The List Of What Has Been Going On Whilst Twiddlling Thumbs

Been chasing my tail for last several days.

So many happenings, so little time to tell about them.

And the official countdown is....two weeks from right this minute i will be working my way through the security check at the airport for the first leg of my journey.

This little trip could not have been more well timed.

ALA may not be aware, but i do believe she is saving lives, here.


Lessee, what all have y'all missed?

1.  We led Sancho down the primrose path.
2.  The Bobs got some Babs.
3.  Pearl is a Big Bad Mama.
4.  I canned TWO bushels of onions.
5.  The Farm Buick died and on the third day arose again.
6.  Sparta went to boot camp after a rather comical buck rodeo.
7.  Mama hen is MIA, but all 13 chicks are doing well.
8.  Susan gifted Ellie May with some frizzels.
9.  Earl has begun joining me in the dairy barn at milking time.
10.  Ellie May spent a week with the city cousin (which involved two round trips up north) during which she got her ears pierced.

Surely there is more.  This seems to be such a paltry list considering how much we have all been running around and how little has actually gotten done around here.

I have been gently ragged on a couple of times here lately for not posting, so i am gonna lay this one on ya just to prove that i am not swooning on the fainting couch while popping bonbons, and then come back in with the details.

**impatiently tapping toes**

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Haulin' Hay

Here's the thing about hay....

....it doesn't like to be wet.

Ever.

Which is kinda odd, because when you are growing it, you pray and hope for rain constantly. 
But when it is time for bringin' it in, you pray and hope that it DOESN'T rain.

So the cutting was done on Friday, and the weather report called for rain Tuesday evening.  The plan was to bale on Monday, and then all the troops would assemble bright and early Tuesday morning to haul it in and stack it.

Surely you have figured out by now that NOTHING goes according to plan in my world.

Sunday evening we had a little cloud burst.  Not a long one, but plenty enough to wet everything down and send me into a controlled panic--i was trying to remain calm, because i do believe that The Father's will WILL be done, but the very human part of me was freaking out about not only paying to have the grass cut, but then having to buy hay for the rest of the year at the already sky high prices.

Monday morning was bright and sunny, and late in the morning, Mr. W. came out and "fluffed" the hay, so by late afternoon, it was a dry as it was gonna get. 

Around noon, i got a revised weather report.

Oh, by the way, Surprise!!! We forgot to mention...40% chance of thunderstorms Monday evening.

40%.

No way was i gonna roll the dice on that one, with everything that was at stake.  Called all the troops, and revised the plan.  Susan and ol' Blue couldn't make it on short notice, but thank goodness for The Krew.  They showed up about 5pm ready to haul.

Everyone worked, and worked hard and fast.

Mr. W. got about an hour's head start on us, and we pretty much followed him around the pasture.

Being in possession of the position of seniority meant that i got to drive the truck, so i would pull up in the middle of a couple of rows, and all the peeps would fan out. 

Hey!  Look!  I got everyone's "good side" all at once!

The Baas would catch the bales as they were tossed to her (and occasionally AT her) and stack them in back.

 Some bales were light as a big box of feathers.

 Others were heavy enough to require teamwork.

 Some bales were filled with allergens.

 Others were used for random drug testing.

Oh.  Wait.

LGA Union doesn't do that any more.

Guess George didn't get the memo.

Occasionally bales were used for union breaks.

We watched the fierce looking storm moving in from the west, and were in high gear all the way.  Eight kids and two women brought in just under 300 bales in 2 hours and 45 minutes.

We were REALLY HAULIN'.

We got the last of it stacked, high fived and whooped and hollered in the sprinkles, brushed and hosed off as best we could, and 10 minutes later it was pouring rain, in a pretty severe storm that lasted most of the night.

How do you spell relief? 

I spell it "B-A-R-N-F-U-L-L-O-F-H-A-Y-B-E-F-O-R-E-I-T-S-T-A-R-T-E-D-R-A-I-N-I-N-G."

Many, MANY thanks to The Baas and The Krew.  You saved our bacon, and were all so wonderful.  You have my undieing love and devotion.

Okay, you had that before, but now you got a whole lot more of it!!

I am especially fond of each and every one of you!!

Thank You

'Tis The Season

 While i truly appreciate "amber waves of grain,"  there is something about an undulating pasture of fresh-cut hay that just brings a tear to my eye.

Of course, i am waxing poetic today...catch me on Tuesday night and ask me how i feel about it then. 

Baling Monday morning, raining Tuesday evening.

Fortunately, The Krew is willing to let me abuse them yet again, and  are scheduled to head this way Tuesday morning to haul and stack with us.  With luck, Susan and ol' Blue will be here as well, so this portends to be quite a party.  (Gonna cook somethin' good, guys, and am on the way to the store right now to get the stuff to make ice cream...how does Earl Grey/Cherry sound?  Chocolate/Cayenne?  What the heck...how about both!!)

I was walking the field this morning, admiring yesterday's cutting as it dried in the warm sunshine, when i saw a pile of white fluff on a berm and thought, "Oh no, did i loose a Bob?   Did someone get caught in the blades?"

I headed that way in dread, thinking i was fixin' to walk up to a sad sight, but when i got up to it, there was a very pleasant surprise!.

Every time somebody gets puny around here, one of Susan, Dear Susan's first questions is "Do you have some dandelion?"

As hard as it may be to believe, we don't have dandelions around here. Plenty of buttercup (which are poisonous,) but no dandelion.

Which is a real shame, because dandelion isn't a weed, it is an amazing herb, starting with it's detoxification and antibacterial properties, therapeutic uses for skin conditions, not to mention its circulatory and joint health benefits.  The list goes on and on.  It truly is a phenomenal gift that we have been given, and we spend all kinds of time, money and chemicals trying to eradicate it.

But i digress.

Last year, i gathered a bunch of puffballs, and scattered my hope into the wind.

This year, my hopes bloomed rather profusely, but remained hidden behind the tall grasses that nourish our endeavors.  They have been quietly manifesting themselves beyond my knowledge and vision.  Perhaps there is a lesson there.

Told you i was waxing poetic today.

I did a little happy dance and sent as many of the seeds as i could to the wind.

Am now anxiously looking forward to years of happy harvests!!

(Hey!! I've got it...how about a vanilla bean base with shaved chocolate, toasted coconut, and some of that almond butter we made last week?  Gotta go, got ice cream to freeze!)

Polly Wog

We all know that Uncle Boo is a wild man.  A very good, very honorable man, but a wild man.

They say that dogs reflect their owner's personalities.

You are aware that Boo's babies are Jack Russell terriers.

Each one is special, but one in particular is a stand out.

The yarn i am about to unfold is second hand, as told to me by Boo.  I am repeating it to the best of my ability, because i think these stories are too good to keep to myself.  If i make an error in the tellin', it is unintentional, and completely the fault of the author.

Polly is a "truck dog."  She rides with Uncle Boo when he makes his appointed rounds, and apparently is beloved and spoiled rotten by all the folks that Boo works with and for.  There have been many stories of her protecting the truck from anyone getting too close, and stories of Polly entertaining the folks on the work sites.

Polly is also something of a cow dog.

Boo runs cattle and maintains a ranch on the side, and has a pack of wild dogs that assist him in his labors.

One evening, Boo and some buddies were sittin' on the porch, enjoying an evening's delights, both the physical beauty of the land and the...ahem...spiritual...if you catch my drift.

In the course of the conversation, some dern fool told Boo he needed to get hisself a real cow dog, to which Boo responded that he was in possession of a cow dog that could cull a specific bovine from the herd, and would be happy to prove his claim, if any of them were willing to put their money where their mouth was.

Wagers were laid on the porch rail, and Boo turned to Polly, who was asnooze at his side, and in a commanding tone said, "Polly, go put Bob in the corral."

Without the aid of caffeine to bring her sensibilities forth from her state of slumber, Polly ran out to the pasture and got in the midst of a large gathering of cattle, circled Bob twice, barking at him, and then jumped up and bit him in the dangly bits.  As one might imagine, Bob was responsive, and was chased into the corral by Polly, nipping at his heels. 

Polly then ran back to the porch, received a reward, and Boo opened the door to the house so she could go get in her chair to recover from the exertion.

The audience was stunned, and asked to see the feat again, to which Boo replied, "Are you kidding?  That dog is 12 years old!  She needs to sleep for about six hours before she can do that again."

The next day, Boo took Polly to the pet store and spent the entire winnings--which were quite sizable--on her...a new bed, new sweaters, and all the toys she wanted.

Another day, a neighbor called to say that Bob the Bull had gotten out, so Boo and Polly hopped on the Polaris and went in search of Bob.  When they found him, he looked at Polly, and said, "Polly, is Bob at home?  I don't think so.  Take Bob home!"

Polly jumped out of the vehicle and charged Bob, giving him whatfor, and chased him back home.

Several days later, Bob was laying down with a group of cows he wasn't supposed to be with.  Boo tells Polly, "Polly, if you don't get Bob where he is supposed to be, you are gonna be in trouble!"

Polly stood up on the Polaris, barked once, and Bob the Bull promptly high tailed it to where he was supposed to be.

Polaris vehicle: $5000
Bob the Bull:  $2000
Polly the Cowdog:  Priceless

Kieron's Chicks

Several weeks before Easter, the grandson of a friend of ours came out for a "visit to the farm."

Usually, when youngsters visit, the favored activities are bottle feeding the baby goaties, and trying to milk the mommas.

We had the Cherry Bombs at that time.  All joking aside, they were very cute and full of personality, so i figured that would be the show, and we arraigned the timing of the visit to coincide with feeding and milking time. 

Kieron took a look at the Bombs, and wasn't even mildly interested.

Hmmph.  What else ya got?

Took him out to the doe yard to give the girlz some treats, but that wasn't doing it, either.

Into the dairy barn for a try at milking....a cursory glance and back out the door.

He headed into the chicken coop with Elly May, and found his bliss.

Kieron loved the chickens, and spent the rest of the visit hunting for eggs and talking turkey chicken.

When it was time to leave, we put a dozen of the found eggs in a carton to take home so that he could have fresh farm eggs for breakfast the next morning.

Kieron was having none of that.

THOSE eggs had baby chicks in them, and he was going to hatch them.

There were some pretty determined negotiations in the car when Grandmother wanted to put the carton in the front seat.  Kieron successfully insisted that they would be much safer with him.

The next morning at church, Grandmother informed me that the carton didn't leave his side all night, that it had been carefully wrapped in a towel to keep all the chickies warm, and that the carton, at that very moment was in the car, as the caretaker was unwilling to leave them behind, for fear they might begin hatching and need his assistance.

After church was over, Grandmother was anxious to show off her grandson at coffee hour, but her grandson was MORE anxious to return to the babes.

After returning to the city, there were many phone calls asking about the state and condition of the chicks.  Grandmother gave full reports, and when the chicks "hatched," they were brought back to Tails Up for Mama Hen to raise.

And now, just for you, Kieron, here are the chicks, with Mama Hen, who has taken over your duties.  You did a great job of taking care of them, young man!! 

Early morning excursion

Learning to scratch and peck

Getting their feathers.

In other news, Pearl has turned broody, and found a safe, comfy place to nest.  Earl has become bored and lonely, and has begun showing up at the back door again. 

Finally, we have a nest of mockingbirds.  The babies are always hungry, and the mother is loud and aggressive, but Elly May managed to get this shot.

Duck Hunting

When this all started, the ducks were at one end of the pond, and Ruby did a stealth swimming thing toward them from the other side.  Elly May and Jethro were doing the Jaws theme, until i made someone run get the camera.  

You would think i would have learned not to leave the house without it by now.

Whirled peas.