I meant to post this before Thanksgiving but since Christmas is coming, I think it still fits the season.
1. My faith
2. My family
3. My friends
4. A working vehicle
5. A roof over my head
6. Food to feed my hunger
7. Books to feed my imagination
8. Fellowship to feed my soul
9. My commitment to my health
10. The scale (FINALLY) going down.
11. Heat
12. Chocolate
13. Pasty
14. 'I Love You, Mommy.'
15. 'Mmmmm. Mmmmm. Mmmm.' (R speak for Love You Mommy)
16. 'I Love You, Hon.'
17. My wonderful pooches
18. Christmas carols
19. Holiday greetings
20. Pretty the Elf (on the shelf)
21. A fresh new snow
22. An empty sink
23. An empty dishwasher
24. A full cupboard of dishes
25. No laundry pile
26. A clean floor
27. Bedroom walls being constructed
28. Christmas stockings
29. Running water
30. Homemade Lasagna
31. Being the first one to open a jar of peanut butter
32. Friendly cows
33. Friendly calves
34. Homemade raspberry jam
35. Fresh bread
36. Art on the walls
37. A full bookshelf
38. Blueberry muffins
39. Chocolate cake
40. Cross-country skiing
41. Snowshoes
42. Sunny summer days
43. Misty Spring rains
44. Crisp Autumn afternoons
45. Sparkling Winter evenings
46. Christmas trees
47. Decking the halls
48. Christmas programs
49. The joy in a child's eyes as they take in all the seasonal festivities
50. The magic of the season
Friday, December 5, 2014
Friday, November 21, 2014
What's THAT noise?
'Slosh' goes the milk into the bucket.
'Ooof' goes the chore hand as she hefts 8 gallons of milk.
'Thunk' goes the door as it's opened.
'Brrr' goes the chore hand as she walks toward the barn through the chilly morning air.
'BAAAAAAAAA!' go the hungry hungry calves as they see their breakfast arriving.
'Vrrrrmmmmm' goes the skidsteer as another bale is unrolled for those hungry babies equally hungry mommas.
'Clank' go the headlocks as the cows reach for a tantalizing mouthful of hay.
'cluck buck buck' goes the lone barnyard hen as she scrabbles for a kernel or two of corn.
'peep' goes something nearby as the chore hand walks back for the remaining buckets of milk.
Wait....Peep? What goes PEEP in the middle of winter?
'Hon, come listen' says the chore hand.
'Where's a ladder' asks the farmer.
'What's making that noise' asks the chore hand.
'Two chicks. And there's 9 more eggs' says the farmer.
'Buck Buck Buck' says the now flustered momma hen as she shoos us away from her little family and nestles them back under her warm cozy feathers in her oh so cozy nest in a little hidden nook of the wall.
And so ends this morning's excitement at the barn.
(Whoever heard of a hen hatching chicks this time of year?)
'Ooof' goes the chore hand as she hefts 8 gallons of milk.
'Thunk' goes the door as it's opened.
'Brrr' goes the chore hand as she walks toward the barn through the chilly morning air.
'BAAAAAAAAA!' go the hungry hungry calves as they see their breakfast arriving.
'Vrrrrmmmmm' goes the skidsteer as another bale is unrolled for those hungry babies equally hungry mommas.
'Clank' go the headlocks as the cows reach for a tantalizing mouthful of hay.
'cluck buck buck' goes the lone barnyard hen as she scrabbles for a kernel or two of corn.
'peep' goes something nearby as the chore hand walks back for the remaining buckets of milk.
Wait....Peep? What goes PEEP in the middle of winter?
'Hon, come listen' says the chore hand.
'Where's a ladder' asks the farmer.
'What's making that noise' asks the chore hand.
'Two chicks. And there's 9 more eggs' says the farmer.
'Buck Buck Buck' says the now flustered momma hen as she shoos us away from her little family and nestles them back under her warm cozy feathers in her oh so cozy nest in a little hidden nook of the wall.
And so ends this morning's excitement at the barn.
(Whoever heard of a hen hatching chicks this time of year?)
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Kids at Play
I hear the rumbly Brrrrrrrruuuuummmm. Brrrrruuuuuuummmmm of a large piece of farm machinery starting up.
I hear a myriad of Moos, Honks, Baas, Neighs, Clucks, Meows coming from the barnyard.
I hear the farmer holler Who's hungry? as he heads out to the barn.
Tractors busily plowing, digging, spreading, combining, chopping, baling, or mowing fields.
Assorted barnyard animals live in a rather interestingly shaped barn.
A farmer busily feeds a bale to the small herd hungrily awaiting their morning grub.
To the two blond kids playing Barnyard, it doesn't matter that their animals are plastic and stand no higher than a few inches. It doesn't matter that their tractors are miniscule compared to the real deal and need 'hand power' to move. It doesn't matter that their fields are floors, chairs, couches and bales are blocks. It doesn't matter that their barns are made of Lincoln Logs.
In their imagination, their pint-sized living room farm is every bit as big and real as the one they really live on and they are farming just like their daddy.
I hear a myriad of Moos, Honks, Baas, Neighs, Clucks, Meows coming from the barnyard.
I hear the farmer holler Who's hungry? as he heads out to the barn.
Tractors busily plowing, digging, spreading, combining, chopping, baling, or mowing fields.
Assorted barnyard animals live in a rather interestingly shaped barn.
A farmer busily feeds a bale to the small herd hungrily awaiting their morning grub.
To the two blond kids playing Barnyard, it doesn't matter that their animals are plastic and stand no higher than a few inches. It doesn't matter that their tractors are miniscule compared to the real deal and need 'hand power' to move. It doesn't matter that their fields are floors, chairs, couches and bales are blocks. It doesn't matter that their barns are made of Lincoln Logs.
In their imagination, their pint-sized living room farm is every bit as big and real as the one they really live on and they are farming just like their daddy.
Friday, November 14, 2014
Morning Drive
Since we've moved the cows to their winter abode, I now have a commute longer than the 25 steps from my back door to the barn door. (Now, I take 5 steps to the van door and drive for 10 minutes.) Here's today's 'word picture' of that drive.
Crisp shivery air. Jack Frost has left his sparkly signature on everything in sight. Trees are wreathed in silver, the air is full of crystal haze, a dusting of snow shimmers the ground. There is a crunching underfoot as I scamper to my vehicle. Icicles tinkle as they snap loose from the van door and shatter on the ground. I noticed that all the nature sounds are clear and cold this morning while all the man-made sounds are low and grumbly. Like the van as it growls it's 'why are you starting me up on such a cooooooolllldddd morning?' rumble. (Also like the children of mine as they grudgingly roll out of their cozy warm beds, dress, and bundle for the chilly weather.)
Driving to the barn, you see signs of winter's arrival everywhere. The van thermometer showing a 'balmy' 4 degrees. Snow in the ditches, frost on the trees, ice on the ponds. The prickle in your nose as you breathe a bit too deeply of the brisk morning air.
At the barn, there's signs of Old Man Winter settling in as well. Snow dusted cows come walking in the barn, water tanks have frozen, calves bellow their disagreement at finding their feeders are cold (until warmed by the milk, that is), chore hands find chapped hands and cold toes a normal thing.
Yes, winter is here.
Crisp shivery air. Jack Frost has left his sparkly signature on everything in sight. Trees are wreathed in silver, the air is full of crystal haze, a dusting of snow shimmers the ground. There is a crunching underfoot as I scamper to my vehicle. Icicles tinkle as they snap loose from the van door and shatter on the ground. I noticed that all the nature sounds are clear and cold this morning while all the man-made sounds are low and grumbly. Like the van as it growls it's 'why are you starting me up on such a cooooooolllldddd morning?' rumble. (Also like the children of mine as they grudgingly roll out of their cozy warm beds, dress, and bundle for the chilly weather.)
Driving to the barn, you see signs of winter's arrival everywhere. The van thermometer showing a 'balmy' 4 degrees. Snow in the ditches, frost on the trees, ice on the ponds. The prickle in your nose as you breathe a bit too deeply of the brisk morning air.
At the barn, there's signs of Old Man Winter settling in as well. Snow dusted cows come walking in the barn, water tanks have frozen, calves bellow their disagreement at finding their feeders are cold (until warmed by the milk, that is), chore hands find chapped hands and cold toes a normal thing.
Yes, winter is here.
Friday, October 24, 2014
The End
Not The End as in the end of this blog or the end of a book or the end of an era.
No I mean The End of chores. Another milking time is done. Calves are fed, cows are milked, and everything is cleaned. Tidy. Sprayed, scrubbed, and put away. The clatter and hum of the pump is quieted. There's the clank of metal pipes as cows reach their noses through the rails to nab that scrumptious bit of hay. There's the chuff of a contented calf chewing her cud.
And I'm filled with the rewarding feeling of another job completed. Until the next milking anyway.
No I mean The End of chores. Another milking time is done. Calves are fed, cows are milked, and everything is cleaned. Tidy. Sprayed, scrubbed, and put away. The clatter and hum of the pump is quieted. There's the clank of metal pipes as cows reach their noses through the rails to nab that scrumptious bit of hay. There's the chuff of a contented calf chewing her cud.
And I'm filled with the rewarding feeling of another job completed. Until the next milking anyway.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Hungry Calves
Maaaaa! Bellering babies want to be fed and they let me know especially loudly once they see me coming weighted down with buckets of milk. They jostle and nudge each other in a constant attempt to be the first one fed, the one who is lucky enough slurp down the first gulp of moo juice. My multi-colored 'bebbies' are always eager for some attention, especially if that attention comes at mealtime and I'm carrying a five gallon bucket. Head butting, scampering, yelling their hunger-pretty much they sound like kids at suppertime.
As I dump their milk into their feeders, I see reds, browns, whites, blacks, and the odd grey. Our multi-colored calves are the result of cross-breeding and I love our 'rainbow' herd. We have big calves and little calves, hyperactive calves and calm calves, sneaky calves and silly calves. But no matter the coloring, the size, or the temperament, they are all the same at feeding time. HUNGRY.
As I dump their milk into their feeders, I see reds, browns, whites, blacks, and the odd grey. Our multi-colored calves are the result of cross-breeding and I love our 'rainbow' herd. We have big calves and little calves, hyperactive calves and calm calves, sneaky calves and silly calves. But no matter the coloring, the size, or the temperament, they are all the same at feeding time. HUNGRY.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Slightly New Directions
I started this blog with the intention of posting on daily life on the farm. Well, that didn't pan out like I thought. Mostly since my days are pretty run of the mill and daily posts would read something like "Got up, milked cows, ate breakfast, cleaned house/washed dishes/folded laundry/etc., milked cows, made supper, went to bed." Pretty boring stuff, right? So if I'm not writing about farm life, what does a farm wife/mom write about on a blog titled Dairy Farm Days?
This is something I've pondered for a very long time. If I'm not writing about daily farm life, then where do I want to go with this blog? Do I shut it down? Do I just say Goodbye? Or do I try something new? And if so, what can I do? How 'new' do I want to go?
I thought maybe I could do a daily photo of something on the farm but that idea tanked quickly. First I'm not a photographer and second, I don't have a working camera at the moment. Plus, I really like to write. I just struggle with writing unless I have a topic firmly in mind and I'm not so good at figuring out those. I do best when someone else says 'Write about THIS." So I sat down and listed what I like about writing and topics I could potentially cover. The topics list was short. Pretty much, it wasn't a list since there wasn't anything on it. But the other list was filled with things like describing a scene, making people laugh, using long words because they fascinate me, being sarcastic but in a humorous way. It was a list of things that showed my writing style and my love for words.
I know I'm not meant to write a novel. I've tried and even short stories stump me. I can't come up with plot points, I spend too much time describing the scene and not what the characters are doing, and I get too bored with it far too fast. I don't write poetry because (as my creative writing teacher in college kept telling me) I'm too literal and structured in my writing style and descriptions. (though I suppose it didn't help that he was a free-form poet whereas I like meter and rhyme) And honestly, I don't like writing poetry. I did write a children's book and enjoyed that but I can't see how that could/would translate to my blog since most of my story is told by the pictures, not the words. So I was back to square one.
Until I took a recent walk. As I was meandering down the road, I realized I was creating a word picture in my mind of the scenes I was seeing. And there was my Aha! moment. I could take a mental snapshot of a moment in my day and write a description of that moment. I'd be fulfilling my love of descriptive writing AND I'd be staying true to my blog title for the most part since many of my daily moments are farm related.
So that's where I'm heading with this blog. I'm going to 'paint' pictures with words. I can't promise that they will be good. I can't say how long or short or cohesive they will be. I'm going to simply sit down and write about an instant, a mental image of something in my day and we'll see where this goes.
And with that, here's the first installment.
Farm Sounds.
Clink. Swoosh. Chunk. Whirr. Tap. Shlurrpp. All the different noises of the milkers as they do their job. There's the hiss of the air as the milker turns on, the woosh of the milk running through the lines, the thunk of the pump turning on. It's a comforting conglomeration of sounds that makes up milking. Regular and rhythmic, these noises are like the steady drumbeat of a marching band's bass drum, they are a lullaby that soothes my babies into a morning or evening nap, they are the background sounds that accompany my mornings and evenings. There's the huff of a cow sighing her contentment, the click of her hoof on the cement floor, the shwip of her tail as she lazily flicks it through the air. There's the squishy sound of rubber barn boots on concrete as we busy beaver chore helpers move through our routines, the crunch of a cow chewing her cud, and sometimes the bellow of an impatient and hungry cow letting us all know she wants supper NOW. There is the Baaaa-aaaas and Maaaa-aaaas of thirsty calves, the clank of metal as they jostle against the gates as they see me approaching with a bucket of milk, the crackle and crunch of dead leaves underfoot as I walk to the calf pens, and the rustle of an autumn breeze through the dry grasses is accompaniment to the slosh of milk being dumped into the feeders. There's the rumble of tractors and trucks telling us that someone is off to do something farm-related, the grumble of the skid-steer as it's busily maneuvered around the barn, and the hum of the milking system as it's going through a wash cycle after chores. There's the beep of the computer telling the driver a bale is done and the whirr of the baler opening up. There's the happy yells and squeals as excited children are allowed to join their Daddy in the tractor for a round or two in the field. There's the cluck of chickens as they busily hunt for that one last bug before settling into the coop for the night, the woof of a farm dog as he trees that chattering chipmunk after a quick chase around outside of the grain bin, and the occasional bird chirp, twitter, or honk as birds go about their lives.
And at the end of the day, there's the sound of quiet. All is quiet and calm on the farm.
This is something I've pondered for a very long time. If I'm not writing about daily farm life, then where do I want to go with this blog? Do I shut it down? Do I just say Goodbye? Or do I try something new? And if so, what can I do? How 'new' do I want to go?
I thought maybe I could do a daily photo of something on the farm but that idea tanked quickly. First I'm not a photographer and second, I don't have a working camera at the moment. Plus, I really like to write. I just struggle with writing unless I have a topic firmly in mind and I'm not so good at figuring out those. I do best when someone else says 'Write about THIS." So I sat down and listed what I like about writing and topics I could potentially cover. The topics list was short. Pretty much, it wasn't a list since there wasn't anything on it. But the other list was filled with things like describing a scene, making people laugh, using long words because they fascinate me, being sarcastic but in a humorous way. It was a list of things that showed my writing style and my love for words.
I know I'm not meant to write a novel. I've tried and even short stories stump me. I can't come up with plot points, I spend too much time describing the scene and not what the characters are doing, and I get too bored with it far too fast. I don't write poetry because (as my creative writing teacher in college kept telling me) I'm too literal and structured in my writing style and descriptions. (though I suppose it didn't help that he was a free-form poet whereas I like meter and rhyme) And honestly, I don't like writing poetry. I did write a children's book and enjoyed that but I can't see how that could/would translate to my blog since most of my story is told by the pictures, not the words. So I was back to square one.
Until I took a recent walk. As I was meandering down the road, I realized I was creating a word picture in my mind of the scenes I was seeing. And there was my Aha! moment. I could take a mental snapshot of a moment in my day and write a description of that moment. I'd be fulfilling my love of descriptive writing AND I'd be staying true to my blog title for the most part since many of my daily moments are farm related.
So that's where I'm heading with this blog. I'm going to 'paint' pictures with words. I can't promise that they will be good. I can't say how long or short or cohesive they will be. I'm going to simply sit down and write about an instant, a mental image of something in my day and we'll see where this goes.
And with that, here's the first installment.
Farm Sounds.
Clink. Swoosh. Chunk. Whirr. Tap. Shlurrpp. All the different noises of the milkers as they do their job. There's the hiss of the air as the milker turns on, the woosh of the milk running through the lines, the thunk of the pump turning on. It's a comforting conglomeration of sounds that makes up milking. Regular and rhythmic, these noises are like the steady drumbeat of a marching band's bass drum, they are a lullaby that soothes my babies into a morning or evening nap, they are the background sounds that accompany my mornings and evenings. There's the huff of a cow sighing her contentment, the click of her hoof on the cement floor, the shwip of her tail as she lazily flicks it through the air. There's the squishy sound of rubber barn boots on concrete as we busy beaver chore helpers move through our routines, the crunch of a cow chewing her cud, and sometimes the bellow of an impatient and hungry cow letting us all know she wants supper NOW. There is the Baaaa-aaaas and Maaaa-aaaas of thirsty calves, the clank of metal as they jostle against the gates as they see me approaching with a bucket of milk, the crackle and crunch of dead leaves underfoot as I walk to the calf pens, and the rustle of an autumn breeze through the dry grasses is accompaniment to the slosh of milk being dumped into the feeders. There's the rumble of tractors and trucks telling us that someone is off to do something farm-related, the grumble of the skid-steer as it's busily maneuvered around the barn, and the hum of the milking system as it's going through a wash cycle after chores. There's the beep of the computer telling the driver a bale is done and the whirr of the baler opening up. There's the happy yells and squeals as excited children are allowed to join their Daddy in the tractor for a round or two in the field. There's the cluck of chickens as they busily hunt for that one last bug before settling into the coop for the night, the woof of a farm dog as he trees that chattering chipmunk after a quick chase around outside of the grain bin, and the occasional bird chirp, twitter, or honk as birds go about their lives.
And at the end of the day, there's the sound of quiet. All is quiet and calm on the farm.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Quirky Cows and Other Tails
Cows may seem like benign farm animals and 95% of the time, they are. It doesn't take much to make a contented cow-a nice fresh grassy patch to graze, a cool drink of water now and then, and a cozy little spot to plunk down on for a quick snooze.
The thing is cows have quirks too. They can be extremely curious. You know that thing that kills the cat? A cow can be just that bad. Go stand out in a pasture of cows and within five minutes, they'll all be gathered round like you are the town crier and have a juicy bit of bovine gossip to share. I've seen them chase any number of birds (including eagles), the dogs, and any other animal that ventures into their paddock simply because they want a closer look. They also like the game Follow The Leader. I'm serious. Get one cow moving in any direction and before long the herd is at her heels. She stops, they stop. She turns, they turn. (This can lead to trouble if the lead cow turns out a gate that accidentally got left open...)
And then you get the extra quirky cows. We have one who thinks the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. It doesn't matter if that other side is the paddock she just vacated or if it's a weed filled ditch. It must be better because it's on the other side. So she goes down on her knees and with her backside hoisted high in the air inches under the wire just far enough to snag that juicy morsel of grass without getting a hefty zap from the electric fence. Smart cow or dumb cow I can't decide.
L has a picture of another bovine who decided to 'dress up' a little. She was inspecting a tire left out in the field, decided it was as good a spot as any to scratch that itch way back on her heck and bloop! the tire slid over her head and she was fashionably at-tired (pardon the pun) for milking with a rubber necklace. (And I have it on good authority that it was easier said than done to remove said adornment. The cow was a little attached to her accessory and didn't want to give it up but she was finally convinced that she didn't need to be prettied up for milking.)
We have another cow who hurdled fences with the ease of an Olympic track star simply because she decided it was more fun to see the humans chasing after her than it was to go into the parlor for milking. Twenty minutes, three fences, two gates, and several laps (both on foot and on an ATV) around the pasture, she decided to take pity on the huffing and puffing chore help and meekly walked into the parlor. Every other year or so, she has to test her jumping ability and see if she can still clear that cattle gate or electric fence though she's stopped leading us on a merry chase.
And then you get the absolutely nutso cows. I mean out-right loony. And not just during full moons...
Last summer, the Craziest Cow in the Herd award was shared by two. The first was a young heifer who decided that even though she was a mom herself, she was going back to her baby days. We kept catching her suckling on another cow and no amount of persuasion (or dissuasion) would make her stop. The second was the cow she was nursing from. That one was due to calve in a few months and somehow decided this overgrown baby was hers. We ended up shipping the younger one because she couldn't quit and we sorta wanted the milk she was guzzling in our bulk tank, not hers. So off she went.
This year, another 'Momma' cow is a shoo-in for the 'Crazy Cow' award. We have a full-grown cow who suddenly decided the also full grown breeding bull was her baby. One day, she ignored him and went about her daily business. The next, she turned into a jealous mother. She spends her day mooing gently in his ear, keeping him safely corralled at her side so he can't hurt himself, and tends to his every need. She doesn't think he's old enough to leave her side for even five minutes which interferes quite a bit with his whole purpose for being in the herd. She's jumped fences, tried to sneak through a wood barricade, and attempted to wiggle under some metal pipes all in an effort to get back to her 'little' boy. We'll see if she settles down once bully boy is hauled away for a few months as we're at the end of our Fall breeding season.
And it's all just another day on the farm...
The thing is cows have quirks too. They can be extremely curious. You know that thing that kills the cat? A cow can be just that bad. Go stand out in a pasture of cows and within five minutes, they'll all be gathered round like you are the town crier and have a juicy bit of bovine gossip to share. I've seen them chase any number of birds (including eagles), the dogs, and any other animal that ventures into their paddock simply because they want a closer look. They also like the game Follow The Leader. I'm serious. Get one cow moving in any direction and before long the herd is at her heels. She stops, they stop. She turns, they turn. (This can lead to trouble if the lead cow turns out a gate that accidentally got left open...)
And then you get the extra quirky cows. We have one who thinks the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. It doesn't matter if that other side is the paddock she just vacated or if it's a weed filled ditch. It must be better because it's on the other side. So she goes down on her knees and with her backside hoisted high in the air inches under the wire just far enough to snag that juicy morsel of grass without getting a hefty zap from the electric fence. Smart cow or dumb cow I can't decide.
L has a picture of another bovine who decided to 'dress up' a little. She was inspecting a tire left out in the field, decided it was as good a spot as any to scratch that itch way back on her heck and bloop! the tire slid over her head and she was fashionably at-tired (pardon the pun) for milking with a rubber necklace. (And I have it on good authority that it was easier said than done to remove said adornment. The cow was a little attached to her accessory and didn't want to give it up but she was finally convinced that she didn't need to be prettied up for milking.)
We have another cow who hurdled fences with the ease of an Olympic track star simply because she decided it was more fun to see the humans chasing after her than it was to go into the parlor for milking. Twenty minutes, three fences, two gates, and several laps (both on foot and on an ATV) around the pasture, she decided to take pity on the huffing and puffing chore help and meekly walked into the parlor. Every other year or so, she has to test her jumping ability and see if she can still clear that cattle gate or electric fence though she's stopped leading us on a merry chase.
And then you get the absolutely nutso cows. I mean out-right loony. And not just during full moons...
Last summer, the Craziest Cow in the Herd award was shared by two. The first was a young heifer who decided that even though she was a mom herself, she was going back to her baby days. We kept catching her suckling on another cow and no amount of persuasion (or dissuasion) would make her stop. The second was the cow she was nursing from. That one was due to calve in a few months and somehow decided this overgrown baby was hers. We ended up shipping the younger one because she couldn't quit and we sorta wanted the milk she was guzzling in our bulk tank, not hers. So off she went.
This year, another 'Momma' cow is a shoo-in for the 'Crazy Cow' award. We have a full-grown cow who suddenly decided the also full grown breeding bull was her baby. One day, she ignored him and went about her daily business. The next, she turned into a jealous mother. She spends her day mooing gently in his ear, keeping him safely corralled at her side so he can't hurt himself, and tends to his every need. She doesn't think he's old enough to leave her side for even five minutes which interferes quite a bit with his whole purpose for being in the herd. She's jumped fences, tried to sneak through a wood barricade, and attempted to wiggle under some metal pipes all in an effort to get back to her 'little' boy. We'll see if she settles down once bully boy is hauled away for a few months as we're at the end of our Fall breeding season.
And it's all just another day on the farm...
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Meanwhile back on the farm...
The kids recently enjoyed a nice holiday trip to my parent's house. They had a BLAST to say the least and even a sliced open knee that resulted in an evening run to the ER and several stitches for V (who is quite proud of his 'ouchie' actually and has to announce this fact to anyone and everyone) couldn't put a damper on their fun.
Meanwhile, back on the farm...We (as in L and I) were busy busy beavers. We emptied out our old bedroom and cleaned the basement in preparation for the electrician starting to wire the basement and what will someday be my kitchen, we spent time planning (and replanning and replanning yet again) our kitchen floor plan, and I knocked a few things off my last-minute To-Do-Before-Baby list.
And lastly, we went to the hospital and had our baby. Little miss Rita Jill arrived early (though not in the wee morning hours like her older siblings) July 2nd and screamed quite loudly (well as loudly as a newborn can) to let us know she wasn't pleased. She had a busy morning then with her first bath, meeting her uncle A (who happened to be passing through town and had a few hours to kill), and just taking in her new world. All went well and we were home the next day. V and A are just in love with her and I'm finding I don't have an easy chair big enough to accommodate a 4.5 year old, a nearly 3 year old, me and a hungry little girl.
Meanwhile, back on the farm...We (as in L and I) were busy busy beavers. We emptied out our old bedroom and cleaned the basement in preparation for the electrician starting to wire the basement and what will someday be my kitchen, we spent time planning (and replanning and replanning yet again) our kitchen floor plan, and I knocked a few things off my last-minute To-Do-Before-Baby list.
And lastly, we went to the hospital and had our baby. Little miss Rita Jill arrived early (though not in the wee morning hours like her older siblings) July 2nd and screamed quite loudly (well as loudly as a newborn can) to let us know she wasn't pleased. She had a busy morning then with her first bath, meeting her uncle A (who happened to be passing through town and had a few hours to kill), and just taking in her new world. All went well and we were home the next day. V and A are just in love with her and I'm finding I don't have an easy chair big enough to accommodate a 4.5 year old, a nearly 3 year old, me and a hungry little girl.
 |
| Little miss bright eyes |
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Status Update: Garden
So my garden has not been planted yet.
And at the rate I'm going, it won't get planted at all this year.
I would absolutely LOVE to be out there digging in the dirt and getting my plants in the ground. I had such grand ideas for my garden this year and was super duper motivated to actually do something with that spot. I have starts to get planted, I have my cover crop seed all set to go, I have all my gardening supplies parked in the perfect spot for easy access and use. I have everything ready to go so lack of want isn't a problem.
I obviously can't be crawling around on my hands and knees working in the garden right now but I had/have plenty of help in the labor department. I have plenty of helping hands lined up to help with the tilling, planting, tending, weeding, watering, and mulching. (And they are plenty willing hands too, thanks to generous payment on my part. haha) So lack of help and physical inability aren't my issue either.
No. My trouble is Mother Nature has had other plans. It's pretty darn hard to plant a garden when said garden is the consistency of a mud-bogging pit and you have to dodge rain drops on the short walk there.
And since we are pert near waterlogged by this point from weekly rainstorms accompanied by relatively warm days (when it's not raining that is), my mud pit is also growing a nice big lush green crop of quack grass.
Hard to weed the quack out when it's so mushy you sink to your ankles in spots.
So even though I'm ready and willing (and have able help as I'm unable), Mother Nature just ain't coopertating.
Shucks.
And at the rate I'm going, it won't get planted at all this year.
I would absolutely LOVE to be out there digging in the dirt and getting my plants in the ground. I had such grand ideas for my garden this year and was super duper motivated to actually do something with that spot. I have starts to get planted, I have my cover crop seed all set to go, I have all my gardening supplies parked in the perfect spot for easy access and use. I have everything ready to go so lack of want isn't a problem.
I obviously can't be crawling around on my hands and knees working in the garden right now but I had/have plenty of help in the labor department. I have plenty of helping hands lined up to help with the tilling, planting, tending, weeding, watering, and mulching. (And they are plenty willing hands too, thanks to generous payment on my part. haha) So lack of help and physical inability aren't my issue either.
No. My trouble is Mother Nature has had other plans. It's pretty darn hard to plant a garden when said garden is the consistency of a mud-bogging pit and you have to dodge rain drops on the short walk there.
And since we are pert near waterlogged by this point from weekly rainstorms accompanied by relatively warm days (when it's not raining that is), my mud pit is also growing a nice big lush green crop of quack grass.
Hard to weed the quack out when it's so mushy you sink to your ankles in spots.
So even though I'm ready and willing (and have able help as I'm unable), Mother Nature just ain't coopertating.
Shucks.
Thursday, May 29, 2014
Gardening and My not-so-green thumb
This year, due to pretty obvious reasons (not the least of which is this belly o' mine), I'm unable to plant my garden. Yet, I'm committed to raising healthy, nutritious food for my family and, despite my lack of success in the green thumb department, I honestly do like gardening. I just don't like the aching back, the dirt under my fingernails, the daily weeding and watering, etc.
Okay, so I don't like doing much of the hard work of gardening but I do enjoy the harvesting so I make it work. I just can't overcome my tendency to over-water or under-water (or in some cases, both), or my habit of killing any living plant I'm actually trying to nurture. (Weeds, I have great luck with. If I don't want it there, I can almost guarantee it'll absolutely THRIVE. If I want it to grow nice and big and tend it 8 times a day, it'll be dead in a week.)
But this year it'll be different. You see, I'm slightly restricted at the moment on what I can do gardening-wise but I have all these seeds just waiting to be put in the ground and all this NEED to garden. So I did the next best thing...
I hired help.
I've got a soil prepper/seed planter coming tomorrow, the hubby is planting my sweet corn seed in the field as I type, and I've got more help lined up come weeding/mulching/early harvest time.
I'm strictly managerial this time and we'll see how it goes. I wish that it could be me digging in the dirt and planting those seeds and tending them because it makes the harvest that much sweeter when you know YOU did all that work but I physically can't do it.
But it might save my garden if I don't touch anything so that's got to be a plus, right?
Okay, so I don't like doing much of the hard work of gardening but I do enjoy the harvesting so I make it work. I just can't overcome my tendency to over-water or under-water (or in some cases, both), or my habit of killing any living plant I'm actually trying to nurture. (Weeds, I have great luck with. If I don't want it there, I can almost guarantee it'll absolutely THRIVE. If I want it to grow nice and big and tend it 8 times a day, it'll be dead in a week.)
But this year it'll be different. You see, I'm slightly restricted at the moment on what I can do gardening-wise but I have all these seeds just waiting to be put in the ground and all this NEED to garden. So I did the next best thing...
I hired help.
I've got a soil prepper/seed planter coming tomorrow, the hubby is planting my sweet corn seed in the field as I type, and I've got more help lined up come weeding/mulching/early harvest time.
I'm strictly managerial this time and we'll see how it goes. I wish that it could be me digging in the dirt and planting those seeds and tending them because it makes the harvest that much sweeter when you know YOU did all that work but I physically can't do it.
But it might save my garden if I don't touch anything so that's got to be a plus, right?
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Nitty Gritty
It's that time of year again. Nitty Gritty Dirty Time. It's the month where L comes home looking like a dust bunny.
Just as it's hard not to get dirt under your nails if you spend time in the garden, it's very hard for my hardworking farmer husband not to come home after a very long day and oftentimes a later night covered it dust and dirt. I dig in my garden. He digs the fields. I plant with a shovel and hoe. He plants with a grain drill and a corn planter. And we both accumulate the dust and dirt. The nitty gritty proof that we were outside working the soil and seeding the crops that will nourish the body.
Nitty Gritty Dirty Time. Planting Time. Long hours, later nights, and dirty hands. But it's a price well worth being paid when a bountiful harvest is your goal.
Just as it's hard not to get dirt under your nails if you spend time in the garden, it's very hard for my hardworking farmer husband not to come home after a very long day and oftentimes a later night covered it dust and dirt. I dig in my garden. He digs the fields. I plant with a shovel and hoe. He plants with a grain drill and a corn planter. And we both accumulate the dust and dirt. The nitty gritty proof that we were outside working the soil and seeding the crops that will nourish the body.
Nitty Gritty Dirty Time. Planting Time. Long hours, later nights, and dirty hands. But it's a price well worth being paid when a bountiful harvest is your goal.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Oh the things you'll see...
Today was a busy day. We've been up to our ears in Spring fieldwork (when Mother Nature isn't busy sprinkling us with raindrops, that is) and Moving Day dawned bright and early this morning so we've been busy fixing fences, cleaning barns, checking water lines, and all the assorted tasks that need to be done before the cows can come to their summer quarters. Between all this, there's been the usual household stuff too-laundry and dishes that pile up in an instant, floors that never seem to stay swept for more than 5 minutes, mail that needs to be sorted/entered/filed/etc., etc. etc. etc. Throw in the usual dr visits, grocery shopping, and other errand running and there's my life. Since I decided I'm not nearly busy enough, I'm seeing a new chiropractor in a town a few hours south of us. (She's trained in a different style of chiropractic care and has done alot of work with pregnant women so I figured I'd see what it was all about.) I'm on bi-weekly appointments now-that is, I'm seeing her for 2 appointments a week, not every other week-so I get to see alot of scenery (and trains as my kids are oh-so-fond of pointing out) on my 2.5 hour trek. But today I saw something I didn't expect to see.
An Amish buggy.
A real Amish buggy being pulled by a fast trotting horse.
Now this isn't an unusual sight in our area as we have a few Amish communities in the surrounding countryside but this was a very rare sighting indeed. Not because of WHAT it was but because of WHERE it was.
I saw this Amish buggy being driven along a rather busy section of an expressway. A split highway with a speed limit of 65mph.
And here's this plain black boxy buggy and the quick stepping brown horse just dawdling along (or so it appeared when I drove by doing a rather un-sedate 65mph).
Just yesterday I was on the verge of a mini-(pregnancy hormone related) meltdown because of how hectic life has gotten all of a sudden and I was feeling very frustrated. Frustrated at the condition of my household, frustrated at the lack of time for myself, frustrated at the amount of work that needs to be done before this baby arrives, frustrated at the long hours I spend driving to appointments (chiro is 2.5 hours away, dr is 1 hour away, dentist is the same). And then I see this buggy. It made me giggle and wonder what brought this Amish person out on such a busy BUSY road with fast moving traffic. And then it got me thinking.
It was a quirky and oddly timely sight because it (in a weird way) reminded me to appreciate the things around me even when I'm feeling rushed and out of sorts. That it pays to slow down once in a while and actually look around. Even if I can't literally slow down, I can still figuratively ease off on my frantic pace.
So today, after my buggy sighting, I started paying attention to the view on my lengthy drive. And you know what? I noticed that the leaves on the trees popped out when I wasn't looking. I heard my kids giggling over some odd, made-up toddler joke that only they could understand. Instead of thinking and worrying about how I was going to get everything done today, I just sat back in my seat and enjoyed my drive.
All because I saw a buggy on a freeway.
An Amish buggy.
A real Amish buggy being pulled by a fast trotting horse.
Now this isn't an unusual sight in our area as we have a few Amish communities in the surrounding countryside but this was a very rare sighting indeed. Not because of WHAT it was but because of WHERE it was.
I saw this Amish buggy being driven along a rather busy section of an expressway. A split highway with a speed limit of 65mph.
And here's this plain black boxy buggy and the quick stepping brown horse just dawdling along (or so it appeared when I drove by doing a rather un-sedate 65mph).
Just yesterday I was on the verge of a mini-(pregnancy hormone related) meltdown because of how hectic life has gotten all of a sudden and I was feeling very frustrated. Frustrated at the condition of my household, frustrated at the lack of time for myself, frustrated at the amount of work that needs to be done before this baby arrives, frustrated at the long hours I spend driving to appointments (chiro is 2.5 hours away, dr is 1 hour away, dentist is the same). And then I see this buggy. It made me giggle and wonder what brought this Amish person out on such a busy BUSY road with fast moving traffic. And then it got me thinking.
It was a quirky and oddly timely sight because it (in a weird way) reminded me to appreciate the things around me even when I'm feeling rushed and out of sorts. That it pays to slow down once in a while and actually look around. Even if I can't literally slow down, I can still figuratively ease off on my frantic pace.
So today, after my buggy sighting, I started paying attention to the view on my lengthy drive. And you know what? I noticed that the leaves on the trees popped out when I wasn't looking. I heard my kids giggling over some odd, made-up toddler joke that only they could understand. Instead of thinking and worrying about how I was going to get everything done today, I just sat back in my seat and enjoyed my drive.
All because I saw a buggy on a freeway.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Moving Day Approaches
We've been busy this week. Appointments galore, fieldwork is (finally!) in full swing, and moving day approaches fast. Yes, we are bringing the cows to their summer home this week. So we've been busy getting everything ready. But we're making headway and come Thursday, the cows will be enjoying their summer home again.
And I'll be commuting by foot instead of vehicle. Always love that part. :)
And I'll be commuting by foot instead of vehicle. Always love that part. :)
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Moving the Cows
Well, it's May 15th and we still haven't moved the cows from their winter quarters to their summer home. It's been too cold and wet to do so but it hasn't stopped me from hoping we get this job crossed off on the Spring To-Do list soon. And I'm not the only one wishing the cows were here already.
Our overgrown pup Bandit is wanting the move to be done too.
Why? Because then he gets to really R-U-N.
Bandit is a runner. He loves to run. Distances too. He regularly races the 4-wheeler when we go out to get cows. He'll come from wherever he is and leave whatever grand thing he's doing when he hears that machine turn on because he knows he's going to get a good workout. (If Bandit is flat out running, you need to be in 3rd gear in order to even think of catching up to the dog.) And he's showing some promise as a herding animal. We'll see if he improved at all from last year.
I'm also hoping that if the cows are here and Bandit gets his daily runs in, it'll leave his jaws chicken-free. I don't appreciate his sudden urge to use my best laying hen as a chew toy...(No worries. The hen escaped relatively unscathed. She was minus a few feathers and went into hiding for a day to overcome her shock of being in a set of large, rather pointy teeth but she's since made a full recovery and is back to faithfully laying an egg every day or so.)
Our overgrown pup Bandit is wanting the move to be done too.
Why? Because then he gets to really R-U-N.
Bandit is a runner. He loves to run. Distances too. He regularly races the 4-wheeler when we go out to get cows. He'll come from wherever he is and leave whatever grand thing he's doing when he hears that machine turn on because he knows he's going to get a good workout. (If Bandit is flat out running, you need to be in 3rd gear in order to even think of catching up to the dog.) And he's showing some promise as a herding animal. We'll see if he improved at all from last year.
I'm also hoping that if the cows are here and Bandit gets his daily runs in, it'll leave his jaws chicken-free. I don't appreciate his sudden urge to use my best laying hen as a chew toy...(No worries. The hen escaped relatively unscathed. She was minus a few feathers and went into hiding for a day to overcome her shock of being in a set of large, rather pointy teeth but she's since made a full recovery and is back to faithfully laying an egg every day or so.)
Friday, May 9, 2014
Honk and Peep and Yelp
Three sounds that signal Spring is here...
Honk-Geese sharing their happiness at finding something enjoyable out in the (slowly greening up) pasture.
Peep-Those wee little frogs that serenade us in the evening dusk.
Yelp-As in "Mom! I found a BUG!" when the little boy or girl finds yet another wood tick crawling on their clothing.
Gotta love Spring.
Honk-Geese sharing their happiness at finding something enjoyable out in the (slowly greening up) pasture.
Peep-Those wee little frogs that serenade us in the evening dusk.
Yelp-As in "Mom! I found a BUG!" when the little boy or girl finds yet another wood tick crawling on their clothing.
Gotta love Spring.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Forgiveness
I often wax poetic about how Spring is a time of birth and/or regrowth for me, but I've come to realize it's also a time of forgiveness. Yes, forgiveness.
Why? How?
I'll try to explain.
When Old Man Winter's white coat disappears, all those things it was hiding suddenly reappear. You see the deteriorating detritus of last Autumn's glorious colors, the long lost garden hoe that never made it into winter storage, the remnants of the kitchen scrap heap that the dogs and chickens have long since turned their noses (and beaks) up at, and the missing double stroller slinks out of it's hiding place. There's sticks and stones and dirt and leaves and (in my case) dead animal bones from some unfortunate creature the dogs found in the woods or the neighbor's fish gut/deer bone pile. Yes, there's all this unapologetic MESS around us.
But Miss Spring is forgiving. She sends up little green blades of grass that before long are high enough to hide that muck and mess. She uses those old mouldering leaves as rich mulch that nourishes the acorns so new little trees can sprout. She warms the days so the garden hoe and double stroller no longer just lay about but are put to good and steady use. She doesn't care that this messy world is there as Old Man Winter's snowbanks melt away. No, she just happily whistles with the songbirds as she rolls up her sleeves and gets to work with her own version of 'Spring Cleaning'.
And for me, Spring is a time for me to reflect on my own life and do some Spring Cleaning of my own. I find it's easier to get in touch with friends I have lost contact with, rid myself of doubts and worries that plagued me all Winter long, and forgive myself for things maybe I could/should/would have done better. I shake out my mental rug and try to shake the 'what ifs' with it.
Maybe it has something to do with the meaning behind Easter (which to me is the ultimate story of forgiveness) or maybe it's just this lightness and newness of the season as everything begins anew or maybe it's just a time for my own personal reflection. I don't know.
Whatever the reason, it's there.
I know I feel lighter and newer myself when I let go of that hurt and anger. Can you think of anyone to forgive in your own life? Even if they don't know that they've made you mad or hurt your feelings? Let it go and forgive. It's that easy.
Then sit back and enjoy the fresh, new Spring with a lighter spirit and a happier heart.
Why? How?
I'll try to explain.
When Old Man Winter's white coat disappears, all those things it was hiding suddenly reappear. You see the deteriorating detritus of last Autumn's glorious colors, the long lost garden hoe that never made it into winter storage, the remnants of the kitchen scrap heap that the dogs and chickens have long since turned their noses (and beaks) up at, and the missing double stroller slinks out of it's hiding place. There's sticks and stones and dirt and leaves and (in my case) dead animal bones from some unfortunate creature the dogs found in the woods or the neighbor's fish gut/deer bone pile. Yes, there's all this unapologetic MESS around us.
But Miss Spring is forgiving. She sends up little green blades of grass that before long are high enough to hide that muck and mess. She uses those old mouldering leaves as rich mulch that nourishes the acorns so new little trees can sprout. She warms the days so the garden hoe and double stroller no longer just lay about but are put to good and steady use. She doesn't care that this messy world is there as Old Man Winter's snowbanks melt away. No, she just happily whistles with the songbirds as she rolls up her sleeves and gets to work with her own version of 'Spring Cleaning'.
And for me, Spring is a time for me to reflect on my own life and do some Spring Cleaning of my own. I find it's easier to get in touch with friends I have lost contact with, rid myself of doubts and worries that plagued me all Winter long, and forgive myself for things maybe I could/should/would have done better. I shake out my mental rug and try to shake the 'what ifs' with it.
Maybe it has something to do with the meaning behind Easter (which to me is the ultimate story of forgiveness) or maybe it's just this lightness and newness of the season as everything begins anew or maybe it's just a time for my own personal reflection. I don't know.
Whatever the reason, it's there.
I know I feel lighter and newer myself when I let go of that hurt and anger. Can you think of anyone to forgive in your own life? Even if they don't know that they've made you mad or hurt your feelings? Let it go and forgive. It's that easy.
Then sit back and enjoy the fresh, new Spring with a lighter spirit and a happier heart.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Tightwad Reminder!!
So it's April 1st but no April Fool's Jokes from this lady. Instead, I'm going to put out a little reminder that MAY 1, 2014 is the due date for any submissions for the Tightwad Round Robin. So far, I have one person who submitted a tip and that makes for a rather tiny TRR issue, doesn't it? So please, pretty please wrack your brains for tips, tricks, and tightwad hints to add so I can add some bulk to the good old TRR!
Come on, folks. We all like to save a few bucks here and there, right? We all have a favorite tip or recipe we'd like to share. Who hasn't had a brainstorm that you wished you could pass on? Garage sale hints? Cheap supper ideas? Budgeting advice? Hand-made gifts and crafts? Gardening tricks? Creative storage suggestions? Easy (and cheap) decorating tips? Ways to turn secondhand trash into firsthand treasures? Send them on to me and I'll do all the compiling.
And as always, $2 per paper issue but free e-copies are available via email. Just let me know which version you would prefer when you send your letter to me. Send your advice in the form of a letter, note, or even just a one line email to tightwadroundrobin[at]hotmail[dot]com. If you want, I'll also accept your tips in handwritten form (letter, note, post-it, etc) via hand-to-hand transfer or the US Postal Service. If you really can't get it to me that way, then I'll take a verbal note via the telephone or face to face conversation (just make sure I have a pen and paper handy so I can jot down your contribution to the TRR). However, I don't accept smoke signals, or ideas sent via mental telepathy.
Don't be shy! I look forward to seeing who sends on their hints for pinching pennies! Thanks much in advance!
Come on, folks. We all like to save a few bucks here and there, right? We all have a favorite tip or recipe we'd like to share. Who hasn't had a brainstorm that you wished you could pass on? Garage sale hints? Cheap supper ideas? Budgeting advice? Hand-made gifts and crafts? Gardening tricks? Creative storage suggestions? Easy (and cheap) decorating tips? Ways to turn secondhand trash into firsthand treasures? Send them on to me and I'll do all the compiling.
And as always, $2 per paper issue but free e-copies are available via email. Just let me know which version you would prefer when you send your letter to me. Send your advice in the form of a letter, note, or even just a one line email to tightwadroundrobin[at]hotmail[dot]com. If you want, I'll also accept your tips in handwritten form (letter, note, post-it, etc) via hand-to-hand transfer or the US Postal Service. If you really can't get it to me that way, then I'll take a verbal note via the telephone or face to face conversation (just make sure I have a pen and paper handy so I can jot down your contribution to the TRR). However, I don't accept smoke signals, or ideas sent via mental telepathy.
Don't be shy! I look forward to seeing who sends on their hints for pinching pennies! Thanks much in advance!
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Spring...Maybe?
Spring is always a wonderful time of year on the farm. Sure it's busier than all get out with fieldwork and planting needing to be done but it's still so much fun. There's baby calves being born, grass is greening up, and the world just seems to come to life. I love Spring because it's just an explosion of warmth and life and color. I look forward to it after the long dreary Winter.
But we're in that hard part of Spring. The first weeks of the season when things are starting to warm up but it's still below freezing at night. Snow still crunches underfoot in the early morning air but puddles and mud appear by noon. Allergies flare up, there's child-sized muddy boot prints all over the house, and there's still always that chance of snow. It's this part of Spring that I don't particularly enjoy. No snotty, drippy, sneezey noses. No slopping wet boots/hats/mitts/snowpants/jackets to tend to every time the kids go outside for longer than five minutes. No driveway that turns into a quarter mile of swamp for the whole month of April.
And yet, I can't find it in me to dislike this part all that much. Yes I wish I could just sleep through it or that Daylight Savings Time would spring us past this mucky, yucky stage of Spring, but I always stop and think that this is just another part of the year and once it's passed, I'll enjoy the warm sunny Spring all the more. Kind of like biting into that first strawberry of summer. It's so ripe and juicy and oh so worth the wait.
But we're in that hard part of Spring. The first weeks of the season when things are starting to warm up but it's still below freezing at night. Snow still crunches underfoot in the early morning air but puddles and mud appear by noon. Allergies flare up, there's child-sized muddy boot prints all over the house, and there's still always that chance of snow. It's this part of Spring that I don't particularly enjoy. No snotty, drippy, sneezey noses. No slopping wet boots/hats/mitts/snowpants/jackets to tend to every time the kids go outside for longer than five minutes. No driveway that turns into a quarter mile of swamp for the whole month of April.
And yet, I can't find it in me to dislike this part all that much. Yes I wish I could just sleep through it or that Daylight Savings Time would spring us past this mucky, yucky stage of Spring, but I always stop and think that this is just another part of the year and once it's passed, I'll enjoy the warm sunny Spring all the more. Kind of like biting into that first strawberry of summer. It's so ripe and juicy and oh so worth the wait.
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Writer's Block
I know I haven't been posting very regularly but I've had a bad case of writer's block. I'd sit here and absolutely nothing would come to mind. Sure there's plenty I could write about. Like how much snow we have (LOTS but not as much as some) and how Spring Calving Season is literally ready to start at any moment (already did if you count that heifer two weeks ago) or how my kids are growing in leaps and bounds (time to move them up a size in clothes) or how little farm 'stuff' there is to talk about right now (s-l-o-w time of year).
But somehow none of it seemed to spark my interest. Still struggling with what to write so I'm letting my fingers go tippy tapping across the keyboard and we'll see what comes of it.
......
Not much apparently.
Better luck next time? I can only hope.
But somehow none of it seemed to spark my interest. Still struggling with what to write so I'm letting my fingers go tippy tapping across the keyboard and we'll see what comes of it.
......
Not much apparently.
Better luck next time? I can only hope.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Bubbles and Babies
I have bubbles in my belly. Or at least that's what it feels like a few times a day now. And I have to smile whenever I feel that fizzy, feathery sensation.
No it's not because we had beans for supper last night.
It's because I'm feeling my baby move. Yes, you read that right.
As for my due date, V was a Winter baby. A was an Autumn baby. So it stands to reason that I'll follow my pattern and have a Summer baby, right? Right.
No it's not because we had beans for supper last night.
It's because I'm feeling my baby move. Yes, you read that right.
As for my due date, V was a Winter baby. A was an Autumn baby. So it stands to reason that I'll follow my pattern and have a Summer baby, right? Right.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Winter Weather Advisory
So it's been a while since I posted and for that I apologize. In order to make amends, I'll post a quick update of what all has happened since my last post.
Winter came.
We got snow.
It got COLD.
As in frigid, freezing, and BRRRRRRR.
That's about it. We did have a wonderful Christmas holiday filled with LOTS of family visiting, fun fun fun, appreciation, and, of course, really good food. Not much else changed otherwise.
Except the weather.
It's cold. Snot freezing in your nose, eyelashes freezing together, breath practically freezing in your lungs COLD.
It's snuggle under a blanket with a mug of cocoa and a good book freezing. It's a cuddle with your kids (who are inevitably little heaters but won't sit still worth a darn) freezing. It's stick your ice cubes for toes behind your oh-so-toasty (and wonderfully understanding) spouse's knees when you climb into bed freezing.
[Though that last one sometimes backfires when said spouse decides to reciprocate making this spouse even colder.]
How cold is it? For an example, I filled our chicken's water thingy and set it outside on the steps intending to put it in the coop as I went out the door for chores. Unfortunately, when I closed the door, the water deal wiggled off the nice flat spot I had set it on and a gallon of HOT tap water proceeded to dribble out in a steady though slight stream. Less than 10 minutes later, I went to grab the now-empty water bucket and discovered the only sign of the missing water was a 10 inch long icicle underneath the steps...
Yes, it's that cold...
Winter came.
We got snow.
It got COLD.
As in frigid, freezing, and BRRRRRRR.
That's about it. We did have a wonderful Christmas holiday filled with LOTS of family visiting, fun fun fun, appreciation, and, of course, really good food. Not much else changed otherwise.
Except the weather.
It's cold. Snot freezing in your nose, eyelashes freezing together, breath practically freezing in your lungs COLD.
It's snuggle under a blanket with a mug of cocoa and a good book freezing. It's a cuddle with your kids (who are inevitably little heaters but won't sit still worth a darn) freezing. It's stick your ice cubes for toes behind your oh-so-toasty (and wonderfully understanding) spouse's knees when you climb into bed freezing.
[Though that last one sometimes backfires when said spouse decides to reciprocate making this spouse even colder.]
How cold is it? For an example, I filled our chicken's water thingy and set it outside on the steps intending to put it in the coop as I went out the door for chores. Unfortunately, when I closed the door, the water deal wiggled off the nice flat spot I had set it on and a gallon of HOT tap water proceeded to dribble out in a steady though slight stream. Less than 10 minutes later, I went to grab the now-empty water bucket and discovered the only sign of the missing water was a 10 inch long icicle underneath the steps...
Yes, it's that cold...
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