Weekend Reading for Kids

 "Waiting for Winter" by Sebastian Meschenmoser is one of our family's seasonal favourites.  Deer has told squirrel that winter is coming and Squirrel really wants to see what that's all about.  

In his efforts to stay awake, he rouses Hedgehog and Bear who then want to see it too.  

They have an idea what winter is supposed to look like, and what they think is winter is hilarious, to both an older child, and preschoolers alike, as the pictures are priceless.  Meschenmoser's artwork captures the emotions to a "T" and the whole family will laugh out loud.

Happy Reading!

The List

As I watch the summer fade and realize we are now firmly entrenched in fall, I feel compelled to make a list of things I need to get done.  And sooner rather than later.

I've read somewhere that if you tell someone your plan, there's a much better chance that you will accomplish what you set out to do, because you are now accountable. 

So, This Week's Plan is:
- get a ram for my ewes
-  tag all turkeys that will be used for breeding
- harvest the rest of the tomatoes
- process the ripe tomatoes
- pick the rest of the plum tree and process those
- introduce "Beep" to the great outdoors - permanently!
- plant garlic
- either build a chicken tractor or devise a way to keep chickens in the garden without the "tractor", like with netting
- complete passport renewals
- make another batch of elderberry syrup
- set a date for round 1 of rooster processing

The first 2 things I did this weekend, so I say they count.  Plus, it feels good to cross stuff off a list, yes?

Hmmm.  I think I need to stay home this week.  Seems I have a lot to do...

Weekend Reading

"Dying to Be Me" by Anita Moorjani is the pick of the week, this week.  It came into our house as a gift, as Hubby lost a close friend this week to brain cancer, after a rapid 7 week battle.  (Yes.  7 weeks).  This friend was one of those solid guys, one you could sit down with and share a joke, or a real heart-to-heart.  He was a true gentle man.  When you were in his presence, you knew he was truly there.  He was an amazing father and grandfather, who always had time for his family.  His home was always open, and we spent countless Christmas Eves and Thanksgivings and summer pool parties with them.  This book is about Anita Moorjani's Near Death Experience (NDE) and although I am not aware that our friend experienced this, it gives me some peace thinking that he is still with us and as happy and free as anyone could be.

As she says in the book, "Live your life fearlessly."

Black Sheep

Maybe you have a cat that purposely knocks stuff off the counter when she's peeved with you.  Or a dog that will pee on your bed when you leave it alone too long.

We have 2 such critters: Blackberry, a chicken, and Stella, a sheep.

Blackberry is a very unassuming hen.  She's a consistent layer of large perfect brown eggs.  She is a Barred Rock X  (cross with what, I have no idea), and as such, very ordinary looking.  You can pick her up without a fuss and take an egg out from underneath her whilst she's still on the nest.

Don't let her fool you.  This chicken is an escape artist.  She can open unlatched gates without batting an eye.

After I let the sheep out into the pasture in the morning, I close their pasture gate and then open the gate between the chickens' yard and the sheep pen, so the chickens can effectively "clean up" after the sheep.  Works well... most of the time.

Last week, the sheep (mostly the aforementioned Stella) decided to loiter in their pen for a while before going into pasture.  Fine, I thought.  But I forgot that the latch on the gate between the chickens and the sheep is broken.  And I forgot about Blackberry.

I was greeted at the top pasture gate several hours later by Blackberry and her cronies, 3 other mixed breed hens and one adventurous "old lady."  (We have 2 "old ladies" -- Sex-a-link hens that have retired.  I.E. - don't lay anymore and on a "real farm" would have been chicken soup a long time ago.)

Caught in the act -- with accomplices!

Blackberry will poke her head through the holes in the gate's wire and push it open so she can escape.

And, she's Beep's mom.  (Beep is now a house chicken who perches on shoulders and listens to bed time stories.  Geesh.)

Bad Chicken.  Thankfully, she'll go in without fanfare if I have the feed bucket in hand.  I'm on to you, lady.

And then there's Stella.  She is, literally and figuratively, the Black Sheep.

Stella will linger in the sheep pen and refuse to go out to pasture.  She will refuse to come into the barn at night and lure the others back out of the barn.  When I want her to go up to the top pasture, she'll go down, and vs.  She head butts my son.  Or, tries to, anyway.  She'll be the one making noise if she's not happy with something while the other sheep just accept it.

B-b-baaaaaa-d sheep.  (Ouch. Lame Joke!)

She keeps me on my toes, this one.  It'll be interesting to see what her babies are like in the spring.

If You Listen, You Can Hear

Can you see it?  Happy lettuce and whimpering basil.

Someone has been whispering to the plants in the garden the past few nights.  I heard rumors that he might be visiting, but I was hoping it was just that -- rumors.  But just in case the rumors were true, I tucked in some of the plants with a blanket of thick plastic in hopes that they could just sleep the night away, undisturbed.

Alas.

Some plants can handle the unkind words and are unaffected.  But, the more delicate ones have stories to tell.

As I was peeking at the sleeping garden babes yesterday, I heard something.  Or a few things.  It's like being in a school yard after something has happened and you're pretty sure what, but you want to hear the real story.

The tomato plants around the edges of the plastic blanket were shrinking back, shuddering, eyes closed, not speaking, hoping that he had gone away.

The basil took the worst of it; the tallest plants are black and blue -- they took the hit for the smaller ones, underneath.  The small ones, polite but trembling, "Excuse me.  Hello.  We are still here-- is he gone yet?"

All I heard from the squash vines was a small sigh. It's like they took one look at him and fainted dead away.   I cut what was left from the vines and brought them up to the shelter of the deck. Hopefully they are salvageable.  You'd think the big fall vegetables were made of stronger stuff.

The baby lettuces are happily playing on the playground, oblivious to the carnage around them.

Then there is the chard.  The Bad Asses.  They are the teenagers, having lasted all summer, leather jackets on, leaning against the wall.  "What?  Huh?  Jack Who?  We didn't see nuthin".

All I could do was quietly apologize, assuring them that, yes, he's gone for a little while.  But...
He'll be back.

Weekend Reading?

As the weather cools off and I find I'm spending more and more time indoors, especially in the evening and early morning, my pile of good reads is growing taller and taller:

Because there really is only so much housecleaning I can stand.  (It's not very much).

Happy Thanksgiving all!

Careful What You Wish For

It's amazing how one flip of a page can change one's perspective.  A page in the calendar, that is.   Presto! It's October.  Wow.  A few weeks ago, in a frenzy of harvesting oodles of goodness from the garden, I found myself drifting into a reverie of fireplaces, warm sweaters, cozy slippers and knitting.  How nice that would be, to have a bit of a break from all the harvesting and canning and drying and preserving.  Cooler October temperatures have called my bluff; I am in a headlock with brother Autumn and I am crying "Uncle!" at the top of my lungs.


Just a few more warm sunny days, Please!  I'm not ready!