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Showing posts from June, 2014

in which I leave the poultry in charge of the farm while we're all at camp

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In which I present The Daily Turkey: wisdom from the world of poults

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The young of most species is cuter than the adult version, and much cuter than the the adolescent version.

In the case of turkey poults, the cuteness doesn't last long.


Soon enough, those cute little fuzz'ums are wearing weird fashions, demanding to use the family car, and


staying out until the strange hours of the night.


Truthfully, they stay out at night because they can't find the doorway of the shed.
 They also eat junk food at every opportunity.


All of their splendid decision-making is adding to their personal beauty...or not.


They are a little short on survival strategies.


And increasingly short on charm.


 At least they provide regular doses of humor.


We were worried that we would get too attached to the little ones to be able to eat them later.
Not worried now.  
Thanksgiving is coming.  We just need to

In which red is for remembrance...and some other things as well, I guess

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There's sad doings over at Boots and Saddles 4 Mel's blog.
We are too distant, geographically speaking, to attend the memorial service for Bethany, but we all understand loss, and we want Mel to know that we are holding her in our hearts today, as always.

That's the reason that we dug to the very bottom-most layer of our closets.

In honor of Bethany and Mel, we wore our red shirts (to the unmitigated delight of a hummingbird at the trailhead!) and headed out onto the trails.
The sky was blue.
The company was good.

We kept a sharp watch out, especially in Bear Meadow.  But apparently, the bears are now keeping a sharper watch out for us, and we didn't see any of them.


As always, we talked on the trail.  
We talked about the coming week, and we talked about times gone by.



Remembering is good, but it's better to remember stuff with somebody else--either with somebody who was there at the time, and can remember with you, or


with somebody who wasn't there, and hasn&#…

In which an inventory is made and an escape documented

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It's been a long time since I wandered around the farm with the camera.  

So that's how I spent this evening: wandering around to look at all the prettiness here.

The DPOs (Dreaded Previous Owners) favored dainty, hard - to - grow plants, like roses and a particularly buggy kind of lilac. I'm more of a lavender and mint person. It's difficult to kill lavender or mint.


Elsewhere on the farm are plants that are more my speed.

I finally got the Late Garden planted the other day.

It looks empty now, but this soil (built from stall cleanings, kitchen scraps, and chicken manure) is deep and soft and rich--vastly different than the garden we started with in 2009.




The early garden is producing well.  
This is the garden Lisa built last fall, so the soil isn't nearly as awesome yet. I needed help getting the early seeds into the ground this Spring, because I was still so wobbly following surgery in March. The garden doesn't seem to mind.


Elsewhere, it's a gung-ho y…

In which we give a Klickitat ride report, and I RODE FIFTY MILES!

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Astonishingly, out of all the Usual Suspects, I was almost the only one who had Time, Inclination and a Sound Horse to ride at the Klickitat Trek ride last weekend. 
But that doesn't mean I went to the ride by myself.  Au contraire!
Patty and I went on Thursday before the ride so we'd have plenty of time to set up stuff for the Endurance 101 clinic.


Pretty soon, all kinds of friends were rolling in.


Fee and I took a quick "shake-down ride" before the vet-in.





Uh-oh.  Dr. Jenn noticed some asymmetrical soreness on Fee's back at the vet-in.


She wasn't sore enough to keep us in camp, but in true Dr. Jenn fashion, my favorite vet wanted to be sure I knew about it so I would lose plenty of sleep fretting about it all night before the ride.

Sigh.


After a !surprise! thunder-and-lightning show in the middle of Friday night, we saddled up to enjoy a beautiful ride day.

I admit that I was, for the first time in a long time, scared.

50 miles is a long way, and my surge…