Sometimes You Just Know.
Posted on | August 23, 2012 | 6 Comments
As soon as you see it. You know. And you think to yourself, “That’s it! That’s for me!”
Sometimes you’re looking for it. And you can’t believe how lucky you are that you found it.
Sometimes you’re looking for something else when it just falls into your lap. And then it goes beyond luck. It’s more like….Destiny….Fate….Divine Intervention!
Take, for example, the fact that I was looking on Pinterest for some storage ideas for the garage. The garage that I am building inside my house. I realize most people have a garage attached to their house. Or detached from their house. Not inside their house.
But what used to be our garage was converted to living space when the second child was born. And then the money for a new garage was used to add on more bedrooms by the time we had four children. Whatever money was left after that was eaten up by the barn animals. A fine tradition that continues to the present day. Read more
It Ain’t Over ‘Til The Fat Lady Sings.
Posted on | August 23, 2012 | 4 Comments
I understand that the stores have you thinking fall has arrived. That summer is over and, minus the freakishly overzealous celebration of Halloween that will have us making otherwise socially unacceptable things like this, the cold and dearth of winter is on the doorstep. That the approach of Labor Day signals not just a random holiday for which we are given the day off in order to recognize, um…., working (???), but the end of of the summer season.
But here at Woodland Pond, we refuse to go out without a fight and like they say in the opera—-it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings. I cut back the tomatoes in the greenhouse from this….
Free Range Garden.
Posted on | August 10, 2012 | 4 Comments
I finally did the mowing.
In the garden….
….down by the fruit trees….
….and up to the perennial beds.
Why Does The Okra Hate Me? (And Other Farm Tales Of Woe)
Posted on | August 1, 2012 | 11 Comments
We are spiraling out of control.
The chickens are hatching ducklings.
Together Again.
Posted on | July 22, 2012 | 5 Comments
Well, by this weekend everyone was home again. Which means we had to stay busy. Because we’d had so much time apart that we weren’t sure if we still liked each other. Or wanted to share our toys anymore. Or even the couch for that matter. When you get a little break from one another’s idiosyncrasies it’s better to get back together slowly.
I was going to keep everyone hopping by getting on top of the chores. After all, if someone doesn’t vacuum up the fur balls soon, they may engage the dust bunnies in a full scale battle. Also, the toilets are beginning to get that lovely little ring around the waterline that makes you think you’re using the restrooms at the Shell station. But I figured assigning chores would remind everyone of the qualities that they really hated in me. So I figured we’d just catch up on some crafting.
The Other Half ordered some real lunchboxes for the kids back in June and they arrived exactly a week after school started. Which is about right. They are the sturdy metal kind, but they are also kind of bland.
Back to School.
Posted on | July 18, 2012 | 5 Comments
Little and Middle went back to school this week. Big is at boy scout camp. The Other Half is at work. Which means me and Pretty are bored to death. We have been forced to go out to lunch, get pedicures, see movies, stamp soap, and make bleach stencil T-shirts. You know, just to avoid brain cell death from the pure tedium of life without males. Hah!
It has been wonderful. It makes up for when Pretty was 4 months old and I was trying to switch her from breast to an occasional bottle and she refused to take a bottle for 2 whole days, laying listless and and teary on her blanket, forcing me to call the pediatrician every 2 hours to make him repeat that no baby had ever starved herself to death and she would take it when she was hungry enough, which she eventually did. It makes up for when she was 9 months old and would scream hysterically if anyone other than me tried to hold her when I was in the room, forcing me to hide around corners, out of sight, if I wanted to take a breather from a baby on my hip. It does not make up for when she was 3 years old, standing outside church with us in a beautiful frilly dress and sweet sunhat, chatting with other adults after service, when she dropped her Sunday school papers and emphatically yelled, “God da*% it, Jesus Christ!” in a shocking imitation of my voice. I mean, she had the tone and pitch down perfectly. I laughed at the time. Because there was nothing else to do. Also I figured my laughter would cover up whatever cuss word might come out next. But I am not over it. And we won’t be square on that one until Pretty is old enough to pay for my pedicures. Read more
Recovery Program.
Posted on | July 17, 2012 | 1 Comment
The dry spell passed last week and we finally got some rain. Not that people around us hadn’t been getting rain. They did. They always do. We often sit on the deck listening to the deafening thunderclaps and watching the lightning flashing over the towns next door. But we are dry as bone.
That’s because one of the neighboring towns does not have a mountain. So it gets all the rain that comes from the west. Or the south. I’m never really sure which direction the weather is coming from because the highway going to that town tells me I am on I-40 West but also I-85 South. I realize the DOT labels a highway as going “West” if it primarily goes west and “South” if it primarily goes south. I’m not sure how they get away with that. If I claimed that I obeyed the speed limit because I was primarily going 65MPH, I don’t think the Highway Patrol would agree with me. I mean, what if I got pulled over and said, “Hey, mister, if you can say you were driving west on a southbound highway, then I can say I was only going 65.”
That’s totally hypothetical. I would never actually say that. Because I primarily don’t want to go to jail.
So, due to all this confusion, I like to think that the weather comes from the left. ‘Cause that’s where it comes from when I am sitting on the deck, hoping for rain. And that makes it so much clearer. To me.
But the storms and the rains never actually make it to my little plot of shriveling cucumber vines and wilting pepper plants. Read more
Potato Farmer.
Posted on | July 1, 2012 | 8 Comments
Know what this means?
Well, yes, it does mean we finally convinced Big to cut his hair for summer. But that’s not what I’m talking about.
It means when we came up from the garden we were happy. Very happy. Because as it turns out…..get ready…..you are going to be excited….YOU ACTUALLY CAN GROW POTATOES IN THE GARDEN!!!
I know for years I have been telling you that people who say they can grow potatoes are liars. That they are making up that stuff about growing them in leaves or plastic bags or in compost bins. That growing your own potatoes is some ridiculous gardening myth like a weed barrier cloth that actually stops weeds or plants that deer do not eat. Read more
Tina.
Posted on | June 27, 2012 | 25 Comments
Some times things happen for a reason. Some times someone can cross your path at just the right time. Some times we are given a sudden and unexpected opportunity to save each other. And we take it.
When Tina came into our lives, we were at a breaking point. We had recently lost a lot of animals to illness and disease. Our confidence was shaken. Our hearts ached. We dreaded heading out to the barn for the morning chores, living in fear that someone else would be ailing. We said, as all farmers have said at one time or another in their farming lives, that we would not replace the animals we had lost. We would rather downsize and do without than go through the pain of more loss. In retrospect, taking in a crippled goat kid at that time seems like an incomprehensible decision.
Tina’s front legs were severely bent and the cause was uncertain. A birth defect? White muscle disease? A serious case of contracted tendons? The usual treatments had already been tried without effect. All that was left was a last ditch attempt to splint the limbs and hope for the best. And since we did not have the skills or the materials for splinting, hope really was what we were relying on. We had never splinted an animal on our farm. I had to repeatedly refer to anatomical drawings of a goat leg just to understand what bones and muscles and tendons I was dealing with. And although this site was very helpful, Tina’s twisted legs looked very different and the muscles and tendons were hard to examine when covered with fur. Read more
How many pots can a crackpot crock if a crackpot makes crockpot soap?
Posted on | June 24, 2012 | 6 Comments
It was another hot day. Which meant we had to play inside. Again. Although the boys were all up for going to see The Three Stooges at the $3 theatre. Not gonna happen, boys. I can manage a lot of Disney and Pixar. But a remake of The Three Stooges is a flick for The Other Half. That and any Adam Sandler creation.
So I sent the younger boys upstairs to watch their 6 hour video of Stooges episodes (yes, 6 hours!) and Big sat down at the kitchen table to paint his Apache helicopter model and help me make soap. Notice that Big was multitasking. Male multitasking! There is hope for the future.
Now there are a lot of tutorials for making homemade soap on the internet. You should read them. Do NOT rely upon what you read here. Because as the boys headed upstairs with their bags of microwave popcorn and juice boxes, Little glanced at all the supplies I was gathering and said, “Oh, you’re making soap. Gonna use the crackpot way again?” Which pretty much says it all. Read more
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