The Queen Bee and her Wannabees. Brianna and her daughter and granddaughter.

Guinea teaching Bugs 101 to her keets in the garden.

"You are not a kitten. You are not a hen....Wait. You ARE a hen!" (Are You My Mother? by PD Eastman)

Tina and one of her "brothers." Guess her kids will have uncles. There goes the matriarchy.

Milking through. 21 months and counting. Julia is my rock star!

"What have you done for me lately?"

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds. ... "

Hooray!" say the children, "Pony rides!" "Yes," says C.C. "Hip. Hip. Freaking hooray."

Puppy Power!

Don't be fooled by Riccio's cuteness. His guinea pig eye looks guilty. Which means he has pooped on Pretty's quilt. Again.

Tina before she got her new legs.

Blackbeard sitting her fourth nest of the season. In November. Because like Pinky and the Brain, she has plans to conquer the world. With ducklings.

The Three Billy Goats Sleepy.

Easy Bake Incubator.

Baa, baa, black sheep. How long 'til you get your wool? Will I have time to learn to knit?

Josie. We miss your eyeball rubs.

Tasha. We miss your ferociousness. No one else does, but we do.

Oh, to canning we go, oh, to canning we go. Turn up the stereo, to canning we go!

Young carrots and mature broccoli. The greatest generations.

Previously known as snap peas.

Plan: Delicious sweet corn to eat and freeze. Change in plan: Bug ridden corn cobs for chickens and dried up stalks for a decorative fall corn shock. Eh.

View when sitting on the deck in the fall. Before the raking, when you no longer have time for sitting on the deck.

Pink zinnia and a Red Admiral. I love how the butterfly matches her orange to the stamen. Well played, well played.

My work commute. The corn often switches sides of the road without signaling and the clouds tailgate. Agh!

If you go, we go. No one gets left dry. (from Backdraft. Kind of.)

Fishing: Free. Fun. And slimy.

Follow the leader. But watch for goat berries.

Look, mom. Almost flipped over. Someone get the c-collar ready.

When my aunt heard I was starting to knit she sent me this entire container of knitting needles. I don't know how to use them all yet. But sometimes I open it and drool on them while perusing Ravelry. Thank you, Aunt Peggy.

A co-worker gave The Other Half this car. It is small and spray painted and gets lots of mileage to the gallon. Which means I never have to worry about him running out of gas on the way to work. Also I don't need to worry about another woman trying to pick him up at stoplights.

Went to help a friend with hoof trimming. Came home with a champion buck. This is the kind of fair trade China is getting away with, why not me?

The deer have been elusive this year, but the wild turkeys have donated lots of feathers for the Thanksgiving mantle.

Stumbled upon this sopapilla cheesecake recipe on pinterest. So I think it should have been on StumbleUpon instead. But who am I to judge?

Found this great dog in the front yard. Then found him a forever home. Because we'd have to buy another couch and then build a bigger family room to have enough space for three dogs in the house. And someone would still end up sittng in the wet-spot-from-paw-licking. Ugh.

Sampson the rooster. Our flock king, who sounds the alarm, keeps the hens in line, and never, ever spurs us. Long live the gentle giant.

Papa the pig. Who taught us everything we know about raising pigs. Especially why they should not be allowed to get bigger than 250lbs.

A good sign that your soil is healthy. And that you should go fishing. See "Simple Fun" above.

Dog food bandit.

Squirrel proof, my as*. Or squirrel as*. Whatever.

Squash bugs on the squash. Who'dathunkit?

I don't even have to look up to see what a visitor is talking about when she says, "Oh! What is THAT?" I just say "It's a guinea" and go on with my business.

I don't even have to look up to see what a visitor is talking about when he says "Oh! What is wrong with THAT chicken?" I just say "It's a turken" and go on with my business.

Spider cricket. There's nothing good when you add "spider" to the front of a word.

My mother's dog, Tootles. Finally, a dog small enough for the kids to sneak under the covers.

My mother's other dog, Missy. A laptop dog.

Timmy, the elf on the shelf that arrives after Thanksgiving. To keep an eye on the naughty and nice. And, apparently, the soup cans.

We make cupcakes for the church reception following the Hanging of the Greens each Thanksgiving weekend. One year we made a cupcake wreath. Because it certainly seemed appropriate.

One year we made an edible partridge in a cupcake pear tree. Because the only bird you want eating your fruit is a pretend one made of frosting.

But this year I am making a cupcake Christmas tree. Since Little won't let me make one for his December birthday party any more. Now he wants a cake with Transformers or Batman or Pokemon or some superhero other than Jesus. Go figure.

Oreo truffles. Enough said.