremacy box either...and yet, he has this vague idea that shit is going to go down. </p><p>Later on I wondered to myself, if a civil war were to happen. What would that mean for me? Would I suddenly become an enemy to Hac and Danny and Randy? I feel like no. But the many more people I don't know in the area? Who may have noticed my existence? What is also ponderous is that there is a very "woo-woo" organization one town over, all about new methods of spirituality and ghosts and other such stuff. It's not my bag at all, but I did go on a tour of their "campus" last year, and the woman who showed me around mentioned that the founder of the organization recognized that we were in perilous times, and if things were to get crazy, we might be in flash point area, which is why, in the basement of her "peace pentagon" she had a basic bunker constructed. So Hac, a conservative, Christian Republican is seeking more ammo, and a rich liberal woman trying to find the next paradigm shift in spiritual religion...is building a bunker. They couldn't be more far apart ideologically. And yet? They're coming to the same apocalyptic conclusion.</p><p>I've been a sucker for apocalypse narratives for years. Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake trilogy has long been a touchstone of the future I most fear. Handmaid's Tale too of course. I've watched The Walking Dead for years less because of zombies or gore, and more because of how they depict a world where infrastructure we all take for granted is simply gone. Water on demand. Electricity. Internet. Grocery stores! I moved where I did when I did in part because I *did* want to be a little off the beaten track if shit hit the fan. But these days I'm not sure what apocalypse I'm waiting for. I am zero percent worried about "black thugs" coming to rural Virginia looking to take anything from me. I am not convinced that any government would really try to "take our guns." People have been pointing to Handmaid's Tale, the television show, as the likely outcome of the recent ACB nomination. As if that would change the minds of anyone who wasn't already opposed to the whole thing. I may live in the middle of nowhere, but I don't know if that makes me any safer than my friends living in NYC or Philadelphia. </p><p>The whole thing bums me out. I don't see a way out of it. And I live in a low-grade fear of what will happen next. The election is so totally being undermined by Trump's offensive to make his base believe that no outcome other than his winning could be true. So let's just say he doesn't win. Do my neighbors just grumble? Or do they get radicalized? Maybe not become vigilantes here, but drive two hours to cities and, what? Burn the houses of liberals? I just can't really fathom that. But if the last four years have demonstrated anything, they have demonstrated that as much as I think of myself as pragmatic, there is an optimistic and naive streak in me that just cannot truly grasp how wide the divide has become. That even "common decency" seems to be a subjective term. If we can't all just get along, what is the next best thing? </p><p>Yesterday I had an outdoor dinner and beer with a friend, and she suggested that maybe this is the one last push. That those who struggle with the white majority disappearing are trying one last time to consolidate power and somehow avoid the inevitable. And that losing this time, they'll maybe just have to give up. This seems highly unlikely. Since Charlottesville I've been saying that it seems like the best that could be hoped for, at least in the next year or two, is that being racist goes back to being something people know they should be ashamed of. Racists have been around this whole time. That's not news. But their feeling that they should have no fear in expressing themselves, and in larger numbers, now that is something that feels slightly new, and reversible. <br /><br />I don't know. My phone is now charged. I'm going to go get groceries.</p>cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-57765140948500622762020-04-22T14:33:00.001-04:002020-04-22T15:11:38.665-04:00All The DaysWell, the resurgence in blog popularity on my part wasn't all that strong, now was it? Right now I'm sitting on my deck by the pond, technically 'on call' for my county's Covid-19 hotline. I've been doing three 4-hour shifts for the last two weeks or so, and thus far had one woman call. The call system is via computer/internet, so I can sit outside whilst waiting for calls that I'm fairly certain won't come. I just placed a rather large - in terms of number of items and overall price tag - delivery/shipment order with Lowe's. A mix of garden supplies, chicken coop-related equipment, and the beginning steps of staining/resealing this very deck.<br />
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Two trailers of cattle were just dropped off at the pasture/hills directly east of my house. This is a relatively good thing, as I've been told that parcel will be planted with Christmas trees at some point. Obviously not yet. The cattle are all moo-ing away as they get settled, and the horses more north/in front of me all just trotted a little farther afield, in part, I think, because they're not interested in all the cattle racket.<br />
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Lowe's purchases and my intentions, a log:<br />
Two wire trellises with slight decorative flourish: I have two potting containers with sweet peas in them...the containers themselves are a) too small for the peas once they continue to grow and b)have no drainage holes on the bottom. So I think that if I want the peas to really make anything of themselves, I'll eventually need to transplant them either into the ground or into a more fitting container. My thought is that one trellis can be for said peas (there are 8 successfully sprouted little green beginnings) and the other can be for green or pole beans if I can find plugs in a week or two.<br />
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10 tomato wire thingies: I have every intention of putting at least 10 tomato plants into the ground, but maybe more. So I bought the wires and also bamboo stakes so I'll have enough to support the tomatoes and, also, the peppers I hope to grow. I'm especially stoked to try growing shishito and poblano peppers, as they are my go-to peppers in life.<br />
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Lime, chicken wire and 5 ft. t-posts: I've been waffling a lot about chickens. Not that I don't want them, I most certainly do, but I've been vacillating between buying them in-person at Tractor Supply or ordering them online. Mainly this is because I really want specific breeds, which include Silver Laced Wyandottes, Ameracaunas and Sussexes, and each and every time I call Tractor Supply, they either have no chicks or not the breeds I'm most excited about. I should just pull the trigger on ordering them online. I had a 'cart' with my preferred breeds filled out for the last two weeks, and had I placed the order, they would have arrived around June 8th. But I dropped the ball/didn't pull the trigger so now their arrival time would be July 27th. Tomorrow I will call the Tractor Supply place one more time to see if by some miracle they have the chicks I want, and if not, I'll place the order.<br />
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The other wiffle/waffle is where to house the chickens. Months ago I downloaded a free schematic to build by own "chick shaw" basically a moveable coop that can be handled by one person. But I realized that I'd need more power tools than I have to put it together (chop saw, skill saw, etc), and the material cost alone would be at least ~$500. That led to my considering just paying someone else for a coop they've built. I kept seeing a relatively local Facebook Market ad by a guy who sells coops for about $300. But I saw mixed reviews and got concerned it was somehow a scam. So now my idea is to turn half of the shed closest to my house into a coop. I'll need to flatten out the dirt floor a little, put chicken wire around the entire interior, as there are gaps/holes in the wood perfect for predatory monsters. Lime will help balance out whatever is in the dirt. T-posts and more chicken wire will divide the space. I'll also need to get roosts and nesting boxes. I'm not sure whether it will work, but I guess I'm giving it the college try.<br />
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What else? Oh, bamboo stakes for additional support for a variety of plants. And taller t-posts to start trying to 'fence' the garden area. I've decided to try the 'fishing line' method to at least deter deer from getting into the plot. I imagine the gate/entry I jerry-rig will be the hardest part, and that while the fishing line may prevent deer, I'll still need to consider what to do about rabbits.<br />
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I also bought deck cleaner and stain, which I think I already mentioned. I don't have a sander, but may inquire with neighbors about borrowing one, as I think the success of the cleaning/staining/sealing will rely a lot on how well/thorough a job I do prepping the wood ahead of time. Knowing me, it'll still be half-assed.<br />
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Oh and wood filler for the flooring area that has been compromised by termites. Another half-assed approach to the problem. I simply don't have the $$ or know-how to take up any of the flooring and replace it with new, so this is the stop-gap measure.<br />
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I also still am living in a sofa-free house, which has generally been fine as I do have slightly comfy chairs on which to sit. But there is no avoiding my desire to have a sofa/sofa bed so that I can a) more comfortably be prone without necessarily being in bed and b)that eventually if I have visitors they'll have a slightly more comfortable option than an air mattress. I still have need for a variety of furniture. The kitchen table from my childhood awaits me in Silver Spring, but I can't pick it up during these pandemic times/I will need to rent a van or truck since my car won't be big enough to haul it. I think a sideboard/some kind of additional dresser-like piece of furniture would also be helpful in the living room. The house has a fair amount of storage given its ~800 sqft size, but I am indeed running out of places to put things I don't need on display at all times (old journals, arts and craft supplies, tax records etc.)<br />
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Blah blah blah. I have no sense anymore of how this pandemic situation is going. I mean I read multiple articles every day, but that doesn't give me as much clarity as I'd like. Are we still in the thick of it? Since so much of my life hasn't changed because of it, I almost feel a dread in the lifting of restrictions and folks going back to some sort of semi-normal...mainly because it won't change how I spend my time/days. Each time I choose to read a book instead of do something productive, I give myself permission, as the pandemic is nuts. But it's really an excuse and not a real reason not to do things.<br />
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I started talking to a guy via Tinder in early March. Our initial plan was to meet up and play trivia once the pandemic became less of a thing. Of course, it only became more of a thing. At one point he suggested we meet and go for a hike, but I demurred. Privately, I like hiking but am not in tip top shape and didn't want the first interaction to be while I was red faced and breathing heavy (not what I shared with him). Additionally (what I did share with him) I do have a general rule that I don't meet strange men from the internet in non-populated places. Murder and all. He took that graciously. But it just feels less and less like he'd be someone I'd actually enjoy meeting. I tried to do fun 'what do we know in our own heads' trivia back and forths with him, which he humored for my two questions to his one...but let it peter out. Then when he again suggested we meet in person, I replied saying a)pandemic no thanks and b)it would just be getting to know each other small talk that we could do online. So then I asked him what he did/what he wished he was doing in a professional way, and he responded that he "doesn't do small talk" then only replied to my question by saying he'd prefer to be a "trust fund philanthropist." Basically he doesn't ask me many questions, hasn't said anything that makes me chuckle, and keeps suggesting we meet in person when THE WORLD is telling us NOT TO. In his last attempt he said that since the pandemic looked to be a continuing thing for months "we should really get over ourselves" and meet. Given that he's mentioned that desire three previous times, it felt very much like he was telling ME to get over myself. Fuck that. I told him that when the seafood market an hour away from my place has soft shell crabs, we can also meet there. Two birds, one stone. I didn't want to completely say fuck you, but honestly whatever frisson of fun there might have been last month has petered off. He has not convinced me that he is a person I want to meet.<br />
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Meanwhile, I wish I could also get another puppy. I keep checking the closest animal shelter's facebook page, but they've mainly had strays (strangely often they have pink or camo collars). And I really do want to have a lil pupper to mold as I did Birdie (lol to say I molded this dog is probably an overly bad piece of hubris).<br />
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I go back and forth in terms of having too many drinks and calling people. Two weeks back, I reconnected with a friend I hadn't spoken to since I left Philly. She didn't answer, but she called back a couple of days later and we did manage to have a conversation that was entirely lovely. I think I had felt layers of guilt about how our friendship had unraveled and feared she was holding a large (and partially understandable) grudge against me. But it appears all is forgiven (or wasn't even in need of forgiveness) and it was lovely to hear how she and her kids are doing. Touched base, also, with an old farm friend from my first year out in WA. And that, too, was a lovely catch up after a couple of years' of no contact (less fraught more typical 'drifting). Same can be said for a college friend, another high school friend, etc. etc. This behavior - have some drinks and call people - is not pandemic-specific...but the pandemic has given me license to call people I'd usually not consider. Also (soberly) emailed the long-ago ex. I have been smart enough, even while under the influence, to refrain from calling him for both our sakes. I'd only end up feeling embarrassed and awkward. Which is how I felt when I did drunkenly call the more recent ex, though nothing too terrible was said there either, as we ended on generally understanding terms. Still, though, the reply to my email was cordial and strangely comforting. We haven't seen each other in over ten years and broke up even longer ago. As my most successful/long not successful relationship, he unfortunately still has some meaning in my life while I know I have very little in his (married/baby etc.) so his acknowledging my email and sharing a small memory from our shared time together as well as an update about himself gave me a sense that while, yes, of course we weren't meant to be (no matter what my mother said) and, of course, I should have more restraint than wanting to check in, we did share a bit of our youth together and though much of the associated feelings have faded into nothing, oh I don't know really what I"m trying to say. Writing and receiving emails between us felt familiar and no longer fraught with any combination of sadness, disappointment or other negative feelings that were certainly harder to avoid many years ago . Lol...but I think I'll still refrain from going to a wedding that he might attend just for continued self-preservation and dignity. Would I still feel this way if I was as 'farm fit' as I was in WA, or if the more recent ex and I were still together? Hard to say. But here we are.<br />
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Well I've certainly been typing up a storm whilst receiving no hotline calls. Cows are still acclimating to their new digs. Horses are hidden from view. A bullfrog occasionally bellows from the pond. Birdie's legs are caked in mud. Bluebirds and goldfinches and red winged black birds and robins and cardinals are all flit and flying around. Swallows seem to have gone elsewhere today.<br />
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I haven't been able to get a status about my stimulus check. Not sure whether I will get one, and whether the IRS has the right info to get it to me. I completed my 2019 taxes in February, so technically they have my most recent address on file. But I wrote a check for what I owed, which I think may mean they'll mail me a check instead of using my 2018 routing/banking info. I am continuously concerned about whether the pandemic will ultimately impact my income. Right now is always a slow time in my professional life - usually just an hour or two of billable work on any given day, and sometimes less. But come July/August, things should pick up. But will they? While the timing of my FINALLY buying a place rural and remote was excellently done given the current state of the world, it will be less fortuitous if I can't pay my mortgage in six months.<br />
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When mom was dying she wrote a few things down or said them to me. I think the following is something she wrote not something she said, but it amounted to her worrying that perhaps the world was only going to get worse. I think at that juncture in time the BP oil spill was continuing to do damage in the gulf, and the Chilean miners were still trapped below ground. I'll have to see if I can find her wording, but it kind of came down to a 'maybe now is a good time to go, before everything else goes to shit.' Lord what would she make of all this? Of Trump. Of pandemic. Of protests for haircuts. Of 100s of deaths one day, an re-opened beaches the next? Unanswerable, really, what she would think. Though I imagine some combination of appalled, resigned, outraged and slightly bemused would work. That's certainly a set of feelings I have on a daily basis. The thing is, the world keeps not falling quite enough apart. So we're left with splinters and shards of normal and good and irregular and bad, but not quite an all encompassing feeling of either. If even this can't get everyone on the same page, what on earth could?cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-47773185953596642152020-03-23T19:57:00.000-04:002020-03-23T19:57:32.340-04:00Pandemic Brings Blogging Back Into VogueIt's a crazy mixed up world these days. Given my predilection for apocalyptic fiction over the last 25 years or so, I began to worry about what was happening fairly ahead of the America curve. I've spoken with numerous friends over the past couple of weeks, and it has been interesting - the progression of feeling like we were talking about something distant, faraway and abstract to death tolls rising and toilet paper becoming a commodity. A few friends have mentioned my recent choice to move to a very rural place as fairly prescient, or at least well-timed. And it's true, I've wanted to live in the country forever...for the beauty and peace and nature absolutely...but also to be removed from a great part of society if the world began to collapse. I'm not sure if the world is truly and utterly collapsing at this moment in time, but it does seem likely that many more people will die; many more people will lose their ability to make a living; many more people's lives will never be the same. I've expressed this thought to a few friends: while most living at the time could still tell you where they were when JFK was shot, or where they were when they heard about/saw the World Trade towers fall, etc....I don't feel like there is as a defining and universal day for the Coronavirus. Is it the first time I heard reports about something weird happening in China? Is it the first time I heard how important it was to wash my hands and not touch my face? My point is, the day will not be the same for all of us. And the day may just keep resetting. Normal. Normal was never the same after 9/11. And yet it was reestablished as a possibility. So, I assume, if this doesn't lead to nuclear war, revolution or a near complete wipeout of the human race, some new normal will replace the one we'd gotten accustomed to. Ha. And then climate change will throw that on its head and so on. At this point I'm almost 100% sure that no one reads this anymore. Ah the hey day of loyal readers...so far and long ago. I guess my not writing anything here for 18 month stretches might also come into play.<br />
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Well, in any case. Here are some photos - as always not in chronological order - of the recent goings-on in my life with random captions and perhaps a few more hacky thoughts about the pandemic.<br />
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I closed on the house December 20th. Almost immediately it became apparent that something was amiss with my water pressure. The pump when the inspector had come out the month before had been constantly running, which the inspector noted shouldn't be the case. But water came out of the sink at a consistent rate and it was probably just a matter of getting a new pump. Upon purchase, a different problem suddenly appeared: if you tried to turn on the water and let it run for longer than about 30 seconds, the pump would shut off and then no water would becoming into the faucet. I delayed moving into the house by about two weeks and consulted with a cast of characters, each of whom had their own hypothesis of what the issue was. I found my spring box and reservoir up in the woods above my house, next to a creek (folks around here prefer to call this particular form of water a 'branch'). I had a pressure tank put in under my counter, as there wasn't one. This helped in a temporary way, as I could plug in the pump and let it run enough to get water in the tank. Or at least that's how I thought it worked. Regardless. The mystery was that up at the reservoir there would be days where it was full - brimming actually to the level of the overflow pipe. But then a couple of days later it would be nearly empty. This is a concrete rectangle in the ground that I have, in fact, jumped into...I couldn't stand up inside of it, but I'd say it's at least 3.5 feet tall and 6 feet long and its width? Oh maybe 4 feet. My point is that is A LOT of water to go missing if you are one person living in a house where you are taking only sporadic showers and have done laundry less than once every two weeks. It was only two weeks ago that I noticed a strange thing...the drain pipe on one side of my house that I thought was for the gutter above it (not using my language skills well here) had frequently had a puddle surrounding it in previous weeks, but I had assumed that was excess gutter rain water/saturated ground, as this has been an incredibly rainy winter. But one day I noticed there was still a big puddle, even though it hadn't rained in a few days. And then I noticed that there was the tiniest - but steadiest - trickle feeding that puddle from under the porch/deck. Of course I got my headlamp and investigated, and followed the trickle to somewhere under the house on the opposite side. If I turned off the main valve to the house, the trickle dissipated and, within minutes the puddle would dry up. This was a very interesting discovery. Then a few days later my neighbor Randy and his buddy Jamie showed up. They'd actually been investigating what was going on with the water whilst I was in TN for a weekend. Haha..country neighbors talk. In any case, it was at that point that Jamie went under the deck/porch from a different angle and found....this. It's not a great photo, but what it is is a fairly substantial (if hyperbolic) LAKE UNDER MY HOUSE. While we couldn't actually lay eyes on the source, it was clear that some pipe under my house was busted, and every time the pump asked for water from the reservoir, a good majority of that water didn't ever make it into the house.<br />
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One of the nice things about my bathroom is the clawfoot tub. I got new shower curtains with birds on them, because of course I did. At some point a few months back, my uncle Ed sent me this magazine, which I began reading while taking a bath and having a glass of wine. Baths for a while were the easier choice over showers, as the water pressure was rarely consistent. Baths now get to go back to being more a matter of luxury and comfort than necessity.<br />
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The pond is not a feature I totally love. I mean, this is obviously very pretty, and I do like that I think that the pond does attract more peepers and other aquatic creatures I enjoy seeing - there are a few mini fish in there, definitely a lot of frogs. But it's mucky. The branch/stream that feeds it has been generally steady in its supply, but it's all just very muddy. I think the thing to do would be to try and deepen and narrow the path to the pond and put some kind of reenforcing fauna or rocks along the edges to keep it from devolving again. The pond also has way too much algae, and while it's been cold I haven't worried too much about Birdie, that will change in the summer. I have so many things I need fenced already, and this is definitely not what I'd like to deal with first...but I also don't want my dog to die because she can't stop traipsing through the muck and mire and occasionally actually go chest deep in the pond itself.<br />
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Back to the house water saga. So my neighbor across the way, H.C., recommended a plumber for me to try named Rick. Rick came out the morning I was going to leave for TN and I showed him the puddle and recounted all the numerous things others had thought or considered in regards to getting me a consistent, reliable and pressurized source of water inside my house. We agreed that upon my return, he'd really get it all resolved. I'd heard it before, but since the puddle/lake were new data points everyone else hadn't had, I was optimistic. He came back, Randy the neighbor stopped by again and we all agreed on a course of action that would probably resolve the issue. We also discovered that the pipe that burst was the one leading to the outdoor spigot, which was unfortunately placed between my pump box and propane tanks. I said I'd dig down and find the water line so that Rick wouldn't have to bring his backhoe out (saving me $$ and allowing me the fine pleasure of digging/manual labor). And dig I did do.<br />
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Random things found in one of my two barns. Or this one is more a shed.<br />
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My place is 21 acres in size. Just a tad over really. I've been trying to take daily walks around it just because it's mine and I can. It's strange how it feels like a lot of land and just so little all at the same time. My ratio/percentage skills are terrible, but I'd say maybe its 60% woods and 40% pasture/house/cleared land. Here is a pod I saw while walking in the pasture.<br />
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How I looked two weeks ago when I was in Tennessee and prepping to go see Arlo Guthrie perform in a cavern with my dad and two of his friends. This was mood one. I so rarely leave my house or interact with other people, and I'm not one to put on lipstick to go to the grocery store, so I did really try to gussy myself up a little.<br />
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On another walk I explored the woods mainly, and found plenty of bones. It was my bones walk.<br />
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Spoiler alert, I found the waterline and felt pleased with myself.<br />
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The day I bought the house was another lipstick occasion.<br />
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See where the woods stops at the top of that hill? That's my woods to the left and down:)<br />
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Okay so I complained about the pond, but I do really like the view, even with the phone line in play.<br />
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The waterline! Water line?<br />
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I have thus stayed strong and still only have the Birdster, but I did visit my friend Joan's puppies for a few weeks when they were still so freakin' tiny. I do keep thinking about whether I should be adopting a dog from the local shelter at this specific moment in time - they are a kill shelter and I imagine this situation has put them in a bad bind. I'd prefer to foster but the shelter doesn't have a foster program. Hm. I should reach out to them and see if there's an emergency foster situation in play.<br />
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The pasture from a lovely angle. I fell in love with this area because of its swells. These neverending waves of hills and mountains. And this is my own special swell. It's pretty swell. Har har. This week the big excitement has been that I've noticed horse poop in the pasture that is FRESH. I have no horses or livestock of any kind. Yesterday I saw a few hoof prints in a number of different spots. My theory is that at least a couple of my neighbor Danny's 15+ horses must hop the decrepit old fence line, graze on my land, take a little stroll through the woods, and then hop back over when none of us are watching. It makes me smile, but also I keep thinking maybe I should call him and ask if he's counted all his horses lately.<br />
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Closing day lipstick and round face.<br />
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The most important part of my visit to TN was going to a storage unit there to FINALLY get my real bed. I'd been sleeping on an air mattress since January and while it tried its best to be up to the challenge of daily use for three months, it lost a certain will to retain air and I was getting quite tired of waking up partially sandwiched by a semi-deflated air mattress. This is Birdie on that air mattress when it was still keeping its shape up.<br />
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Mood two.<br />
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Mood two for Birdie too.<br />
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Nice light on a woods walk.<br />
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The house from my driveway. It's pretty cute. I always wanted a slightly larger house with more bedrooms for guests and maybe two levels of porches...but most of those were out of my price range or so damaged/fucked up that I would never have been able to afford the rehab even if I learned how to do a lot of it myself.<br />
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This is just a view from elsewhere in the county. I believe that is generally looking west maybe a little northwest.<br />
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Ah yes. This is from a drive from Bristol, TN back home. I took a longer/more scenic route (they're all long, and they're all scenic, but this one was free of I-81), and found myself at an elevation where more snow had accumulated than would be evident at my place. Pretty.<br />
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More bones from the bones walk.<br />
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My 'knob.' It's the highest point on my property. I do one day hope to figure out a way to build a house on this spot, but I've got many, many things I need to do first.<br />
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Pond heron. Last week there were THREE of them chilling out around the pond. They flew off as soon as they saw me, but I hope to one day be stealthy enough to take a photo of them before they all fly away.<br />
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I recplaced my doorknob, as no one seemed to have a key to the existing lock.<br />
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Lichen? Fungi?<br />
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One element of the area that I hadn't fully understood/done my due diligence on during my exploratory time here in the fall was just how dominant Christmas tree farms are here. I knew they existed, but I hadn't fully understood the feeling of them slowly taking over valleys that I'm now noticing. And, apparently, they fly giant helicopters over the trees and dump pesticides or other chemicals on them. Obviously that is not really my bag, but compared to the fracking I would have been surrounded by if I had chosen to pursue an affordable spot in PA, I think I just have to accept they exist and, in fact, are neighbors on at least one angle of my property line.<br />
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Though I now have a bed, two dressers and three chairs, I'm still working on making this place a functional home. Getting a bunch of my favorite trinkets, doo dads and pieces of art has helped make me feel more settled.<br />
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Honestly, if I could do it again I would choose just a slightly less vibrant yellow. I was really just trying to find the same color I had on my walls in Ellensburg, WA...but the three years and a different hardware store led to a slightly more garish color than I had really intended. And of course I just stayed the course even once I began worrying over it. I do not, however, in any way regret this wall paper choice. I may eventually move the dartboard and put a tv there, but maybe not.<br />
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Mood three. Weirdly blurry.<br />
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So last week, I dug the hole to the waterline and then did much of the digging for the trench to the repositioned outdoor spigot. But not all, Rick definitely got in there too and was far more efficient than I was in getting to the proper depth.<br />
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A still living tree in a section of woods I call "Dead Tree Alley."<br />
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Just another view of the house and landscape. One thing my neighbor Randy told me lately is that hill beyond my house, with the red bard etc...it's all going to be Christmas trees in the next year or so. This really bums me out. I love this view. Christmas trees are planted in such a regimented manner, I don't know, it just won't be the same.<br />
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Two people whose hypothesis about what was wrong with my water was totally wrong.<br />
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And that, I guess, wraps up this blog post. I didn't really get into the other line of thought I have about the pandemic. Perhaps I'll do so another day. Hopefully not in six months.cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-42394622333333580312020-02-05T21:08:00.001-05:002020-02-05T21:08:39.862-05:00The Rural WaveA thing I'm working on. All the {} are further little stories or anecdotes/tangents that I halfway think are worth pursuing, but also halfway know only bring me farther and farther away from the actual point I think I'm trying to make. It may be that like many of my stories, I really don't have a point.<br />
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I grew up in an especially idyllic little pocket of suburban Maryland. Ours was a mish-mash neighborhood of fairly well maintained Victorian-ish houses whose larger acreage/plots had been subdvided and filled in with houses over the course of many decades. A house built in the late 1800s could easily be found next to a pistachio green plastic siding house from the 70s.<br />
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{Beekeepers. Old Man who? The wooden bridge.}<br />
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Visiting my paternal grandmother - known as "Granny" - in Sewanee, Tennessee most summers introduced me to an even slower paced and more magical setting. Granny lived in a house she had built in the late 40s/early 50s, which was very much in the Frank Lloyd Wright vein of architechture - lots of glass, and stone and very few steps or closets. The house's modern layout and aesthetic, and the way it looked from above gave my father - no more than 12 - the idea of naming it "Crash Landing," which stuck. {Getting lost in Abbo's Alley} By the time I was 10, I was allowed to walk from Crash Landing to the pastures near Lake Cheston to say hi to the horses, and maybe give them tufts of greener, less-nibbled grasses I plucked on the other side of their pasture's barbed wire fencing, just out of their long horse-neck reach. Or perhaps an apple or two that my mother gave me to bring along. This was no more than a mile away, probably less. What I still just remember marveling at and feeling incredibly happy and excited about, was walking out of my grandmother's driveway and turning right, and walking along Florida Avenue, down the dip by the football field and back up, by my horse camp counselor from 1992? Jessie's Mom's house, and just collecting dogs as I went. {Go home Ernie go home}. I would pass a house with a dog I knew already somehow, just in its yard and I would encourage it to join me, and it would. I don't really remember making these dogs come with me, but I do feel as if I would encourage them. One kind of black and tan hound dog. Maybe Winston next door before he left [did he really get taken to a farm or did he die?]. And as I walked the peaceful, green, still but bug buzzy roads, we'd pass another yard, and another dog will join us. And together, four dogs or so would accompany me to the pasture. As I write this, I'm now questioning if this is true. I have a sincere memory, or series of memories, where the basic beats of what I just described happened. Sewanee was the kind of small town where everyone's dog safely wandered just a little, at least in the late 80s and early 90s. I would walk in the middle of the road. Which can fit two cars, but narrowly, a dog or two in front or to the side of me, and likewise behind. Sewanee had no leash law for years and years, and dogs really did have the freedom to do this back then, just as children like me were equally free to meander perhaps a little bit more than they are allowed to now, even in Sewanee.<br />
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And as a kid I got a real kick - and I mean a real visceral shiver of a kick - out of getting to the side of the road for the occasional 20-mile per hour car I did encounter, then giving a small wave to the driver, usually in response to their own. I didn't KNOW these people! But here we were waving at one another. Acknowledging our mutual existences in what felt to be a strangely intimate but anonymous manner. I really thought it was cool. I still do. I still like that while it's a little less automatic than in years past, you can still have a dialed down version of that kind of wave in Sewanee. It was just what you did, even if you couldn't quite place the person to whom you were waving.<br />
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Grayson County, Virginia. Or at least the small tiny paint spatter of the county I've really seen, is an area where there isn't necessarily a pedestrian wave. There aren't enough houses strung together for quite that unity. Or maybe I don't know because my house is tucked away from the road. I have to drive on one road to get to anywhere else in the world. And one thing I have definitely noticed is the one finger salute many drivers will give me as we pass each other on that one road. Old bearded men in pick up trucks are the most reliable, but women in compact cars too. A brief 1-2 second raising of a pointer finger, or even the pointer and middle finger together (never just the middle finger). And then we're past one another, barreling down the road that is taking us to wherever we are trying to go.<br />
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As a newcomer to the area, I appreciate this rural wave. With the exception of about three people, anyone raising their fingers in my general direction as we drive on by and past each other has no idea who I am. Last week I finally got my VA license plates, but even with my out of state plates, I got plenty of little salutes. I have begun to salute back. Or even to preemptively salute.<br />
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{Dad stealing corn on a country road somewhere near the Monastery}<br />
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<br />cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-80348190905667673142019-12-14T19:44:00.002-05:002019-12-14T19:44:33.621-05:00Last Spring and Early Summer in WashingtonI drafted this in 2018 and never edited or further adjusted or dealt with any of it. I"m going to publish it as-is because, well, why not? I think I'm going to start blogging on this again, though at this point it's basically blogging into a void. But I think it'll be helpful for me to type type away about my latest and newest life change (bout to buy a small house and larger parcel of land in an entirely new place). Apologies if tone and image quality is, uh, not great on this year old unfinished round up.<br />
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As always, the order in which I took these photos, and the order in which Blogger chooses to display them is not one and the same, but I am an inveterate lazy person and refuse to go to the trouble to sort it all out. We'll see how this whole post shapes up as far as actual content goes. This most of these photos were taken a year ago or just under that, and my current wanderings and wonderings are far more fresh than the state of mind I was in back then. I imagine there will be a fair amount of 'woe is me, my face and body used to be skinnier/stronger' and maybe a modicum of passive aggressive griping about the reasons behind my departure (I hope not though, because it's not a good look and life goes on). And maybe further discussion of the concept of home, or how big and little and same and different all of America some times seems to me as I drive through it, staying very small amounts of time in myriad places. If America was a map, and I was a rain cloud, then my foot steps would be rain drops but the smattering of them would never make much of a puddle, let alone a lake. What? Maybe just pithy captions is the way to go. We'll see.<br />
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Birdie and Rey remained steadfast sparring partners. That my life is most often now documented through Birdie as my proxy is pretty okay with me.<br />
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Yeah this is way out of order. I think this is on Lopez Island in July, after I had left Ellensburg.<br />
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The above and below were taken on Whidbey, also in July or late June. I spent a couple of days there before going to Lopez, staying with Clare or camping by Whitney's tiny house in her parents' yard. But a lot of my days were going to the old farm and hiking my way down to its beach for final days of beach lounging. Stan had gotten really into felting likenesses of his friends and the farm dogs. I left Birdie with them for a few nights when I went to Lopez, and when I returned, Stan had made one of her. I was so happy to have one. It hangs from my car's rearview mirror as one of a few talismans from that time - the others including two of the most perfect moon snail shells I managed to find on the last day of farm beachery and a wooden otter that Whitney carved for me.<br />
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Skinny faced beach time. Fuck.<br />
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I joined M&A and their kids and old college friend Jason for a couple of days on Lopez. I'd never been and certainly did enjoy it. We went to a community concert featuring the musical stylings of a Beatles coverband that had come all the way from Athens, Georgia...because of course it did. At one point I ran into a hippie lady with this puppy and I was missing Birdie so much I really wanted to take it. But I didn't...just watched it while the lady went to the restroom.<br />
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Whitney and Brock on her tiny house porch. Great photo of both of them, for sure.<br />
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Whitney's house is a culmination of two or even three years of hard work on her part and with many assists from Stan as well. It is delightful and magic.<br />
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Lopez Island rocks. Figuratively and literally.<br />
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Birdie and I stopped by Whitney's workplace at that time for a quick burger and maybe a goodbye?<br />
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I also met up with Gabby whilst I was on the island. We took our respective terriers to Double Bluff and ate sandwiches and caught up. She is a very delightful, smart, funny and kind teenager. If all of them could be that way, I wouldn't be so terrified of them. As we were heading back to the car, we were walking across the pool of water that forms way back from the shore...I don't think it's a tidal pool as much as a weird giant puddle. In any case, across in this instance means balancing ourselves on a log or two that had been put across it. Of course this ended with me going ass over teapot into the water, along with my bag that half a sandwich in it. I was so amused I asked the strangers laughing at me to take a photo. And my left breast seriously considered revealing itself, but chose not to at the last possible second.<br />
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The Whidbey farm was - and I imagine is - a pretty magical place to spend some time. It wasn't all roses and there were challenges and difficulties to my time there, but even factoring them in, the good generally outweighs the bad. I'd never had gotten myself Birdie without first meeting her aunt, Coco, never would I have blithely and giddily followed Stan into the sound on a low tide day and caught my own Dungeness crab, nor would I feel confident in so many elements of farm chores without having been first taught and then trusted by Lynn. And then there's just the fact that the dogs were having such a great time most all of the time.<br />
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Back, inexplicably, to Lopez and little M looking out into the beyond.<br />
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I was never a super model skinny girl, but damn I felt good about myself and looking at these photos, I am glad I did. I'm glad at the time of my healthiest/fittest self I was fully cognizant of it and enjoyed it, instead of somehow beating myself up for even smaller flaws. Womp. Womp. Womp.<br />
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I always would bring little M. bits of jewelry to play with because I knew she liked to...this visit was no different.<br />
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The Ellensburg house and the small landscaping steps I took before it was clear that I wasn't going to stick around. I somehow imagine the moment I left the boss man pulled it all up and deemed it done all wrong.<br />
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Birdie and her aunt Coco playing at the beach.<br />
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Before it turned all the way warm on a walk in Ellensburg.<br />
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A drawing I made.<br />
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I caught Bobby sniffing around a wheelbarrow one day and found that he had located a secret laying place of the free range chickens.<br />
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Whitney visited and we went on a hike up into the hills. We hoped to find elk sheds, but found none. Super steep terrain.<br />
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The mezze I put together upon our return.<br />
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A morning boop and cuddle between Whitney and Birdie.<br />
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Another photo from the hike that sort of shows you the landscape and the rushing stream.<br />
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Lambs were born.<br />
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Very cute lambs. Because they weren't a dairy operation, and also just had a different philosophy about it, lambing season was far less intense or hands-on when compared to the Whidbey farm.<br />
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One day my boss called me whilst he was out and asked me if I could meet him by the ag store to help locate and return a hitchhiking chicken he heard/we eventually found in his trailer's wheel well.<br />
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So many eggs.<br />
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Bebbe.<br />
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Bebbes.<br />
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Can you spot Bella the dog? She went looking for chickens up in the hay stacks and then wasn't entirely sure how to get down.<br />
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Sun either rising or setting. Setting because that would be looking west. I'm smart!<br />
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One task I had was to put away the chickens at night. When their "tractor" home hadn't been moved for a couple of days this was pretty simple, they made their way there by themselves. But on the evenings when we changed the homes' locations, at least 20-100 chickens would not understand it and would bed down in the grass where the tractors had been the previous night. So, to get them to their rightful sleeping domiciles, I got on the ATV and brought with me two large garbage cans with lids. Then I would scoop/chase chickens, get them by their feet, place ~8 of them in each can then zoom down to the tractors on the ATV and dump them all in. And then repeat that a few times depending on the number of stragglers. It was dark work and not entirely fun, but also, like most farm chores from my perspective...still pretty fun.<br />
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This seems to be a roasted chicken I made with a side of stuffed and baked poblano peppers.<br />
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Another hilly walk. Or perhaps the same one. Hard to say.<br />
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A more defined and happy face.<br />
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Cow skulls come with toupes.<br />
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Rainbow on the way in to Seattle.<br />
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Eating treats with M&A before they entirely gave up meat.<br />
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Birdie and Coco.<br />
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The ridiculous mud/water situation at the entrance to the cows' pasture. God it was bad.<br />
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The cows coming after me because I started spreading out their breakfast on the opposite side of the pasture from where they had been hanging out. It was always fun to see them roll into a canter-like gait.<br />
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Birdie wasn't sure about any of it.<br />
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A tofu stew I made with poached egg on top.<br />
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Butter calf.<br />
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I couldn't quite get a photo that fully showcased just how deep the mud was. Like, this doesn't look so bad from this angle...but it was. It really was.<br />
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Spring starting peeping.<br />
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The dogs kept playing.<br />
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Birdie looking hella swole after a hike and splash.<br />
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My kitchen sink view.<br />
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My face after I moved the tractors by myself and didn't fuck anything up.<br />
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Somewhere outside of Wenatchee on the way to get my hair cut.<br />
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My hair cut.<br />
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More spring.<br />
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I did make a couple of friends whilst I was in Ellensburg. Steven worked for the farm from time to time and I enjoyed getting to hang out with him and his wife Therese from time to time.<br />
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When the digging to lay in plumbing/gas began.<br />
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Trump loving mongrels were a dime a dozen round those parts.<br />
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I also made friends with Maxine and Matthew after meeting them at the Iron Horse Brewery one night. They were lovely people to get to know and I was happy to have them over for a small fire/diner one night.<br />
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A different hike, this one in search of a waterfall.<br />
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Which we found.<br />
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I'd never worked cattle before, so I was both excited and trepidatious to do so. I can't say it was an altogether fun time. On the whole it was just Chris and me, and whilst I was fitter and stronger, and he was fit and strong, it might have been easier if we had two more sets of hands. Chris refused to 'trim' the cow's hooves and we all knew I wasn't ready for such a task, so the boss man did it.<br />
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At one point I was trying to ear tag a calf, who had horns, but it shook its head in such a way and at such a moment that I got hit in the face with its horn. Or, more accurately, grazed...if it had been a more full blow it would have been far worse. Chris and I were both a bit shaken up about it. Kept doing the work of course, but he was like 'you really could have just lost an eye' and I concurred. Then I spent the next few days trying to take a good photo of my shiner without entirely satisfying myself with a really good one.<br />
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Drawing.<br />
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Black eye attempt.<br />
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Steven and Therese also came over for a fire and sausages.<br />
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This hike killed me a little. It was so steep and remained that way for the duration. I actually ended up not getting to the summit, so wiped I was from the first mile and a half. Summit is not really the word because compared to mountains, it was just a really big hill.<br />
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The wildflowers were worth it though.<br />
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Not the cow that hit me. Or maybe.<br />
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Another big mud puddle, but one we never needed to deal with in regards to the tractor. I think it also would expand or contract depending on what the bossman was doing irrigation-wise.<br />
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Then it started getting hot. At this point all the animals were off the old farm and on the new one. The new one was bigger but didn't have the same infrastructure as the old one. Ie: no water spigots in all the best places. So a huge portion of my day would be filling up the drums behind me with water and then distributing the water to the various flocks/herds etc. The cattle could go through a good portion of the water in just the time it took me to fill up their troughs and go back and get a little more for sheep.<br />
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Bones.<br />
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Finished.<br />
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A fun thing I saw on my drive from the old to new farm one time.<br />
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More spring.<br />
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More sausage. </div>
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An accidental attempted upload of a video of me filling the trough and the bull getting first dibs. I took a lot of said videos in slow-mo because their tongues lapping at the water amused me.<br />
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Sunset in downtown Ellensburg.<br />
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Living the good dog life.<br />
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Another accidental upload of a video (that I believe won't play?). This was the big project of renovating the old dairy barn into a kitchen and farm store. I left before it was complete, but much was accomplished whilst I was there.<br />
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Whipsaw Brewery was a pretty nice place to hang.<br />
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So strong. This was about a week or so before I left.<br />
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Digging the big hole for the new septic system. I learned a lot about what it takes to make a building actually functional...and the way some choose not to get the right permits to do so.<br />
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Chris in the new septic tank before it was connected to anything or had anything ugly inside of it.<br />
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The skies were pretty awesome.<br />
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Oysters in Seattle I think.<br />
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Yes. Dinner at Solare with M. once I had officially left Ellensburg but was hanging around the west coast for a bit before heading eastward.<br />
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I was able to run into Seth, who is a good friend of Louise and Tony's, while he was in town for a conference.<br />
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I followed that up with seeing another Louise/Tony friend, Tim, and met his girlfriend as well.<br />
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Then I went to Whidbey. My off-farm social circle was relatively small, but good. I stayed with Clare, and she and I met up with Bob and his wife Bernita for a lovely dinner at Prima (no surprise there, of course) and then a final glass of wine at Ott and Murphy's. Gooooood people.<br />
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Clare does not like having her photo taken, but I insisted.<br />
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I am a lucky girl to have such friends.<br />
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Me happy to be in a bikini at the beach. I think I had Coco and Birdie in tow.<br />
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And that's about it for the round up of my final days in Ellensburg and last visit to Whidbey and the San Juan islands.cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-88789864583204614332018-02-16T16:45:00.001-05:002018-02-16T16:52:02.635-05:00Farm Times in 2017Facebook has been beating me over the head as of late. Beating me over the head with reminders of what my life had generally been like around this time in years past. It's an interesting feature, reminding you of what you posted a year ago, two years ago, eight years ago. Because I am not 'too good' for social media, there are plenty of posts and pictures that remind me that for the last four years, my life in January and February was awash with lambing and farm work. I am not at the moment doing farm work and have feelings about this. Feelings of lack of productivity, feelings of a loss of fitness and activity I had come to really love and appreciate, etc. But the farm I most recently worked on was not a particularly good fit for me. Or, more bluntly, the people who owned the farm and I weren't necessarily the best fits for one another. So I left on reasonably good terms (though when I asked about the W-2 forms I'll need to do my taxes this year the response was 100% no response at all...so perhaps the good terms I think we left on are not as good). In any case, I didn't leave the farm until early summer, so there are plenty of things to show you from the winter and spring. This is predominantly winter, though Blogger has kindly chosen to upload these not totally in chronological order, so, well, yeah.<br />
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Each morning and some evenings (depending where we were in the winter era) I would load up a few bales of hay to bring out to the cattle and/or sheep. There was a stream to cross, and a bridge to help me do so, but the way the snow and ice and mud all interacted, there were many days where the simple act of rolling across the bridge was one that led me to be quite aware of my mortality. This is a photo that doesn't fully demonstrate how much standing water we were going through. Those are calf-high boots, and you'll see that the water is almost to their lips...but that's me standing in a slightly more shallow part of the great puddle. Perhaps the slightly more impressive visual is the watermark on the tractor wheel.<br />
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And here is a photo of a river at a motel at which I stayed on my drive back to Washington. This was January 1st 2017. I had been driving through snow for a number of hours and had seen a number of wrecks, one of which had all traffic detour entirely off the highway for a good number of miles. I decided enough was enough, and stayed here for the night.<br />
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A quick photo somewhere in Idaho the next day.<br />
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I was really excited about making my lodgings homey and warm on a reasonable budget. I'm not sure I'm ever going to get "too old" for Christmas lights, but maybe I will. This was my first small attempt at making things homey, later painting and Goodwill furniture finds helped a lot.<br />
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It was wickedly, wickedly cold for months. I had about four different quilts on my bed and flannel sheets, but without the living heat of Birdie, I may not have made it.<br />
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I think these are someone else's cows, and I just took a photo because it was pretty. Central Washington is radically different from Western Washington/Whidbey Island. This includes cultural norms, but also landscape and climate. While it was certainly striking and beautiful in many, many ways, I did not really "flourish" in regards to any of them.<br />
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I did a number of regular farm chores but a big part of the work I ended up doing for my former employers was related to their moving from a smaller property to a larger one, and preparing their old home for sale or their new home to be lived in. At one point I think I was painting and Birdie was outside at the new property, I went out for a quick break and found that the pup had left me a mouse present.<br />
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I think a lot about whether I could have somehow made the situation at this farm work. While it wasn't going to be my forever place, it certainly was beautiful and I did have the luxury of a home of my own and a place where I could walk out the door and let Birdie run and run in fields. Ha. Of course that luxury came with a boss who seemed to be constantly resentful of my ever doing so even when it was clearly outside of my working hours. Shrug. I wanted to make it work, but I couldn't, and I think it's better that way. I couldn't please them even though I rarely actually "fucked up" and no matter how positive I tried to be, at least one of them was always more into being negative, and thus, best to let it go. Nonetheless, I did get to see some beautiful light.<br />
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SO COLD ALL THE TIME WITH SNOW FOR WEEKS.<br />
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Andy was quite pleased with the X-mas presents he gave me last year, as he should have been. Here is one such tee-shirt he found and sent me. Also, here is my face before I gained 20 pounds.<br />
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And here is the other shirt sent to me:)<br />
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So cold. All of the time. But and cows and everybody else still needed feeding, and fed they were.<br />
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Birdie is not a dog who wants a coat, no matter how cold it may be. Existential hatred.<br />
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Such joy in looking for field mice.<br />
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Hay for everybod-ay.<br />
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I posted this photo on social media with a caption about how I had gone on a date, and then Birdie and I had walked through the darkness to check on the cattle, and only one out of the two things was romantic. It was the walk with Birdie. I saw the guy a few times more. It went nowhere other than some very bad sex that made me question whether it was even worth trying to date any more.<br />
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It's not obvious, but Birdie and the ducks she is corralling are all running around on an entirely frozen pond.<br />
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More home improvement progress I made. Really and truly, I was so excited to have my own space and to put things together, and build up a pantry of cooking materials etc. etc. That really is the thing I was most sad about in my departure, how committed I had been to trying to make myself a home and how I had to abandon a lot of my efforts.<br />
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It was, as already noted, an incredibly cold winter, and the house's only heat source was a gas fireplace in the living room. I closed off doors and tried as best I could to not be a popsicle. Sheepskins helped.<br />
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The view out my kitchen window.<br />
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The view from the bridge towards the cattle...that slushy/icy stuff may look surface-level but, as already illustrated above, it was deep. Did I and others get the tractor stuck on more than one occasion? Yes.<br />
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Rey was a good friend to Birdie. They were roughly the same age and loved to romp and rumble, especially in the spring and summer. I also learned how to plow snow with a rear attachment to the tractor. That was yet another thing I did not well enough for the boss man. Though I would argue that no one got stuck on any of the roads or paths I plowed, so, well, I didn't do the worst? Sigh. Can you tell that I'm really conflicted with how the whole thing went? I'm accustomed to being thought of as a generally capable and competent person, and I'm accustomed to being honest with people and them hearing me and appreciating it. This is not what transpired in Central Washington; I felt consistently like I was considered incompetent...but in ways that I had basically told them I knew nothing about. So, anyways. Rey was a good dog.<br />
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Woke up like this sometimes.<br />
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I got to work with more pigs than I had out on Whidbey. On Whidbey I'd been kind of scared of them...but I will say I saw more of the appeal of pigs at this farm.<br />
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The guardian dogs on the farm generally put up with Birdie. I was glad for that.<br />
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Risking a photo without a hat.<br />
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Nipple egg.<br />
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The property from which they were moving before the hoop houses were taken down. Actually I left before they were moved. Womp womp.<br />
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Yup. The light was stellar.<br />
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I did go across the mountains at some point to see M&A and their kids. It was crazy how different it was on the other side. Green and relatively warm instead of white and relatively arctic.<br />
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UGH.<br />
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Feeding the sheep at the old property was a tad risky because the tractor was at the new property, so I had to use an atv with a wagon hitched to it. But the snow accumulation was such that there was always a very real chance that I'd get the ATV stuck. Never got it so stuck I couldn't get it out myself, but that was a fear that kept me anxious each time I brought hay out to them.<br />
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Bald eagles were fairly standard sights to be seen.<br />
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And maybe below it is a hawk or Golden Eagle?<br />
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One morning, as I was driving to the other property to feed chickens and sheep, collect eggs, etc, I saw this. It turned out some dude had purposefully driven his car into the truck.<br />
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Pig organs post-slaughter.<br />
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I repurposed my favorite boots once they had been destroyed by rain and fire (and my ineptitude) so they would be home to paper whites and amaryllis. Had to leave them behind too.<br />
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I loved this morning view...do you see how the sun hits the lip of the hay barn so it looks like Christmas lights?<br />
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To say that the house I lived in had issues is an understatement. It was not level, that is for certain, and underneath the floors any number of vermin lived, including skunks, copious mice and...maybe this raccoon who seemed to be returning after a night out.<br />
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So. Much. Snow.<br />
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But then, the good light.<br />
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Me trying my hand at making soap by myself for the first time...it was deemed okay...but not great.<br />
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There were many ways that the skunks got under the house, and so we did try to plug up as many entryways as possible to then allow us to actually capture them. I really enjoy orally telling people the story of how skunks were dispatched, but don't have it in me to type it out at the moment.<br />
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This dog is my heart.<br />
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Pigs sheltering during yet another snowfall.<br />
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Still no skunk.<br />
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One bright side to my Central Washington times would certainly have to be that Whitney ended up working at a ski resort a little over an hour away. We didn't get to see each other all that often, but each time we did, my spirits were lifted a bit. I guess it just comes down to how much better it feels to hang out with a person who likes you and knows you than with people who don't really know you and don't really seem to like you.<br />
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We went to a very funny indoor flea market. I was looking for things to make my house a home, but instead we found a bunch of things we did not need, most of which was far more expensive than I would deem reasonable.<br />
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Sheep were sheared.<br />
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The main entrance to my house.<br />
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It did get slightly warm enough to start exploring the area a little on walks and the like. This was one such hike/walk. I think Birdie and I managed about a mile and a half of trail before we got high enough altitude-wise that there was still significant snow on the ground and we turned back...as the whole trail was uphill and I could barely make it without slip sliding...most of the other people I saw still were in cross-country skis.<br />
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I need to get my bangs trimmed and lose 15 pounds.<br />
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A river.<br />
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Just best friends hanging out.<br />
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It was gorgeous though.<br />
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So many chickens. So many eggs. This chicken volunteered to jump on my shoulder as I was collecting eggs one afternoon.<br />
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I went to visit Whitney and tried skiing for the first time since I was 13...while I wanted to be badass and good...the reality was I was scared I was going to fall and break a leg pretty much the entire time. Any time I gained any bit of speed I just pictured the impending crash and doom. Whitney was a lovely sport about it all; very patient with my wide-eyed worry. I did three runs, maybe four? And went to the cafeteria bar to read and have a beer while Whitney got to go and do more serious runs without me. I was glad to have tried it, and I'm just accepting that it's not something I'll be trying again. I just wish I could ride the chairlift all the way up and then all the way back down, but apparently you can only do that if you're an employee. Hmpf.<br />
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Whitney was staying outside of Leavenworth. Birdie and I took a quick morning walk and it wasn't a shabby view a'tall.<br />
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Pig pile. This seems like it must have been in the spring, as the ground looks not entirely frozen nor snow encrusted.<br />
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The amaryllis as well as an orchid I got on the cheap.<br />
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And then calves started being born!<br />
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And I became dark kermit sith overlord.<br />
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I'll try to get around to the last half of my time on the farm, as it was quite beautiful. And maybe I can be a little less sad sacky about how the whole thing turned out.cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-48865700745241104432017-11-16T19:38:00.001-05:002017-11-16T19:38:28.940-05:00Seasons ChangeBirdie and I returned to the farm just in time to say goodbye to Anna. She and Coco were very happy to see Birdie again and some serious wrestling and hello-ing went on.<br />
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I met up with Whitney and we took a solid walk from the farm, through the woods, down a hill, and then along the beach back up to the farm. I realized I should have been doing this kind of walk all along. Whitney humored me and posed as if she were just a head.<br />
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And also helped Bird up the ladder.<br />
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My friend Mary from the Chicago/grad days came up to Seattle for a couple of days and made her way to the island. I gave her a tour and she met all of the sheep.<br />
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Super flattering photo of us both. Yup.<br />
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I knit this afghan in probably around 2004, while I was working on a sheep fiber farm in NY. It held up pretty well, but the various terriers I hung out with while on the farm took a toll on the afghan's structural integrity.<br />
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Went to Seattle to see the Ms and joined them at a neighbor's party, where there was a rabbit.<br />
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This was a little bit of a meal we had in Seattle. SO GOOD.<br />
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Water glistening in the sun.<br />
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These were the dwindling days of my time on Whidbey and I was trying to make the most of it, in as far as seeing all the people whose company I enjoyed before my departure. One such person was Gabby a delightful co-milker and all around person.<br />
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Look what she drew for me as a gift!<br />
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Somewhere driving east towards the new gig.<br />
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I made a few trips to the new farm and house I was going to be moving to in Ellensburg in order to deal with all my stuff. I think this is the morning after one such trip. It was November and frost was already very much in existence.<br />
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Then back to Whidbey. I was doing one thing or another when I saw Whitney, and was quite tickled by the fact that we were wearing nearly identical outfits. And so photos had to be taken of course.<br />
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Letting Birdie run in a pasture in Ellensburg.<br />
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Hear her ROAR.<br />
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Lovely light indeed.<br />
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The living room of the new place before I outfitted it and made it cozy.<br />
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Back to Whidbey, where one morning I looked out and saw that all the rams were 100% not where they were supposed to be.<br />
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If they could come up the stairs, I think they might have.<br />
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Whitney helped me muchly by borrowing her dad's truck and helping me load up all my larger pieces of furniture and schlep it all across the Cascades. Birdie was her normal driving self...ie: preferred/demanded to be in the driver's lap, sometimes using Whitney's arm as a headrest.<br />
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I think this was the last beach walk I took. Birdie and I started out, Billie the border collie joined us. It wasn't the sunniest or warmest, but still lovely. This beach was such a balm and gift and special place to me and so many others who have spent time on this particular spot on Whidbey.<br />
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My last regular Wednesday night at Prima.<br />
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As I was trying to drive away, Coco did her typical thing and chased my car down the mile-long driveway. So I had to turn around and take her back, which seemed fitting as it had been such a normal part of my life to first find someone or somewhere to restrain her when I was leaving, as that pup can run and does not give up.<br />
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The view north from my Ellensburg driveway.<br />
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Another view. Winter was coming. As the days and weeks went by, more and more of this panorama became white and then whiter, and stayed that way FOREVER. God the winter was long.<br />
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Birdie found a new border collie friend.<br />
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Young chickens staying warm.<br />
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Cows running towards me for their allotment of hay.<br />
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Hoophouse lighting and shadows.<br />
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Loading pig feeder, housing and feed (as well as tractor) onto trailer to move to new farm.<br />
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Feeding cows.<br />
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This was sometime in December I think.<br />
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I drove east in December to see family for the holidays. This is the night I stopped in Livingston, Montana. It started snowing a couple of hours after I got there and I had great fear about getting on the road the next morning.<br />
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Fear was fair. I left way before sunrise and drove through not too thick but terribly steady snow just like this...except it was black outside.<br />
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I think this was somewhere in one of the Dakotas.<br />
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Visit with Ruby and the Ohio relatives. Looking at this photo is surreal, because I just saw her two weeks ago and she is so much more grown!<br />
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Birdie flagrantly enabled to by-pass the no-dogs-on-the-sofa rule.<br />
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Baby's first ramen.<br />
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Birdie and Cleo will never be friends.<br />
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How I love playing cards with my cousin.<br />
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And putting decorative ribbon around my head.<br />
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Cleo and Birdie not quite co-existing.<br />
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Gah. This was nearly a year ago, but it feels much longer.<br />
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Cousin Harry's eggnog in Tennessee.<br />
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My great-grandfather's memorial in town...which was taken down last month due to, well, you know, him being a confederate general.<br />
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Taking a hike with old friends.<br />
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Another Dakota scene on my drive back west.<br />
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Badlands Birdie.<br />
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More Badlands.<br />
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<br />cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-51591155475128003232017-11-16T19:18:00.000-05:002017-11-16T19:18:40.076-05:00The Great DilemmasI find myself with a series of dilemmas. I cycle through them on a daily, if not hourly, basis and might come to six radically different conclusions over the course of such a day. Before I lay out the dilemmas, I will lay out what I think I know.<br />
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1. All my life I have wanted to live in the country, and for certain portions of my life (college, much of the last four years) I have done so and been pleased. I know, for certain, that I'd like to live in a rural area.<br />
2. I have a severe lack of ambition in and for my life.<br />
3. If it were up to me, I would be reasonably happy to spend my days reading, drawing, taking walks and doing puzzles. So, basically, I want to be a senior citizen.<br />
4. I may be troublingly independent but in a non-sustainable way. I like driving all over the country. I am lucky enough to have friends and family willing to let me stay in their homes for weeks or months at a time without providing them rent or any substantial financial recompense. I also don't like being accountable to others (unless it's my dog).<br />
5. I am so tired of not having my own space and place. I want to unpack the storage unit I've had for the last three years. I'd like to have a kitchen of my own. I'd like to have a space that is mine, where I don't have to account for myself to anyone. I'd like to buy a goddamn mop and bucket that I don't end up leaving behind every two years. This point has become particularly clear to me over the last week of living in my father's home. He only wants to spend time with me, but I find his desire to constantly share schedules hard to take, similarly I know he gauges my activity in his home and finds it lacking (to be fair, it is lacking...but it wouldn't be if I weren't in his home).<br />
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The dilemmas.<br />
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1. I have made a concrete decision on the score of 'living in the country.' But I have not determined what kind of country life I'm aiming to have. Over the last 15 years I have worked on three small farms, and have loved the work of that world, but have fully seen how much my respective employers struggled to make any meaningful profit through their efforts. To that end, I have the dilemma of farm choice:<br />
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One version would be to truly try and make a go of it on a sustainable scale. In other words, never a rancher would I become, but having a flock of sheep of close to 60, along with sizable flocks of chickens as well as sounders (real word, I looked it up) of swine. The intended products of said livestock would be: meat (lamb, chicken, pork) and eggs, as well as sheep skins and perhaps yarn. I'd also like to try my hand at growing flowers. I'd also have a few tiny houses on the property to supplement incomes with the 'working farm' 'hideaway in the country' ideas as marketing. And even so, I would need at least a part-time job to help ends meet.<br />
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A second version would be far more modest. House and land of 10-20 acres. Simply having a small flock (10 or less ewes) of sheep and similarly manageable number of chickens (perhaps about the same or a few more). Focusing mostly on raising a substantial amount of protein for me and my life, with the option of selling a little extra to those in my community. I still think the idea of tiny homes as extra income is interesting, though it would come at a cost. This version would 100% necessitate some kind of steady employ, but at times I think if I were to buy cheaply enough, the resulting mortgage would be one easily managed without finding myself working 60 hours a week at WalMart.<br />
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The first version is ambitious, and costly. If I'm being incredibly generous in terms of the realities of my financial capabilities, I could have a budget of about $200K for buying a house/land. But at that price point, the realities are that I'd have to sink a substantial amount of additional money into additional infrastructure that would probably not already be in place. In other words, fencing, feeders, actual feed, tractor or other such equipment, new pipelines for water sources in pastures, etc. etc. etc.<br />
While I love thinking about myself as a person ambitious and organized enough to find a way to pull off this level of enterprise on my own, the reality is that I am not up to it, financially or skill-wise. A partner, or set of partners, with similar desires and different skillsets (and financial contributions) could help, but even when one has all that in place, you're still working on a very thin line as far as turning any kind of profit that isn't eaten metaphorically or literally by the very animals you're raising. Basically, I do think this is too big a dream for me. Or rather, it's a dream that would necessarily lead to failure.<br />
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The second version appeals to me more, though even on a smaller scale animals need certain things that the land cannot always offer 365 days of the year. In other words, I cannot escape that I need a source of income that is not farming.<br />
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A last version would be ditching any largescale livestock idea. Finding a property remote and countrified, but with far less acreage and at a substantially lower price point. In this version I'd be aiming for a mortgage of no more than $400. I'd definitely be in the middle of nowhere. I might be able to swing some chickens, but sheep or pigs would be out of the equation. I could find some kind of work at probably very little pay and make that mortgage...but basically I'd be working at a gas station to pay for living as a hermit in an area that would be far away from any restaurant that ever has foie gras on the menu, or any community that thinks that white privilege exists and should be acknowledged and somehow fought...let alone any friends who would ever come and visit.<br />
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This leads to a second dilemma: Where to be?<br />
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1. I have quite a romantic notion of wanting to be off the beaten track and away from the hustle and bustle of much of contemporary society. And have partially lived that out...the first Washington farm I lived on was tucked back from any main road and could not easily be stumbled across, but within a 15 minute drive one could find a town chi-chi enough to have a wonderful French bistro, and in the broader community you would be more likely to spit and hit a liberal lefty loose-y hippie type than the opposite. The second Washington location I lived in was not as remote, as it was closer to town but in an area that was more sparsely populated. I could drive into town within 10 minutes, and while the food and restaurant scene wasn't quite as upscale, it did exist. I would be more likely to spit and hit dirt than any person, but if it did hit a person, they'd probably be a Trump supporter. The point here is: I want to be away from the crowd or possible suburban encroachment...but I also do like feeling like every person I interact with, whether at the gas station, the grocery store or a beer joint, doesn't fundamentally disagree with most everything I think.<br />
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To that end, my dilemma is about location and the varying factors that influence me in regards to it. When I left Washington coming east, my thought was I would move to Ohio and be near my many members of my mother's family, including my dear cousin and her family (including a goddaughter who will soon be two). Then at one point in the summer, I found myself thinking that Tennessee (where my father lives) was a better fit for me. Then, in the fall, I traveled to Pennsylvania and New York, and was reminded how much I actually delight in the company and conversation of dear friends who have known me for years and years.<br />
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So there are pros and cons to those three areas, each representing numerous variables: how often relatively cheap but not shitty land/houses are on the market, the politics and communities of those properties, the market for any thing I might labor to sell, the "prettiness" factor, the dynamics of my being in close proximity with different elements of family, the dynamics of being farther away from family but closer to friends. A further break down:<br />
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1. Tennessee is beautiful. It's got mountains (or plateaus) and valleys, and plenty of lakes and waterfalls to swim in. I love many aspects of the small town my father lives in, though I would never actually live in it full-time, as it is too expensive and has close to no large parcels of land at prices anywhere near my budget. The reality, however, is that the areas around that particular small university town, are the kinds of areas where one can drive a five mile stretch of country road and count at least two confederate flags. While I like the idea of being far away from folks, I'd also like to feel like the broader community I might interact with is not one where my "progressive" views on gay marriage, health insurance, the environment, and the importance of secularism would hardly be tolerated. I do not want a life of isolation to this extreme. Another way to put it is, I'd like to make friends...and it would be hard to be friends with people who so fundamentally think so much of what I think is right, is wrong. And I don't want enemies. In other words, I wouldn't want to live in an isolated spot where I became a target for animosity even if I wasn't particularly forthcoming with any of my views. Perhaps further complicating this, is that whenever my father and I spend even a bit of time together, the worst version of me becomes the predominant part of me. There's some lizard brain thing at work, where I simply regress to the most selfish and impatient self. There are reasons for this that are not unwarranted, but there are also reasons why I should be better than I am. Gainful employment in any capacity would be hard to come by, which would probably result to my working jobs that probably wouldn't be terribly satisfying, either financially or intellectually.<br />
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2. Ohio is also beautiful, in places, and in a much more rolling hills to flat land kind of way. That sounds mean, but there is great beauty in the large amount of the state that is taken up with small to large scale agriculture. But the question of community matching is just as prevalent as in Tennessee, when applied to Ohio. I get along much better with that portion of family, and would love to become the weird aunt whose farm is where the kids get dropped off for a weekend or week in the country. Here, too, the realities of where land is cheapest would suggest I would struggle for gainful/sustainable employment.<br />
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3. Pennsylvania/New York. The two general regions of each respective state I'd most like to inhabit are already saturated with city people money. In other words, land in those areas is at a premium due to rich folks wanting second bucolic homes. I couldn't compete with that, and would also fear that any parcel I might manage to get could quickly become even less rural with one developer's move. If I were to look a little farther afield, I would be perhaps still a bit closer to friends (who generally live in cities like Philadelphia or New York City) but I might still be in a fringe area as far as who my daily neighbors (and their politics) would be.<br />
<br />
The employment dilemma:<br />
<br />
So. Over the last few months I've been doing freelance editing. It pays well, especially if you have many, many clients. I have not had enough clients that I could truly support myself on this editing alone. Though it has generally floated me the last couple of months, as I have been gallivanting around ignoring the impending existential dread and lack of purpose I possess in spades. While I'd like to discuss a future expansion of clients with my current source of such work, it is not something to bank on or consider at all a guaranteed possibility. That said, I wish it could be. I wish I could work feverishly, from my own home, editing during the height of my employer's busy season (about 6 months or so) and then have enough saved up that some part-time work and scrimping could keep me independent and free to do as I'd like for another portion of the year.<br />
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But, as I said, the dream mentioned above is not necessarily something I could achieve. And what remains is tricky. When I left Philly a number of years back, I left in part because I no longer wanted to work in an office and in a job that left me feeling that I needed a vacation. Farm work gave me a sense of satisfaction, purpose, usefulness and health that I loved. But I did not love working for families, which were/are the main kinds of farms that I have the right experience for. I find that small family farm dynamics get tricky. They get tricky for radically different reasons, but the reality is the same: your employers are all related, you are not related to them, you are usually one of only a handful (or less) of employees, and there are no official channels or protocols for handling issues...and even if they technically exist, the reality is: they're families and they're going to look out for their own/themselves. So, generally speaking, while I might want to be a farmer on a small scale...I kind of don't want to be an employee of such a person.<br />
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This leaves me with a few possible channels of employment depending, in part, on the location dilemma. None of which are exciting...but perhaps the biggest issue in this overarching dilemma is that no source of employment sounds exciting to me...and I'm not actually independently wealthy. I could be a receptionist or admin assistant to some small company or person. I could be a waitress at a diner or restaurant. I could, perhaps, fake it til I make it as a bartender. But even these avenues of work are not guaranteed. I've worked as a customer service type phone person, I've worked as a waitress and as a bartender...but all these experiences are so many years in the past, that I'm not sure they would impress anyone but the most desperate...which, if it were a restaurant, would probably mean very low tips.<br />
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And these are my struggles. A disclaimer I most certainly have started this post with would be: I know I'm still in a position of privilege. I am not, at this moment in time, worried about how to pay for an electric bill, or to feed my (non-existent) kids. I have enough of a social safety net that I have the time to be stymied by these issues. I am a white woman, so even my concerns about living in an area that predominantly has a flavor of racism and conservatism are nothing compared to what they would be if I were a person of color.<br />
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I've had friends and family, from time to time, jump onto to my farm fantasy. They suggest pulling resources and doing something together. But on the whole those are their own fantasies. Their lives are those of functioning grown ups. They like or love me, and they like or love the idea of having an oasis elsewhere...but because they are already grown ups, they have too much already on the line to actually move forward with any such plans. And I also have the fear that I would let them down. While I'm fairly comfortable with being a failure to myself, I don't love the idea of straight up sucking or disappointing others (though my dad might be surprised to hear this).<br />
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Obviously this is a blog post that almost no one will read because no one reads blogs anymore. And obviously, I'm having some trouble feeling comfortable in the spot I'm in at this current moment...and it's leading to great heaping piles of anxiety, ennui, malaise, fear and confusion. There is a house I've been eyeing in this area. It's 13 acres and 120K. A part of me thinks I should just buy it, regardless of the trailer park just a quarter of a mile down the road, regardless of the lack of likeminded folks I'd be likely to find anywhere near it, regardless of how difficult it could be to find work. It's close enough to what I want and where I want it. But I cannot decide if that's jumping the gun or just deciding not to be so wishy washy.<br />
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I have made big dramatic choices in my life from time to time. Whether leaving home at 13 to go away to school (privilege alert, yes), going to grad school (again, yes), or leaving a relatively well-paying job in favor of far less pay across the country on a farm. I am capable of 'just doing it' but after long periods of agonizing. At this particular juncture I just can't tell whether I need to be patient a little longer. Weigh things out. Wait for the perfect property (which at my price point does not exist). Or if I should start committing to things again, for better or worse. Get me my own space and kitchen. Work at a Waffle House and save up for the improvements I'd need to make to make even a homesteader's goal of farming. I simply don't know. And you don't know either. And that's fine. It's just another dilemma.<br />
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<br />cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-16333471043162869622017-05-23T14:50:00.001-04:002017-05-23T14:50:38.338-04:00Berkeley/Albany, Klamath Falls, Bend, Silver Creek: My Drive Back NorthAfter an overnight visit to the potential new farm gig, I began my drive to the Albany/Berkeley area to meet up with my dad, who was catsitting. On my way out I saw a bunch of turkeys on a hill.<br />
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Dad and I then went and had a sushi dinner, which was delectable.<br />
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The cat in question was not a huge fan of Birdie, whereas Birdie was very much fascinated by the cat and wanted to be best friends (spoiler alert, never happened).<br />
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Dad had scoped out a really wonderful dog park on the bay. Acres and acres of fenced in land for dogs to run off-leash. Birdie enjoyed it thoroughly and we went almost every day of my visit.<br />
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Another lovely meal. I had chile relenos and a michelada.<br />
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We wouldn't be living our lives correctly if we didn't have dim sum. So we had dim sum.<br />
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Dad was up for trying a pedicure for the first time. The lady who did his feet seemed to be a little concerned for his feet and called me a very good daughter, I think because I was willing to have a pedicure with him?<br />
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Dad put together a lovely little spread at some point.<br />
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Another meal at a French cafe. This was after another lengthy dog park experience. Birdie was so pooped she couldn't even bring herself to get up when I offered her a tiny piece of beef.<br />
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These were some handsome matching dogs with very swank collars.<br />
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This dog was very weird looking.<br />
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Then we had a fancy French meal with champagne.<br />
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And then we played some darts and Dad hit his out shot.<br />
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Last dog park day before I hit the road to go back north.<br />
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I honestly forget what mountain in the background. Hood maybe? This was either in Northern California or Southern Oregon.<br />
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I stayed in Klamath Falls for the night and watched the last game of the World Series. I was entertained by the fact that the people in the motel room next to me were clearly rooting for not Chicago (while I was rooting for Chicago) as every time I exclaimed enthusiastically, I'd hear them groan, and vice versa. What an exciting game.<br />
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The next day Birdie and I took a walk along one of the trails in Klamath Falls. It was pretty.<br />
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Then I made my way north with the end destination of Bend, Oregon for the night. I made the detour to Crater Lake to see it and just the drive up was impressive.<br />
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Already snow even in October.<br />
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Crater Lake is very pretty.<br />
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This was Birdie's first snow experience, and thankfully she liked it, given we ultimately did not go to California and this past winter was just snow on top of snow on top of snow.<br />
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Another mountain whose name I don't quite remember, though it was be something close to Tiffany Amber Thiessen, because that is the joke I made about it in my head at the time.<br />
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In Bend I went to one of its many brewpubs and had a sampler and a pizza while sitting by an outdoor fire on the patio.<br />
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Exhausted.<br />
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Then more driving. I stopped at Smith Rock State Park and we took a pretty solid and strenuous hike. Clearly a great place for rock climbing, but even if you want your feet solidly on the ground, it's a good spot.<br />
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Monkey Head.<br />
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On top of the world.<br />
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For the last few nights before actually getting back to the farm, I stayed in a funny little "hobbit dome" in Silver Creek, WA.<br />
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The view of the space from outside its main window. It was nicely tucked in the woods and I was allowed to use the wood stove and just enjoy the space, funnily decorated as it was.<br />
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I went out for a drive/hike and was struck by just how pretty the Pacific Northwest is. This was in Ranier country.<br />
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Bath tubs with views are the best.<br />
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Entrance to hobbit house.<br />
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The hike I took wended up and in and through some gorgeous forests with a number of streams and at least one waterfall. It wasn't quite the season for the waters to be totally rushing, but it was still wonderful. As usual I was on high alert for murderers, but saw none.<br />
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And that's basically a wrap on my fall driving adventures. I am so lucky to have been able to do this kind of thing. There are times when it's all I ever want to do, but alas one cannot make money just driving around and hiking and doing whatever they want all the time. A shame.cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-57027295072642519052017-05-16T14:41:00.001-04:002017-05-16T14:42:15.834-04:00Fall Farm Days (With Slaughter) and Road Trip Down WA, OR and CA Coasts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This post is dedicated to reader Dee, who recently commented that they wished I would post more:)<br />
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I returned to Washington in July of last year after visiting the family in Ohio. I immediately drove from the airport out to Sedro-Wooley, WA to take a look-see at some puppies. They were the half nieces and nephews of Coco and I was already certain I wanted one, but had second pick of the litter and had to actually decide on one. Of course there is no proof of this, as all the photos of that trip and the tiny pup I brought home a week later were only on my phone, which I smashed to bits accidentally at the end of a hike. So. Here we are in maybe September or October. The pup's name is Birdie, and you can see her in Anna's lap with her Aunt Coco. You will see her one million more times because I take one million photos of her most all of the time.<br />
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But first, one of my last Sundays working for the farm included my driving Alden to Seattle to meet up with his uncle. We took the ferry and choreographed perfect selfies. We had Breakfast at Hattie's Hat and generally enjoyed each other's company. When his uncle came to pick him up I had this realization that it might be near enough the last time I would ever see him, as I was going to be leaving his grandparents' farm and going who knows where exactly. It brought a few small tears to my eyes after they left. Alden's a great kid and I always enjoyed spending time with him and making weird jokes or singing weird songs or having him teach me not to be scared of a trampoline etc.<br />
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Beware. The photos after this one features the realities of how animals are killed in order to be tasty. If you aren't into that, scroll through for a bit and then it'll be back to puppies and beaches.<br />
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On another day Anna and I watched Erik kill and dress a lamb for (I think) a lamb roast (and if not that, then something else like it?). It was quick and done with little fuss. He shoots it first then slits its throat. I know that to some that's just hard to deal with or accept. But truly, the process was quick and the lamb suffered only in as far as it was dead. No prolonged pain or anything of the kind.<br />
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Birdie wasn't worried about any of it as long as she got to lap up some blood.<br />
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Skinning a lamb is a pretty intensive undertaking. I've seen it done a few times but never have done it myself. We had collectively thought that we had chosen a pretty plump looking lamb but as the skinning went on, we realized that some of the lamb's apparent heft was a result of its having had quite a substantial breakfast. This became more apparent when dealing with the intestines...and the at least ten pounds of partially digested hay that swooshed out of the lamb and splashed Rodo, who always liked to be quite close to this kind of action.<br />
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Right before the splash.<br />
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Anna and Birdie getting a little distance.<br />
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Another night I went over to Clare's for dinner. She made ribs and we drank wine and enjoyed their temporary house's view with cheese and crackers and other treats.<br />
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Birdie tried to play with her pup.<br />
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And later successfully humped him.<br />
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At another juncture Birdie and I went to Orcas island to meet up with M. and A. and A.'s father and little M.<br />
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They rented a house with a little pond tucked away at the end of a road. Good food and games and fun was had.<br />
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Little M. is a Catan natural.<br />
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Birdie wasn't sure exactly how she felt about this whole little person thing.<br />
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But little M. made multiple attempts at friendliness.<br />
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And also put on my shirt, my necklace, and at one point used my bra as a belt.<br />
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We took a small walk at Moran State Park.<br />
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Birdie gave M. a massage.<br />
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And I insisted we take a picture. M. was pretty pregnant at this point. Since then their second child was born...on my birthday! He and I will be birthday siblings for ever.<br />
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Then back to the farm where Lynn found an old holiday themed collar and gave it to Birdie, which she tolerated for a bit. It was like hearing Christmas coming at you no matter where you were. She loved Rodo, but Rodo didn't love her all that much.<br />
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Then I had to figure out what I was doing with my life. I had two possible gigs to decide between and made my way down 101 and 1 to check out a farm in California. I took my sweet time to really enjoy the drive in a way I hadn't really done in previous trips up and down the coast. First I took the Pt. Angeles ferry and went to a game park reserve thing.<br />
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It was a bit of a roller coaster. They start you out easy, driving by peacocks and coming across alpacas or llamas or the like (I bought a loaf of approved bread that I was then allowed to give to any animal). The rules were basically drive slow and only feed them the bread. The alpaca/llamas knew the drill and would saunter right up to and alongside the car but in an altogether aggressive way.<br />
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There were also elk. This is a baby elk booping Birdie.<br />
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And then there were the bison. Or buffalo? In that section there were a number of signs saying not to stop your car to feed them, that you had to keep driving slowly or all sorts of crazy would happen. I adhered to this, though driving slowly with a pup in your lap and animals around you and a burning desire to take photos does lead to some trouble. But then, what are you going to do? In any case, the series of photos beneath quite accurately captures the stages a solo driver with bread trying to take selfies with buffalo will probably experience.<br />
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1. Oh I can look nice while getting the buffalo into the photo. Great. I win at life.<br />
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2. Oh my, this buffalo really wants the bread and is gonna invade my personal space. That's kind of funny.<br />
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3. Oh my oh my oh my, really wants that bread and sure breathes hard.<br />
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4. Oh Jesus God. This is a BUFFALO and it is intent on getting into my car and I need to stop taking photos but I can't because these might be the last moments of my life.<br />
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5. FEAR. FEAR. Focus on driving. FEAR. How did this all go so terribly awry? I like this last one especially because I think you can really see the abject terror (and triple chin that always goes along with it) that I was at this point experiencing.<br />
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Buffalo didn't care one bit.<br />
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Back safely to baby elk.<br />
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Just one more time. When it was more fun and wacky than wacky and slightly terrifying.<br />
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I stayed in Port Angeles for the night in a motel I would not recommend. I went to a local seafood joint by a marina and that was that.<br />
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The next day I started out relatively early, as I had some miles to cover and a beach hike I wanted to fit into it all. This is some number of miles outside of Pt. Angeles, I forget if I had reached 101 yet or not.<br />
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And then I took a hike to Third Beach, sadly adhering to the 'no dogs' rule and leaving Birdie in the car. I thought I had timed it so I could be there for low tide and walk south to a waterfall...but I did not time it right and it was mid- to high-tide and I wasn't wearing waders, so no waterfall for me.<br />
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Still got to enjoy it. Saw a number of scruffy to really scruffy men on the beach. Thought about getting murdered. Didn't get murdered. Huzzah!<br />
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Farther down the road we pulled over at another beach that allowed dogs. Birdie was 100% super pumped.<br />
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Then, golly, we stayed somewhere in Washington. Westport I think. It was a fishing/crabbing hub. The motel I stayed in was no frills, but not sketchy. Birdie became a supine prairie dog.<br />
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The motel at sunset.<br />
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The next morning I scuttled right along. I think this is somewhere outside Raymond, WA.<br />
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Birdie was a fairly good traveller on this trip, but would get antsy. I found that if I stopped and either did a nice 3-7 mile hike with her, that would help...or if I just stopped at a beach and let her run her crazy out, that would work too. So, yeah, we were driving down the coast and most all of the photos are of me or my dog (or the both of us) at the beach.<br />
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Entertaining myself by looking terrible. Birdie is worried.<br />
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I'm no longer looking like I"m about to cry, Birdie remains perplexed.<br />
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Next stop was in Rockaway, Oregon, where I stopped at a place that sold oysters and crab and bought both.<br />
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I shucked my own oysters and enjoyed the pre-steamed (in front of me) Dungeness crab while watching the world series semi-final playoffs? I think? I think it was before the real series began. Or maybe the first game? Who cares really. Not me. I was livin' large regardless of what was on television.<br />
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Then I spent two nights in Yachats. I enjoyed the fermented options of Yachats brewing on one occasion, and a very little and no-frills seafood joint on another.<br />
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And, surprise surprise, Birdie and I took some walks on a beach or five.<br />
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Devil's Churn with random family.<br />
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Birdie with dead bird.<br />
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This is on a hike we took in Oregon in the dune country.<br />
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And these are some dunes and the pup. I don't think the photos I chose to post really capture the scale of the dunes. They were epic in some places and quite a bit of work out to climb up in some cases. Oh well. You should go sometime and see for yourself.<br />
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The interesting thing is that the dunes were actually a good number of miles away from the actual coast. We didn't actually make it all the way to the water, as the trail we were following got rather boggy and my hiking shoes aren't of the water-proof variety. Just hung out in the sand for a while and let Birdie run and run and run.<br />
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Birdie was sooooooo happy.<br />
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We made some new friends. This is outside the trees of mystery attraction, which we did not actually go and see. I've passed by it a few times and always think about actually stopping but then decide to just see trees for free.<br />
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And a big tree for free I did see. One of many, but this was an officially 'big tree.'<br />
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More big trees. In my previous drives in this area of 101/California, I'd mainly just driven and not allotted much time for actually walking amongst the trees. I was glad to make the time this round.<br />
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Because it was very pretty and lush and quiet and beautiful. Like truly the sound quality was just something else.<br />
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itttttty bitttty teeeeeny mushrooms! (my pinkie fingernail for scale)<br />
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Elk in the same place I see them every time, by a campground and a little red building that may or may not have been a school house at one time. Yes. That is true, near Trinidad California. We were not the only ones pulled over on the side of the road to look at elk being elk (which included some humping). There were at least six other cars. Some folks were much braver and walking out towards them...but I was reluctant to get all that close.<br />
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But not soooo reluctant that I didn't do a 'if I take a picture of you in front of the elk, will you take a picture of me in front of the elk' trade with a couple.<br />
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After my nice stay in Yachats, I went kind of motel-budget for my next two nights. Stayed in Brookings, Oregon where I had a nice meal at Oxenfre Gastropub. And then Ft. Bragg where I had middling fish tacos and stayed at a motel that had pretty impressive gardens for being a motel across the street from a McDonalds. But my next two nights were something far more special. I booked a little house via Airbnb in the woods outside Point Arena California, which if I remember correctly is in Mendocino County. The owners gave me fairly good directions to get there, but I did manage to get into almost an insurmountable pickle when I missed the (very subtle) right for the house's 'driveway' and continued down the unpaved and super bumpy road long enough that I knew I had gone too far. Almost got the car stuck. BUT DID NOT. TRIUMPH!<br />
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I couldn't get a decent photo, but from one of the windows you could just barely make out the horizon of ocean through miles and miles of trees. I ate cheese and drank wine and worked on one of my doodles. Snug as a bug while the less than ideal weather and mist did its thing outside.<br />
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This is a random not chronological photo. At some point back on the farm I gave a farm tour to two ladies and Birdie kind of came along. The one woman had a very nice photo and took a few pictures and a few weeks later sent me a few. This was one that I just loved.<br />
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And this is the ocean near Point Arena. Birdie and I went on a hike along the cliffs. It was stunning.<br />
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I felt properly California hippie.<br />
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The bed was lofted in the tiny house, and this is a view from it to the main area below.<br />
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And another window from the bed.<br />
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I continue to do these doodles, though during the holiday times in Ohio and Tennessee I started giving some away. But while in California I got kind of excited about how they could sort of be like a quilt.<br />
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Back on the road after two lovely nights in the tiny house. Seriously, I found myself wishing I could have stayed a week, a month, forever, in that cozy tucked away spot. Sheep and cows with ocean views. In a perfect world, this is what I would want for myself: a farm with good pasture land in such a spot like this, with a tiny (or semi-tiny) house similar to the one above. I've been thinking a lot about my goals as of late. Trying to be slightly more concrete in terms of their feasibility and location and whether I am at all capable of reaching any of them. One day I'm convinced that I should stay out west forever and figure out a way to have a little homestead farm that I'm not trying to make a living off of. Another day I'll think I should move east and be closer to family and friends and the many babies they're all producing. And then another day I'll think I should move to Hawaii and just eat avocados all the time. Money is, of course, a large part of the issue. It's so hard to actually make a profit or even break even when you're farming, and if you're living in a place where land is cheap it often means your farther away from markets where people will spend bigger bucks to buy your products. I love that the majority of my working life is spent doing physical work or interacting/caring for animals. It benefits my mental health and physical health as well as my body image. I was a plumper person when working in an office, and I struggled with accepting that version of my body. But also hated exercising just for the sake of exercising, and didn't do it. Out here though, I love how strong I feel and don't mind any of it. So if I bought a plot not with the goal of it being a sustaining source of income, what would I be doing to make money? And how would that impact my physical life if I was spending more time doing something more sedentary? Dilemmas.<br />
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I've also, for quite a number of years, even in Philadelphia, thought about being a foster parent. And as I get older and seemingly nowhere closer to finding a partner who might want to knock me up, the sense that I could be of use to kids in crisis grows stronger. But that, too, takes money and time and an extra layer of stability that I've not quite reached as of yet. Many thoughts I'm having these days.<br />
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I believe this was at a beach that had signs saying it was one of the most deadly in the state of California. Sneaker waves are a thing folks. We were not snuck upon and lived another day.<br />
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And then I reached the Marin County farm that I was thinking about joining. They were a goat and sheep dairy operation outside of Petaluma, and it was really interesting to visit a larger operation. They had about 80 sheep and close to 200 goats. Fascinating to see a larger milking set up and so many more acres of pasture. It was a beautiful place and I enjoyed meeting the many folks involved with the farm, but it ultimately didn't feel like quite the right choice for me as far as learning new farm things.<br />
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Pretty though.<br />
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<br />cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-58173096866294806272017-03-22T19:13:00.002-04:002017-03-22T19:18:58.151-04:002016 Photos Recently Found<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So I haven't bothered posting here in quite some time. This was in part due to having a lot to do in early 2016, and also that I had a whole big photo library loss (which is still unresolved in part), and found it sad that the images I most wanted to share seemed to be lost. I've found some of them and been less harsh to others, so here's a general load of photos from early January 2016 through around July 2016. </div>
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I helped Whit steal chickens in the dead of night at some point. In point of fact, it was neither the dead of night nor were we stealing them, but it felt like both things were true. Chickens were generally happy with their covered flatbed truck transportation.<br />
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This was the craziest thing to see in the lambing season of last year. A lamb born with one eye ball, no nose and no mouth really...that hole below the eyeball was basically the trachea/throat area. This little one did not survive. As someone who has seen quite a number of lambs born, nothing even close to this had ever been seen by me, nor was it something anyone else with more experience than me had seen either. While sad in the sense that it could not survive, it was also totally fascinating.<br />
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Lauren came to visit at some point in the year and I put her up in the apex of comfort: air mattress with two terriers.<br />
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Some newborn lambs for fun.<br />
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And more. At the new place I work, lambing hasn't started yet, and they are decidedly less hands-on or worried about it. I'm kind of bummed about that, as I really did enjoy being on hand and at call for lambs.<br />
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I dated this guy for a hot minute. He came up and visited a couple of times. Coco was happy to jump.<br />
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And the lambs were happy to eat his hat. Things didn't have all that much longevity as far as the two of us are concerned, but I'll always (until I forget, because it isn't that important) remember that I was with him in West Seattle when Leonardo DiCaprio won his first (only?!) Oscar.<br />
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I got another sheep skin last year and Coco was quite fond of it.<br />
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I still wore lipstick to markets.<br />
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The view continued to be great.<br />
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Some lovely ladies joined me for a Prima night, which were basically my favorite nights on Whidbey.<br />
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A. moved off the farm and into the home and family of his uncle, aunt and three cousins, which was quite good for him, but I did miss his presence. This was during one of his visits: we are stuffing our faces with cheeseballs, because of course we are.<br />
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One of the interns' dogs, Sadie, and Buddha.<br />
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Rodo didn't make it to the end of 2016, but he was a stalwart companion to me and so many others and will be forever missed.<br />
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I think this was in early spring, soon after Stan had his neck brace removed, but before he got his better wheelchair. A sunny day, a bunch of older gentlemen shooting the shit.<br />
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This child has always enjoyed wearing my shoes.<br />
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Spring in Seattle.<br />
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A visit with good friends.<br />
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I should really get my bangs trimmed, is what I think when I see this photo.<br />
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Andy came out from Ohio for work and we met up and took this stellar photo.<br />
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More proof of spring, I guess.<br />
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And sushi I had one time at some place.<br />
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Whitney and I got Lynn to come out with us one night when Stan was doing more rehab in Seattle. Unsurprisingly, it was at Prima.<br />
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My old porch view.<br />
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Rhododendrons in bloom.<br />
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Me happily dressed and made up to sling some cheese.<br />
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Meeting up with Tim after slinging cheese. Fairly certain we ate oysters.<br />
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It is still so not green where I am now, so this image is just hard to comprehend. So many lambs. So much lush greenery.<br />
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The two terriers that inspired me to get my own terrier.<br />
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Anna in the back of a truck full of lambs, shaking some gloves' hands for reasons known only to her.<br />
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There was a big benefit put on to raise funds for some of the financial burdens that were inescapable as a result of Stan's accident. This is Whitney and Stan outside the Bayview Community Center where the event (lots of music, food, drink, etc) was taking place.<br />
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I'm telling you, this kid loves my boots.<br />
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Lynn making cheese, Nelly peering in.<br />
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Archery shots on Stan's neck brace.<br />
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Me, Nelly and Ken after the fundraising event. Perhaps specifically after I offered them some of a joint I bought pre-rolled from a local dispensary. I'm fairly certain that for the rest of time they will think of me predominantly as the girl who got them very, very stoned. Which I guess is not the worst.<br />
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Two terriers in the milking parlor, each using one of my layers to soften their lying down experience. Neither looking super pumped about it.<br />
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I got a new tattoo.<br />
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I saw a duck and some baby ducks.<br />
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Whitney had a shindig at her place, maybe for her birthday? And this was a beautiful scene.<br />
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Fat Tony's parents came to Seattle and we met up for a quick drink and bite. Lovely folks, they are.<br />
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At some party on Whidbey at some point.<br />
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A watercolor I did.<br />
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Gabby, Rodo, and one of the baby birds she fed and raised.<br />
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Coco and the makings of a particularly yummy breakfast.<br />
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I visited Stokesberry farm at some point, and they showed us how their egg washer and sorter worked. Now that I am the eggwasher and sorter of another farm, this machine has gotten to be even more cool to me than it initially was.<br />
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Lambs on new pasture.<br />
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God the rainbows.<br />
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Found a baby rabbit.<br />
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Then traveled to Ohio and saw my semi-namesake for the first time since I initially met her when she was only a few days old.<br />
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After this I returned back to Washington and soon thereafter welcomed Birdie, my pup, into my life. And then I demolished my phone and hundreds of photos that were only stored on it, thus basically losing the rest of the summer and proof of Birdie's tiny-ness.cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-21251263719775884822016-05-14T14:02:00.000-04:002016-05-14T14:02:04.466-04:00WestwardI left Columbus and my new best baby friend and assorted family and started the drive back west in mid-December. My first stop was St. Louis. I think. It's been so long I'm not entirely sure. I stayed in a rather swank hotel, which had a lobby that used to be a train terminal and quite a light/Christmas display on its ceiling. The following photos, from the look of things, are not chronological. After St. Louis I think I may have stopped in Oklahoma City? Yes. I stayed in a decidedly dingy hotel there, but had a pretty authentic steak at <a href="http://www.cattlemensrestaurant.com/" target="_blank">Cattlemen's Steakhouse</a>, which was perhaps the most 'no frills' steak-centric establishment I've frequented. After that it was Tucumcari New Mexico. Then Santa Fe. Then Cottonwood, Arizona. Then? LA maybe? Ha. Geez.<br />
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I traveled I-40 for a good long part of the drive and decided that I'd get off at one point and drive about 25 miles on the true old Route 66. This was, shall we say, an idea I should have thought through a bit more. It was neat to see just how simultaneously desolate and beautiful the landscape can be, along with the many no-longer-lived-in houses, but the road itself was definitely sketchy. Not pavement. Not gravel. More like silt and mud. I drove no more than 30 miles per hour and fishtailed a good bit of it. I imagined getting stuck or sliding sideways and the dilemma I'd be in, but luckily I only had to imagine it, not live it. This is a photo of a building at the beginning of the stretch of 66 I traveled.<br />
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This I think is in Sonoma.<br />
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Oh my god there is absolutely no order to these photographs at all. I decided last minute to go through LA on my way up the coast, and managed to stop and see three people in one afternoon. First was L., whom I hadn't seen since she left the farm this past summer. I hung out with her and her friends for a bit and it was lovely.<br />
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These are some otters and otter babies I saw when I stayed the night in Morro Bay after departing LA. Oh they were the cutest of the cute. It was a true dream to see them all floating and frolicking. Morro Bay is okay by me and my hotel was very small but nice.<br />
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I met up with Dad in Berkeley. The weather wasn't entirely spectacular while we were there, but the sun did shine at one point or another.<br />
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We were able to enjoy some dim sum, though there were no carts. You just ordered off the menu.<br />
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Dad humored me and went to a nearby dart bar for some rounds. He won, which was impressive.<br />
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My double chin probably somewhere in New Mexico or Arizona.<br />
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I stopped to see the cadillacs in the middle of a field. I guess it was worth it.<br />
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Detail of Cadillac. Man it was muddy.<br />
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Another ghost town building on 66, a bit east of Tucumcari.<br />
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Further down the road on 66.<br />
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What my car looked like on the 66 road. Dirt. Loamy dirt. Loamy? Maybe not.<br />
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Another 66 picture. I lost one of those earrings and I'm sad about it. Not in the photo, in real life right now.<br />
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In Tucumcari I went to a dinosaur museum.<br />
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I had stopped in Tucumcari when I drove west the previous year. It's not really that much of a town, but the motel I stayed in that last time was lovely so I figured I'd return. Nice neon along the main drag. Not necessarily a place I'd want to live, but fine for an evening. I had chile rellenos for dinner.<br />
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The neon at the motel I stayed at. Very great place and well-run by its family of owners. Recommend.<br />
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The dirt buildup in my wheel well after the 66 drive.<br />
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Also in Tucumcari.<br />
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I decided to have a lighter driving day after Tucumcari and clocked in about 5 hours to get to Santa Fe. I went to its Audobon Center to see what I could see, but there was quite a bit of snow on the ground so I didn't wander or explore as much as I thought I might, nor did I see too many birds.<br />
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I stayed in a kind of kooky hotel in Santa Fe, which was next door to a store that I think was called Jackalope? This was the store's resident cat.<br />
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Somewhere. A train. This was at a rest stop. I really am not all that interested in the desert.<br />
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The same rest stop maybe?<br />
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This was in Arizona when I started heading south in the direction of Sedona. The photograph doesn't do it justice, it was a beautiful view with clouds and mountains and stuff.<br />
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Sedona. I wish I had more time and money and had done a little more true hiking/exploring, but mainly I just stopped in parking lots at looked at all the red rocks and whatnot from afar. Very pretty though.<br />
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Most hotels in Sedona were too pricy, so I ended up driving about 20 miles further away and stayed in Cottonwood, Arizona. My hotel was on the small main street, which boasted a number of wine tasting establishments as well as a few restaurants. My interest was piqued when I saw one wine tasting place also had a tarot card reader. So I ended up getting my cards read while enjoying a robust red. The woman was incredibly thorough - the reading was at least an hour long - but I'm not sure what I gained from it.<br />
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I believe this might be California on Route 10?<br />
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Yikes.<br />
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Also in LA I saw S. from college. He took me around the studio on which he works. This is a statue of Napoleon Dynamite, because obviously.<br />
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In LA oranges and lemons and avocados are growing on trees everywhere. I find this absolutely perfect.<br />
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This is along the PCH outside Malibu.<br />
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Back to Morro Bay and a heron I saw hanging out.<br />
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The big rock of Morro Bay.<br />
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Me in front of the big rock.<br />
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Water breaking over rocks in Morro Bay.<br />
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Me. Morro Bay. I think we all get it. Morro Bay was a good day.<br />
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Morro Bay at night.<br />
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Big Sur? California coast somewhere that's for sur. Heh. I am terrible.<br />
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Morro Bay. The above is probably Morro Bay as well, now that I think about it.<br />
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I was quite excited when I read that further north I would get to see elephant seals, and boy did they not disappoint. SO COOL. I really could have watched them for hours, but it was raining and I had to get somewhere.<br />
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Pleased as punch to be so near so many monstrously large animals. The fact that they can move at all is incredibly impressive.<br />
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Somewhere.<br />
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Maybe Big Sur?<br />
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Definitely Big Sur. Panorama shot. Another area I wish I cold have checked out far more than I did.<br />
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Dad and I went to a winery in Sonoma one day during the Berkeley times.<br />
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Geez I get chubby when I'm not at the farm.<br />
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Also in LA I played with M.Lady. We went to a holiday party thrown by a client of hers. It was fun and funny.<br />
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We saw a number of familiar faces in Berkeley.<br />
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A drawing I did to entertain some kids.<br />
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Christmas treat.<br />
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San Francisco seals. They seemed like they were content, but if I were them I'd prefer to be an elephant seal.<br />
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San Francisco cable car. The Berkeley/San Fran trip was totally marred by my hearing about Stan and his accident. It was hard to be in the 'now' when all I could think about is what they were going through in Washington.<br />
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That said, we did manage to have some pretty tasty sushi on this San Fran day.<br />
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Views of the Pacific? From a park in San Fran.<br />
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I went back to the dart bar on a different evening to play in a LOD. I didn't win, but it was nice nonetheless. Dart people are very similar no matter where you go. Such a strange hobby.<br />
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We went to Chez Panisse and had a lovely meal.<br />
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Me and a red wood tree.<br />
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This may be in Oregon.<br />
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This is definitely in Oregon as I started heading east and away from the coast. I saw some very, very pretty vistas and light and clouds on that day.<br />
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And that, apparently, is that.cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-19221402342464413472016-04-20T15:55:00.001-04:002016-04-20T15:55:25.997-04:00East Coast Parting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I had an unfortunate thing happen a month or so back...somehow a slew of photos I took after I returned to Philly from Florida suddenly disappeared from my computer and my life. Some were unimportant or not that big a deal to lose, but others I'm sorry to have lost. So here are some random photos from around that time, though not necessarily in chronological order. For example, when I left Philly to go to Tennessee for Thanksgiving, I rented a U-Haul truck and drove down. But there is no proof of that truck. Though the above photo does demonstrate that I got to visit my old home and see the Tebows. Well, there's no proof of the Tebows. In Tennessee I went through a few of the boxes I had lugged to a new storage unit and found my first ever passport.<br />
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Dad and I drank champagne and played a fair amount of cribbage.<br />
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In Philly C. and I went to Village Whiskey for burgers that made us happy.<br />
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Proof of bubbles and games.<br />
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A disgusting thing I saw in the Piggly Wiggly.<br />
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Another meet up with the mittens.<br />
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Misery.<br />
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I also returned for a second visit with Mr. Ass. He asked me if I'd help break down and butcher a buck he had recently killed. It was cool.<br />
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And ridiculously and macabre-ly photogenic.<br />
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After getting the deer into more manageable parts, the next day we further cut it into more reasonable cuts.<br />
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It was fun and productive.<br />
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The photos I lost that most sadden me are of my visit to Ohio, where I got to meet Cuz K. and A.'s little baby girl, who was no more than three or four days old when I arrived...I think? Her middle name is my name and I'm at least kind of a godmother/auntie and I love her and I basically just held her and read Harry Potter for the week I was there. I was so happy for them and their family and she was just a delight. What worries me a little is that I won't get to see her all the time and eventually she'll grow up and I'll be like, no you should still be able to fit in my arms. And she'll be all 'I don't even know who you are.' Or something.<br />
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Or, rather, this was the first meet up with the mittens. And then the photos above were from the second.<br />
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The ginkos were falling.<br />
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A great selfie of C., Brutus and me.<br />
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New hat and lipstick.<br />
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<br />cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-37253945536989083822016-01-14T15:27:00.003-05:002016-01-14T15:27:23.856-05:00Fall in Pennsylvania, Warm in FloridaAfter about a week in New York, I turned my attentions towards neighboring Pennsylvania and a number of faces and places that I wanted to see. My first stop was in Bucks County, to visit with Mr. Ass. We went to an arts and crafts fair, where I managed to restrain myself from buying as much jewelry as I wanted to.<br />
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The family dog, Pipo, has 'hot spots' and other surgical scars that needed to be left alone and not licked or picked at by the dog...and so she got her own weird Halloween face mask.<br />
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Almost the entirety of my time on the east coast was quite temperate. I could be wrong, but it really seemed like almost all the days were a bit warmer than any of us expected. But on this morning there was a touch of frost on the ground.<br />
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I did my weird drive-by lurking thing at my old high school. Took a photo and then left. Teenagers terrify me.<br />
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Some really great fall colors at Tyler State Park.<br />
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With the weather being so generally lovely, I went out to the family field and set myself up for a bit of reading. It was lovely. Made even more so when I heard a sound behind and to my right and found...<br />
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A rafter of wild turkeys! I don't know if they saw me initially and didn't care, or were slightly surprised when I moved a bit to try and take a slightly better photo.<br />
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Neat to see them walk by.<br />
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I look strangely sleepy here, which is crazy given how much sleep I got overall on this time away from the farm. I was very glad to catch up with Mr. Ass.<br />
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Then I went a little farther into Bucks County for another round of country sojourn wonder time. Complete with fire, of course.<br />
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I also hung out with M&A's dogs Ella and Panda.<br />
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And spent more time reading in the sun. On this particular day it was so warm you can see I was rocking a tank top.<br />
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And re-reading a little Vonnegut.<br />
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And seeing some geese.<br />
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Then it was on to Philly.<br />
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I first spent a few nights with C. and R. and Brutus. That first night we went and got tacos at a new spot that opened in...I forget which neighborhood, whichever one Johnny Brenda's is in.<br />
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And perhaps the next evening we walked to Modo Mio to meet up with a solid crew and get ourselves a delightful meal. It did not disappoint.<br />
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Afterwards we went to Druid's Keep for copious beers and darts.<br />
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Thug life.<br />
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Post-meal.<br />
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It was good to see everyone, including A. with whom I lived for my last two years in Philly. He's a solid funny dude.<br />
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It might seem as if LW, C. and I actually know that guy behind us...but we do not.<br />
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And no late beer/dart night would be complete without a drive to southernmost Philly for pho.<br />
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I've been slightly obsessed with the music of Brick+Mortar for about two years or so. My first year on the farm, I listened to their first full album many, many, many times. And their songs - old and newer - are still featured heavily in many of my playlists. They played in Seattle last summer/fall, but I was too busy at the time to see them. So when I saw that they'd be in Philly at the same time that I would be in Philly, I was determined not to miss the chance to see them live. They played at Milkboy, which is a nice and very small venue. They opened for a South African musician (who reminded me as some sort of cross of Hozier and some other man-bun wearing musician) and the majority of the crowd seemed to be there for the main act. But there was a solid group of us up at the front, singing along with all the songs and doing any sort of jumping or hand clapping that was asked of us.<br />
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I built up my courage to go tell them how cool I think they are and to tell them that many of the sheep would be quite familiar with some of their songs, due to how often I played them while milking. Then I asked if we could get a photo or two. And LW was kind enough to take them. And, ha ha, they didn't turn out so well.<br />
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The day after the show, I flew to Florida. This was a relatively impromptu/spontaneous turn of events, which initially came into being due to an invitation being extended to me. But, as with many things in my life, what actually happened was I went to Florida by myself after the invitation extender had last minute unavoidable work problems and commitments that made it impossible for him to actually go.<br />
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I could have just canceled, and really I probably should have, but I didn't, so Florida. The first day I got there was muggy but very rainy. I went to a place that advertised stone crabs, and went to sit outside at the bar even with the rain.<br />
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Crabs were pretty good...though I have had better....more tender? Maybe less cooked just by a few minutes?<br />
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I think this was my dinner that first night....SHRAMP.<br />
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The sun did come out just in time to come down that first day.<br />
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The next day was far sunnier and nicer. Bathing suit/swimming/sunning/walking and picking up shell weather.<br />
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All these shells had weird snail like things inside. Later in my trip I'd land my foot wrong on one of these shells while swimming, and it would dig a huge gash deep into my heel, which did not heal for weeks after my time in Florida came to a close.<br />
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I basically just sunned, ate and drank for four days. Often when I'm traveling I make temporary friends whilst completing these activities, but on this trip I really didn't. I think that may have been one of the reasons that I didn't totally love this trip. It just didn't really give me any interesting stories to tell past 'it was sunny and warm and that made me happy I guess.' Negative nelly over here.<br />
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But really it wasn't bad. On my way to the airport on my departure day, I went to a sunken garden in Tampa (I think it was Tampa) and saw some birds and some tortoises and some old trees and some pretty flowers.<br />
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<br />cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-24250475150881388912016-01-06T19:37:00.000-05:002016-01-06T19:37:31.842-05:00My Friend StanThe first person to greet and meet me at Glendale Shepherd was Stan. He ambled down the stairs of what would soon become my apartment and amiably greeted me. No muss. No fuss. Welcome. After a tour of the farm and introductions to a few others, we went to the family home and Stan offered me some choices as far as beverages were concerned. Water? Juice? Beer? Having just completed a not insignificant cross country drive, my true desire was very much for a beer. But this was a new place, new people, and I didn’t want to accept the beer if that would somehow be a misstep, a breaking of some unknown social test or pact…but I did anyway, and while no answer was the wrong answer, joining Stan in cracking open a beer was definitely a good beginning for us both.
I’ve started to write about the farm and my experiences here many times, and I often feel that I fail to fully describe the people, the work, the animals, the land. And I’m sure I’ll fail in the endeavor I’m currently trying to work on, which is just to reflect on the man who is Stan.
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A few days before Christmas Stan was cutting down a tree.
This is a thing that I’ve seen him do many a time over the two plus years that
I have known him, his wife Lynn, their son Erik, their grandson Alden and a
host of other family members, friends, and co-workers. He has been working in
the woods. Working with his hands. Working with saws and hammers and screw guns
and pulleys and carts and tractors and any number of other tools and machines, the
names of which I’ve never even known. He has been working with all of these
things for over 60 years. But on this particular day the tree fell bad and
wrong. Instead of totally falling away from Stan, who himself was walking in
the opposite direction from its planned downward trajectory, a portion of the
tree snapped back and began crashing towards him. It did not just crash towards
him. It crashed towards him and it hit him from great height and with great
speed and velocity. It crashed down on him, walloping him greatly in the head and
body, breaking or fracturing a number of vertebrae and rendering him wholly
unconscious. I was not there that day and would not be on the farm for nearly
two weeks after that event. </div>
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During the time when I knew this had happened, but was not
there to see Stan, Lynn, Erik or so many others who love Stan, I worried. I was
not particularly pleasant to be around, so engrossed was I in thinking many
parallel thoughts. I thought about who Stan is. I thought about what Stan does.
I thought about his relationships with his family and friends. I thought about
what gives him much joy, and how the joy he possesses he is always willing to
share. I googled information about the specific prognoses and outcomes of
injuries similar to his and a heaviness fell on my proverbial heart. I thought
about the big and little things he does to keep this place running. I thought
about his making breakfast for Alden almost every school morning. I thought about
how there was no object or device that he couldn’t create to meet a need Lynn
had, whether modifying Gatorade coolers so they have better on/off spouts to
building nearly every single structure one could see on the farm. I thought of
his love of beer and ping pong and the way he could make almost any activity
more fun, simply because he was a part of it. I thought about his creativity
and imagination. I thought about the oh so familiar vision of him ambling along
with a cart full of wood scraps, beer in hand, occasional throat clearing
cough. I thought of his puns and his voice and his humor and his immense
affability. I thought of his love of the outdoors, of working with his hands,
of introducing me (and so many others) to the many wonders of this plot of land
and sea. Of him crabbing and sawing and laughing and being. Of him on the
stratolounger, soaking up sun and taking a nap with at least one dog or friend. </div>
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I haven’t been back even a week, and the number of people
who reflect or verbalize many of my thoughts back to me is already many. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I truly believe that if you are a person
who meets Stan and doesn’t love him, there is something wrong with you. I don’t
care who you are. And so, here we are. Luckily, the world still has Stan in it.
But he is in the hospital. He is in the hospital with a serious injury that may
or may not allow him to make a full recovery. It is likely, at least in the
next months, if not longer, that he will be in a wheel chair. I have lived and
worked with Stan and his family for nearly two years. I am an employee and, I
would like to think, a friend. I’ve had the sad task of touching base with some
people who either hadn’t heard about the accident, or were unclear about the
extent of Stan’s injuries. And I see such sorrow in their eyes. A welling of
pain and sympathy they direct at me, so I can then somehow give it to Stan and
Lynn and Erik and Alden and so many others. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a terrible thing. An unthinkable thing. The full impact
of which is almost impossible to see this soon after an event that will forever
make us all think in terms of “BEFORE” and “AFTER.” But when I look into the
eyes of these many friends or acquaintances, processing the information for the
first time, I somehow wish to quell their sorrow by association<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(not to mention my own and, far more
importantly, Stan and his family). I somehow wish to make them see that Stan and
all of us around him are made of strong stuff. That while this is nearly the
worst possible thing that could have happened, we still have the man, and while
so many things will have to be changed or adjusted…raged at and wept at…I want
them (and really me too) not to think of all that is lost, but of all we have
already had and all we can yet have in relation to Stan.</div>
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I hate phrases like ‘what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger’
or ‘when a door closes and window opens.’ I hate phrases like this because it
denies the grief or loss or reality of whatever the hard, difficult, bad thing
is. It insists that we can only consider the upside, the silver lining. I hate
these phrases, but I do believe in carrying on. In doing what you can with
whatever you are given, good or bad. One cannot make the best out of a
situation that flat out sucks. But one can move forward, persevere and not let
the terribleness trump the goodness. I am probably seeming a bit contradictory
here, and I am fine with that. Because I am heartbroken by what has happened. I
do not want to accept that life for Stan – as far as mobility is concerned –
may never be the same. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I also
believe in him. I believe in his spirit and his humor and his kindness and his stubbornness
and his resilience. I believe in the possibility for him and us to find a way
to ensure that he is not diminished, even if new limitations are impossible to
avoid.</div>
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<br />cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-89886947506437529782016-01-05T12:50:00.004-05:002016-01-05T12:50:55.306-05:00New York Weddings and FriendsMy second eastward drive across the country had a final destination of Brooklyn, New York. I left on the 1st of October and arrived there on the 8th. The drive included a three night's stay in Columbus, which I could only manage by hauling relative ass on the first half of the journey. At this present moment in time, I have returned to the farm. Whenever I managed, on my eastward journey, to get off main roads, I had a much better sense of the true landscape and scale of the states in which I was driving. Interstate travel is certainly most efficient, and I would argue that you can still get a pretty good sense of a basic sense of a landscape. You just don't have any real idea of how far it that landscape goes on either side of the interstate. In any case, I got to NYC in one piece.<br />
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L. and Fat T. had Jesus on their fire escape.<br />
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They are grown ups with jobs, so while they were fulfilling their grown up responsibilities, I hung out in their apartment with their cat...who loves me.<br />
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See all the love in her eyes? It is all directed at me.<br />
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So good to see this face.<br />
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Both of these faces.<br />
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The main reason I had a fairly set date for my NYC arrival was because I needed to attend a wedding. I've known T. since our freshmen year of high school and it was his turn to get hitched. So I tried to make myself look presentable, with a solid assist from L.<br />
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And then I went to their wedding.<br />
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I got to see S. and a number of others whom I have known from high school or through staying in touch with T. during the years he attended Vassar and I attended Bard, which was just up the road.<br />
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The high school contingent.<br />
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The bride going up the stairs.<br />
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The happy couple. It was very neat to be included in this happy day and evening. I really liked all the ways they really made the wedding "their's." This included mixed gender wedding parties (men and women on the groom's and bride's side), the bride wearing green, the couple walking themselves down the aisle to a Nirvana song, the cake cutting being done to the main theme music of Jurassic Park, etc.<br />
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And then after the wedding I stayed in NYC for a bit and just enjoyed the company of many people I rarely get to see. Right before I took this photo of Fat T. on their building's roof, he said, literally, "for a minute I thought I wasn't wearing pants." This amused me greatly.<br />
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Another evening we went to L. and Fat T.'s friend A.'s house and met up with him as well as E. and her husband K. A. made a delicious dinner of multiple chickens and baked leeks.<br />
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We had many wishbone competitions.<br />
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I participated in two where this happened. So no wish for anyone.<br />
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L., on the other hand, got her wish.<br />
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E. and me? Not so much.<br />
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Out of order wedding photo.<br />
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Me playing with A.'s corgi.<br />
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A view from the fire escape.<br />
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On another evening R. came over to L. and Fat T.'s and joined us, and S., for a dinner I made. I think it was brined pork tenderloin with a variation on a chimmichurri. With maybe a kale salad and something else? R. and I grew up neighbors and it's always really great to see him. This is in part because he is a very funny and smart guy, and in part because we have many shared memories or takes on the people that populated our respective childhoods.<br />
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R.'s older sister believes that to make it clear that you are happy and having a good time in photographs, you should open your mouth as wide as possible. This was us giving that method a shot. I think we both look a little deranged...but we were having a good time, so maybe she's right?<br />
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I met up with R. the next day in Williamsburg to do further catch up, have some afternoon beers, and meet the very cool German Shepherd that he tends to.<br />
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Another night I had dinner with C. and K. and we had drinks afterwards. If you look carefully you can see them in the darkness of this photo.<br />
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And here you don't have to look as carefully to see all three of us.<br />
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Yet another night I met up with grad school comrades A. and L. I had seen L. last year when I came to NYC, but A. and I hadn't crossed paths since around 2007. A good meet up.<br />
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More time with Fatso.<br />
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Then I went to S. and C.'s house for dinner and to see Zul, my former cat who now resides with them. They call him Stampy.<br />
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I can't tell if he recognized me or cared at all. Any fantasy of him reacting to my arrival like the many videos of dogs losing their shit when they see their returning military owners....was quickly relegated to the fantasy trash can. Still. He is a good cat and I was glad to see that he seemed to generally be fitting into their lives.<br />
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Then we went out and met up with the recently married couple and a few more of their friends, and it was fun.<br />
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<br />cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-9548946923016117582015-11-28T14:30:00.001-05:002015-11-28T14:30:08.802-05:00On the Road Again: Cross Country DriveI left at a relatively early hour to begin my journey eastward. I had a fair amount of ground I wanted to travel. All of Washington, a bit of Idaho and then on into Montana for my first day of driving. I'd never really gone to the eastern side of Washington, and was surprised how the landscape changed once the Cascades were behind me. All these very round mogul-like hills. Sort of like oversized golf balls cut in half and then placed right on top of each other over and over again. This is a thing I saw outside of Pullman, Washington.<br />
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I'm fairly certain this is Idaho.<br />
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This, too, is Idaho. I do believe. I would have loved to see a number of these things in the spring or summer when it was green instead of brown. I also drove past a number of fields that had the remnants of sunflowers decaying and dried up, which I imagine would have been fairly spectacular to see when the flowers were actually in bloom.<br />
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I took major highways for a bit, but eventually dropped down onto smaller roads and eventually got on Route 12, which went through the Lolo National Forest and along the Lochsa River.<br />
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My final destination was <a href="http://www.lochsalodge.com/index.php/lochsa/lochsa_lodge" target="_blank">Lochsa Lodge</a>. Its website says it's in Idaho, but Googlemaps says it's in Montana, so I'm a little confused about the whole thing. I stayed in this little cabin, which came complete with a nice little stack of wood on its porch, which I totally dipped into in order to enjoy the wood burning stove within the cabin. The lodge had a little restaurant where I had dinner. A nice funny spot for an evening. I wish I had more time to explore, but, alas, I had to get up early the next day to continue the drive.<br />
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This is terribly blurry, but after a couple of hours I finally was definitely in Montana and stopped at a gas station to refuel and get a cup of coffee. And just hanging out near the pumps? One million turkeys. Also referred to as a rafter of turkeys.<br />
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I drove across Montana all that day. Wishing that I had the time to stop and actually get a bit of a better sense of what was off the highway. Alas, alas, alas.<br />
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This is either Montana or South Dakota. Not clear which.<br />
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I tried to get a better photo of this truck, because it had some weird shit going on. A blow up doll of the female variety, with hand cuffs, peaked out of a set of bars at the back...and then there was a lot of writing that I couldn't quite see. Weirded me out, that truck. Not funny.<br />
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This might be in Crow Agency, Montana. I took some smaller roads to make my way to my next destination, and boy did I see a lot of poverty. Not to mention horses totally unfenced in, grazing in the parking lot of a restaurant/casino. My destination on this day was Deadwood, SD. I stayed in a historic hotel in the center of the town. The room was dated but in a kind of neat way. The old lobby was just a warren of slot machines. I had some food at a nearby restaurant, but it wasn't particularly good or worth discussing.<br />
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And then I woke up super early to start off on another long day of driving. I made a few detours. First to Lead, SD to see a pit.<br />
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A mining pit. The morning started out looking quite beautiful. Sun in the air, not too cold. I had polled my Facebook network on whether I should bother seeing Mt. Rushmore, and the consensus was that I should...so after Lead, I began driving to Mt. Rushmore.<br />
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It was a pretty drive, but the clear skies disappeared and a fine drizzle and foggy low hanging clouds became the norm.<br />
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So much fog/cloudiness that the below photograph is my Mt. Rushmore experience. Couldn't see it at all. Zero percent visibility. I was a little annoyed that the Mt. Rushmore folks wouldn't warn us before we paid that we wouldn't be able to see anything. Just seems a little rude. Yes, we will take your $11 but what we won't tell you is that you won't be able to see a thing. I didn't even bother with any of the museums or gift shops. Just laughed at the ridiculousness of it and then made the even more questionable decision to see if Crazy Horse would be any more visible.<br />
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The upshot of going to Rushmore was that as I drove away, I got to see mama and baby mountain goats doing their thing along the road.<br />
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So fuzzy!<br />
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Crazy Horse was, of course, equally invisible. But the dude at the pay station let me turn around instead of charging me to see his fog.<br />
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Then I stopped at Wall Drug. A thing I guess I'm glad I did...but a thing I don't think I'll really ever do again.<br />
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And then I stopped to see a corn palace, which was unbelievably not worth my time. Seriously.<br />
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There was going to be a rodeo in the palace later that evening.<br />
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My thoughts on the palace.<br />
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I meant to get farther down the road than I did on this South Dakota day. I meant to get to Des Moines Iowa, but with the Mt. Rushmore/Crazy Horse side track, and then kind of crappy weather, I just didn't have it in me. So I stopped in Sioux City Iowa for the evening. I had some okay Thai food and then befriended a German couple at my hotel's very small bar. And then I went to bed and woke up super early and began driving again. This is the sunrise in Iowa.<br />
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I enjoyed driving through Iowa except for the copious anti-abortion signs in all the yards. My destination for that evening was Chicago.<br />
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And to Chicago I did go. I went and looked at the building I last lived in during my Chicago era. It was for sale and I could see that there were new windows and other updated/repaired features to the place. I lived on the second floor. Such a great apartment.<br />
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Then I made my way to Lake Michigan.<br />
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And after Lake Michigan I met up with a few grad school folks for dinner and conversation. Oh Chicago.<br />
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And then the next morning I woke up a bit later and made my way to Columbus, Ohio to see Cuz K. and family.<br />
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No trip to Columbus would be complete without a trip to the <a href="http://www.bookloft.com/" target="_blank">Book Loft</a>. Basically my favorite bookstore ever. I had a really lovely lunch at <a href="http://www.lindeys.com/Menus.aspx" target="_blank">Lindey's</a> after buying a few books.<br />
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After hauling ass for five days, I stayed put in Ohio for an extra night or two to spend time with the family and the pups, and to just take a break from hours spent sitting in a car.<br />
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We celebrated my uncle's birthday one evening.<br />
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Cuz K. was more pregnant than when she and A. came out to Whidbey in the summer, and I'm fairly certain she's even more pregnant now. A. also has a bun in the oven...but it may be a literal bun;) Cuz K. is due to have her baby girl in the next two weeks and I am super excited about this.<br />
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And then I was on the road once more. I wanted to stop at a Zanesville pottery store that my mother and I always stopped at when driving to Ohio, but I left too early and it wasn't open yet. This is an antique/junk store just down the road from the pottery place.<br />
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And this is me somewhere in Pennsylvania. This was my last day of cross country driving. I managed to get myself to Brooklyn in a relatively good time frame.<br />
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I've said it to countless people, and probably written it too, but I really am doing this whole 'cross country' drive thing wrong. I had a hard deadline for getting to New York (a wedding to be featured later) so I really couldn't take my time and explore or see much. I feel pretty hardcore about the ground I covered, but I do wish I could have been a little more spontaneous. Maybe hiked something. Or camped somewhere. Or driven only 5 hours a day instead of 8-12. I'd also like to do the drive with a friend at some point, which I am fairly certain would make it a bit more entertaining. All that grumping done, I do enjoy spending time driving up to a point. I had plenty of podcasts and books to listen to, so my mind was engaged. But for every photograph I did take, there were a few that I would have liked to take, but didn't stop to do so. America is a pretty big country.<br /><br />I will also gripe about how my fitness level has steadily declined since leaving the farm. I knew this would happen, as it happened last year too, but it's amazing how getting a little softer/gaining weight while losing muscle impacts my overall sense of self. One could argue that I could still keep in shape even off the farm, and that is a solid argument...except that I hate having to try to be fit. I like just having to work and the repercussions of the work being relatively toned arms and less of a gut. Wah wah wah. It's true though.cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-91042978821292890512015-10-26T15:35:00.001-04:002015-10-26T15:35:17.117-04:00Some of My Best Friends Are Dogs: Farm Times in Late Summer and Early Fall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I don't know what it is about gardening. I know it might seem as if I'd be very into it as a hobby or way of life. And I do believe a garden should be a part of my life, but I seem to be lacking almost any hue of green in my thumbs. My toes, elbows, knees, ear lobes, tip of my hose and any other part of me is equally free of any hint of the green color spectrum. Except maybe my veins? But let's put that aside. My veins have nothing to do with how well I may garden, or how much I want to do it. I took horticulture in high school as a senior elective. The teacher was a very enthusiastic man. Generally always looking to engage with his students. It verged on being over the top and almost strange, but Mark Wiley was certainly memorable for his desire to connect with his classes. He was also my teacher for the required freshmen 'Hydrology' class. A way of being introduced to the many arms of science through the unifying theme of water. I'm not sure I've really retained many of the science lessons offered in that year. But at 33, literally 20 years later, I do recall the following:<br />
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1. Watching Waterworld and his incredulity with the basic premise of being able to turn urine into water in the opening scene, but finding no way to do a similar thing with the salt water of the movie.<br />
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2. His telling us about watching a friend parachuting, and his parachute not opening, and the teacher watching this man fall to his death.<br />
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3. There was a unit on the Hoover Dam. Or maybe not the Hoover Dam. Some dam. And it was an activity that demanded that all students play a role in a sort of improvisational debate on whether it should be built. There were military experts, scientists, witnesses, etc. The desks were positioned (I think) in a horse shoe with a committee as its removed third side, a few feet away. One boy, playing the military expert and voice in the drama, was incredibly fascinated with the military and, independently of the assignment, already had a full military costume, which he wore for the duration of the mock debate. I forget if I was assigned, or if I requested it, but I was the local news journalist covering the proceedings. If I recall correctly, I created a daily newspaper covering the 2 or 3 days of testimony. I recall being rather light on facts, and including stray "articles" about the goldfish in the classroom. Or maybe I only thought about doing that? In any case, Mark was great to let me do the least science-y thing one could do in that situation.<br />
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3. He never pronounced my name right. Always Caro-linn as opposite to Caro-line.<br />
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4. During that horticulture class he found a nest with some eggs in it, which seemed to have fallen out of a tree or otherwise been separated from its respective mama bird. Mark randomly suggested that I take the eggs with me to my dorm, put them in some sort of container with some kind of insulating material, keep a lightbulb on them, and see if they would hatch. This is then a thing that I did. I forget the container, but I think I swathed them in a teeshirt or washcloth. I was pretty diligent about the lightbulb too. It was just a regular desk light lamp, but I positioned it what I thought was at the right distance to emanate heat and warmth without air boiling the eggs. I think at least two weeks passed. Maybe a month? Maybe longer. I have the habit now to put things off for huge swathes of time. Truly astoundingy in appropriate amounts of time. So it could have been two weeks, but it also could have been two months. In any event, some period of time lapsed. No baby birds pecked their way out of their egg encasing and into my haphazard man-made nest on the desk. Eventually I began to worry that the eggs might be rotting. I was fairly certain that there were not baby birds to wait for. I don't know why I didn't just throw them in the trash. A fear of the stink that could potentially emerge if broken and lingering in the hall garbage can? Hard to say at this point in time. But the solution to whatever reason that wasn't an option was to throw them out the window into the grass below on a night where it seemed likely to rain. The rain, honestly, may be something I just hope I thought of as opposed to actually having done. I didn't throw the eggs at the right speed and they ended up hitting building and pavement. I couldn't see just how bad the damage was, or if there was a stink to worry about, as I did this after our dorm's curfew. The next morning I awoke early and went down the flights of stairs and out a back door with much apprehension. Turned out that while the eggs had smashed, there was no offensive olfactory situation to feel guilt over. The eggs had landed close to the basement entry way to the school's day care, but had spared its stairs, so I didn't have to content with the feeling of shame that would have been caused if the day care people thought someone had tried to egg them. I should also mention that while they didn't smell, there also weren't fetal baby birds that I had sent to death. I don't know what lesson or outcome Mark Wiley thought would come out of sending me home with those eggs, but I'm sure I learned something. Not to throw eggs out of a window?**I started writing this in Ohio, got almost immediately sidetracked by writing about Mark, and then didn't even start to really write about anything related to the photos. Now I'm going to leave this unfinished rumination, which really was just a long reflection on the potential causes of my ambivalence about gardening when it seems like I should really like it. A large part of it, I think, may have to do with my the guy I dated one million years ago and his own good works in the gardening world. But let's not blame him.***<br />
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In any case, here is a video of Rodo and Coco being friends.<br />
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Oh, maybe my gardening rant had to do with this photo. Garlic was pulled and L. showed W. and L. how to braid it.<br />
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Rodo looking up at me while before I hoisted him up to the tent platform down at the beach.<br />
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View from my tent spot.<br />
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Morning tent sunrise view.<br />
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Rodo riding shotgun in the old truck.<br />
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Me holding the pelt of Mary Jane, whom we sent off with a number of others for slaughter. In about three months it will be tanned and soft and lovely.<br />
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L. and I went to a thrift store one day and I tried on some ridiculous dresses just for the fun of it. This reminded me of Belle's dress from Beauty and the Beast.<br />
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The ferry coming in one morning.<br />
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Me, post-farmers market, on a particularly windy day. Actually I think this was the day that it was so blustery that the market actually ended early out of fears of tents being blown asunder or trees crashing down on us all.<br />
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I returned to the farm then went to a party.<br />
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The painting I made for L. Her likes were space and bats and her dislike was moths.<br />
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The sheep swarming towards me and the hay-full tractor.<br />
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Lovely ladies sitting on a porch.<br />
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A delightful breakfast.<br />
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Another good bar/letter writing night, featuring an especially scrumptious burger.<br />
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Filsa either got a gnarly scratch or allergic reaction to something, which made her eye swell up something fierce. I gave her some meds and about a week or so later her eye was back to normal. She looks like such a bruiser.<br />
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Rainbow sheep.<br />
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Rodo and his boy on a sunny afternoon.<br />
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Playing cribbage with Coco.<br />
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Hanna, who was an intern here last year, returned for a visit and it was so lovely to see her.<br />
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Whitney holding up Coco like Simba.<br />
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The ten year old made Rodo a hammock and became just a head.<br />
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Another photo opportunity before Hanna departed, with bread.<br />
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Yup, all my best friends are dogs.<br />
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I used some blue coat on a sheep at some point, and accidentally got it all over my arm. Tattoo idea.<br />
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A pretty place I live indeed.<br />
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Danny, Matt and I did some feeder moving and sheep wrangling at some point. I had a sheep in my lap, Danny had a sheep in the back, Matt drove, and one million dogs followed us.<br />
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My view.<br />
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On another day I went to Seattle to pick up a large amount of processed lamb from the butcher. While I waited for the meet time, I went to a dim sum joint and ate myself some tasty dumplings.<br />
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Another view from the ferry.<br />
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And after a farmer's market, I enjoyed a few happy hour oysters.<br />
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Pretty flower.<br />
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Whitney was housesitting, so I came over, we grilled ourselves some dinner and played Cribbage.<br />
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I took the Christmas lights and paper cranes that Hayley had strung up in her place. I think it adds a nice added layer of ambiance to my life.<br />
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We put the rams in with the ewes to start the hump party and get them all knocked up. We put paint on the ram's chest so we can gauge who has been humped, and when.<br />
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Another wine and letter writing evening, with Clare's hand giving me a fake fuck you.<br />
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It's official. Washington State is where I live.<br />
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We had some baby bunnies born in September. Unfortunately they didn't make it.<br />
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Pretty freckled Paisley getting her eat on.<br />
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Stan and I took apart the panels he had put together on one of the trucks so he and Lynn could transport a ram from Montana to the farm.<br />
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Tasty, tasty hay.<br />
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In the final days before my departure from the farm I had many things to do, but I took a moment to enjoy the sun and beach and to more properly list all the many things I still needed to do.<br />
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In the last week or so of my time on the farm I made chile rellenos. They were pretty good, though a whole heck of a lot of work.<br />
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Beautiful.<br />
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Lizzie and the Buddha chilling on the porch.<br />
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Ping pong times in the ping pong room.<br />
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They are friends.<br />
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Close friends.<br />
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I'm not entirely sure what this was about.<br />
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Nor why I am covering my face.<br />
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Oh Rodo, my most faithful of farm friends.<br />
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I asked Whitney to watch my fish while I was gone, which meant I had to drive him to her place. I took a small detour for a small session at the beach, which I thought the fish might also enjoy.<br />
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Rodo came with me too.<br />
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Because he is basically my best friend. Ha ha. He is a dog.<br />
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And then suddenly I had only one last night before my cross country journey. W. and L. and I went to Prima together for some wine and tasty treats.<br />
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It was a lovely evening and a good way to wrap up a good season on the farm.<br />
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<br />cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-68592352858063941832015-09-07T13:45:00.003-04:002015-09-07T13:45:46.540-04:00Farm Scenes in July and AugustEarly July slid its way into mid-July, which morphed into late July, which is, at this time, a semi-distant memory. This year the farm had, personnel-wise, a lot of moving parts and a frequent changing of the faces and people I would see regularly in a farm/work context, which is also usually a farm/we all live here context. Different eras. It has kept things interesting, that's for sure. The boys left at some point in July. I made them paintings. N.'s likes were meteorites and weeping willows. His dislike was traffic.<br />
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On another night H., the boys and I all went to Hong Kong Gardens (AKA "The Top") for dinner.<br />
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L. and S. were kind enough to foot the bill and we had a lovely evening on one of the establishment's decks.<br />
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Not as much ping pong has been played this year, but corn hole has seen a comeback.<br />
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Before the boys left I took the opportunity of two extra sets of trained hands to get away for a few days. I went and visited J. near Sedro-Wooley. She was house/animal sitting for her sister. So I got to meet some new sheep.<br />
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It had been a long time since I had left the farm for more than 24 hours. And going more than an hour or so away (excluding trips to Seattle for farm-related markets or deliveries of pickups) hadn't really been something I'd done of late either. It was pure luxury to have a couple of strung together days where I could see a few new things and appreciate the beauty that is this general area. Seriously, Washington is great J. is also great for extending the invitation. I have zero complaints about the place I live in terms of the things I get to see on a daily basis, but I grew accustomed to water being my landscape's defining feature. Or mountains, properly snow capped, as a distant backdrop. Where we were, the foothills of those familiar backdrops suddenly loomed, ever present, and were in and of themselves impressive. And yet the overall landscape kind of demanded that you understood that these moderately sloped and non-snow capped "mountains" were but little hills in relation to Mt. Baker and its range. The next day after arriving at J.'s I drove to Baker Lake. I hadn't done a lot of research about it, but I like lakes, and I figured it'd be a fine way to spend part of an afternoon. I was right, though my expectations were slightly left of reality. I expected that there would be a quite obvious main parking area for day swimmers etc., and figured I'd check that out. But that wasn't quite the case. There were a number of turnoffs to campgrounds, but due to my lack of real research, I hadn't realized these also doubled as 'day use' locations, which led me to driving a good number of additional miles along the lake, past where the paved road turned to gravel and the turnoffs for maintained campgrounds ceased. I saw fewer and fewer cars or people. I did realize that there seemed to be a number of relatively worn paths that could lead to the lake if you were so inclined to follow them. So eventually that's what I did. But before that, these are some views I saw. <br />
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Finally I saw what looked like a promising path, parked my car along the road, walked a short distance down a steep embankment and found myself a pretty good spot. There was a culvert/stream and a lot of floating wood, but some solid fallen logs/trees right on the water were large and settled enough to set oneself up for a nice little afternoon.<br />
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The culvert/waterfall.<br />
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My particular view. I forget which book I was reading at the time, but I was enjoying it. </div>
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The road I drove. Definitely on the bumpier side.<br />
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The water had a turquoise shimmer to it. For being 'glacial' in nature, I didn't find it unbearably cold when I took a dip. In fact, at least in a sunny little spot along the shore, I'd say it was comparable to - if not warmer than - the sound. <br />
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I returned and J. and I hung out and then two of her friends came over and we grilled steaks and kabobs. All was good and right. <br />
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J.'s sister has at least 25 or so chickens that free range around her parcel. I was a little intimidated by the roosters, but nothing actually went wrong. <br />
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Pretty skies. <br />
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On my last day/evening to play around with, I was quite flummoxed as to how to spend it. Part of me wanted to waste money I don't really have and go to a nice hotel in Seattle and have fancy food and drinks. Another part of me wanted to camp somewhere pretty. Or to go to some remote but still fancy hotel. In the end I stopped in Anacortes to consider a hotel there, decided against it, went to a brewery for lunch and a beer sampler, then ultimately chose to camp at Deception Pass State Park for the evening. <br />
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I wouldn't say I loved the campground. It's understandably a destination park and the sites are quite close together...you can't really forget that you're actually surrounded by people. That said, I had a relatively quiet spot and enjoyed it. Just not enough to go back. <br />
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This photo was taken the day the boys left. You'll note that Coco is trying to attack my face with kisses and licks. <br />
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My view on one Ballard farmer's market day. <br />
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The sheep are never not entertaining. <br />
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And they can fly.<br />
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Oh the sad a final day of H.'s time on the farm. You can't see it, but she is receiving a 'farm diploma.'<br />
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We went to Langley for one last outing before I dropped her off at the airport shuttle. It was sad. And bubbly.<br />
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On the same or next evening after H.'s departure I went to Langley again to see D. and G. and their band play a show at the resident hipster-y restaurant in town. It was good. I enjoyed it and wasn't as scared by all the strangers as I sometimes am. <br />
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I made some more paintings. G.'s likes were smoking a chillum and "rockin' xylophones." His dislike was going on a cruise with his family and the song Sweet Home Alabama coming on multiple times. <br />
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W. had a birthday party and I saw this cat and bicycle.<br />
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I also insisted on photographs of the two of us, which came out only so-so. <br />
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Rodo gearing up to bark at Jett below. <br />
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I gave the chickens H.'s leftover lo mein.<br />
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Another day at the beach. <br />
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Coco gets a treat. <br />
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Sometimes I get a little scratched and beaten in my work. <br />
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Other times I see beautiful things. <br />
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A post-market meal...ramen! It was good. Though not great. Nothing quite as lovely as Ippudo or as satisfying as Nom Nom.<br />
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I've befriended (kind of) one of the many flower vendors at the markets we go to; he often will just give me a bouquet at the end of the day, which I love. But on this particular day I wanted to purchase some flowers for myself and my soon-to-be-visiting family. But he just handed me a whole bucket free of charge, which was wonderful.<br />
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Cuz K. and her hubby A. came to the farm for a few days. I showed them around in the golf cart after they arrived.<br />
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A. was really digging getting to help out a little. He came to the parlor for morning milking with me a few times and the sheep appreciated the care he took in giving them their morning's grain ration.<br />
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We wore our bibs...his he brought with him for this express purpose, mine he gave me for Christmas.<br />
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We did a little take on American Gothic.<br />
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Cuz K. has a bun in the oven, which is a weird way of saying she's pregnant. It was great to see her a little into her pregnancy and to be assured that even if she can't crack open a beer, we can still have good times together;) I can't wait to meet her little one and teach that little lass all sorts of farm-y, camp-y, artsy fartsy, foodie things. </div>
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Of course we played Rummy. Cuz K. actually had a score sheet we had started when we went to Jamaica, which we then continued in Tennessee and maybe Ohio too. Our plan is to keep this running tally until forever times.<br />
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Last year I never quite got around to getting my obligatory 'lying across all the sheep during milking' photo. This year I made sure not to make that mistake.<br />
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Another day I went to Goss Lake for a swim and reading session.<br />
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I finally set up my tent down at the beach for some nice beach sleeping times.<br />
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On one of the first of my evenings in the tent, I came down for a swim and then sat and got to see this.<br />
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Rainbows man. They're cool.<br />
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On another night W. and her friend M. came down and we had some drinks and chats by headlamp.<br />
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One morning sky.<br />
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An afternoon beach session with Rodo.<br />
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The view.<br />
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Dinner.<br />
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On my evenings of tentlife I'd usually set myself up, swim, read a while, then Rodo and I would take a long walk to stretch our legs before hunkering down for the evening.<br />
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These are all photos from some of those walks. While this side of the island doesn't get to see the sunset, it's still quite beautiful at the dusk/twilight portion of the day.</div>
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Some collected stones.<br />
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Another morning.<br />
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Rodo is pretty funny at the beach during the walks. He'll walk ahead of me, but will turn back every couple of minutes to make sure I'm still following.<br />
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Rocks in a huge mass of dirt/clay from a landslide.<br />
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One tent morning I woke up to Rodo and I totally spooning. He usually sleeps closer to my feet, so this was a surprise. I took a photo and closed my eyes to make it real.<br />
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Another day there were a number of sheep to deworm. I used a fancy contraption to do so a bit more quickly and B. - another new face - took this photo.<br />
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I made a slow cooked, wine braised lamb shoulder on one particularly rainy day.<br />
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Then went to karaoke with W., C., and a few other folks.<br />
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My farmer's market look on one Saturday.<br />
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Two slugs getting it on, I think?<br />
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Blackberries above my tent.<br />
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My attempt at enticing some lambs to eat some other blackberries...they were too skittish to realize the treat they were capable of getting.<br />
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New book, another tent night, post-swim.<br />
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A particularly beautiful morning sky. It's crazy how quickly the time goes, even now the sun is rising a good bit later than it was at this point in time.<br />
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The trail down the cliff to the beach is not for the faint of heart, and certain sections were getting a bit sketchy as far as being sturdy. The past month or so S. and an everchanging group of helpers have been shoring up some of the most troubled spots. On this particular day a good number of us all came down to do what we could.<br />
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Right before this photograph was taken, there were still stairs attached below of the stairs you can see. S. used a chainsaw to free them from being linked (as they were listing dangerously). Then we jumped. Just kidding, we didn't jump. We would have broken our legs, and no one wants that. Though when he was sawing and the stairs gave way, S. almost toppled with them, so it was good I was there kind of holding onto him. I saved him. Ish.<br />
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Hard to see it, but all those black specks on the water are birds. A flotilla of birds, if you will.<br />
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An eagle perched directly above me as I sit outside my tent.<br />
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B. left and L. came. On this particular night she may have permanently borrowed a glass from an establishment we had been earlier that evening. L. was a great and positive addition to the farm (she had been an intern here two seasons back). She increased the 'singing songs late at night while drinking beer' activity schedule quite a lot, and in a way I appreciated fully. Great girl. I was sorry to see her go.<br />
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On a day off I went to the mainland, watched a movie and ate Korean food.<br />
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A more muted morning sky.<br />
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The fires in Eastern Washington are creating enough smoke that we can see it here too, or at least we could. This was a morning where the smoke so played with the sun's light, it became neon and shifty.<br />
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Sheep in the chute.<br />
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Good ol' morning light.<br />
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So many bruises.<br />
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Coco in my laundry pile.<br />
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cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-78743436084218775542015-07-27T18:17:00.004-04:002015-07-27T18:17:52.870-04:00Summer Time Visits, Lounging Dogs, Bloody Sheep Heads <---Farm Life ContinuesJune was a pretty good month on the farm. H.'s boyfriend M. came for an extended visit, and it was quite lovely to add him to the relatively tiny social scene we have going on around the property. Also, the addition of N. and L. (two intrepid young men from Minnesota/Wisconsin) led to a more robust milking force, which gave me and H. a little break from doing quite so many shifts every week. When I started writing this post (before Blogger inexplicably deleted all of my text and made me start all over again) we had just said goodbye to H. And about two weeks or so before that we said goodbye to the boys. So it's kind of bittersweet to be recapping an era that has already and entirely come to an end. But such is farm life. On one evening the boys (which is how we refer to N. and L.) were going to sleep down at the beach with S. and A. H., M. and I weren't going to join for the sleeping portion, but we did come down for a visit <br />
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You can see their fire as a blip along the shoreline.<br />
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A. as fire seamonster.<br />
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My collection of mainly natural curiosities. From a deer's antlers found in New York State to our dear departed Penny's spurs and feathers. With Atlantic coast shells, Bahamian coral, Whidbey Island May Crown, cedar otter talisman made by W. for me, and paper cranes made by H. Altogether a pleasing display, says me.<br />
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In late May and most of June I found myself going on a number of dates with the same dude. On one such outing, we went to the beach and played cribbage, a game I only recently really learned. I won.<br />
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M., H. and me after dinner at the house one night.<br />
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What M., H. and Rodo look like when I'm standing on my porch and they're hanging out on the ground.<br />
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Elderberries I spied whilst driving a load of hay in the tractor.<br />
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Rodo found our new paper towel disposal system to work just as well as a bed. This is also a pretty good view of what one sees when milking sheep.<br />
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Last year there was much talk of L. and Fat T. coming to visit and play at the farm. There were tentative dates and everything...but in the end they went to Africa instead, which makes some sense. This year L. said she was really going to make it, and while I believed the sincerity of her desire to do so, I did not believe she was actually coming until she emailed me her confirmed plane tickets and itinerary. This is the photo I texted her on the day she was to come, which should illustrate how excited/chipmunky I felt about the whole thing. Fat T. couldn't come because he's too fat to fit on any plane, but maybe he'll lose some weight or they'll build bigger planes next year. Fingers crossed.<br />
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I picked L. up from the shuttle and drove her to the farm, where we quickly dropped her stuff off and then I took her on a tour of a life time...well, a tour of the farm. When showing her the 'upper lambs' we ran into S. filling up their water with panache.<br />
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Later that same day D. and G. were playing some music in Bayview, so L. and I went. It was entertaining and good as always, and allowed L. to see at least one small South Whidbey social ecosystem. This girl is just one of my all time faves, and having her finally see where I've been living and working for so many months was really exciting and important. She texted me from the highway impressed by the pretty, and I think became even moreso once she actually saw what the island can offer. Especially all the trees.<br />
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We took Rodo and Coco with us when we went and ran a farm errand and picked ourselves up some coffee. Coco is pretty intense with the face licking/biting. Rodo is generally not amused by her whatsoever.<br />
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And then it was time to show L. the beach.<br />
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I think we joined M., H. and A. down there...or they joined us? I forget the order. But we were all there and it was a good time.<br />
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Of course I wanted a photograph to prove that L. came and played. And of course H. is the master of taking many, many photographs when requested to do so. The following are just a few of the best from our friend photoshoot extravaganza. I kind of wish I had put the beer can down in at least one of them, but meh. RIP favorite sunglasses. You served me well at at least one Preakness and at least three summers.<br />
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Love love love.<br />
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We love each other and our double laugh chins love each other too.<br />
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And then we had M. take one million photographs of us as well...so many good ones I couldn't decide, so here are a bunch.<br />
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Boat and Ranier in the background.<br />
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Here I think we were going for 'tough' or 'stern.'<br />
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Moods that we all embody differently, apparently.<br />
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And M.'s selfie since he didn't get to be in any of the group shots.<br />
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We went to Langley at some other point in time and L. found a magical staff and demanded the sea to recede, which it did.<br />
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An evening sky.<br />
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On L.'s last night T. came up from Seattle and we had dinner on the farm and then hung out with everyone around a fire. The next morning I had to milk and this was the view from my bed: Rodo and T. on the air mattress, L. beside me. Have you heard of gravity hugs? No? Ask me about them because they are awesome.<br />
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A photo L. took of me delivering hay with Rodo. I was not posing as much as concentrating on not dying.<br />
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On another day ricotta was made. Sweet, sweet ricotta.<br />
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Totally out of order, from the first day L. came to the farm.<br />
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Garden poppies.<br />
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Another beach day. Another boy and his dog.<br />
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Tasty Prima foie gras.<br />
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Rodo spends more time in my comfy/ugly chair than I do.<br />
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The dates continued. This one featured darts. The games were all generally close, but I tended to clinch the bulls at the end of cricket. For example, double bull for the win. Eventually the dates ended. I think the best that can be said was that it was good for the most part, until it wasn't.<br />
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At some other point in time we moved about 40 sheep from one grazing area to another. With a smaller group we may have used a trailer, but we decided to walk 'em the 1/2 mile or so to the new digs. This was done generally well...only three sheep escaped our corralling forces.<br />
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But N., L. and I tracked them down, tackled them, and transported them to their rightful home via golf cart.<br />
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An always entertaining view.<br />
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More beach time funs.<br />
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N. built Rodo a nice little shade tent.<br />
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An abandoned robins' nest became a lived-in swallows nest on my porch. One baby either fell or was pushed out. The nest was too high up for me to be able to put Charlie (what I named the baby) back in, so until a taller person could come and give us an assist, Charlie and I hung out.<br />
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I braided H.'s hair one night and realized I should have been doing such things far sooner and far more often.<br />
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Another shot of me and Charlie...except you can barely see him.<br />
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"I find almost everyone interesting. Perhaps because it always strikes me as quite strange that any of us is alive." A line that resonated from Mary Gordon's The Love of My Youth. One of many, really.<br />
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More beach times.<br />
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One night, after milking, H. and I were having drinks on her porch, and then N. and L. came by, and then G. and D. came by. D. and H. guitared/sang some songs. G., who is adept at all things illustrative/artsy, did a sketch of the scene, which is exactly accurate.<br />
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When Coco comes to the milking parlor to get her share of the milk, we put her on top of the sheep to keep her from chewing any number of things she shouldn't chew. She doesn't love this.<br />
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E. dispatched a ram lamb at some point for a private roast. It's messy and bloody work, but also, to me, strangely beautiful.<br />
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Perhaps not the best next photo, but this is the delicious egg, bacon, tomato, lettuce, cheese and avocado sandwich I made for myself one morning after milking. De-fucking-licious.<br />
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An afternoon where somehow I ended up with a gaggle of guys all hanging out on my porch.<br />
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I realized that the wine chilling device NC Catherine gave me for Christmas a few years back doubles nicely as a beer chiller.<br />
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In my first attempt at writing/captioning this post, I wrote a bit about how I know my body isn't perfect, but that I'm generally pretty pleased with it nonetheless. I think I'm probably as fit as I've ever been in my life. Certainly leaps and bounds stronger than I ever was when I lived in Philly and sat at a desk nine million hours a week. I hate exercise with no purpose, but I love using my body and feeling strong when there is one. Usefulness remains key, and if the consequences include having the confidence to wear a bikini, well then it's really coming up Milhouse.<br />
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Zombie beer swagger gut machine.<br />
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I braved climbing a ladder and then another ladder to check the grain level in the silo. Pretty high up. A good and different view of a piece of the farm. And the giant spider that lives on the roof.<br />
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And that's that. I wish I could rewrite certain passages I had included in the first draft. Waxing on topics including how much I like L. and other such things. But I just don't have it in me.cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12645697.post-56337219463253463332015-06-08T23:58:00.002-04:002015-06-08T23:58:46.338-04:00Good Times Roll On, Farm-Style<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On a rather misty/rainy day I met up with W. and we went to Roaming Radish for snacks and a drink, and, it turns out, cake.<br />
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In case past posts hadn't led you to pick up on it, I like to go to the beach, and I spend a fair amount of time hanging with Rodo the Jack Russell. There is a hierarchy to his affection, which will always start with his true owner, E. But E. has a job and life off the farm, so often enough Rodo will deign to hang with me (or anyone else who he thinks will give him food and a soft place to lie down), but I will say that I am sometimes touched by Rodo's choice to follow me on any particular day. For example, this day. I think it was my day off, and I had run errands and then wanted to go take advantage of the sunny nice weather for a swim and a sit at the beach. I walked down the one big hill, through the ewes' pasture and through the gate that leads to the steep descent to the beach when I heard a whimpering noise above. So I turned around and went back up a bit to check and see what it was all about. Unbeknownst to me, apparently, Rodo had seen me start walking and decided to follow...but then hadn't announced his presence in time for me to wait for him at the gate. He wanted to go to the beach too. <br />
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And to the beach we went. I finished my former wine night/grad school comrade's (Lindsay Hunter) book, Ugly Girls, which is a good read for those who like reading.<br />
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On another morning, H. and I were milking, but when we looked up at some point, we noticed that the ewes that had already been milked were entirely not where they belonged. This led to a bit of a delay in finishing our last group of milkers, as well as some consternation as to how the heck they got out in the first place. Eventually all was put right in the world, but it wasn't without a bit of effort on the part of H., me and B.... especially because we didn't see where they were breaking out from the first time round, so they did it again. A little frustration, a little laughter, a little ultimate triumph.<br />
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Another romance movie painting.<br />
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We get asked a lot of questions at markets, many of which are entirely understandable and worth answering. But then there are some questions that are just hard to hear and keep a smile on your face. H. texted me from a market saying "I'm going to make a meme about how my face looks every time someone says our goats are so cute." This is because we have no goats, and all our signage prominently says sheep. So, yeah, we get a bit perplexed. This is the photo I texted her of what my inside face meme would be when such a statement was made.<br />
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Peony season is the best season of all.<br />
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Sheep selfies. Sheelfies.<br />
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Driving a golf cart with lambs or sheep in your lap will never get old.<br />
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Wine, salad and foie gras...with letter. Perfect.<br />
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Another trip to the beach, this one at a very low tide.<br />
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Low enough that we could walk out and pick up Dungeness crabs...and be slightly terrified that their claws would get us.<br />
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Then slightly more confident that they would not.<br />
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Then totally certain that we could kiss the beasts if we wanted.<br />
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Happiness. Also, I am wearing a romper.<br />
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You wouldn't think picking up crabs would be quite as entertaining as it was, but it was.<br />
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These are the good kind of times that keep rolling.<br />
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At one point S. and the dogs started doing a little circular run/jig. It was heartwarming.<br />
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T. and his gf M. came up to the farm from Seattle at the end of May. It was the first visit for both of them, but they were pretty game to muss themselves up a bit when saying hi to the sheepies.<br />
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Though I think T. worried a fair amount about getting shit on his shoes.<br />
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A morning view.<br />
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An afternoon view.<br />
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Even when they're falling apart, peonies are pretty.<br />
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S. flew in to visit with M&A&M and I met up with them in her hotel room for drinks and dinner. So nice to see them all. So glad I know them.<br />
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Slightly hard to see, but an eagle diving into the water to get a fish.<br />
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Slightly better proof.<br />
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Obligatory (to me) photos of me at the beach after taking a swim while wearing my new suit.<br />
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Coco and S. came down on this particular beach jaunt and also had some fun times.<br />
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Coco was wiped and took a nap on the log behind my set up.<br />
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Sun or shade. Sometimes a difficult choice.<br />
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L. and H. post-milking. I think this was a night that I was in charge of dinner and chose to make dinner grilling sausages on a fire. Because that is always the best kind of dinner.<br />
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Proof that I trepidatiously jump on the trampoline with A. from time to time.<br />
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L. and H. again.<br />
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A sign I saw on my way to the ferry one market morning.<br />
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The double yolk eggs aren't coming quite as frequently as last year, but they still do happen from time to time. H. is the best when it comes to taking photos. She has no fear or shame in just taking one million of them, which sometimes leads to me feeling like I'm walking around this life with a permanent triple chin...but other times I just have to be very strict in choosing from the many options she provides me.<br />
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This was me doing a double yolk egg jig. Also known as a dyej.<br />
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Sunscreen, beer, letters, beach. Never. Gets. Old.<br />
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H.'s boyfriend M. arrived on the farm late last week. I've been hearing so much about him for so long, that I really just decided he was already my friend. Unfortunately it turns out that he's a really unfunny, terrible person. Poor H.<br />
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And then this Saturday we took all the new folks on the farm (M. plus two new boys who are going to help us for a couple of weeks) to Goss Lake. A.-the-10-year-old came with and was not the only one to try out the rope swing. I did not try out the rope swing, but I did swim like no one was watching.<br />
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<br />cchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08647655060049339499noreply@blogger.com2