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Showing posts from September, 2013

high alert

Last night I pulled in the driveway after church and saw a pile of feathers outside the small hen house. NOT a good sign. And the more I looked, the worse it got. Most of the carnage was outside the dog's fence line, but there was one bird inside the fence line, which made me yell at him. Of course, he brought the dead chicken to me. I could only see the bantam rooster and three hens inside the large hen house, so I thought we'd had lost 2/3 of the flock. Once I realized the fence was still working, I knew there was no way Buster could have killed them. This morning, the main rooster and two white hens showed up, so we only lost 1/2 of the birds. The big rooster is hurt, but I think he'll heal. What we didn't realize until this morning is that Buster is hurt. After a visit the vet, I got to spend the afternoon taking apart his pen and closing off the back porch, as he is now in quarantine there for the next 9 days. We return to the vet Saturday to see how his bite

tick, tick, tick

One week from tomorrow. Five blocks, a border, and the binding. Eight days. Five days, if I take into consideration a friend is coming over to teach me how to do binding the right way next Tuesday. I've watched the youtube videos. I've had a friend show me how before. But my binding corners still come out crooked. And I'm starting to get very, very nervous. I know I'm not an expert quilter. I know every spot of my quilt that will cause a quilter's eyebrows to gather or spike. And I'm okay with that. I am still a beginner, after all. I just want this quilt to be done, satisfactory (is satisfactorily a word? It doesn't sound right.), and safely delivered the day after elections are over. Then I can breathe. I can rest, knowing that this challenge from a friend and to myself are over. I will tell this voice in the back of my head to SHUT UP! I am not even going to think about a quilt for next year's fair, even if I did go and photograph my okra pl

heat frenzied thoughts

There's nothing like feeling hot while cutting grass, especially while weed-eating or using a push mower. All kinds of crazy thoughts run through your mind, like downsizing to a house with a tiny yard, a town home that only has enough room in the yard for a tiny "city" garden (what my Mom in law calls container gardening) and a patio, or an apartment complex that's super nice and has its own laundromat and swimming pool, both indoor and outdoors.  Don't get me wrong. I love our fruit and nut trees, our garden, our chickens and pond (and sometimes I even love my crazy dog). But when I'm hot and tired and the work seems endless, it can be more than a bit overwhelming. And during these times, thoughts of adding another animal or produce/fruit bearing thing is paramount with insanity. And as each year passes, I'm slowly starting to comprehend with a small ounce of compassion the old people who mourn on television that they've lost everything they'v

gross

Last night I closed up the hen houses as it was getting dark, grabbed the eggs, and immediately felt something squishy. I looked to make sure there wasn't a frog or something in the nesting box. Nope. It was an egg...without a shell. If you can see the egg on the right (with the dirt), that's the egg that has a shell-less membrane. So I've been online trying to figure out a) why and b) what to do about it. We've had this happen once before, and the problem seemed to take care of itself. I'm hoping that will be the case this time, but if we get another one in the next few days I'll have to start adjusting their feed.  On the upside, our egg count was up today, which was very good indeed.

grapes

Step One: Wash the grapes and pull off any remaining stems. Step Two: 5 cups of grapes to 1.5 cups of water. Simmer. Step Three: Smush their guts out and strain into a jar.  Which leaves you with juice. Step Four: Dump the guts. Step Five: Make jelly.

up and running

This was supposed to be my slow and quiet week where I happily worked on a quilt to submit to the State Fair. Have you ever noticed how "supposed to be" almost never happens? And I'm actually okay with that. I can type that now at 10:39am on a Monday morning. By 9pm Saturday night of this same week I might not be so optimistic. So if I don't find thirty minutes in my schedule this week to download/upload photos and write, here's what I WOULD write about (just in case I don't make it back to my "calm" spot). Monday - grapes & the jelly making process Tuesday - pawpaw trees and my dumb dog Wednesday - yardwork Thursday - Syria Friday - I'm officially an old fogey - my disgust with feminism's new definition of rape Meanwhile I'm trying to get some housework done before heading into Raleigh for an afternoon of elections training. I'm not ready for it be this time of year again, but it's here, with October's municipal

laboring

I married into a farming family. My father-in-law was a firm believer that if you were going to plant something in your yard, it better be practical (i.e. food producing). When we got married, he gifted our yard with six pecan trees. When we planted apples trees and pear trees (though one turned out to be ornamental), he nodded his approval. After we planted an oak, maple, and sycamore, he scowled and asked me if I was trying to be in Better Homes & Garden magazine. When I laughed and told him no, I just wanted a few shade trees without fruit or nuts under them, he smiled and said "That's good, then." A few years ago we planted different flowering trees and shrubs along one of our property lines. My husband laughingly asked me how many of them were going to be edible. After they were planted, my brother-in-law asked the same thing. At my laughing answer of "none", he smiled and shook his head and said "Daddy wouldn't approve."  Several of tho

20/?

Eight years ago I signed my life away and had two five minute surgeries that radically changed my life. Even though I could see almost perfectly the moment I opened my eyes in the morning, it still took a year to overcome the 24 year habit of reaching for my glasses first thing in the morning. The doctors told me before and after the procedure that at some point in my forties I would need reading glasses, and if I wanted to, they could then re-do the procedure on one eye so I could use that eye as reading glasses. That thought did not appeal to me then, and still doesn't now. What did shock me was a few months ago when the words in a book were blurry that weren't blurry the day before. Yes, I was tired. I blinked. I washed my face. I used my eyedrops. Still a bit fuzzy. I started to put the book away and realized that the further away I held the book, the better I could see it (which is the total opposite of how I started out needing glasses). When my eye doctor told me I wou