I've decided to post more honestly here. Not that my posts are ever dishonest, but you certainly get a one-sided view of farm life.
A mother once told me to be sure I don't post graphic or sad things because she shows the blog to her children.
But the un-fun times are real, and knowing about them is only fair.
So here's a pic to sum up the impending Arctic weather and our desperation for the sun and her warmth.
We've ("we" in this sense meaning my kids and my husband) been scrambling to get extra hay to the horses and cows and shoring up all of the animals' shelters for the predicted frigid weather.
(Be glad you get to look at unhappy Kate during chores. It was either this or a photo of the broiler chicken who died under the horse trailer.)
Here are illustrations of things that will never get done at my farm.
In the bleak darkness that is January, I always imagine grand schemes for a garden that will actually produce food that I, in turn, will actually harvest and "put up."
I'm a terrible gardener. This year I ordered a book which will make a good gardener out of me.
When, and only when, I master the contents of this book, I will allow myself to order the seed catalog!
Our momma hen is back to laying eggs. In the cat's house. On the front porch. But we have eggs again, so that's all that matters.
And here's a duck egg from Pip thrown in for good measure.
It was a bad feeling to be buying eggs from the store for holiday baking.
There's simply no comparison between the bland store bought and the dark colored, flavorful home grown eggs.
God bless you, poultry, every one!
See that big luxurious clothespin in the foreground? I'll be assembling 19 of them tomorrow.
I was so excited when Herrick Kimball released a batch of clothespin kits. They sold out quickly, but I am among the lucky few who got a package.
The pieces are soaking in boiled linseed oil to offer them more protection from the elements.
My laundry is soaking in my homemade laundry soap that smells like Grandma's washing.
I feel frugal.
I had meant to be a consistent blogger but I'll wow you with these photos of famous thespians to take your mind off my long blog absence.
We just performed in a weekend full of "Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus" at the local community theater.
I was Mrs. Madison, a neighbor to the main characters. Laura was convincing as Lige the coal man. Becky and Katie were children in school with Virginia. I know Becky's picture is blurry, but I like it anyway. It summed up the energy of backstage shenanigans before the shows.
This has been a busy season, full of the blessings of a job well done, a close-knit community of fellow actors, and an outreach to people who want access to the arts in rural America.
Clyde is excited about the wildland fire industry's off-season. Most of us won't hold Uncle Clyde because of his unnecessary roughness. He's downright dangerous with his claws and his teeth. He likes to rub his head on us, drooling from happiness, and sucking on fingers.
Now that Big Dan is home, Clyde gets his morning nap on a lap every day.
It takes a man to snuggle with Clyde.