One Fine Pup

Guinness was a Toy Fox Terrier. He belonged to Matthew, The Artilleryman, until he married. Then he came to live with us. He became John's best buddy, curling up in his lap in the evenings, getting petted and snarfing snacks when he could. He was just about to turn one, sometime next month.

Last weekend, I noticed he had developed a habit of hanging out by the highway. There's lots to sniff and find up there, not to mention an almost infinite supply of cats at the farm across the street. I was afraid that this would be a bad thing. I even told Mary that it was just a matter of time before he was injured, or worse.

Well, worse happened. Sometime this afternoon, Guinness found his way up to the highway again. He did not return. We don't know any other details. We would ask, in your travels, if you should cause the death or injury of what is obviously somebody's pet, that you please let them know. We would not have been upset with you, but would have preferred that he be cared for immediately, not lying pathetically on the side of the road.

We will miss the little beast. Hug your puppies tonight!!

Saturday Farm Report

So yesterday the garden shed got emptied, as did the feed hut. Both were swept. I got all the pegboard pulled down in the garden shed, and put back only about 25% of the contents. The rest were pitched or put back where they belonged, in other buildings. I pulled out the shelving unit, and all of the waterers and feeders. I put water in the waterers, and found the two that leak. We have enough that those two can go to the scrapyard. I left it all outside, thinking that today I would wash them.

And God said, "Bwahahahaha!"

While I was enjoying a night out with some other homeschooling moms, I learned that the snow we expected tonight had been moved up to last night. Yep, all those waterers, etc, are lying out in the snow. It won't hurt them, and it's supposed to be back up to 48 tomorrow. By Monday, I'll be cleaning waterers and probably planting peas and onions.

Such is March in northern Illinois!

Friday Fun

Not so much.

There is much to be done about the farm today, and much mud to slog through while doing it!

The chicken house needs to be cleaned this weekend. We try to clean it every six weeks or so during the warm months. In late fall, though, we stop, and clean again sometime in March. We're told the composting manure helps keep the chickybirds warmer during the cold months, so there is a method to our laziness. But it's really nasty when it begins to warm up, which it is doing this week. This weekend is supposed to be cold, though, so it'll keep the smell down a bit while we clean.

Our chicken house has become something of a rat colony over the past few years. This year, I'd like to make some changes to make it less hospitable for the rats. The house is split into two small rooms; one is the actual coop, and the other is a small feed and garden tool storage area. We have pegboard on the walls, for hooks on which we hang the tools. I want to remove all the pegboard, behind which the rats are nesting. I also want to take out a set of shelves that have become pretty useless. The rats tend to hang out there, and I won't go near those vile things. Then I want to seal off the eave vents with new hardware cloth; various grackles, rats and other vermin have torn into them over the years. If I can get them sealed, and leave fewer hiding places for the rats, maybe I can get ahead of this. It's a long shot; anytime you have grain sitting out, you're going to get rodents. But I can try, right?

The chicken house also needs a new door, a new roof, (John is thinking metal this time) and a paint job. It is 10 years old, after all, and has had no attention during that time.

We're still moving tigerlilies, too.

I'll be working in the main pasture this weekend, also. The horses spent most of the winter there, so there is old hay to be moved to the compost, and lots and lots of manure. Oh joy! I also want to overseed.

So, if you're looking for something to do this weekend, you know where to look for activity!!

Sandhill Cranes

I mentioned these beautiful birds yesterday as being my ultimate sign of spring. Mud is one; farmers say you can't have green grass until you have mud. Well, our horses, goats and birds love green grass, so we need mud. Although I really don't like it.

Robins are a common sign of spring. But I've also heard the farmers say that, once you see a robin, there's one more snowfall left. The jury is still out on that one for this year; I saw my first robin yesterday.

Cranes, however, are another story. There are several subspecies of cranes, three of which are endangered. The cranes we see here in Illinois, both migrating through and also nesting nearby, are not among those. And, yet, sandhill cranes are not seen everyday. We hear them in the spring and in the fall, migrating overhead. They sound like this when we hear them. They fly very high, using thermals, coasting northward on the air. I usually hear them long before I see them. When I do see them, they are often directly above me, so small as to be easily missed. More and more often, we're hearing them nearby, or seeing them flying over at the level of the trees. I know they nest nearby, because we hear them calling in the fields. It's amazing how far that call travels!

In spring, they seem to come after the first Canadian geese, but before the robins. As they migrate southward in the fall, they are usually among the last migratory birds we see. So I always say that I know it's really spring when we see them going north, and really fall when they head back south.

I don't remember seeing cranes while I was growing up only about 30 miles from here. I can't recall seeing them at all before about 15 years ago, when I had a pseudo-religious experience involving sandhill cranes. Yes, I know how that sounds. But follow me here.

Fall (or autumn, if you prefer)is my favorite season. I love the colors, the scents, the crisp, cool air. But one fall, I was having one of those really rotten days. I mean really rotten. Nothing seemed to be going right, and there was no relief in sight. I did what any sane person would do; I prayed. "Dear Lord," I prayed, "I know this has to happen. Just help me learn something from it, and show me that there's an end in sight. I just really need some happy in my day." Well, just then, about 20 cranes flew over. I heard their call, looked up, and saw them. They were circling. (I don't know how scientific this is, but I have noticed that, unlike Canadian geese, they don't fly in a v or exchange lead geese in an orderly fashion. They seem to decide it's time to change, and swirl around for bit, until one of them decides to be the boss crane.) There they were, above my house, circling and calling. Something in me said, "Hey, it's fall. Be happy."

Coincidence, I've been told, is when God works and chooses to remain anonymous.

Of Trailers and Tigerlilies

Spring is springing here. We've seen robins, had mud and rain (and are bound to get much, much more!) but, most tellingly, the cranes are overhead! Sandhill cranes have been, for years, my tell-tale sign that spring has sprung (or, on the other side, that fall is falling.)

Today, with visions of trail rides dancing in our heads, we loaded up the horses to take them to a friend's farm, where there is an indoor arena. More honestly, we tried to load them. Most honestly, we tried to load mine. Hope can sometimes be a Silly High-strung Intense Thoroughbred (interesting acronym...) and gave us a bit of grief. So we gave her some. We got them loaded, had them stand for a bit while we ate lunch, took them for a ride around the block, took them out, groomed them, and reloaded. It was a long day, but it was good, solid work. (Actually, she does load decently. She just wasn't doing it like I'd like her to, and we're going to work on that.)

In between loading and grooming, while they were standing, we started a small garden project. Years ago, I took some tigerlilies and started a small bed in our backyard. As happens, I've gotten bored of them there, mostly because they're hard to see in their spot. So we are going to dig and move them, leaving their spot to return to lawn. We're moving them up to the bank of the ditch along the highway. Hopefully they'll bloom for many years, and passers-by will enjoy them!

I wish I had some photos or videos of today's adventures. But it seems my camera has wandered off again...

Friday Fun

Today was VIP Day at the day school. Mary was VIP for her niece, and I drove our grandson back over there later in the day to see Corbin's amazing wild animal show. A good time was had by all.

I do find it telling that my 15 year-old noticed a lot of wild, erratic behavior. "Well, yeah," I said, "you get a bunch of kids all excited about visitors, pack the visitors into the school, and have kids and visitors going from room to room to see displays about different nations, complete with food. Then you put all these excited people into the gym and parade reptiles and exotic mammals among them. There's gonna be wild, erratic behavior." "But Mom," she said, "the worst were the parents. The kids were wild, yeah, but the parents were the ones who couldn't seem to control themselves."

Hmmm...

"I Ate Fleas"

This has been a hectic week, with visits to Mom, (she's doing well) and housecleaning, both ours and hers, filling up most of the agenda. Thursdays, though, tend to be our midweek break. We sleep in a little, read, and rest up.

I've done some homemaking today. I baked; banana muffins, oatmeal bread and waffles. I made some Colorado Beans and Barley for supper; it smells good upstairs!

The kids have been keeping themselves busy. Ethan has no classes today, so we've been blessed with his presence. And stories. At lunch, he and Mary were doing what they do best; annoying each other. She had to leave the room at one point, and warned him, "Don't TOUCH my waffle!" Of course, he HAD to touch her waffle. Just one little bitty touch, but it was enough to galvanize her into action. She touched HIS waffle! She thought she had him there!

But she forgot one of his many Basic training stories. Seems one of the meals they ate in the field was generously topped with...fleas. Yep, you read that right. Now, being Basic, there was no asking for replacement food. And Ethan was too hungry to care. So he, yep, ate them. Now, when he comes across something that is less than appetizing, but is presented with no other choice, he can shrug and say, "I ate fleas at Basic, I can do this."

So he looked at his sister's offending finger on his own personal waffle lunch, and said, airily, "I ate fleas."

"Durn," she said, having failed to annoy him...