In which November has not been a frantic month of writing (thus far)

Usually by this point in November, I'm 25,000 words into a NaNoWriMo novel.

But this year, meh.

 I'm skipping out on the November writing madness.  

Jim assembled the new orangerie as a place to write...but mostly I just hang out in
there and (metaphorically) chill. 

This three-burner propane stove is almost overkill inside the space.

This morning I was stringing fairy lights inside the orangerie while the sun was shining on it:  first I turned off the propane.  Then I took off my gloves.  Then I took off my down vest.   

It was 30*F outside, but I was down to a t-shirt inside!  It gets cold in there at night, though, so the lemon tree I got for the space will live indoors this winter.


Farm Update:

Cat #5 has returned from the shelter and is now a Tame Animal.

Sinbad the Pirate Cat now presents with a clipped ear, a bobbed tail, and no testicles.

Turns out that regular meals and some really good pain meds are all that were needed to turn a skittish feral kitty into a powerhouse purr machine.  Sinbad is casually seeking an indoor home of his own with no other cats, but no hurry.  His current assignment is orchard and outbuilding patrol.

There hasn't been much riding in the past few weeks:  once the rain (finally) started, the tree farm shut down for two weeks at the start of hunting season.  

I did venture out one time to ride the Whitehorse Trail, and met up with Charlotte and Kitty in the parking lot!  Totally unplanned, but delightful to see both of them and ride together for a few hours.

This the thing I miss most about endurance training:  the people

Mostly though, I just grab the mare and go.

Riding solo on a quiet peaceful trail is pretty much my favorite thing.

Of course, there are the turkeys.  We started with 8 poults in late June, and were promptly gifted with a 9th.  It's always good to have a few extras, because turkeys often make bad choices and die.

Nine survivors.  The gift bird, Marilyn, is the big bourbon red in the middle

One bird was lame early-on, but managed to live and thrive.  

The lame bird we named "Wonky" eventually caught up in size to the other birds:  

Younger generation: Ishaun and Will learning skills from Mel and Jim.

the hens were about 9 pounds each, and the biggest toms were almost 15 pounds once they were plucked and ready for the freezer.

When most of the work was done, Will drove into town to pick up His! New! Dog!

Molly is about a year and a half old, possibly a border collie x handsome stranger

 

Will has wanted a dog for a long time, but (typical for him) wanted to do all the things right.  So, he asked questions, listened to answers, and when the shelter finally had a "training wheels" dog available, he brought her straight to Dr. Patty.

Patty pronounced Molly "a good dog."

That's all the news we have for now.  Stay warm and well, y'all.