farm news

Puppies

2011-07-12T10:05:00.003-05:00

I'm going to try very hard not to speak ill of those among us who are irresponsible and cruel. Those people who can see no other solution to a problem than to pawn it off on somebody else. Those who's hearts are unaffected as they toss helpless puppies out of their vehicle and drive away. I get that times are tough. I understand that it takes money to feed a dog and take them to the vet and treat them for fleas. But to abandon a puppy? To hope someone else will drive by and pick them up? To think they'll just survive on their own??...that I don't understand.

Yesterday when I was heading home, I saw two little fluff balls running down the road. I immediately knew the story. I've seen it many times. The thing that breaks my heart more than anything is that those babies were, more than likely, running after the jerk that left them behind. This is why I love dogs. They are loyal to even the nastiest of us humans.

I stopped the car and got out, talked to them for a second and they, apprehensively and very wiggly, allowed me to pick them up. We rode home without incident as I reassured them that it was going to be ok. I wondered if I was lying to them but kept on telling them, "it's ok".

By the time we got home, I'd already assessed how completely covered in fleas they were. I recruited Taylor and we immediately began the bathing process. It must have taken us an hour of scrubbing and combing and a good half a bottle of tea-tree oil shampoo to remove the fleas. I'd never seen so many fleas in my life. Then we blow-dried them, treated them with Frontline and removed the remaining ticks. Taylor folded back one ear and had a conniption when she revealed a huge mass of ticks. It was a grueling process but we removed every last one.

They were very patient and even seemed to enjoy the whole operation. I can imagine that it would feel pretty awesome to have all those blood-suckers removed.

We then let Emma in on the action and she greeted them warmly and licked them thoroughly. They seemed to like that too.

They spent the night with Faith on the porch, barked at the goats and kitties, and had a big breakfast this morning. They seem just a little skittish but follow me wherever I go. I'm sure it would only take a little encouragement for them to move right into being a very lovely companion. They seem extremely smart and are so precious and sweet.

If you know anybody that would be kind enough to take them in, please let me know. I'm going to be contacting some rescues and shelters for help in placing them. You can find me on Facebook or email me @ barrettfarm@gmail.com

Thank you for any and all help.

20 years

2011-07-04T09:58:00.003-05:00

Nobody wanted me to marry that man. "Go to college! You're still so young. Go and be free. Your going to tie yourself down and regret it later."

We thought that my dad was going to have to be institutionalized. He hated the whole idea. He refused to spend any money on renting a tux (or anything else) and swore he would walk me down the isle in his overalls.

My mom patiently helped me plan the wedding. We shopped for flowers and material for bridesmaids dresses. We called everybody, begging and borrowing for decorations. I wore my cousins wedding dress, another cousin performed the ceremony and yet another cousin was my photographer. The venue was free, the singing was a-cappella, the coordinator was my great-aunt Ollie Bell, and the whole thing was nuts. But, the groom was Rodney Barrett and that was all my eyes could see.

There have been few things in my life that I've been that sure of. I wanted to be with him and nothing could convince me otherwise. We both felt that way from the moment we laid eyes on each other. I can still take myself back to that day and feel it all over again. Seeing him from across the room, our eyes locking and... I was done for. My knees literally went weak. And if eyes locking made me go weak, you can imagine what happened the first time he kissed me (which was about 3 hours later).

We talked so many times after the wedding about how we should have just run away together and saved ourself the grief of all the drama and money. But, weddings are more for the family than for the couple...a concept I've never understood. I've given my children permission to elope.

Today, we celebrate 20 years of marriage. Although, I felt married to him from the beginning. God formed some beautiful master plan and, I'm sure, has enjoyed the show since the two of us have been married. Rodney and I were talking the other night and decided that even the fact that we landed on the planet in the same generation, within years of each other, and then to have somehow ended up in the same room at the same time and fell in love that forcefully, that it all had to be masterfully planned. 20 years is only a drop in the bucket of time, a tiny speck in God's tapestry. 20 years to us is quite a long time and, in the same breath, it has gone by like a vapor.

So, after 20 years of babies, houses, farm, dogs, cats, laughter, tears, fights, make-ups, work, bill-paying, more crying, more laughing, more bills, where-are-my-socks?, blessings, struggling, living with, living without, toddlers, school, sports, teenagers, discipline, and even and little counseling, we are coming around to a place in our life where Jenni and Rodney can be Jenni and Rodney again. We are whisking ourselves away tonight for the first time since our honeymoon. We will attend the big fireworks show and hopefully make a few of our own. And, I hope I get at least 20 more years with that man.

Happy late Birthday, Emma

2011-06-23T13:12:00.007-05:00

I was out hanging clothes on the line a little while ago and I could hear the wind-chimes that hang in Eddie's tree. There is a sweetness about those chimes in the field. It doesn't make me sad, it causes me to pause and remember my blessings. As I was reminiscing about that boy and the happiness he brought to our home for the brief time he was with us, it occurred to me that I had overlooked Emma's birthday.

Emma turned a year old on June 8th. I can't believe she didn't remind me. Probably because she knew I was going to put that silly hat on her head and take her picture.

When I made the hat for Eddie, I planned on taking his picture in it yearly. Then, when he died, I had no idea what to do with it. I just knew it would be impossible for me to throw it in the trash. So, it's been sitting in the same drawer that the other birthday stuff resides. The banners and streamers, the glitter and glue, the crepe paper and raffia.

Once in a while when I have to pull something out of that crazy-disordered drawer, I touch the hat and let my heart hurt for a minute and then smile and remember how silly he was and how he was so patient with me while I put stuff on his head and laughed at him, then took his picture and posted it on facebook. Oh the shame of it all.

It doesn't seem so long ago.

Emma on the other hand...

She is not quite as tolerant of my shenanigans.

As a matter of fact, I think she may be plotting some sort of revenge. Off the top of my head, I'm thinking the massacre of some poor stuffed animal and probably a good digging in the flower pots.

She reminds us of Eddie once in a while because she is a boxer through to her core...but she is 100% Emma, and that's a good thing.

Happy Birthday Emma...2 weeks late.

Scariest thing ever

2011-06-01T13:48:00.005-05:00

Let me preface this particular blog by saying I fully support the 2nd amendment. My husband is a very responsible gun owner and has taught our son and daughter gun-safety and done it well. We are hunters. We are law-abiding citizens. We have many firearms in our home both rifles and hand guns. It is our right to have them and to use them. Until today, I had no idea of the incredible responsibility that comes with owning a gun.

I will also tell you before I begin this story by saying... nobody died today.

When Kyle was 5 years old, he was playing down at the pond at my parents house. He called me over to watch him walk out onto the old rickety bridge that spans from shore to the "island" on the pond. "look what I can do" he exclaimed. I told him sternly to NEVER do that unless an adult was with him. I'd almost lost him a couple times to drowning because the boy sinks like a rock when he is in water. Anyway, I went back in Mom's house where we were preparing dinner and working on plans for the new church building. About an hour went by and my dad asked, "has anybody seen Kyle?" Then it dawned on my that I hadn't seen him come through the house or heard him outside for a while, so I went to find him. I called, and called, and called and nothing. Mom came out and started to call. Kyle! Kyle! Nothing. Dad came out and began to look.

We started panicking.

I felt my stomach turn over as I thought about him standing on the bridge. My knees became so weak I could barely move. I began walking towards the pond absolutely sure that he would be face down in the water. Rodney pulled up and saw us running around calling for Kyle. He shouted at Dad to go check the house one more time. I was still jelly-leggedly making my way towards the pond, praying to Jesus with all my might.

Please God, please God PLEASE GOD.

Before I made it all the way to the water's edge, Dad yelled from the house, "I found him!"

He had crawled into the dog house in the garage and was sleeping with Dexter, Mom and Dad's old Weimaraner. It took me hours to quit shaking.

Until today, that was absolutely the most frightened I've ever been in my life.

I was sitting at my desk and was on the phone when it happened.

A gunshot was fired in the house.

Kyle was the only person in the house with me and I immediately jumped up screaming.

KYLE! KYLE! KYLE!

It was the only words that were coming from my mouth. There was no immediate response and I knew I was about to witness the most horrible thing a mother can experience. My heart is aching and tears are welling up just writing this.

When he emerged from our bedroom, white as a sheet and frantically asking if I was ok, I embraced him so tightly and wept like a baby thanking Jesus over and over.

After about 5 minutes of clutching each other in panic and thanksgiving, I started to ask what in heavens name he was doing.

He said the gun "just went off". Why in the world he was messing with it in the first place is beyond me but he learned a valuable lesson without the cost of life. He was shaken to the point of physical sickness. My tummy ain't too happy either.

Here are the forensics.

The gun that was fired is the revolver which is always located in Rodney's closet in our bedroom.

When the gun went off it was facing the closet wall. Here is the first bullet hole.

Rodney's only "good" hat.

Bullet hole number 2 went right through the hat rack.

...and then through the wall behind the hat rack.

It came out of the closet wall in the bedroom.

Then it went across the bedroom, through the wall on the opposite side.

it then came out the living room wall and ricocheted off the ceiling.

and finally came to rest right above the front door. It is lodged in the header above the door.

This is the scary part.

I don't know a whole lot about trajectory and angles but this was a crazy close call. It is still not real to me yet.

Rodney came home not long after it happened and went over the events with Kyle. The story ended up being that he pulled the hammer back, it slipped and the gun fired. A long gun-safety lecture commenced while Kyle sat with tears streaming down his face, hands shaking and still pale-faced.

I don't know why this happened. You would think that a 17-year-old wouldn't have to be monitored like a toddler. My emotions are ranging from confusion, to heartache, to anger, to thankfulness. The name Jesus keeps coming from my lips. Thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus, thank you Jesus! I'm sure I'll be processing this one for a while.

Inspirational Faith

2011-05-11T10:14:00.000-05:00

Please watch this very short video below. When your heart is nice and juicy and about to bleed, then carry on and read the rest of the blog.

"He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion." - Unknown

Faith came into my life by chance. Those kinds of circumstances never fail to remind me that I'm not in charge of my fate.

She is my living example of "I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see". We happened to be driving home when she was crossing the road one day and stopped to pick her up. It didn't mean much to me then, just a simple gesture of kindness to help out a stray dog. But, when I think about it now, tears well up in my eyes and my heart stings. For, I've grown to love her, and even my affection towards her pales in comparison to her love for me.

I don't know if she is as happy as she looks, but that face wears a smile 24/7.

She has inspired me so much. Here are just a few reasons why

She cannot see. We've wondered if perhaps she can see shadows or something but, after some tests with shining lights in her face etc...she has no vision whatsoever. And, you would never know it.
She has to find the bottom step on the porch by reaching out her paws, but, oddly, knows when she's reached the top. This leads me to believe that the girl can count. 1-2-3-4-5...top!
When we go on walks, she stays on the road and runs ahead with the rest of my motley pet parade.
She knows where all the water holes are on our walk. Does she count steps here too? Or can she smell the water? Either way, it impresses the heck out of me.
Hours upon end, she plays with Emma. When the rest of us have had enough of her endless energy, Faith continues to allow that crazy boxer to chase her through the yard, lick her face, and chew on her neck, all the while, wearing that darling smile.
She has gotten off the path a few times on our walks and fallen way behind. And then, without fail, she catches up to us or finds her way home by herself.
She makes us laugh. It's just awful, however, because the laughter usually comes after she's run into somebody's leg or fallen off the deck or when she does that confused-head tilt when she's listening to our activities in the house. We're just hideous sometimes.
She reacts differently to different people. She knows us by our energy, not our outward appearance. This proves so many things to me...not the least of which that we are souls with bodies, not bodies with souls.
When I feed her in the mornings, I'm met with anticipation and excitement, not because I'm carrying a cup of food but because she knows she's about to get a shower of affection. She hungers more for this than anything I feed her.

It's almost more than I can stand sometimes when I watch her frolicking happily through the fields. My mind will, many times, wonder what her life would have looked like had we not stopped and picked her up that day. Frightened, alone, hungry, friendless, unwanted, unloved and abandoned. In the stark contrast of her life now with all the joy and happiness she radiates, I can't help but feel such gratitude.

Oh how it makes me appreciate my own salvation. What a pitiful state my life would be if I'd just been left by the side of the road in my dark pit of sin. Thankfully, somebody stopped and picked me up, and brought me home and loved me despite my afflictions.

Sometimes she sits for long periods of time and stares out at the world in which she cannot see with her eyes.

She knows it's there.

She can smell the air and the grass.

She can feel the breeze on her face, the sun warm on her back.

She can hear the birds and the footsteps of us around her.

She senses our presence and knows us, not by our appearance, but by our energy and scent.

She relies on us to sustain her life and knows from where her food, shelter and love comes.

I believe she can see in her dreams. She can see a world that we know not of. I believe that, in our own ability to see, sometimes we are blind to the bigger reality of life. I think our eyes sometimes fool us into thinking that what we see is what we get. We rely on what is in front of us and don't depend upon God for our existence.

Faith has been a beautiful motivator, a little light in my life. Everything happens for a reason. I'm sure she has many more lessons to teach me and I look forward to them all.

Following my heart

2011-04-22T11:25:00.008-05:00

I've written before about my love of birds, the love of feeding them, identifying their kind, gazing upon their beauty and talking about them with friends (Hi Sherri!). Once I had a painted bunting eat from my feeder. It just so happened to show up when the battery in my camera was dead. But it really happened. I swear. It was so glorious an event that I got one of those chest tightening, heart-cramps. I tend to get those easily anyway but this one was big. Rodney happened to be here to witness it too. Not only did he see the amazingly colorful bird sweetly eating from the feeder, but he was also here to witness my come-to-Jesus, speaking-in-tongues, hallelujah, praise God, moment unfold before his very eyes. And, amazingly enough, he continues to live with me.

I was watching Oprah the other day. I've always been an Oprah fan but since she is beginning the countdown to her final show (only 24 left), I'm pretty diligent to watch every one. On Wednesday, her guest was Tom Shadyac. He is best known for directing Ace Ventura, Liar Liar, The Nutty Professor, and Bruce Almighty. Definitely my genre of movie. I'll not go into the whole thing, but he was speaking about his new documentary called "I AM" and the principles behind it. He was speaking about following your heart, not taking more than you need, and living in a cooperative community. I was really fascinated by the whole thing. I was also very happy to note that I am basically following all of these simple principles.

The show was still on and right at the point when they were discussing following your heart when I looked out my window and saw an unfamiliar bird.

I ran to find my camera (battery fully charged thank you very much) and zoom lens to snap some pictures. It was so odd that there was a conversation going on about following ones heart while I was snapping pictures of a bird. Photography is, without doubt, one of my hearts desires as is bird watching. God was just having a moment with me, reminding me of this. After I took the pictures, I got out my bird book (that thing is about worn out) and identified it as a blue grosbeak. If it had a little more of a crest on it's head, he'd look like a blue cardinal. I read every detail about him and was fascinated, not surprisingly, that he is only this color during mating season. He's been hanging out in my front yard, and frequenting my feeder. I believe his mate is hanging around too, although she is such a dull brown that she blends in with the cow birds. I'll not expound upon my dislike of those cowbirds other than they are squatters in the most literal sense.

All of this pondering my heart's desires got me to thinking about it's roots. Where did it all come from? I love to hear stories about my ancestors. Like how my great grandmother Green was very creative. I thought of her a lot when I was painting my kitchen cabinets bright red, wondering if she was looking down from heaven and admiring my work. My Dad's mother was a hoot and a half. She was a little Irish woman...and full of herself. Sometimes when my tongue outwits my brain, I pause and pay respects to her shrewd cleverness. This is the woman that, when faced with something fearful or upsetting, would say, "that makes my hiney want to suck a lemon!" And there was no explanation needed. I knew what she meant.

As for my love of all nature, I owe that to this woman.

I still remember so clearly pausing with her to admire every little flower hidden in the grass. There was one occasion I remember being in the back of the pick-up with her when Papaw pulled the truck over just so we could get out and pick wildflowers from the side of the road. There was something so authentically blissful about the way she touched their petals and asked me to look at what God had done. I don't believe that we ever passed up watching a sunset when I was staying with her on the farm. "God is an amazing artist" she would say. There was always a pair of binoculars hanging by the door so we could look out over the land, watch birds, and see what might be happening down at the pond. I keep a pair by my door now.

Remembering all of this also makes me aware of how much I'm missing because of the TV, computer and iPhone. My Papaw never was big on TV. When he and Mamaw were living in the "little house" in Gillham while building the "big house", there was no TV. I stayed a whole summer with them in that little house. It is probably one of the defining summers of my life and probably a big reason why I wanted to live on a farm so badly. When we (my brother and cousin, Jeremiah) would ask why there was no TV, Papaw would say, "look out the window. You don't need TV". And we didn't.

I like to follow my heart. I am thankful that God has allowed me to follow it almost exactly where I've wanted to go. And, I'm thankful for those who've inspired me to be who I am and who continue to encourage me to keep dreaming.

Turning 38

2011-04-16T21:17:00.004-05:00

I called my mom on Wednesday in a panic, "how old am I going to be?!" You would think a person would know their age but I'm extremely right-brained (can't do simple arithmetic) and I have this short-term memory loss thing going on as well. I was just out filling the water bucket for the goats and my mind was wandering........

I was 19 when Taylor was born and she is 18 now. I thought the last digits of our age were supposed to be the same. She's 18 so am I 38 now? Am I going to be 39!!? I just posted on facebook that I was going to be 38! Did I just make a big fool of myself to all my friends? HOW OLD AM I??

This is when I called Mom.

How old am I going to be??

In her familiar Mom tone...

Well, lets see. You were born in 1973 and it's 2011. Do you have a calculator?

I actually got out the calculator...

2011-1973=38. Whew!

I breathe a sigh of relief after having just faced the idea of only having a year before I hit forty. Now I have 2!! Two whole years. And I wonder what my life will look like then.

Today, I received one of the best, most thoughtful gifts I think I've ever gotten. A couple years ago, my dad and I were helping my Uncle Larry build (well, rebuild) his house in Gillham. He and my Aunt Mary had recently retired and moved to Arkansas. As we worked on the construction site, I frequently used Larry's rake. It was old and worn but worked incredibly well. The end of the rake was very heavy steel, so when you were pulling it through the dirt/rocks/gravel there was no effort needed to dig into the soil, you simply had to drag it. I went on and on about how much I liked it and asked where he got it. It was one of those unusual finds like at a garage sale or something and he had never seen another one like it since. I was quite covetous of it and found every excuse to use it when I was there working. This is when I stop and wonder about myself.

We were at Larry's house not long ago for a wedding shower and afterwards, we visited. Larry and I started talking about chainsaws, (another tool I'm anxious to get) so we went to his shop to look at one of his chainsaws that he thought would be the right size for me. Oh, the things I could accomplish if I had me a chainsaw! Ain't no tellin what I could do. We went over every aspect of the thing and he even started it for me and made me really jealous. As we were exiting the shop, there, in a beckon of angelic-light was the rake. I went on and on about it again and how I really wished I could find one like it. Again, we went round and round about how one might find something like this. Perhaps I could just have one made?

Then today, I was in my bedroom finishing wrapping a present for Kyle when I heard the dogs bark. I glanced out the window and saw Larry coming up my front porch steps. I could only see a long wooden pole in his hand with a ribbon on it. Then it hit me. He got me a rake!! Rodney greeted him and Mary at the door and I followed behind with my entourage of excited dogs. (it gets crazy when people come to the door). Larry made it all the way to the kitchen before I could see what he had. The chaos of hugging, quieting dogs, and "where do you want me to put the potato salad" kept me from immediately seeing it. When things settled, I saw it. "Is this for me??" Duh, who's birthday party is this?

Not only did he get me the rake I wanted, he took his rake to a welder in DeQueen and had him make one exactly like it.

You can't even know how exciting this is. I can actually feel tears stinging my eyes. Seriously.

Tools are invaluable on a farm and when you find something that works and works well, it is a true gift, a blessing. This gift blessed me in ways I'm not sure I've even comprehending yet.

He even stamped my initials in the handle!! The thought, the time, the love and the care that went into this gift is more precious than the gift itself. I was literally jumping up and down.

My mom and dad got me a rake and a hoe too. The hoe started a whole conversation that had me giggling. My uncle Leland was talking about how valuable hoe's used to be (giggles) and that they used to make hoe's better than they are now (more giggles), in fact, the prison hoe's were the best ones, (burst out in a belly laugh).

I got a rosemary plant from my Aunt Sandy who started the plant from one of her own. We do this a lot in our family, root and share plants. It's always one of my favorite gifts. I rubbed my fingers all over it and felt euphoric as I breathed in the scent.

Sandy also made my birthday cake. Rave Review. It is almost the same thing as an Italian Cream Cake. I really don't know what the difference is but it is go oo ood. My grandmother has made me this cake for at least the last 20 something years. She is getting more feeble and a little more careless in the kitchen so we don't let her cook much anymore. It is kind of sad but it happens. The love of family and the support of each member to take up the slack where others are weakening is just the coolest thing.

I managed to snap one picture amidst the chaos of my birthday party. Sometimes I wish I'd just calm down a little bit and think about doing these vital things, like taking pictures. As I observed my one sad snapshot, I see a million things that amuse me. The syringes in the dish drain because I've been dealing with a sick goat. The two diet cokes on the bar which Larry always brings with him because I don't keep that poison in my house. Rodney, in a semi-coma from having been up all Thursday night/Friday morning selling chickens. The milk pail hanging above the sink. The deer head on the wall in the back. Dad pretending to look interested in what Larry is saying but thinking about Mom who is alone at home, still recovering from surgery. The bar being full of stuff again after I've cleaned it off a hundred times, just today. Mamaw's hand on the bar, probably telling somebody how to do something. The light from the lamps, 4 on just this wall and I still think I need more.

This is what my life looks like now. And now, having reassured myself that I've got a whole two years left before forty, I am content. I always look forward to that which is to come, but I make it my priority to live now. And right now, there is a place for me to lie down, next to my snoring comatose husband. It is my favorite place to be.

Patrick

2011-04-08T14:42:00.007-05:00

God gave me a heart for the dog. He gave me a love for all animals but somehow, my heart is geared toward the canine among us. I've known this about myself for probably my whole life. There were seasons that I believed that this affinity was somehow frivolous, that there were better things to do with my time and love than to shower it upon my pet dogs. Don't get me wrong, I love the upright, two-legged people as well especially the ones who live in my house.

Who does God want me to be and what is my assignment here on earth? I can't tell you how many times I've asked myself that. There have been times when I've known absolutely, without doubt of my mission. God gave me two children in the span of 18 months. I think my task was clear here. Girlfriend had a job to do, yes indeed. He moved me to a farm with my husband over a decade ago...girlfriend had more work to do. But, what about my "special purpose"? Surely I wasn't sent to this planet to make sure everybody has clean socks and underwear.

Since I'm very rapidly reaching middle age, I've been soul-searching. Not that it is any shock, I've always been a seeker, a question asker. But lately I've been coming to some actual conclusions about myself. I really don't think God would have given me such compassion and deep abiding affection of animals if I wasn't meant to somehow use it. I don't believe that I'm to ditch my family and go live with the wolves or throw myself into a 24 hour a day volunteer schedule at the Humane society. God simply calls me to move...He also calls me to write. So here is my latest entry in the God-driven gift of rambling on about my thoughts, and rambling on about dogs. A very special one, in particular.

This is Patrick...

Some of you may have already heard his story. If not, I will briefly fill you in. Patrick was found on March 16th in a garbage bag. He had been tossed down the garbage shoot of the apartment building in Newark where his owners lived. By all appearances, he hadn't been fed for months and when the starvation had all but consumed him, he was thrown away and left to die. A maintenance worker, who was emptying the garbage shoot, saw the trash bag that Patrick was in move and opened it up to find the poor lifeless little guy barely alive.

The following picture is disturbing. The first time I saw it I couldn't believe that this was an animal that was even alive. This is Patrick, on March 16th 2011.

Oh, the emotions that flooded me when I first saw this. I immediately went to the place of condemnation of whoever was responsible for such torment. Why? Why in the world would anything like this ever happen? Who could do such a thing?

I've been reading a lot of comments that folks have been leaving on Patrick's now very popular facebook page. Most people, well all people, are angry about what happened. There are petitions being signed to make sure that the responsible party receives the maximum penalty and they are even seeking new laws that would further penalize the tormenter.

It has been weighing heavily on my mind. I've been to the place of "they should lock them up and starve those people to the point that he was starved". Then I quietly hear the voice of my savior whisper, "judge not". I've never been quite so tempted to argue with God. Judge not?? Did you see that poor dog?

So, I'm asked to take another road. The judge not road...

There is a righteous judgement, I've heard this a million times from my mother. I began to think what a righteous judgement would be in a case like this.

This is the woman accused of the neglect and torment of Patrick. I won't divulge her name but you can google it if you'd like. She's all over the internet about this hot-topic case.

I've heard this saying before and it was recently brought back to my attention, "hurt people, hurt people". My heart began to bleed as I wondered what kind of hurt would have to happen to a person to make them so neglectful to an innocent creature. What kind of hurt?

Then as I thought about the judgement that has quickly come down on this woman, I started to think what I would do if I were the judge and jury. Like I said, my first reaction would have been to tie her up and let her starve. But the Holy Spirit never lets me stay in a place like that long.

This would be my sentencing. She would be assigned to work at a shelter for dogs. Daily she would feed them, clean their cages, administer medications, walk them, play with them, make sure they were warm, and clean up after them. She would be made to organize fundraisers to raise money to buy food to feed the homeless dogs. It would be up to her to find the means to feed every dog in the shelter. Sure, there would have to be guidance from those who know how to do such things, but it would ultimately be her who would be responsible for feeding them. I would also require that she sit long hours with the animals that were sick, the ones that need the most attention, like Patrick. Sometimes, people simply have never experienced the fulfillment of properly caring for another living thing. They only know abuse and neglect so that's what they do. We should pray for the people that only know neglect. We should try and find some compassion even when our nature tells us to point fingers.

I've read a lot about animal assisted therapy. There is a children's home that our church supports that assigns the children regular chores involving animals. They are given responsibility to care for them and, in turn, experience that joy and peace that comes with a job well done and the reward of an animal that loves them unconditionally. You can't get better therapy than that.

God gave us the animals. They were provided by an almighty being to give us food, clothes, companionship, and love. They have much to teach us. We have much to learn.

Patrick is a miracle. There is a reason for everything, I know this well. He was saved for a reason, if for nothing more than to give us all hope and to teach us all about compassion. Let not the lesson be about vengeance, but about humanity. God bless us all.

A Green Thumb?

2011-04-07T14:18:00.003-05:00

I am still planning on blogging about why Martha is a necessity in my life, this is just a sliver of it.

I usually don't have time to watch Martha everyday, but when I do get some T.V. time, she is one of my first choices. For a while I've been quite covetous of a maiden-hair fern that sits atop her counter in her "kitchen". There are actually a few of these whimsical plants peppered about the set and I admire them greatly. It wasn't until a show about a couple of months ago when she had a segment on ferns that I even knew what the name of the plant was. See? It's important to know these things, thus important to have an ever-ready supply of Martha Stewart stored in the DVR.

Here is a shot (background) of one of the larger ones on the set.

Martha frequently features these guys too, Sharky and Francesca. And, yes, I am covetous of them as well.

About mid-February, some of us girls were out shopping for a birthday gift for a family member. One of our stops was a local garden nursery. I had been in the market for a maiden hair fern for a little bit, even shopping online where it was more expensive to have them shipped than the plant cost. So, while we were wandering about the nursery, I asked one of the staff workers if they had any maiden-hair ferns for sale. She said she thought so and took me to another part of the nursery, into a lovely greenhouse. We walked all the way to the back and there in the corner, sad and alone was the most pitiful little fern I'd ever seen.

I was hoping to find one that looked exactly like Martha's and bring it home to display it oh-so proudly. But, this was just sad. Now I was compelled to bring it home like a stray dog. It almost said to me, "please take me home and love me." So, I did. In fact, there were two of these pitiful things and, not wanting to leave either behind, I asked if I could have a bit of a discount since they were so scrawny and sad. She agreed to discount them and I gathered them up, paid for them and brought them home.

This is what they looked like when I got them home. Remember, there were two and they both looked exactly like this.

I did some trimming of old spindly stems and then transplanted both of them into one large pot. After doing some research, I found that they like indirect sun and that a bathroom was one of the better rooms for them because they would receive periodic humidity. There happened to be a perfect spot in my bathroom near my tub to keep it while it recuperated and grew from it's sad state.

I've been known to kill even the easiest to care for plants. I neglect them because I forget about them. Then I try to revive them with so much force, they just give up and die. The last few years, I've slowly been adding a few plants to my house. They are good to keep the air clean and really brighten up the house. Amazingly enough, I've done a really good job of keeping all of them happy and thriving. Maybe it just comes with age, or maybe I just have more time on my hands now. Or maybe God is slowly releasing me from my attention deficit prison. Whatever the reason, I'm very much loving having a few beautiful plants to grace my home and to love and care for.

And, I think this one is my favorite!

In just 6 weeks, look what has become of it! I can hardly wait to see what this things is going to do. And, I am pretty sure I need to find another one to keep in company.

Turmeric

2011-03-24T10:03:00.006-05:00

I'm all about alternatives. If something doesn't work, there has to be another way. Plan "B" is always waiting in the wings where I'm concerned, as are C, D, E, F, and G. This is what is called, by some, "unrealistic optimism". If at first you don't succeed, try try again. While some people are tempted to quit after the first failure, I usually see it as a lesson in what not to do. Life is one big learning experience, if you let it.

I have moments of defeat. I get tired and weary. Sometimes things feel hopeless. But usually it doesn't last long and then I'm back up and trying my best to conquer the obstacles in my path.

One of my most recent obstacles is pain. Pain in my joints. My family, on my moms side, is riddled with terrible arthritis. Now that I'm bumping 40 and have been working on a farm for over a decade, my body is beginning to feel the sting of it. I've been taking NSAID's for a couple years now and really haven't been amazed at the results. I guess I thought I was going to take a little pill and immediately be pain-free. So, my plan "B" mentality has been kicking in.

Recently on the Martha Stewart Show (I must blog soon about why Martha is a necessary staple in my life), the theme was India. They spoke of Indian cuisine and culture and I was quite intrigued. Martha's niece, Sophie, had recently been to India and brought back a drink recipe that she shared. She explained that her mother had been drinking it for several months and that her arthritic joint pain had been greatly diminished.

So, yesterday, I got the very simple ingredients and have now begun a new ritual to be added to my arthritis management. This is not just for arthritis pain but is supposed to be soothing for many ailments and even help you sleep better.

Here is the recipe.

1 1/2 cups milk, almond milk, soy milk, hemp milk, or rice milk

1 teaspoon ground turmeric

Dash of nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamom, ground or freshly grated ginger, or saffron

2 teaspoons raw honey

This recipe serves two.

Place the honey in a cup (a pretty one that is heat resistant)

I found the turmeric and ginger at a health-food store in Texarkana where I bumped into one of my favorite earth travelers. Hi Sherri!! I almost bought organic cinnamon there as well but knew I had an almost full-bottle at home that I needed to use first.

Heat the milk (not surprisingly, I used goats milk) over medium heat and add your spices.

The turmeric is an amazing color.

Preferably, stir with a whisk to incorporate the spices well into the milk. I just happen to have the perfect little whisk given to me by my dear friend, Rosemary Payne. I think she thought she was being funny because it has a chicken on it but it has proven to be quite the handy kitchen utensil.

When the milk is warmed, poor it in the cup over the honey and stir.

Then you have a lovely cup of soothing, magical milk. I like the taste of it quite a bit. It is definitely different but I enjoy different.

The thing is, it can take months of consumption before you begin to see the benefits of it.

You can read here for a little more info on the benefits of turmeric.

This is just one little element in the regimen I have prescribed myself in managing my pain. The other paradox of this dreadful affliction is that you must move. The pain causes your brain to say, "well that really hurts to move so lets sink down into the big leather chair and be still ok?" But then the pain only gets worse. When you exercise the pain is greatly diminished. It is a mind-over-matter thing. So, now I've got to pick my aching body up off this big leather chair and move. And move. And then move some more. And then pray that the promise of relief from this new therapy actually helps.

The Thing

2011-03-21T09:34:00.003-05:00

So, this is the thing.

Here's the thing.

The thing is this.

then, then...the thing is...

I've been busy and not blogging.

Whew, glad I got that off my chest.

Seriously, life has just been consuming, but who's isn't, right? I really didn't even know whether or not to blog here or on the Freedom Journey page, but I've got other things to write about there. Sometimes I think that nobody even misses my silly little ramblings, then when I see people in town (when I actually step off the farm) they ask, "what happened to your blog? Why haven't you been writing?" and so on. Then I almost feel like I NEED to do it out of my uncontrollable desire to please people and then I forget why the heck I started blogging in the first place.

Spring time has come to the farm. Oh how it gives me joy in the depths of my soul. Winter, even with all its majesty and glory, hurts me. The cold hurts, the blah hurts, the cabin fever hurts, my knees hurt and, well, you get it. The last really cold day was just a few weeks ago and I thought it was going to kill me. Just the trip to the goat pen and back in the blustery, cold, damp wind was almost enough to make me break down into a tearful fit. But I didn't, not really. Then, in a heartbeat, spring.

It happens every year and I still can hardly take it all in. A miracle. I've never denied my ability to be easily mesmerized by the tiniest things, but spring, the whole earth is one big distraction of amusement. The big thing is that baby goats have been springing forth like rabbits. Five were born within 48 hours of each other, then two more a week later, and we are waiting on the final doe to kid anytime now. Seven babies in all and only two of them are girls. Oh well, its two more than I had last year. We are hoping that the babies yet to be born will be girls but I really don't have any control over it. Every other goat person I've talked to says that they are having mainly boys as well. Curious.

I've dealt with my first case of mastitis this year. This is when the mother goat gets lumps in her udder, clumps in the milk and other not-nice things. If left untreated, it can quickly escalate into an infection that can cause the udder to get gangrene and they can even rot right off. I've spoken with vets, friends, other farmers (the best source of information) and am very happy to say that she is quickly getting better. Although, since I had to give her 5 days worth of penicillin injections and vigorous udder massages, she now hauls ass when she sees me coming. I must admit, this hurts my feelings a bit. She and I used to have such a glorious relationship. I explained that it was for her own good. She listened and considered the facts but refuses to forgive me just yet.

Spring has also brought with it a million projects. All of them are about 1/3 of the way started and nothing even close to being finished. My attention deficit brain is in complete turmoil. Since I'm supposed to attempt to have an organized schedule, a hundred unfinished projects is a battle, a big one. One thing that I've adapted into my life now is timing myself. It works, by Joe, it really works. I downloaded a "timer" app for my iPhone and have been giving myself a time limit to do certain tasks. Clean the kitchen, 15 minutes. Scrub the toilets, 10 minutes...and so on. It becomes a sort-of game and keeps me on task.

Usually, things go like this. Begin loading the dishwasher, look outside and think, "oh I need to go water those plants". Go outside and start watering plants. Boots get muddy so I rinse them off. Start to roll up the water hose and it gets stuck out in the yard on a rock. Go move the rock. Come in the house, load a couple more dishes. Dryer goes off, go fold clothes. Begin to put clothes away. Go in the bedroom to put clothes up. Emma comes in, jumps on the bed...play with Emma. Go to the bathroom, gather up some more dirty clothes. Walk through the kitchen with dirty clothes in hand, see that I've not made a dent in the dishes. Throw the clothes in the utility room floor, begin loading dishes again. It's exhausting just thinking about it. BUT....giving myself a time limit somehow becomes a game. The alarm is going to go off any minute...hurry hurry get the kitchen clean. That way, all the other distractions suddenly become a hinderance to me beating the clock and I stay on-task. It's a bit insane but it seems to work.

I haven't yet given myself a time limit for blogging or set aside a time to do so. And I sit here with a million things to do and am not accomplishing a darn thing. It does feel good to sit and write. I've missed it and shall henceforth attempt to be somewhat more diligent in doing so.

Being Oblivious

2011-01-19T10:02:00.004-06:00

There are so many things I could say about this picture.

For a few weeks now, I've been bottle feeding a little orphan calf. His name is Damit. I have bottle fed many an orphan in my life and he is, by far, the most irritating but also the most hilarious and fun. He doesn't seem to mind the fact that he gets on everybody's nerves. Even the goats have taken to sleeping right outside the pen, while Damit has run of the whole thing. When the weather dipped down in the teens, they were all forced to bunk together. The goats didn't like it. Damit did.

Until this morning, Damit would stay behind as the goats headed out to graze. He decided to go along today and I really don't think I could have been more amused by the whole thing. He scampers and kicks almost like a baby goat would. This causes the goats to dart away from him and act as if they are far superior beings. They turn up their noses and prance off. In my head they have british accents and say things like, "how rude" and "well, I never". Poor Damit doesn't even know he is being snubbed, he just follows along enthusiastically. Being oblivious has it's good points. When you're oblivious, you can be in the middle of the ugliest of situations and wear a smile. Ignorance is bliss, yes indeed.

You can also see the third species in the herd, the cat. There are two of these calico girls and, most of the time, they hang with the goats. For whatever reason, they've been accepted into the herd and are tolerated well by those silly old goats.

The dynamic between multiple species in a group is not only amusing, but inspiring. If the beasts of the field can live together in harmony, even when they don't like each other much...it amazes me that well-educated, civilized human beings are still fighting with each other over silly things like the color of our skin. I hear the voice of Rodney King in my head at times, "can we all just get along?" It's such a simple question with such a simple, yet complex answer. Let's all be nice, shall we? Let's think of the needs of others before we consider our own selves. Why don't we all become a little more oblivious and childlike and quit trying to always be RIGHT. Can't we stop and help a neighbor, give somebody a ride, say a prayer for an enemy. I used to call myself "color blind" when it came to racism. People are people and we are all God's children. But then I decided that I didn't want to be color blind, I want to be "color BLESSED". I'm thankful that God made a variety of people. We are all so diverse and there is a reason for that. Thank goodness we aren't all red-headed, freckled faced farmers.

I read something in my new study bible. It was a list of the people that Jesus touched, talked to or interacted with...and here it is.

A despised tax collector

An insane hermit

The Roman governor

A young boy

A prominent religious leader

A homemaker

An expert in the law

A criminal

A synagogue ruler

Fisherman

A king

A poor widow

A Roman centurion

A group of children

A prophet

An adulterous woman

The Jewish High council

A sick woman

A rich man

A blind beggar

Jewish political leaders

A group of women

The high priest

An outcast with leprosy

A royal official

A young girl

A traitor

A helpless and paralyzed man

An angry mob of soldiers and police

A woman from a foreign land

A doubting follower

An enemy who hated him

A Samaritan woman

We are supposed to, as Christians imitate Christ. No person was is off limits to the love of Christ. So, we too, should love without boundaries.

Faith's rescue

2011-01-13T16:24:00.000-06:00

I posted this on my Freedom blog but thought I'd post it here too.

I have never been superstitious about the number 13. Its a number. Today, however, I think I'll associate it with good luck, not bad.

We started off the day fairly normal. The kids left for school, Rodney and I had our coffee and breakfast together, the dogs went outside, and we started getting ourselves ready for the day. It was only 14 degrees when we woke up so we were bundling up extra tight before we headed out.

I went out to feed the little orphan calf, who, by the way, I've decided to name Damit. (I know I spelled it wrong but this way it isn't actually cursing). The reason I've named him this is because I was constantly going, "Damit, stop it! Get your head out of my butt, Damit. Damit, that hurt!" and so on.

So, back to my story. I was doing my chores... emptying the huge block of ice from the goat water bucket so that I could fill it with fresh, unfrozen water, giving the bunny feed and water, trying to make Damit eat some sweet feed instead of just milk by shoving it in his mouth, "Here Damit, eat this".

I noticed only Sophie and Charlotte were with me so I started calling Emma. It was only a couple minutes and she came bounding through the yard. It occurred to me that Faith was not with her but this isn't too unusual, it generally takes her a few more minutes to get home from wherever the heck they go, so I just kept right on about my business.

Since I was already bundled up, I decided to make the most of the morning and take my camera out to shoot some pictures. This is when the plot thickens.

I was going to go out in the woods. My mind had been made up that I wanted to hike through the trees before all the snow was gone. But, a little voice said, "you'll have to go through the goat pen to get out there and Damit will follow you the whole way and it's not going to be fun. So I made the very conscious choice to walk across the pond dam.

Sophie, Charlotte, Emma and I headed out. They are always so excited to go anywhere, even if it's just to the mailbox.

The pond was frozen over. I thought maybe I'd see some ducks to take pictures of but there were none. I threw some rocks out onto the ice, it makes the coolest sound when it hits and I wanted to see just how thick the ice was. Emma started eyeballing the rocks I was throwing as if she might be contemplating fetching them so I figured I'd better stop or she might just go out there.

We walked a little further, my mind on a million things when I spotted Emma out on the ice. "Emma, come back! Don't go out there!" I started to freak a little because Emma is not one for listening. "Momma has a cookie Emma!"

This is how well she listens.

Then it dawned on me she was headed towards something. I couldn't make it out. At first I thought, "oh no, a duck is frozen to the water or something". So I used the lens on my camera to zoom in and see what it was.

The picture is blurred because as soon as I realized what it was, I went into rescue mode. Faith had fallen through the ice. She was barely above the water could not get a grasp on anything to get herself out.

I don't know if I've ever blogged about my inability to handle emergency situations or not but, I'm telling you right now...it hasn't gotten any better with age. My brain went to another place and my body went with it. I started running, no particular direction, just running. I started to rationalize that I was panicking and trying to calm myself so I could think of what to do.

Call Rodney, Call Rodney. It took me what seemed like an eternity to figure out how to even make a call but I finally got him on the phone. "Faith, gasp gasp, is in the pond!!" He said, "I'm coming!"

He was just down the road in the tractor so I knew he would be there quickly. Then I thought, "Call 911, Call 911". I really had no idea at this point how we were going to get her out. The 911 operator took my frantic call and said somebody was on their way.

Then it dawned on me, finally, "we need the boat, we need the boat!"

I called Mom and Dad and took a few years off of their lives. My voice in a frenzied pitch, "Faith fell through the ice! We need the boat we need the boat!!"

She was barely hanging on. I kept saying her name, screaming her name, telling her not to give up. At one point I contemplated going in after her but that same little voice that sent me to the pond, said "don't you dare!"

Mom and Dad showed up in the Yukon and Rodney showed up with the boat on the tractor (he handles these things much better than me). He and Dad put the boat in the pond and then Dad pushed Rodney out onto the ice. We had no ore, so Rodney used a piece of metal that he plunged in the ice and dragged himself and the boat to where she was and pulled her out.

Once he had her in the boat, he couldn't pull himself the rest of the way to shore because of the thickness of the ice. By this time the rescue workers had arrived and had a rope that they used to pull to boat to shore.

We wrapped her in my coat, loaded her in the Yukon and brought her home. I called my vet to find out the best way to warm her. They told me to put her in a luke warm bath then get her dry and gradually warm her up. At first it seemed perilous. She was ridged and shivering, unable to even keep her head out of the bath water. I had to make smart decisions to keep her from going into shock (although she might already have been) and get her body temperature back up.

Once I got her somewhat dry, I wrapped her in a towel and blanket and sat and held her closely. We rocked in the rocking chair and I assured her that everything would be fine. She shivered for a very long time but I had learned from searching google that this was actually a good thing. When the shivering quieted a bit, I laid her on the couch with a heating pad. This is when I took her temperature. It was only 93〫. I got a little more aggressive with the warming until she was back up to normal temp.

Once she was warm through and through, I gave her a little something to eat and let her have a nice long nap in front of the fireplace.

I'm gonna start listening a whole lot more closely to that little voice. For some reason it seems for me to want to keep Faith around, that's for sure. I've always said that things happen in threes. This should be number three. I rescued her from being abandoned. I rescued her from the well. Now, I've rescued her from the frozen pond.

Thank you to my husband and my parents that jumped to her aid. And thanks to the rescue workers for their efficiency and speed in getting here... all for the life of a little, blind dog.

Happy Ending

2011-01-04T17:34:00.004-06:00

I have been hesitant to post anything about this, but it has turned out happily, so I'll share. There have been too many sad posts about my doggies. Seems like I ran into a string of bad luck or something when it came to my canine companions.

Faith went missing on New years eve. She and Emma went on one of their little adventures, Faith did not return. For days we've been looking. Last night we were discussing the whole thing and decided she probably wasn't coming back. She looks an awful lot like a coyote from far off (that is what I thought she was the first time I saw her on the road) and we thought maybe somebody may have shot her. I couldn't bear to think of what might have happened. It kept occurring to me that she very well could have fallen into something. Since she can barely see, she is so vulnerable to falling off things or into things.

So, this evening, for some reason (uh...fate!) I decided to go for a little walk. As I was passing by the barn I heard a faint whimper. I stopped and listened and heard it more clearly. My heart about beat right out of my chest and I RAN towards the barn. Emma and I were bounding through that messy old barn looking, stopping, listening and then searching more. Then, a lightbulb came on in my head. "I bet she's in the old well!!" There is a fairly shallow (about 5 feet deep) old rock well behind the barn. It is at ground level and drops off. I ran as fast as I could over to where the hole is and ... there she was. I've never been so happy to see a dog in my life!

I reached down and lifted her out and carried her all the way home. She was practically clinging on to me like a monkey. She was thirsty and hungry but seemed no worse for the wear. Her little tail was wagging as she filled her belly and she went right about her favorite game of cat chasing. I'll have to blog about the game she plays with the kitty.

So, one less thing to be anxious about. Faith is home and home is a good place to be.

Dog Rescue

2010-11-30T14:39:00.002-06:00

Yesterday, I got a phone call from Taylor as she was headed out. "Mom, there is a little dog down by the creek. I couldn't stop to get it, but can you go see if you can find it...He's really scared." I asked Kyle if he wanted to run down there with me to rescue the poor thing. "You're gonna have to stop being so nice." he replied to me. I always thought being "nice" was a good thing??

We looked for about an hour and didn't see anything.

This morning as Rodney and I were on our way back home I saw her. Rodney reluctantly stopped and let me gather her up. I figured I could at least find out who she belongs to by her tag. She was wearing only a rabies tag. I called the vet's number on the tag and the serial number led us nowhere. It was loosely connected to a cat? I figured somebody just threw a tag on her so she wouldn't look like a stray.

There is something wrong with her eyes. She seems to be able to see, but not well. I will be taking her to see Dr. Devlin in the morning, who is the Sevier County Humane societies president. We will assess the situation and go from there. I've offered her a foster home until we can find a forever family for her.

She is just as sweet as she can be. Scared, but sweet. She does NOT like Emma's shenanigans which is quite confusing to poor Emma. Typically, Emma's over exuberance is tolerated quite well by her peers (and her humans).

If you know anybody looking for a dog and would be willing to adopt one with a slight malady, please let me know. You know, it is the dogs who are broken and in need of rescue that make the best pets. I'll be posting pictures of her via Facebook and the Sevier County Humane Society tomorrow.

Catching Leaves

2010-11-22T10:17:00.001-06:00

I posted this on my freedom blog but decided to share it here as well.

So far this year, the leaves on the big oak in the back yard have been clinging pretty tightly to their branches. Over the past couple of days, they have finally decided to let go. This morning those leaves put on quite a spellbinding waltz as they twirled and perfectly pirouetted to the dance floor beneath them. Rodney piped up once and said "they sure do fly a long ways don't they?" which started me counting seconds. Yep, sipping coffee and seeing just how long any particular leaf could stay in flight.

I told Rodney it was like watching an aquarium. There really is no explaining why it was quite so fascinating but, for some reason, we sat there in a trance. I counted one leaf that floated downward for a full 7 seconds...he was the winner this morning, according to my data.

I couldn't quite capture the thrill of it all with my lens, partly because the wind wasn't blowing when I decided to grab my camera, and partly because I didn't feel like waiting till the wind decided to blow again.

I headed out into the mystical morning dawning my big ol rubber boots but decided to leave the umbrella behind. No, I wanted to be in it, to absorb the moist autumn air, and even let it mess up my hair. After I fed the goats and bunnies, I started back to the house but thought I'd try to see if I could catch one of those falling leaves first.

I stood staring up at the tree, waiting. My glasses became foggy and covered with drops of rain but, here came a leaf! I ran towards it but it escaped my fingers with ease. Now this was a challenge between me and the tree (and the wind, and the rain, and my own skill and balance). I found myself laughing out loud as I missed one after the other. They would seemingly head strait for me and then, as if tied to an invisible string, would dart away. Emma became very excited by what I was doing and wanted to play too, she just wasn't sure exactly what her part in it was. Finally, I caught one. It was a great victory.

My trophy (along with the pear I intend to eat later today). I momentarily thought "what a waste of time, counting seconds of leaves falling and running around like an idiot in the rain". Then I went back to that idea of being authentic. I feel better this morning than I've felt in a while. Perhaps there is healing and a connection with God in the moments we "waste". If God puts on a show of waltzing leaves, it might just behoove us to take a second to watch it. And if you feel the need to play a game with a tree, there is probably not a more constructive use of your time.

Big Girl Emma and Farm updates

2010-11-10T09:54:00.004-06:00

My blogging has been averted to the Freedom Journey blog lately but there are things that must be bloggerized with reference to the farm.

First of all, I am so so proud of Miss Emma. Over the past few days she has made leaps from puppyhood. In a way, it makes me a little sad but mostly, I am bursting with delight. The first thing is that she has graduated from having to sleep in her kennel. For about 3 nights in a row, she was waking up at least once a night needing a drink or to go potty. Opening a kennel in the dark while half asleep and ushering around a boxer in a groggy haze is not a fun as it sounds. Monday night after she made her rounds to potty and to get a drink, she jumped on the couch laid down and gave me a look that clearly said, "pleeeaaasse let me sleep on the couch". I patted her head, gave her a kiss and told her to be a good girl then went back to bed. Morning came and she found her way to my side of the bed and was ready for our first snuggle of the day. Good girl Emma.

Then this morning, Rodney and I had to sort some calves down at the corral. It has been a rainy, foggy morning so I made another big decision and left Emma in the house while we were gone, not confined to her kennel. I asked Sophie and Charlotte to keep and eye on her told them all to behave. We were gone for about 2 hours. I hesitantly came through the door, wondering what I would find chewed or broken. Joy and rapture! Good good girl Emma. All was in order. Needless to say, everybody got an extra cookie this morning.

We have been without Goat milk for over a month now. The does have all been bred this month (I hope) and are due to kid in March. I've really been missing the daily chore of milking and certainly missing the milk. When we bought our first gallon of cow's milk from the store, Taylor drank a big glass of it and it very much upset her tummy. I guess she had so acclimated to the goats milk that her poor tummy had no idea what to do with pasteurized, store-bought cow's milk. We no longer have our mean old buck. I sold him to a friend and then "borrowed" another buck. He did his job and went back home which leaves me with only my 8 does and one wether. The wether is the little goat that I bottle fed from an infant and has a bit of identity-confusion. He isn't sure if he is a goat, a dog, or a human. They continue to find ways into the yard and, almost daily, I am diverting them away from my pumpkins and trees and back into the pasture.

This weekend will be 11 years since we made the farm our home. It has been, at the least, a learning experience. I am beginning to compile a list of things I've learned over the past years of being a farmer and will share it sometime this weekend. One thing we have found to be true is that we are NEVER going to be done. Farming is endless. There will never come a day when we will sit back and observe our accomplishments and say "well, we're done". We can merely face the tasks of the day and every day brings new challenges. I heard a line in a movie once that summed it up pretty succinctly. It is from the movie "I dreamed of Africa" which revolves around a woman who moves to a farm in Africa and faces extreme hardships while working very hard to improve the lives of the people around her. She tells her son at one point, "We think we run this place but we don't. It runs us." I guess that can be said about life in general. We think we're in control but it is only an illusion.

Allowing the farm to run our lives has been quite an adjustment. It has taught us much about surrender, about patience, and about life. I pray there are many more years to come and, even when the hard times come, we will look around us and feel God's blessings.

Join Me

2010-09-20T12:38:00.004-05:00

I have begun a new blog about the new journey I am on in my life. My plans are to continue blogging here about farm things and, of course, my dogs...but most of my attention has been focused at the new blog lately.

I am searching for followers and would like to invite my current followers here to join me. If you know anybody else that might benefit (or at least get a kick out of my endeavors) please invite them as well.

Thank you all for being so sweet and kind. See you on the freedom journey.

resourcefulness

2010-08-26T17:20:00.002-05:00

About 15 years ago, I bought my very first down-comforter. It is the same one I've had and loved all these years. I remember it being quite an investment at the time, paying almost $100 dollars for it.

Over the years, it has become tattered. Kitty cat claws, toddlers, puppies, and Rodney's bristly gorilla hair have all taken their toll on the poor thing. It's funny how attached one can get to a blanket, even as an adult.

I have patched holes and tears in it but lately it became obvious that I was going to have to retire it. Every night when Rodney and I would get into bed, we had a small down snow storm. It was actually a little bit amusing to me but it did become impractical having down leaking all over the place.

A few weeks ago, Rodney and I purchased a new comforter. It was a bitter-sweet occasion. But my old one was still full of down...it still was so soft, what can I do with this? I don't want to just pitch it in the dump, surely I can think of something.

It came to me today. I can make a doggy bed for Emma!! I have been thinking of purchasing a dog bed for my precious new baby but I kind-of already blew my doggy budget on vet bills and her snazzy new i.d. tag.

Anyway, I began brainstorming on how to put the comforter to use as a dog bed.

This is what I came up with.

I folded it, and refolded it until I came up with the right size and thickness. Emma was in love with it already. It is so comfortable.

Then I tacked it together at several of the open folds to keep it from being too wadded up. By the way, this comforter is about 1000 thread count and putting a needle through it was one of the hardest things I've done in a while.

I purchased a twin flat sheet for $3 at Wal-mart to make a cover for it. I simply did a quick measurement to find the dimensions the cover would need to be, cut it out and stitched it up.

Incidentally, when you have a raging case of A.D.D., things like this happen frequently. I've learned to live with it. You should too.

My mom has always told me that I'm not messy, I'm just creative. Creative or not...my seams are a big old mess, but it got the job done.

Once I got through the sewing marathon, It came time for me to stuff the comforter into the cover.

I left one edge open and stitched velcro on it so that the comforter could be removed and the cover easily washed.

Even when I was trying to stuff the thing...little-miss-thing refused to budge from it. It was her nap time. I was so excited that she loved it so much that she didn't want to move. After a bit of struggling and maneuvering, I had it.

And, voila!

I did a little looking online for down-dog-beds and one this size would cost about $200. I spent $3 on a sheet and reduced, reused and recycled. I feel so stinkin green. And, just look at how content my darling beautiful puppy is! Little projects like this are so rewarding.

The big kicker is, I put the bed in her kennel (which up till now she has wanted nothing to do with) and she is now sleeping soundly in it. I may even attempt to have her spend the night there tonight. Sleeping with her is completely sweet but I've been reading my "How to Raise the Perfect Dog" book and I think I may have to actually begin respecting her place as a dog and stop trying to make her my baby. I love Cesar Milan and, as hard as it may be, I am going to have to try to incorporate some of his principals.

Wish me luck!

firsts and lasts

2010-08-19T10:20:00.005-05:00

Today is the first day of school. These days are always hard on me. I can't remember a first day of school that didn't cause me to crumble. Not that it is really sad, but that it marks a milestone on my journey here on this planet and I become aware of how fleeting life is. And, I really REALLY like my kids and miss them when they are gone.

I'm not sure why God gave them to me. I've always questioned His judgement on this. ME? You want ME to raise them? Surely you're mistaken.

We have a lovely relationship, my kids and I. For one thing, I have given them permission to be who God made them. In return, they allow me to be me and we dance around each others' weirdness with a natural balance. They never fail to tell me when I'm being dramatic and I don't hesitate to tell them that I am simply figuring out life just like they are. I have told them a hundred times that I didn't get a practice run on this whole parenting thing...they are it and I am, more than likely, going to mess some stuff up.

Today happens to be Taylor's last first day of school. Yes, she plans to go on to college but you know what I mean.

This was her first day of school. Pre-K. She didn't start kindergarten until she was almost 6 because of the way her birthday fell. I must admit, God was gracious to let me keep her almost a whole extra year. Just look at that kid. She was born ready to go. I didn't want her to ride the bus but she put her foot down, literally. Her little legs could barely climb those stairs. This picture isn't the greatest but you can see that beaming smile. As apprehensive as I've been over the years about letting her cut apron strings, that gumption she has in her spirit and her calm eagerness to face the world has given me peace. Look how happy she is for crying out loud! How could I not let her go?

Change is hard, I guess. Probably because we tend to get used to the way things are and we don't want to have to move from where we feel comfortable. Rodney told me this morning that we still have so many "firsts" to look forward to. He is brilliant, isn't he? So, instead of crying over what is gone, I am attempting to look forward to the next chapter in life. My goal this year is to embrace it fully. Each day and each milestone we pass. It is going to be a very full year and I am anxious to see what it will bring. I am thankful that I have my darling husband by my side to share all of our firsts and our lasts.

Goat Milking 101

2010-08-12T09:33:00.004-05:00

A couple months ago, our family started drinking goats-milk. There were several reasons for doing this. I have goats, they have milk, and... why not? Then I researched a bit and found out that fresh goat milk is actually quite good for you. There's lots of good stuff in it.

So, here is my lesson in goat milking.

First of all, you'll need one of these

...lots of this

plenty of fresh water

and a bucket.

This bucket is just slightly over-kill for milking a goat but it works.

Also, a handy milk stand is a must.

I built this one myself, thank you, thank you very much.

Having a few helpers for moral support is nice, although annoying at times...but cute none-the-less.

Once you have all your supplies, your ready to milk. Hopefully you have a cooperative goat that won't kick and scream on the way to the stand as if going to the gallows. Thankfully, most goats cooperate nicely. They get a nice quite meal and it provides a great deal of relief for them.

Once you've got your goat secured on the stand, the fun can begin. If you happen to have three assistants, it is at this point that they will become very excited and impatient. They will wonder why in the world you are taking pictures when such critical proceedings are imminent.

Make sure you have a good balance of grains to feed your goat while she patiently allows you to collect her milk.

A nice, patient goat makes this event pleasant for both of you. She is, after all, allowing you to become quite intimate with her. Be kind, go slowly and thank her for her generosity.

Beg her pardon and begin by cleaning the teats with a clean moist towel.

Then, gently but firmly, compress the teat with your hand; starting at the top and working your way down. It takes some practice but is easy to pick up on with just a little effort.

You will be amazed, if you are anything like me, at the volume of milk that will begin to freely flow.

Periodically, squirt some milk on the milk stand for your helpers. This will keep them happy and out of your bucket.

It also creates an outpouring of brotherly love and community service as they assist one another in their efforts.

Everyone comes away from the experience with a great deal of satisfaction.

Your milk will need to be strained. As careful as you may be, it is very common for a stray goat hair or other debris to fall into your milk pail. A coffee filter and sieve work very well for this task.

A well-fed and cared for goat will produce about 2 quarts of milk per milking. It is best to do this twice a day. I like keeping mine in smaller containers so each milking can be kept separate. A container with a lid is ideal so you can shake the milk before pouring. There really is nothing quite like a cold glass of fresh goats milk. You can read here for more information on why it is beneficial.

Burnout

2010-08-09T18:07:00.003-05:00

After weeks of non-stop busyness ...weddings, vbs, teenage drama, company, farm alterations, sick dogs, death, funerals, relentless heat and sleepless nights, I'm one cooked turkey.

For the past two days I've had a moderate to severe headache. I think this is God's way of telling me to stop and rest for a day, or two or three. For one thing, I suddenly find myself not caring a whole lot about much. People keep asking me what we are having for dinner and I can hardly muster up the energy to say "I don't know!!" I am actually starving right now because I can't find the bag of chips that was lingering in the kitchen, so I just ate the left over sweet tarts from the movies (except for the blue ones which I left in a pile for Kyle to find and wonder if I'd lost my mind). My hair is inexplicable and I keep telling myself that the natural oils are good for it and I can consider not showering a beauty treatment. The only activity I've had in the past 12 hours is taking Emma out to potty and occasionally dragging a toy across the floor. I did manage to empty the dishwasher and decided that was quite enough hard labor for one day.

I haven't milked the goat yet today. I peered out at the goat pen while letting Emma potty and that poor udder was about to explode. Oddly enough, I had no urge to get my milk bucket and head out to help the poor dear. That would have meant me locating my boots and putting on pants. There is a load of clothes in the washer that needs to be hung out on the line or put in the dryer but I don't want to fold the clothes in the dryer.I may need some sort of psychiatric help. I'm drained emotionally, physically, spiritually and mentally.

Writing this blog is my last resort at attempting to boost my morale. That and a big glass of wine and maybe some chocolate. Surely this will send me on my way to better days. I guess I better go milk the goat now...where ARE my pants??

Discipline??

2010-08-04T12:19:00.004-05:00

Have you ever heard the term "ring-tailed-tooter" and wondered what it looked like?

Well, let me introduce you. Oh, she looks sweet and innocent but don't be fooled.

Emma and I have gotten to know each other very well over the past few days. I've been attempting to use Caesar Milan's formula of "exercise, discipline, then affection". The affection part comes natural, it is the easy part. Exercise, that too, I think I can handle fairly well. Discipline... uuhhhh, look at her face!! The tricky part about discipline is that it is harder on the disciplinarian than it is on the disciplined. They need it, they want it. Dogs don't want to be the pack leader, they want rules, boundaries, and limitations. And, being the human, I've got to be the one to set them. It ain't gonna be easy folks.

Eddie challenged me, don't get me wrong, but I can already tell that this is going to be quite an adventure. Emma had 10 brothers...TEN! This, no doubt, had some affect on her. She isn't timid at all. She is sweet and darling but head strong. Her intelligence has already impressed me. I only worked with her for a few minutes and she had "sit" down pat! I was amazed and so proud. Yesterday was her 8-week birthday and she can sit...I'm a proud momma.

Yep, setting limits and boundaries with a face like this is gonna be tricky. My heart just wells up and I my heart says, "oh, she needs a hug". She is very smart and I can already see that she could, very well, plot to use this for evil if I don't nip some things in the bud. I guess the affection part will more than make up for the discipline...it will for me anyway. Her sweet cuddles and funny antics have sent me well on my way to healing. I love her for that.

New Perspective

2010-08-03T09:44:00.002-05:00

When I was growing up my family moved a lot. I don't remember staying anywhere for more than 2 years until we moved to the farm when I was a freshman in high school. Every new house we moved into, my parents were careful to devise an escape route should the house catch fire. We even had fire drills a few times. There was a designated location where we were to meet outside so that we would know that everyone got out, or didn't get out.

One thing my dad told me quite sternly, on more than one occasion, was "Do NOT go back and get your animals. Get yourself out. Don't worry about the dog or cat or your silly mouse, get your own self out. We can get another dog and we can get another cat but we can't replace you." I think he knew me all too well. Anyway, I remember thinking that was a cruel way to think. You can't replace Freckles or Samantha. You might get a dog or a cat that kind of looks like them but it won't be them.

Well, yesterday I attended a funeral for a 34 year old man. A young wife had lost her sweet husband, parents had lost their son, and children had lost their father. Boy did that put things into perspective. Eddie died on Thursday and Friday morning I had a new puppy. This family can't just go out and get another son, another husband, another father. Eddie's death was heartbreaking but it pales in comparison to so great a loss. My heart started to become thankful that my family was well and healthy, that my husband was sitting right next to me holding my hand, that my children awaited me upon my return home. The things I take for granted every day suddenly became so much more valuable. My eyes have been opened just a little bit more.

I told Rodney that if the hardest thing I ever have to endure in my life is the loss of a pet, then I've had a pretty good life. He told me something profound. He said, "that doesn't make it hurt any less." I guess he is right. Pain is pain, loss is loss. I am thankful that my loss hasn't been great. I'm thankful that my pain is easing. I'm grateful to God for the chance to see things more clearly. Everyday is a second chance, I'm going to do my best not to waste it.

Condolences

2010-07-31T07:52:00.004-05:00

Natalie and Clara Nell, who are 10 and 7, are spending some time on the farm this summer. They are my very dear friends, Jeff and Angela's girls. They attended Eddie's funeral on Thursday and helped me place leaves and grass in his grave (we couldn't find any flowers).

Yesterday, I received the sweetest condolences I think I have ever seen and probably will ever receive in my life.

Clara Nell drew this one. The fact that Eddie now has wings is almost too much to bear. I'm also very glad to know that he is being attended to by angels.

I love that she even got the tail right, and those smooshy cheeks.

Eddie loved children. He is most pleased with this compassion, I'm sure of it. One thing that Doc told me that gave me some joy on the day of Eddie's passing is that his kids were at the office all day that day and played with Eddie almost all day long. I couldn't think of a better way for him to spend his last day on earth.

This is also Clara's art work. His wings are magnificent aren't they?

And this is what I received from Miss Natalie.

Did you know that if you cry enough tears that your mouth will get dry? I didn't know that until Thursday. I also didn't know until yesterday the great toll that intense grief can take on you physical body. The kindness of all my family and friends and the love of God has been my saving grace over the past couple of days.

And this, this melts my heart. If dogs do go to heaven, Eddie is, no doubt, there. Saying goodbye to him was among the hardest things I've ever had to do. I was counting on him being with me for a long time, at least to see me through my transition into my empty nest season and on into being a grandmother. God never ceases to surprise me with the direction life takes...it's one of the reasons I don't do a whole lot of planning. I do know for sure that He wants the best for me, He would never hurt me and, even the grief I feel now will pale in comparison to the joy and happiness that awaits me. He is simply perfecting my faith.

My next post will be a happier one. All along, my intentions of this blog have been to be uplifting, to be fun, to encourage, and to exhort. I hate that we've all had to grieve this way. Eddie was the brightest, funniest, most uplifting topic this silly little blog has ever seen. I must move forward without him. The first few steps have been slow and difficult but soon I will be running again, moving forward but never forgetting how blessed I was to have him. I am going to place some wind-chimes in the tree above where he is buried and even the summer breezes will remember him. Run and be free my darling little Eddie.

Fare Thee Well

2010-07-29T22:06:00.004-05:00

It is hard for me to believe that I had to say goodbye to Eddie today. Oh how I loved that silly old dog.

For the past year and a half, he has been a constant companion. It was even hard for me to explain to him that he couldn't come with me to buy groceries and that dogs weren't allowed at church. I do not take for granted that my occupation allows me to have critters with me wherever I go, and Eddie was the sweetest one of all. The hard thing about this is that I've gotten so used to having him as a comfort when life gets tough. This is the toughest thing I've ever had to do and my heart is confused about what to do.

The very hard decision was made this afternoon when things became clear that he wasn't going make the turn for the better. Rodney drove me to the vets office this afternoon after office hours so we could be alone with Eddie. When they brought Eddie in to see us, we both started to weep as he licked our faces and wagged his whole body. He went to the door and was ready to go home. This was the hardest thing of all. For a moment I even thought about just taking him home and letting him live as long as he could. I didn't want to let go. It was clear that he was diminishing quickly and I couldn't put him through the pain of dying a drawn-out death. When the time came, I gathered him up in my lap and he snuggled against me so sweetly. I hugged him tightly against me and whispered "I love you" in his ear. I buried my face in his neck and could feel his heart beating against my hand. Slowly he drifted off and his heart stopped beating as I clutched his chest and wondered if my heart had stopped beating too. The room was silent and peaceful. I wept into his soft fur and ran my hand under that chin that I loved so much, all those soft wrinkles that always made me smile. He was so beautiful.

We had a small gathering at the oak tree in the pasture behind my house.

This tree.

Kyle suggested this location for Eddie's burial. Mom and Dad came with Natalie and Clara. Rodney and I and Sophie and Charlotte were all there to pay our respects. Kyle was at a school function and Taylor opted to stay home, her poor heart was too broken and she wanted to remember him the way he was. As we gathered around his grave I thought of these words from the movie "Out of Africa".

Now take back the soul of Eddie

Whom you have shared with us

He brought us joy

and we loved him well

He was not ours

He was not mine.

I've grieved so much over the past week. When I found out the news that we were dealing with the same thing that happened to Wilson, my heart was shattered and I couldn't believe it was happening again. I remember the pain of loosing Wilson and feeling like I would hurt forever and then along came Eddie with his sunny disposition and life went on. People will probably think I'm crazy but I've made a decision. Caesar Milan once said that we must grieve the loss of our pets but then we must move on. I've been so grief stricken for these past days, I've been almost sick. There is a boxer puppy in Grannis that needs a home and I need to begin to heal. It might be better to wait, but wait for what? So, tomorrow I will begin to move on with a new puppy.

I will never forget Eddie. A new puppy won't replace what I've lost. One thing about Eddie is that he was always so darn happy and made everybody around him happy. He would hate for me to be sad. If he could, he'd probably deliver the puppy himself, place her in my arms and wish us a million giggles and chin tickles and skip merrily off into the sunset.

This is how I will see him now. Skipping about in heaven and splashing in the ponds where the water is clean. Where he can chase dragonflies all day and sleep in the sunshine.

Today, as I was texting my cousin, Ron, about the pain we were both sharing he said to me, "Eddie is with God". I said "God is lucky". He said, "He sure is, Eddie will make Him laugh a lot".

Rest well my beautiful darling Eddie. I will never forget you.

A Couple days...

2010-07-28T12:28:00.004-05:00

Eddie is back at the vet today. I really can't even believe any of this is happening. Last night was rough on Eddie and on us. He began straining again to go potty with very little results, staying in a cramped, painful position for long periods of time. At one point last night while he was sleeping soundly next to me, I feared he had passed away because he was so lifeless.

Doctor Martin asked me to bring him back this morning. It was a long drive with much contemplation about what is going to be the best thing for Eddie, because it isn't this. Up until this point, the tears have been minimal even though my heart is in pieces. I knew at some point the flood gates would open and the hurt would become too much for me to contain inwardly. Luckily for me, my flood gates opened in the parking lot of the vets office with curious onlookers.

I was relieved when they finally sent Eddie and I to a room. The whole display of emotion was, no doubt, embarrassing for poor Eddie too. When Doc came in we had a heart-to-heart talk about our next steps. He was in agreement that this didn't need to continue much longer. Eddie is miserable and to see that joyful happy baby in misery is more than my heart can bear. He asked me to leave him there for a couple of days to see if he might just turn the corner for the better. I very much trust his judgement and agreed to allow this. One thing I've learned in my years as a dog lover is that they live in the moment. They don't know that this is going to get better, they only know that they are in pain and in misery right now. For me to prolong this state for him would be selfish and unkind. I love him too much to be selfish now.

I will pray for him these next couple of days and then we'll see. I just hope that the decision will be clear. I pray that he will either show vast improvements or that he will let me know, without doubt, that I'm going to have to let go of him. Wow, I sure don't want to let go. My best friend, Jill, grabbed me and hugged me after sharing the news with her and said, "it's just not fair!" That is exactly how I feel...this is in no way fair. One twinkle of light is that we know what the cause is now. If Eddie should loose his life, it will not have been in vain for I will be an advocate and a voice to educate others about this disease. If just one dog is saved, if one human heart can avoid this pain it will have been worth the loss of one life. One amazing, precious, beautiful life.

Home

2010-07-27T18:22:00.003-05:00

Eddie is home. We went to pick him up this afternoon much to his delight. The test for pithiosis came back positive so now, at least, we know what we are dealing with.

The next step is immuno-therapy. We will have 3 treatments over the next month that will greatly increase his chance of survival. The odds still aren't good but they will be over 50% with the therapy as apposed to less than 25% without it.

Right now, he seems relieved to be home. We made a lap around the yard, said hello to the kittens, had a couple of cramping potty episodes and then snuggled in the hammock for a little while. Laying there in the hammock with my very ill Eddie, I was reflecting on his puppy-hood and all the months he slept nuzzled under my arm and how he loved it there. I imagine if I was sick, there couldn't really be a better place than in the safety of my mothers arms. This made me happy that I could provide a safe place for him to heal.

It's obvious that we have quite a battle in front of us. He is thin and weak and obviously in discomfort. I am going to do my best to keep him quite and comfortable and hopefully put some weight back on him.

I gave Dr. Martin a copy of this picture in a frame. This is what we are shooting for, to have this Eddie back. Jubilant, lighthearted, bounding through the fields, Eddie. I have this photo hanging in my living room and there hasn't been a soul that has gazed upon it whom it hasn't caused to smile or even laugh out loud. I think that is a pretty good tool to be hanging in the vet's office, one that makes people smile.

Optimism

2010-07-24T13:04:00.002-05:00

Doc called with an update. Eddie is up and about this morning, still obviously sore from surgery but sunshiny anyway. He has had a couple of bm's, albeit loose ones, but those are to be expected for a while post surgery. He is drinking lots of water and eating what he is offered which are all good signs for now.

We are in agreement that all signs point to pythiosis. In fact, I'll be shocked if the tests come back negative, there are just too many coincidences. So now I'm faced with a mountain of guilt. I look at all the pictures of him playing in the pond, something we both relished and rejoiced in doing and think, all the while this was making him ill? Why?

The task now is to keep this from happening in the future. I am looking into invisible fencing and will surely make an investment in this soon. We are also told that there is a vaccine for this now, not a 100% proven one, but it's something. Should Eddie pull through, he will be confined to the yard and leashed when we go outside the perimeters. The thing about Eddie is, he is oh so flexible and cooperative. If we should feel the need to play in the water, we will be going to the river where the water runs clean and clear.

I would also like to say thank you to everybody who is outpouring hope and love on us. I can't live without hope and God has not ceased to work miracles even for the smallest and least of creatures. He is working on my heart in ways I could never have fathomed and it makes me smile to know that he is using a silly boxer named Eddie to do it.

Bleakness

2010-07-23T14:59:00.002-05:00

The news is bleak for my darling Eddie.

Dr. Martin had to remove a mass that was between his small and large intestines. The mass was attached to his lymph nodes as well which also had to be removed. He said it was a "mess" and that it looked to him to be some form of cancer. And, the tears stream down my face as I stare at that word and wonder why.

The similarities between Eddie's predicament and Wilson's is eerily similar. It has left us all wondering what the cause could be. I am going to send off some of his dog food to make sure that this wasn't the cause.

As for now, Eddie is in critical condition since the surgery was so tedious, attaching large and small intestines back together. The next 48 hours will be uncertain and precarious.

I am attempting to be optimistic but am heart broken to say the least. I keep thinking that Eddie never really belonged to me in the first place, God has just let me keep him for a while and I'm praying that He will have pity on my heart and let me keep him a little while longer.

It Ain't Over Yet

2010-07-23T10:05:00.002-05:00

I love Eddie. Have I ever told you that?

I love when his lip gets stuck in his teeth. It makes him look so goofy and silly which reveals that true side of his character. It also puckers up his cheek which makes it even more fun to nuzzle and kiss.

Eddie is still sick.

After the initial "purging" at the doctor, he came home to me and we all thought that was the end of it. We were wrong.

His appetite has been good but he is not able to eliminate anything but a little bit of bloody crud. This is not for lack of trying, for we had to go out almost every hour, even through the night last night.

So, early this morning, we went back to the vet.

We still haven't gotten any news back on the culture but with the way things are going, it is apparent that something has poor Eddie's bowels tied in a knot. How he can keep this sunny disposition with his bowels screaming is beyond me.

Doc will perform surgery first thing this afternoon.

I'm a skeered.

Feel free to pray.

Bowels of Hell

2010-07-20T09:35:00.003-05:00

I got the call from the vet this morning. The good news is that no surgery was required. The bad news is that I had to spend 10 minutes on the phone talking about laxatives, unidentifiable crud, and massive pooping.

Doc gave Eddie a stool softener and a laxative last night and when he took him out to walk this morning, apparently the gates of hell swung open wide and the demons were released from that poor babies bowels. We aren't certain what the blockage was since Doc deemed it indescribable green-nasty-not-niceness. He re-x-rayed his tummy and sounded the all clear. He said that he would give him some food and see how he handles that this morning and I could possibly come pick him up this afternoon.

I did request that he send off a specimen to make sure we weren't dealing with salmonella or any other horrible bacteria. My initial thoughts are that he over did it on the june bugs and/or dragonflies. I was very glad to hear that he is feeling much better now that he has been purged clean. Doc said his ears had perked back up and that his little tail/nub was just wagging away. Thank you, thank you, thank you Lord!

I can't wait to give his little cheeks a big kiss and start putting some weight back on him. It has always been so comical to watch him chase and catch bugs, I never thought that it could be harming him. I still don't know for sure if that is what caused this but I am certainly going to be more aware of what he is ingesting.

Thank you all for the prayers and concern.

Eddie Update

2010-07-19T16:26:00.003-05:00

Even this sad, pitiful face is so cute I could cry. If this isn't a "mom, I really think I need to go to the hospital" look, I don't know what is.

Taylor and I escorted Eddie to the vet this morning.

And, even though he wasn't feeling well and we were worried sick for him, he still managed to make us giggle.

The verdict is that he has some sort of foreign object in his small intestines. Could be string, could be a piece of a stuffed animal, could be a squeaker...who knows?

There were some Chihuahua's from hell in the waiting room whom Eddie tried to lovingly greet. It didn't go so well for Eddie and he left the waiting room with very hurt feelings and some serious confusion about what the heck had just taken place.

Doc is going to start him on fluids and antibiotics and do surgery in the morning. He said I could call about 10:00 to find out the results. Leaving him behind was so hard, even though he practically skipped away wagging his tail behind him. Even in times of great despair, he still manages to be so sweet.

I'll be sure to post the results as soon as I know something. I'm feeling much more optimistic now that Doc seemed to think it would be quite a simple procedure. Thanks to everyone for their concern and prayers.

What's the matter with Eddie?

2010-07-16T16:13:00.002-05:00

This is my Eddie. Carefree, joyful, playful. The dog that thinks EVERYTHING is fun!

Like grass-rolling.

He is always bright and alert.

With green pond slime on his chin.

But something has happened to my Eddie's joy, and I don't know what to do about it.

This is him lately. Sullen, withdrawn, pitiful.

I've looked up information about depression in boxers and, shockingly, there was quite a bit of information. I didn't think it was possible for that kind of joy and cheerfulness to be hindered. There seems to be several reasons that dogs get depressed like;

Separation anxiety

loss of a playmate

a big change like a new home or different schedule

loss of an owner

We haven't been through anything traumatic really.

He is still eating and drinking well, but he just seems so so sad. It really makes me want to cry.

This is the face he made when I said, "you ready to go??" Which always perks his ears up and puts that excited, happy smile on his face. But, this was his response. I even threw his ball for him yesterday and he just stood there. Maybe it's the heat?

This has been going on for a little over a week now. If anybody knows anything about this condition, please let me know. All the hugs and kisses and poor babies haven't helped. If he doesn't improve soon, I will take him to the vet just to make sure nothing is physically wrong with him.

For now, I will just keep trying to cheer him up. It is the least I can do for all the times he has lifted my spirits.

Why I Love Rodney

2010-07-01T19:22:00.004-05:00

Sunday, July 4th will be the 19-year anniversary of the day I married Rodney.

I always get a little sentimental and mushy around this time of year and reminiscent of the years past. We have both learned a lot and grown up a lot over the past 19 years and, amazingly, are still completely in love.

I just wanted to share a little bit about why I love that man. You can read on if you wish or you can run for your life, I'll understand.

1. He told me once in an old pick-up-truck, sitting in the dark, that if we were going to do this thing and get married, we were going to do it all the way. There would be no quitting, we're in it for the long haul. And I felt married to him at that moment.

2. He is a good man all the way through to his core.

3. He makes me laugh daily, and he laughs at me too.

4. He loved his grandmother and cherishes her memory.

5. He has loved me through all my insanity and chaos, even though he is so structured and persnickety.

6. Once he sat and listened to me weep and spout out hormonal lunacy and explain to him how nobody loves me, not even the dog, and he told me I needed to go lay down... and then went out and bought me some wind-chimes.

7. When my Papaw was dying and we were told that we needed to say our goodbye's, he sat with me next to his bed, with both our hands wrapped around that beautiful mans hand, and wept together.

8. He loves my mother and does sweet things for her.

9. He puts up with my dad.

10. He calls me from the tractor when he sees baby deer to gush about how little and tiny and cute they are

11. He is a good father.

12. He once had to buy unmentionables for Taylor at Wal-mart and was unsure what exactly to get and asked an associate for help.

13. He once dried a barbie-doll's hair because Taylor asked him to.

14. When he kisses my neck, his beard tickles and I fly off into outer-space and see stars.

15. He doesn't care whether I cook or not, so most of the time...I don't.

16. He is teaching my son how to be a man.

17. He sits beside me in church and holds my hand.

18. He loves God.

19. He brought me to live on a farm in Arkansas.

20. He makes the best coffee ever and we enjoy it together every morning and discuss the day ahead.

21. He does everything slowly and thoroughly and has taught me a lot of patience.

22. He is honest.

23. I can tell him anything and everything...and I do.

24. He has loved me when I was overweight, when I was thin, and now when I am somewhere in between.

25. He is not a gooey romantic, but is sincere, forthright and genuine and I wouldn't have him any other way.

I could continue on. I kind-of wish I hadn't numbered these, because 25 reasons I love Rodney doesn't even begin to scratch the surface. I am a very blessed woman and I pray I never take for granted the gift God has given me in that precious darling man.

Delivery Drama

2010-06-03T16:12:00.004-05:00

There's not a lot of drama that goes down on the farm. Not unless you consider goats eating pansies and tractor tires going flat to be drama.

I really don't like a lot of drama. There are two teenagers living in my house so I get my fill of drama just by their stories of high-school angst. Sometimes I want to cry for them, being a teenager is tough. I like to watch Oprah and watch other people's drama, but I really don't want it in my life. Although, sometimes I get bored and a little bit of drama can be fun.

Like today.

We are all pretty unseasoned when it comes to gardening but have decided that we all need to learn how to grow our own vegetables and be a little more "green". You know, in case the democrats take over the country. One of our gardening neighbors came out a couple of weeks ago and gave us a crash-course in gardening, even going as far as telling us what some of that equipment (that we own... that lives on our farm) is used for. Sad, isn't it?

So, about a week ago, Dad ordered a new roto-tiller. Our old one pooped out on us and was irreparable. There was quite a bit of research that went into the decision and much excitement surrounding the final purchase. I told you, things just don't get much more exciting than this.

Then, today, the big day was upon us. The tiller was coming, it was on it's way. My brain automatically started playing "The Wells Fargo Wagon" song.

The freight company that was delivering the tiller had been in contact with Dad a few times to try and pinpoint a delivery time and finalize the directions to the farm.

There was question of whether or not that big ol' truck could make it down our road, across the bridge, and through the woods. City folks! I guess they were afraid they might get abducted by hillbilly's or eaten by a bear. Dad reassured them, log trucks, feed trucks, chicken trucks and the like, make their way out here quite frequently.

They were apprehensive but began their trek out to siberia.

We had all been on the phone with each other several times. Dad calling Rodney to make sure he could be there with the tractor to unload the tiller, Rodney calling me to tell me the tiller was on the way, Mom calling me to see if I knew where Dad was because apparently he was so excited that he couldn't keep still.

Then, this is when all the drama happened. The freight company made a very ugly phone call to my mother (because Dad was still MIA) and informed her that the truck driver was stuck down at the bridge because a log truck had driven OFF the bridge and was blocking the road. Of all days! Seriously? The poor truck driver was stuck, unable to cross the bridge, unable to back up or turn around.

Me and Taylor went to get Mom, find Dad, and head to the bridge to assess the situation.

I'm very sorry to report that by the time we got to our neighbors house, the ones that live just before you get to the bridge, we were met by our neighbor and told that the bridge was clear and the freight truck was on the way.

I wanted to see some destruction. I wanted at least some logs in the river or something! The drive down there was full of anticipation. Oh, what were we going to see?? And HOW did that log truck driver go off the bridge? and WHY did he have to do it right before out tiller was trying to cross it?

But, nope...the tiller made it to the farm without us even getting to see a hint of devastation.

Rodney and I were making faces at each other as he unloaded the precious cargo, relishing the silliness of it all.

Dad was like a kid in a candy store.

He's cute ain't he?

I just hope he's careful using that thing. And, I hope, he lets me play with it sometime.

Snake hunting and other summer fun

2010-05-28T09:13:00.005-05:00

I knew it had been a while since I've blogged but just realized that it has been a whole month!

Summer is here! YIPEEEE

We are in the thick of our first cutting of hay, we just settled in a new batch of chickens and...we are all really tired. The second day the kids were out of school, Taylor hurt her back working in the chicken house and Kyle was coughing and wheezing from being in the chicken houses and from the hay. I told Rodney "it's just the second day and we've already almost killed them".

But on to the fun stuff.

Now that summer is here, we travel around a lot on the four-wheeler. This is the view from the four-wheeler at all times. Eddie is the leader. He shows us the way, apparently.

It makes him feel important. And it also expends a whole lot of that boxer energy that is, at some point, going to emerge whether you like it or not.

Plus, it's really fun to watch those cheeks and tongue contort and twist and morph into the funniest faces. You can just feel the excitement. This is one of my favorite things about Eddie. His joy is palpable and infectious.

Have you ever heard a string of words, processed them in your brain and out comes a song from the 70's? I found myself, for some odd reason, singing Anne Murray's "You Needed Me" to Eddie this morning.

"I cried a tear, you wiped it dry, I was confused, you cleared my mind..."

Somehow, somewhere, my life has gotten off track.

But I digress. This particular summer's eve, Kyle and I were headed out to do a bit of snake hunting. I had to ask if I could pretty-please come along. Feels a little weird to ask your kids permission to come along with them. So, Kyle with his shotgun and me with my camera, were headed out to find snakes to blow to smithereens.

And Eddie too.

Kyle has been very successful at snake hunting thus far this summer. I'm not sure of the actual count but it is significant. He is only shooting moccasins and copper heads. Black snakes and the like are on my list of endangered species and they are not to be shot. They are eating rats and and vermin and aren't poisonous, so they run free.

We headed back to the "far south" pond which is more of a swamp...a great place for snakes to hang out. And a great place for Eddie to cool off since he just ran a mile in the heat.

This is when things get really exciting. Kyle gave me many explicit instructions about snake hunting. First of all, I was to stay right behind him and not wander off. I do that you know. Secondly, had I been carrying a .22, I would have to be in the back. The person with the shotgun is always the lead. Fortunately, I was only armed with my camera so I didn't really need to worry about that one. The couple of times I made my way in front of Kyle while wandering aimlessly with my camera, I was told to GET BACK and SHUT UP.

We didn't ever see any snakes, except the putrescent dead ones that had been killed the previous day. I decided not to take pictures of that. But, glory hallelujah, a snapping turtle. These are fair game as well on the farm since they eat fish and are just not cute at all.

After a good 20 minutes, I was bored of snake hunting so I parked it on the four-wheeler and waited for Kyle to finish making his rounds. What could be more fun for a 16-year-old boy I ask? This makes my heart happy.

This is him waving me forward. He used to do this when he was about 4-years-old and we were in the Wal-Mart parking lot. He would hold up his hand like a traffic cop in the pedestrian crossing while the cars waited and motion me forward. "Come on Mom, it's safe" he would say. It was the cutest thing ever.

I shall have more summer excitement to post soon. Summer is when the farm is a busy little beehive of work. Everything is alive and green as we relish in the splendor of the earth's bounty. For this, I am thankful.

Saving the World

2010-04-27T15:51:00.003-05:00

I love daisies. I love that they grow wild and free. I love that they serve no other purpose but to be beautiful and bring a little joy to our lives. One of my favorite movie lines is in "You've Got Mail" when Meg Ryan explains her love of daisies and how they are "so friendly". I agree completely, they are the friendlies flower.

This time of year, red clover and daisies are prolific along the highways here in southwest Arkansas. It actually makes that long 30-mile-trip to Wal-Mart a complete joy.

Today, I had to make a trip into town to enter some of my photography in the annual art show.

I was met with a most unpleasant sight. A sign that read "mowers ahead".

WHAT? They never mow this early! The daisies are just getting going! Aren't they supposed to wait till all the wildflowers go to seed?

I could feel my heart start racing as I approached the beginnings of the massacre. A huge swath of clover and daisies were cut down to nothing. I almost had to pull over. Then I saw the wretched beast that was devouring the helpless flowers. I called my mom, I called Rodney..."what should I do? what should I do?"

Rodney suggested that I march up to the court house, find the county judge and give him what for. Mom simply reiterated that they are NOT supposed to mow until the flowers go to seed.

I almost pulled over when I saw what looked to be the contractors truck. There were several men outside the truck holding WEED-EATERS and smirking cynical little grins. Knowing myself like I do, I knew that a confrontation with a weedeater-wielding, trucker-hat-wearing, daisy-mowing barbarian would, more than likely, bring me to a tearful fit and I would end up on the evening news.

The sad thing was that it was really too late to do anything about it. They were all but gone. Only the steep hillsides remained adorned. I was still in complete shock but had errands to run, so I focused on that. As I turned onto the road that lead to the art show building, there was a glimmer of hope. The ditches that lined the highway just before the turn hadn't yet been cut.

So I did what any logical person would do, I pulled over, jumped out of my car and yanked up as many daisies as I could. They were coming up by the roots fairly easily, almost as if they were screaming "save us, save us, the tractor is coming!" I made several little stops along the roadway, rescuing as many as I could. I'm not even sure if this is legal but I felt like those people that risk life and limb in order to save some endangered species.

By the time I got home with them, they were pretty wilted. I bounded from the car with all the urgency of an EMT and began digging furiously in the ground near my picket fence. I had been out there yesterday with my pick-axe preparing the soil for seeds, so the tools were there, I just had to do the work.

They look so pitiful, even turning from the camera as to not have their picture taken. Poor little things, the trauma they've been through.

I watered them in well and asked God to let them live.

The ones that were separated from their roots, I simply cut and put in a vase. My house already feels so much happier.

I am still thinking of at least calling to find out why in the world they were mowing so early. There were crazy thoughts of laying down in the flowers in front of the mowers. But I really really didn't want to be on the news.

I did my best and saved as many as I could. And, hopefully, I will enjoy year after year of springs filled with daisies adorning my picket fence.

Oh, please let them live.

Farm-Style Spa

2010-04-24T09:53:00.004-05:00

When we were choosing all the options for my home (gosh, it's been 10 years ago) I clearly remember the option of getting an extra window in my bathroom. I really don't even remember what the other option was but that the clear, obvious choice, for me, was the window. The sales lady questioned my decision in a sort of are you sure you want to risk being seen in your bathroom kind-of attitude. I assured her that there was no way anybody was going to see me in my bathroom besides four-legged creatures, and I was sure they wouldn't mind.

I was so excited to be getting a tub too.

We lived in a fixer-upper in Huntsville that had two indoor-outhouses, only one of which had a tub and it was a sad, pitiful little tub. There were no knobs to turn on the water so we kept a pair of channel-locks nearby to twist the rods that stuck out of the wall. We were cave people. The experience of living in that house was God's way of growing me up and His way of making me appreciate the little things, like walls.

Although I have had this tub for nearly ten years, I haven't used it much. For one thing, I rarely take the time to have a soaking bath. For another thing, up until about a year ago, we had a water heater that wasn't nearly sufficient enough to fill the tub. I'm now, also, thankful for efficient water-heaters.

We have been told by fellow farmers, who have farmed their whole lives, "You either love it, or you hate it." I guess we must love it. We work hard, we get paid little and we certainly aren't living a cushy lifestyle. There are, however, some things that far outweigh any kind of monetary advantage. Things like taking a bath in the middle of the day just because you want to.

Even though I rarely use my tub, when I do... it is magical. It happened to be raining yesterday and I was stuck in the house. I needed a shower but then decided to just take some "me time" and give myself a little spa treatment. I got out my scrubby salts and mineral bath and was so thrilled that it just happened to be raining outside. One of my favorite things is to take a bath while it's raining outside and I'm about to tell you why.

I open up both of my bathroom windows so that glorious rainy air can infiltrate the whole room. The tub gets filled with extra hot water (thanks to my new water heater and the fact that there are no teenagers at home, sucking all of it up). Now my bathroom is filled with steam, rainy air and the sounds of frogs chirping, birds singing and the drip drip dripping on the leaves outside.

I told you the only people that would see me are the four-legged variety. Plus, these guys are mothers, they've given birth and suckled their young and have no preconceived ideas about beauty. They've never looked at women in magazines and felt inadequate. This is why I love them so, because they love me unconditionally...sometimes more than I would like.

So, at 1:30 in the afternoon, I'm soaking in the tub, feeling somewhat like a fairy bathing in the rain that has puddled on a leaf somewhere. At points, a breeze would float through the windows, cooling my hot skin, and I could swear that it was the beating of angels wings. Yes, there are some benefits to farming that far outweigh anything money could buy.

Then my bliss was interrupted by a phone call from Kyle. "Mom, I forgot my soccer uniform. Can you find it and bring it with you to the game. It's somewhere in my room."

And I'm back to reality again.

One more of my favorite things is drying off with a sun-dried towel. They are just so crispy and thirsty and, man alive, do they smell incredible. My spa treatment wouldn't be complete without being dried off in this fashion.

Even though my blissful afternoon was cut short, I was assuredly the most relaxed soccer mom at the game last night.

Gifts

2010-04-21T10:30:00.006-05:00

When people asked me, at my birthday party, how old I was, I simply replied, "I'm not forty."

I love the fact that I was born in the spring time. For one thing it is when all the earth is re-born. It's kind of cool to share my birthday with flowers and trees and grass.

For another thing, my birthday gifts usually reflect the season.

Things like seeds, which were a gift from my very best friend. Not just any old seeds, but ones that were chosen to bring color and beauty into my life. No matter how many times I plant a seed, it never ceases to amaze me that you can place a tiny seed in the soil and that a beautiful flower will grow (or a vegetable or even a tree). Oh, yes...seeds are, indeed, a great gift.

My old hummingbird feeders finally pooped out on me last season. I have one left that is in pretty sad shape and didn't even put it out. Until I received this gift, there was fear that there may just be some hungry little birds peaking in my window wondering what gives. My heart wouldn't be able to bear that.

Spring is very good for birthdays.

I got this card from my Mamaw. It had forty dollars in it. I guess she didn't get the memo that I am not forty. My eyes did well up a bit when I read her inscription. She and I are bonded spiritually whether we want to be or not.

I got a beautiful journal from my Aunt Mary and Uncle Larry. I loved the fact that she saw it and thought of me and in reference to bible study. Don't you love it when you see something that makes you think of somebody you love? Don't you love it when somebody gives a gift because it made them mindful of you? I think this is the sweetest thing ever. How we can be going about our daily lives and we can hear or see something that makes us pause and think of a loved one. I think I'll make it more of a point to let people know when I'm thinking about them.

This is probably one of my favorite gifts ever. My Aunt Sandy made it. While A.D.D and disorganization may run rampant in my family, so does creativity. I'm apprehensive about hanging it outside even though she said it was weather-proof. It would be kind-of cool to allow a bird to live in it but, things being what they are in Arkansas, it's more likely to house a family of wasps.

Sandy also made this gift for me a couple of Christmas's ago. It's an actual egg that she cleaned and painted. I've always loved rabbits so she incorporated this into her painting. Isn't it fabulous? I'm supposing that this rabbit represents Rodney...

and this is me

and there we are working on our farm. Aren't we darling?

The crystal vase that the egg is sitting in is also one of my favorite gifts. It was a Christmas gift from my Aunt Judy about 15 years ago. It is the tiniest, sweetest little vase ever. But what makes it special is this; as she handed it to me she said, "you know how your babies pick you little flowers and you can never quite find anything small enough to put them in? This vase is for those flowers." I could weep. The vase has had many a tiny flower placed within it by sweet little hands, and every one was precious. The past few years, as the kids have become increasingly scarce around here, the vase has become a pedestal for this charming little egg. I will be looking forward to the day when once again, somebody picks me a tiny flower...maybe Eddie will.

An Empty Space

2010-04-16T11:11:00.003-05:00

I had to make a change. Not because I was compelled by an inspiration of creativity, but because I was faced with a problem.

When I look at this photo, I'm so sad. I loved my canopy. I remember when I was about 8, I got my first canopy. The feeling of being in my own secret place was exhilarating. I felt quite like a princess. It just looks and feels so cozy and homey, doesn't it?

As much as I loved this canopy and as proud as I was of myself for fashioning and suspending it from the ceiling, it posed a big problem. A dirty one.

It collected dust. Not just a little dust, it was like a magnet, a force-field that drew in dust from every corner of the house. There were frequent dust bunny parties atop this crocheted platform. I could actually hear them sometimes, at night, relishing in their gaiety.

Combating the dust became quite a chore and I had to get really creative about doing it. Since the suspension of the canopy was so intricate, it was not feasible to take it down and wash it. So, I vacuumed it. I vacuumed it a lot. With the wand of the vacuum, I spent hours sucking those dust bunnies out of every crocheted nook and cranny. This caused more than a couple of visits to the chiropractor. And, the thing of it is, once I sucked up every last little bit of dust, it began to accumulate again. Heaven forbid anybody touch the thing for the whole room would be sprinkled with smut. So I was faced with a decision. Do I keep sucking up dust bunnies for eternity on this most inconvenient of places, or do I just take the darn thing down?

I took it down.

For weeks I barely even looked at the area when I went in and out of the room. I couldn't bear the emptiness of the space. It was as if something had died and I dealt with it in my own healthy way, denial.

The time came to deal with it and, today, I did.

Back in January, my Uncle sold the land in which my Grandparent's old house sat. The house was scheduled to be demolished and we were allowed to harvest whatever we wanted from it beforehand. I spent one afternoon over there with a crowbar and hammer pulling every last frame window out of that old house. That is another blog in itself.

I decided to put the windows to use over my bed. I'm sure they will collect their fair share of dust but it will be much less to care for and much easier to clean.

The room still seems so empty to me. The good news is that I've been set free from the bonds of dusting that old canopy. Freedom is much more important to me than looks. And I'm really hoping that when I get to heaven, I'll have a dust-free, canopy-covered bed.

My Burning Bush Experience

2010-04-02T16:12:00.006-05:00

Do you guys know Sophie?

Here she is, one ear up and one ear down. That's her. She came to live with us right after we moved to the farm, so she has seen a lot of stuff. 10 years, it's been.

Before you start to worry, this isn't one of those sad, "My dog just died" blogs. Sophie is healthy as a horse.

Anyway, She has been a sweet family pet for a long time.

She has given birth to 3 litters of puppies. Most of which were given to family and friends as "samples", so we still are in close contact with a lot of them. Boy, this was a fun time. This was her last litter, the one that Charlotte came from.

It was Christmas, we had puppies, life was sweeeeet.

We couldn't get enough of them.

...and we were blessed with this quirky little freak with the big donkey ears. Lord have mercy she is precious.

Back to my story.

I've been struggling. Struggle struggle struggle. It seems like all I do lately is battle with myself. Depression, despair, self-loathing, frustration, disorganization, mess, muck. You know the scene in The Princess Bride with the old woman shouting "BOOOOOO...bow to the queen of slime, the queen of filth, the queen of putrescence. Slime, filth, muck..."??? I've played that over in my head. That's me, I'm the Queen of putrescence!!

Then, just when things seem bad, they get worse. I won't bore you with details but the "worse" has to do with farm and finance. I'm one of those people that needs to have security. I don't do well in uncertainty. I don't want to necessarily thrive, but I sure don't want to have to worry about how I'm going to buy groceries.

So I get really serious with God. I want some answers. Not just some kind of clue...no, I want a burning bush, I want a booming voice from the sky, I want a clear cut answer and right now would be good. God teaches me patience A LOT. So, a few mornings ago I was in really deep conversation with God and hoping for a revelation. I decided to go for a walk, leaving my iPod at home so I could just listen. Who knows, maybe I'll stumble upon a burning bush.

I was having a hard time thinking clearly, just feeling stressed and thinking about every little stressful thing. One of my traumatic incidences was with Sophie. I came home from Kyle's soccer game and entered into a house that stank, and I mean really bad. Now, I live on a farm, I deal with stink quite a bit but not in my house. The house may be messy a lot but it always smells nice. We had been spreading chicken litter on the fields for 2 days and, at first, I thought perhaps somebody tracked it in. I started hunting down the smell like a blood-hound and when I found it, I was LIVID. Apparently, Sophie found a little treat out in the pasture and rolled in it, smacked on it, laid in it, played with it, and got real good and stinky then proceeded to regurgitate some of it on my COUCH!!

Why on the couch Sophie? Why?

So, the couch had to be taken all to pieces. Luckily, most of it was on a quilt and only part of it on the upholstery and none had seeped through to the cushion. I washed the cushion covers (and was thankful for zippers) and hung them on the line to dry.

I was thinking about all of this while I was walking, still waiting for an answer. Then it came.

When I walk, all the doggies go with me. Actually, I don't go anywhere on the farm without my own, personal, little entourage of furry people. And, when they walk with me, they dart in and out of the woods smelling and searching for any little excitement. So as I was walking, thinking, waiting, Sophie darted out in front of me from the woods with a big sticker-vine stuck to her legs. This has happened more times than I can count.

Sophie, come here baby. And she comes and sits and waits while I remove her restriction. Then, off she goes.

The answer was vague at first and became clearer and clearer. Here is what I heard in my heart (not from a burning bush...darn!)

You can roll in the muck, you can be in the deepest pit of sin and putrescence and I will still love you. It was your instinct to help that little dog with something minor even after she made you so mad, and I love you TIMES INFINITY more than that. What do you think could possibly keep me from you? I promised to never forsake you, I promised never to leave you. Remember all those times you were worried about money, about your kids, about your marriage and I worked all that out, didn't I? Don't worry. You just keep doing your job, do it well, do it with integrity and honor, and I WILL bless you. It may not come in the form of a healthy paycheck, but you will be blessed. I will remove every thorn from your soul and if I have to squeeze your flesh a little to do it, that is what I will do.

So I said, "alrighty then, I will let you have this."

Then, I guess God decided to just stick with the Sophie Theme and revealed something else today. A storm came through this afternoon. It is still raining glorious rain right now. There was some lightening and thunder and when this happens, Sophie sticks to me like glue. And I heard God speak into my heart..."when you get scared, like you are right now, you need to stick to me like nobody's business. When you start to stray from me, I will bring you back to me, even if I have to use fear as a motivator. Learn to depend on me child! You can't do all of this by yourself, your not super woman. Trust me, I've got this."

So, Sophie has been a little burning bush the past couple of days. I was a little disappointed that she didn't start speaking like Balaam's donkey but I got the message anyway. The future is uncertain but it is always uncertain isn't it? Depending on God to see me through the uncertainty is the lesson and I think I've got it now.

Lessons in Humility

2010-03-16T15:13:00.004-05:00

Yesterday Granna asked Taylor if she could run a few errands for her. She just needed her to run to DeQueen and pick up some supplies that she needed to finish a couple of projects before she left on a little EHC trip.

Well, Taylor had really had a bad day at school. She needed her mother.

Can you go with me to town Mom?

I had been working in the wood-shop all day and wasn't fit for town.

Taylor, I would have to take a shower, put on make-up, fix my hair and loose 20 pounds.

Pleeeeeeaaaassseeeee!!

I really hate it when I'm caught in this dilemma. Do I go and risk being seen by a hundred people at walmart looking like I'd just emerged from the woods, eating gopher...or do I break my daughters heart and stay safe at home where nobody cares that I have on dirty overalls with wood shavings in my carelessly pinned-up hair.

It's the risk of being a farmer. Sometimes I just happen to look like a hillbilly. It's just the way things are. So, I decided to go warts and all. I threw my little hoodie sweater on over my dirty overalls, put on my converse tennis shoes, wiped some of yesterday's mascara off my cheeks and headed out the door.

I figured I would see at least 10 people I knew. Intellectually, I can discern that people probably don't give a flip about what I look like, but I'm riddled with insecurity and could just feel the pressure of it all. Luckily, our list was short so we could get in and get out quickly.

Things were going along pretty well. So far, the kids and I were laughing and talking in the car, singing to the music, and talking about all the high-school drama going on. I kind-of forgot about my attire for a bit.

When we were in the produce isle at Wal-Mart, Taylor said, "hey look, there's Josh!"

I know a few Josh's, none of which I would care to see me looking like I looked.

But being me I said "Where?"

Right THERE!

Little did I know that she was talking about Cute-Coffee-House-Josh until he turned around and our eyes locked. His big brown dreamy eyes locked right on my worn-torn confused face.

and I exclaimed "OH!"

Not like a happy to see you "oh", but a long drawn-out oooohhhh. It hung in the air for infinity. It was very loud, at least in my head.

Cute-Coffee-House-Josh is this cute guy named Josh that works at the coffee house. Just thought I'd clear that up.

Anyway, I scurried away like a frightened squirrel and before I got out of the produce section, I got tickled. The whole incident played over and over in my head and it got funnier every time.

I started laughing and, as fate would have it, I happen to snort very loudly when I laugh. I mean like a pig. God really needed to show me some humility yesterday. I was doing the kind of laughing that I had to actually pinch my nose with my fingers to keep from snorting, so then I was just quietly convulsing while pinching my nose. Taylor, who loves a good laugh, joined in the giggle-fest as we tried to make our way to the check out.

I lived through the whole thing and have a new image of myself to make me laugh. And...I won't be going back to Wal-mart till next Christmas.

A Goose on the Loose

2010-03-15T12:32:00.005-05:00

Our farm has had many feathered visitors over the years. I love to see the ponds sprinkled with mallards in the winter and always wonder where they've been all summer long. We have Great Blue Heron's all year round and every time I see one in flight I always say, "oh look, a terra-dactyl!" They are on my endangered species list (I keep my own) and are not to be hunted on my farm. Rodney tried to convince me that they would eat all the fish if we didn't shoot them. I convinced him that should we EVER start eating fish from the pond then I would consider it but my belief is that they only eat the little ones, leaving room for the others to grow. You know, that whole ecosystem thing.

One year we had a flock of pelicans stay for the night. I am not lying. I swear...PELICANS!!

My list of endangered species is quite long. It also includes Canadian Geese. There have been three here on the farm for a couple of weeks now and I'm already dreading their leaving.

Three is an odd number (I learned that in school). What is peculiar about a threesome of geese, however, is that they usually come in pairs. Geese mate for life so one by itself means either he hasn't found a mate or that on the long journey from Canada, his mate was lost or killed.

Excuse me while I go cry into a sofa pillow.

Sometimes all three are together and then, at times...this one is all alone. I'm not sure if you are Mr. Goose or Mrs. Goose, but my heart is broken for you. Cue the dramatic heart-swelling music.

Uh OH...Run Mr. Goose, I mean Mrs. Goose, whoever you are are...RUN!!

Eddie is sweet and all but I don't think he is coming to lick your face. HAUL ASS!!

Poor Eddie. He doesn't understand that he can't catch things that fly, or swim. Not for a lack of trying however.

Ok, that is just cool.

And...safe in the pond.

na ne na ne boo boo

He got away Momma.

I'm in love with this goose.

I think he loves me too.

Stay as long as you'd like. You are graceful and lovely and I'd be honored to have you as a guest. Eddie promises it won't be boring.

A Year With Eddie

2010-03-13T10:50:00.007-06:00

After a couple of weeks of busy schedules, traveling and a terminal case of writers block, I found, today, the easiest thing in the world to blog about...Eddie.

Eddie is a year old today. He shares his birthday with my niece, Grace which makes him extra special in my opinion.

So here is my year-in-review of life with Eddie.

He was so pitiful when I brought him home. But, he has gone from this...

to this...

to this.

and from this...

to this.

He has a magical ability to make the sternest of faces go from this...

to this.

He has welcomed our guests,

and made new and interesting friends.

He has watched over our fields

and frolicked in them

and played in the snow.

He has made hideous messes

and shown no remorse.

We have walked with him

kissed his boo boo's

snuggled in bed

included him in all our recreational activities

and played in the sunshine.

He has melted our hearts

made us smile

and made us laugh till it hurt.

Happy Birthday Eddie. Sorry about the hat buddy.

Blog Design

2010-02-17T10:31:00.002-06:00

I'm sure you can tell by my frequently changing layout, that I am just as interested in the appearance of my blog as I am in the contents of it. Hours have been spent trying to make it look like I see it in my head, but I just don't know a whole lot about html code or any other type of cyber silliness.

I am entering to win a blog design by fabulous k creative. I simply LOVE her design and "look". It is just so simple, so fresh, so so pretty!

One of the ways to enter is simply to blog about it, so here it is. Yes, it is shameless but I really really want to win this.

The winner will be announced Saturday. Keep your fingers crossed for this ol farm girl.

Mystical Elixir

2010-02-16T17:36:00.003-06:00

Now I know you all have heard me whine and cry about my terminal case of the winter blahs, but that isn't what I've come to blog about today. I've come to give you good people a remedy for winter blahs, or seasonal affective disorder, or seasonal depression, however you choose to call it.

Dr. Oz piqued my interest on his show a week or so ago when he was talking about remedies for this dreaded affliction. I was actually just happy to see other downtrodden, winter-beaten souls. It's a misery loves company thing.

One of the suggestions was ginger tea.

I like ginger.

I like tea.

Perhaps I'll give this a try

I tried straight ginger. I don't recommend this.

So here is what I came up with. Please feel free to try this for it has helped me tremendously.

First of all you'll need some ginger root. I've always seen this in the produce section and watched Martha Stewart grating away at it, but never has it ever graced my kitchen until now.

In doing my research, I found out that ginger is not only a great combatant against the doldrums, but is also a wonderful anti-inflammatory, aids in the digestive process, controls chronic pain, minimizes allergy symptoms and limits flatulence! Glory, glory hallelujah!

Since the ginger alone was just too weird for me, I decided to add some cinnamon. Guess what I found out? Studies have shown this magical spice to help with arthritis pain, regulate blood sugar, and boosts cognitive function and memory. Glory glory hallelujah.

Of course, it has to be sweetened right? I decided to go the natural route in concocting my elixir and went with good-old, beautiful, God-given, honey. Well, you're just not going to believe this. Honey is full of gloriously wonderful incredible stuff!! Lets just set aside for a minute the MIRACLE of how it is made, for this is a topic all in it's own. Plus, if I start talking about how much I love and adore the honey bee, I'll start missing spring again. So here are just a few of the benefits of squeezing some of this golden nectar into your diet.

Honey contains as many antioxidants as spinach.

It's free sugar molecules make the brain function better since the brain is the largest consumer of sugar, thus, reduces fatigue.

It aids in keeping the skin soft and fresh and slows down old age.

The ancient Egyptians paid their taxes with it. (ok, I know that wasn't a benefit although it would greatly benefit me if I was allowed to pay my taxes this way)

You will have to steep your ginger (about a tablespoon of grated ginger root) with the cinnamon in boiling water. I just happen to have the most darling husband that buys me cute tea pitchers because I say I really really need one for my seasonal depression. You can use whatever you have, a glass measuring cup works nicely.

This is probably the most important ingredient in the recipe. The tonic MUST be consumed out of a pretty cup. If you skip this step you might as well just forget about the whole thing.

Honey goes in first, don't ask why, it just does. Don't be stingy. Forget about calories and think of the benefits.

Poor the nice scalding hot tea over the honey, and stir.

And, there you have it. A beautiful, magical, healing cup of tea.

Enjoy.

Lessons in Musicals

2010-02-13T08:16:00.004-06:00

Rodney and I were sitting at the breakfast table a couple of days ago drinking our coffee and watching the birds. The weather was very cold and the birds were very busily going about their feasting. Quite a large crowd of those sweet little birdies showed up this particular morning. They were fluttering about in and out of the branches of that big-old oak in my back yard.

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes just watching. Then the following conversation took place;

Me: I wonder if that tickles?

long pause...

Rodney (hesitantly): You wonder if what tickles?

Me: All those birds flying around and hopping up and down on the branches of that tree.

Rodney (bewildered): huh??

Me: Well, it just looks like that would tickle. If I had birds climbing all over me and fluttering around in my hair and hopping up and down my arms...it would certainly tickle!

Rodney: You are such a little freak.

Me: psshht! I am not! how do you know that trees don't get tickled? Have you ever been a tree?

Rodney: No

Me: well, then you don't know do you?

I enjoy torturing him just in small increments. I have to be careful not to push it too far for fear he might actually have me committed. I simply feel it is my duty to bring a little whimsy into his stoic life of duty and work. I'm not sure he has ever heard a tree giggle. The only use Rodney has ever had for a tree is to climb into it's branches to better see wildlife in hopes to blow some poor creature away. This is why God gave us to each other. He keeps me grounded and feeds me lovely wildlife meat, and I...well I try to make sure that he knows that trees have feelings (among other things).

You see, Rodney had a horrible childhood. I found this out after we had been married only a little while. I said something like "we represent the lollipop guild", which completely confused him. I said, "you know, from the Wizard of Oz". And this is when I found it out, the heinous injustice that befell my darling husband. He had never seen the Wizard of Oz!

How is that possible?

I rectified the situation as quickly as possible. I'm not sure how well received it was but I couldn't imagine him going through life without having had his mind filled with song and dance and munchkins (and lions and tigers and bears, oh my!)

It became a quest over the years of our marriage to right all the wrongs from his childhood of hunting and fishing and working in his dads shop. I made him watch Oklahoma when he was down in his back, stuck on the couch and couldn't reach the remote.

My Fair Lady was a staple at our house when the kids were little. See, I started them off early before they even had an opinion of what they liked to watch. Brainwashing is a delicate task and is easier started when your subjects are very young. I can recall Kyle toddling around with a blanky in hand singing "Poor professor Higgins". Of course it came out more like "Poow profether Higginth" YES! My master plan is working! Muah ha ha ha!

And I'm not sure how ANYBODY can go through life without 76 trombones stuck in their heads. I could go on and on about The Music Man. Why my heart is just swelling thinking about it.

I have heard little bits and pieces of my success throughout the years. Rodney has more than once let things slip like pulling the ice cream from the freezer and in his lowest baritone voice singing "ice creeeeeaaaamm". I've also heard him singing "with a little bit of luck" in quite an incredible english accent for a redneck.

God knows that man needed me.

Farm-Style Romance

2010-02-04T14:02:00.004-06:00

Rodney and I were up at the "butt-crack" of dawn this morning awaiting the arrival of our newest batch of chickens. It was cold, it was raining and I'll spare you my thoughts on the mud for now. There is something about those sleepy mornings, sharing coffee, quietly discussing the day's chores, going over how well we slept or didn't sleep, and chitchatting about exciting topics like...goat feed.

We dumped the chickens ourselves today. It isn't unusual for us to find ourselves without help, and so my darling man and I unloaded 4 houses of chickens, just the two of us. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with chicken farming, each house holds 29,000 chickens which come to us in crates of 50. That's 2320 crates that have to be lifted and "dumped" into the house. Of course there is much more to it than that, but I can't go into it right now.

Rodney and I love this farm, we love to work together (most of the time) and we are still crazy about each other even after almost 19 years of marriage. Living the way we do, sometimes romance is in short supply. Things just don't get real hot when the topic of conversation tends to revolve around cattle, chickens, hay and goats. Of course, Rodney isn't real well known for being a Casanova anyway. I married that hard-working man for who he is and I sure don't expect to change him. Why on earth would anybody want to do such a thing?

Oh, but there is a sweet sweet side to that man of mine. Earlier today, I was sitting at my desk and I could hear the tractor coming. I love when I can hear the tractor coming! I love the fact that I still get butterflies when I know he is near.

So, I peered out the window and saw two big red buckets coming down the road.

Rodney knows I like buckets. He brought me a bucket when we had only been married a few months. He handed it to me and said "look what I found on the side of the road!" It was probably one of the most romantic gestures I had seen coming from him up to that point...and I still have that bucket.

I had gone to the feed store on Monday and picked up two protein tubs for the cows. When the little dude at the feed store loaded them for me, I was already excited that those tubs just happened to be red and when emptied by the cows, I would be able to use them for planters or any little thing my heart desired.

I don't remember saying much to Rodney about it, just that I wanted him to be sure and not get rid of them when they were empty. Rodney minds me very well.

And now I love him even more. Just the fact that he was out in the rain feeding cows, saw the empty buckets, thought of me, loaded them and sat them at my door, why he is a romantic after all!

With all this cold and rain, I sure needed a little something to heat things up a bit. I think two red buckets delivered via tractor could be just the spice I needed.

"Anytime baby"

Snow Therapy

2010-01-30T12:31:00.006-06:00

I've heard people say all my life that time goes by faster and faster the older you get. While this may be true on the grandfather clock of life, I'm convinced that each winter I've lived through has progressively grown longer. I am also completely sure that I suffer from "seasonal affective disorder". The symptoms are...

Afternoon slumps with decreased energy and concentration
Carbohydrate cravings
Decreased interest in work or other activities
Depression that starts in fall or winter
Increased appetite with weight gain
Increased sleep and excessive daytime sleepiness
Lack of energy
Slow, sluggish, lethargic movement

Social withdrawal

Oh, this is me for sure. And I know I'm not the only one who is plagued with this cursed disorder. Do I have to call it a disorder? I think I'll just call it a phase. When bears crawl into their caves for the winter and sleep for months, we don't slap a label on them and consider them to to have some stupid disorder...it's just the way things are.

Although the weather may cause my mood to change somewhat, I am a perpetual optimist and will do whatever I can to see the rainbow in the storm. You know, that "silver lining" that people speak of, that is what I'm after. Thankfully, God helps me out and gives me much to be happy about, however, I am the one that must find it.

So, last night, the skies broke forth and showered glorious snow upon the earth. When you live somewhere like southwest Arkansas, snow is completely thrilling. We usually get a little every year, and we have had years that have given us more than our fair share, but it is just enough to keep us all on the edge of our seats when the forecast predicts winter precipitation.

It's amazing how cathartic a little snow can be for someone in the throws of seasonal depression. I almost couldn't wait for the sun to come up and reveal what mother nature had been up to while we slept. My camera and I were sure to have much to do.

So when the sun did come up, I set out with the only other person in my family that shares my excitement of the snow...Kyle. It helps to have a friend that is a thrilled as you are about something so simple.

I might get excited about the snow, but Kyle literally embraces the stuff. We had only been out for a few minutes when I shot this picture and look at how covered he is in snow already! I don't know how he does it, but whatever he finds to do, he does it 150%.

We were trudging through "The Big Woods". To the east of my house are the Big Woods, to the west of my house lie the Little Woods. We love the Big Woods. They're big.

I was in search of evergreens with snow atop the foliage and Kyle insisted that we go to what he had deemed his favorite holly tree. There are so many things that I loved about that statement. He is fifteen, he's been in those woods enough to know which trees are his favorite and there is a holly tree standing in the thick of the woods that is loved by a boy.

Every little thing seems magical when it is dusted with snow. I love rattan anyway...the sheer audacity that is has to wrap itself around anything in it's path is amazing...add a little snow to it and it is truly a thing of beauty.

I wondered how many times I've walked past something as brilliant as moss growing on a stone and not noticed it. I should be ashamed of myself.

A hike through the woods in the cold and snow were just what I needed, but I passed on the tree climbing. I also reminded Kyle that our health insurance has still not gone into affect and if he broke his arm, it was going to have to stay broken. He assured me that this was not the first time he had climbed this particular tree and explained in some scientific detail about the make-up of a cedar tree and how it would be nearly impossible for him to break an arm.

Eddie joined in our thrill of hiking and frolicking through the snow.

Kyle and Eddie have a love/hate relationship. You will never see Eddie voluntarily curl up next to Kyle to snuggle or rest his head...Kyle is rarely still enough for snuggling of any sort. He is also a bit unpredictable and you never know what he is going to do, something that dogs really aren't crazy about. But playing outside, this is where Kyle and Eddie are suited perfectly.

I don't think a dog could ask for much more than a boy to play with

I couldn't tell if this was merriment or aggravation, but it sure made me laugh

Let us all pause momentarily to admire the perfect specimen of dog that Eddie has become.

When we returned home I was even taken aback at how my little double wide cottage even looked so whimsical and quaint with the roof top dusted white.

The snow is all but gone now. Just a few hours of bliss, but it was certainly well received. Tomorrow is the last day of January. I've still got to make it through February and possibly much of March before the warmer weather returns. We have even seen freezing temperatures and snow as far into the year as April. I promise I will continue to seek out my silver lining. They have been coming in all shapes and forms, today just happened to be sweet snow.

The End of the Trail

2010-01-22T09:48:00.006-06:00

The legacy of the Wickes Warriors is coming to an end.

After months of debate, confusion, anger, and much small-town drama, the desision to merge our school with another was decided last night. And so we begin the task of laying to rest our beloved warrior mascot and becoming...something new.

Change is always hard. Personally, I hate change. If it were merely stepping into something new, that would be one thing, but change always means leaving something behind. Some things are easily left behind, but this, my dear ones, is not going to be easy. You see, we love our school! It is the very heartbeat of this fine community, and we are finding ourselves wondering how we will survive without it.

Ironically, today is homecoming. Taylor spent hours last night at the kitchen table painting posters that exclaimed her junior class's devotion to their school. She awakened early this morning (and she is not a morning person) to go to a friends house to paint their faces to show their school spirit. They are, after all, warriors. There will be a pep-rally today that I can only imagine will be bitter-sweet for those valiant warrior students. My son, the captain of the cheer squad, will lift his megaphone and shout the call to battle, but his infantries fate has already been decided for them.

For those of you who were on the front lines of the battle to save our school, those whose hearts bleed blue and white, I commend your efforts. To those who helped to seal our fate, those who sold us up the river while our heads were turned, I say be thankful. Be thankful that not only are we a community of fierce warriors, but of compassionate ones. These next months are sure to reveal the true heart of this community and I am expecting nothing less than what I know it to be. I've seen these beautiful people make miracles happen and be a beacon of light in the darkest of hours.

It is tragic that the price must be paid by the children. They don't understand all the reasons why, they just know that they are loosing their school. For most of them, it is the only school they've ever known, it is their home. A day is coming when they will call somewhere else home, a day when they will cheer on a new team mascot, a day when they will walk the halls of a different institution. I pray for the future generations and that they will find solace and comfort among their new peers and that they may be as proud to be in their new home as they were to be in the old.

The thing about the end of the trail is this. We must be able to look back on our journey and know in our hearts that it was good. The trail may have been difficult at times, but boy did we ever have fun! I believe that our journey has been cut short. I feel that because of poor management we are paying a price very dear, but we must look forward to the future and treasure our memories.

Those whose hearts were touched by the spirit of the warrior will forever more be blessed because of it, and in that light, the warrior lives on.

Goat Parade

2010-01-21T07:51:00.004-06:00

While sitting at my desk yesterday morning, Sophie began to speak to me. I know you think that dogs can't talk but mine do, ok. There is a window right next to my desk in which the window sill is just the right height for Sophie's little chin to rest and watch the birds or be on the look-out for anything out of the ordinary.

So she said to me (and I wish I could portray her voice here for you...it is sort-of a Scottish PeeWee Herman)

Momma, momma, there is mischief afoot.

So, peering out the window I found she was right...she is hardly ever wrong about such things. And what did I see? Those pesky goats headed up my driveway! A flagrant group those goats!

Then I'm spotted by the goats and they run faster.

It's Momma!!! Run! Run faster oh flagrants . Onward and upward.

Why they like me so much, I'll never know.

All the while, Sophie and Charlotte are barking (talking) like crazy!

Keep back dear Mother, we shall shield you from these shameless villains.

Schnauzers are bred to be varmint killers. There short stocky little bodies and keen smell are perfect for going to ground and sniffing out vermin. I've seen Sophie kill mice and rats and it is quite a site to behold. Just thought you might want to know this little tidbit of information.

Parading goats are parading...

Parading down the street...

Parading goats are parading...

Leaving little treats.

Be gone vermin! You have no powers here. (oh wait, that wasn't Charlotte, that was the good witch of the north).

My fearless guardians were not content until these ruthless bandits were properly incarcerated. It was after they were detained that those girls became very pleased with their selves.

And don't come back neither!

They'll be back though. Oh yes, they will be back.

I don't do emergencies

2010-01-16T12:17:00.003-06:00

There are people in this world that are made to handle emergency situations and handle them well. Where on earth would we be without our first-responders, fire-fighters, policemen, doctors, nurses and kindergarten teachers?

Then there are people like me, who run and hide at the first hint of crisis.

Last night we loaded two trailers of calves to go to the sale. The first trailer load went off without incident. The second...not so much. I hate those babies getting squished in those trailers anyway, it always raises my blood pressure. The second trailer had a much slicker floor which caused a couple of the calves to fall down and get trampled.

It was at this point that I found my way out of the corral and down the road to let the guys figure out what to do.

I played with the dogs on the back of Mr. Cattle Hauler's truck, I plugged my ears when I heard anything that sounded like a calf in distress, I texted Taylor, I started humming, I sucked my thumb and wadded up in a ball until it was over.

I'm happy to say that everybody was ok.

Then this morning I went out to feed the goats and poor ol' Salty was in bad shape. She had a kid yesterday morning and went about her business like nothing was amiss. I figured she would have twins but she just had the one and appeared to be finished. Well, she wasn't. The other baby has still not been delivered and I will spare you the gory details of what all that implies.

Now ol' Salty, she's old. She has facial hair, she takes her time getting up and down, she could use a tuck here and there, and she would probably benefit greatly by wearing some sort of girdle. Lord knows, I'm the only one that loves that ol' girl.

So when I found her this morning in the shape she was in, I panicked. I started calling people and running around like crazy trying to figure out what to do to save the poor dear. As of now, she has had a shot of penicillin and a shot of some horrible drug that will make her labor intensify and hopefully allow her to pass... (sigh) ...what is left to pass.

Baby number 1 is tiny. Rodney and I both think that baby number 2 may have already been deceased and caused ol' Salty to go in to labor early. He seems strong and has nursed quite energetically. There is a chance that I may be raising this one myself. Only time will tell what will become of ol' Salty.

As for me, I've eaten a bag of skittles at a dizzying pace, followed by a roll of sweet-tarts and I'm thinking about baking some cookies. I've got a mountain of laundry to keep me busy and hopefully will have some good news by the end of the day.

Everyone is anxious to see what will become of ol' Salty. Bless her little heart.

Stepping Up

2010-01-11T09:48:00.003-06:00

Among about a hundred other resolutions I have declared this new year, I have determined to do a daily bible study. When trying to decide which direction I would go, I wanted to find a study that I could download from iTunes and listen to on my iPod in conjunction with opening up my bible and digging in. I've gotten to know myself pretty well in the 36 years I've been living with me and I know what works and what doesn't. So, browsing on iTunes, with Beth Moore my main target, I came across:

Stepping Up, A Journey Through the Psalms of the Ascents

I had never even heard of the psalms of the ascents and since I love learning a new thing, this is the route I chose. The funny thing is that I have learned that God never leads me wrong. He knows what I need to hear and how to boost my faith. The introductory session was inspiring and, yes, brought me a few stinging tears. Just me and my iPod praising God in the chicken house. I couldn't wait to get the workbook to go along with it. For one, I am a visual learner and when I write things down, they tend to stick. The other thing is that there is hardly anything I love more than a workbook. It is just that fresh unmarked page, the blanks waiting to be filled in like a canvas of fresh snow awaiting my footprints.

I have a love of office supplies anyway, give me a highlighter, some pens and anything I can staple or tape and I'm a happy lady.

The journey that I've been on for the past week has been eye opening. I'll share my lightbulb moment, if you don't mind.

I've tried and failed, tried and failed, tried and failed my whole life. This trial and error has occurred with everything in life imaginable, from weight loss, to organization, to my marriage, to parenting my kids. Then in the middle of scanning through the psalms of ascent, (Psalm 120 - Psalm 134) I landed my eyes on a verse that jumped off the page. I've read it before but it was fresh and new and completely speaking to me.

Unless the Lord builds the house, it's builders labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stand guard in vain. Psalm 127: 1

I think I get it now. It's only taken 36 years but I think something new has happened in my heart. I've been trying to do everything myself! God has always been my close companion, but my stubborn will has left me solitarily fighting against life in vain.

Any period of adjustment is sure to bring some strife with it. Surrendering all to God, will certainly be a leap for someone as willful and headstrong as this ol' girl. But I think I've been caught at the right time, because I'm tired. The futility of all my efforts has left me piled up in a heap, sucking my thumb and finding my happy place.

I read something to my bible class a couple of Sunday's ago that I think is pretty darn enlightening. When a baby giraffe is born, it struggles to stand of those long wobbly legs. As soon as it has it's feet under it, the mother giraffe pushes the baby back down, forcing it to have to struggle to stand again. She will do this repeatedly, and in doing so, strengthens the baby's legs!!

So while I may find myself down right now, I know I've been knocked on my butt for a reason. God picked the exact right time to have me down for the count and ready to surrender all my STUFF over to Him. I am so excited and scared to see where my journey will take me. For now, I'm settling in to the realization that I must surrender and I have complete faith that in doing so, my life's work will not be in vain.

We are all different

2010-01-08T10:55:00.004-06:00

While most of the country is in the grips of what the weather folks are calling an "arctic blast", I am feeding feeding feeding. Birds, goats, cats, dogs...everybody is so hungry due to the cold.

I'll not lie and pretend it is a grueling task, I am happy that I can help out.

Also, I have learned something recently that I thought I'd share. I know you all wait with bated breath in anticipation of the next great lesson I will bestow upon the masses.

If you didn't know, I love birds. I love to watch them, feed them, and photograph them. I picture myself as one of those "bird ladies" in tattered rags with birds perched upon my head and shoulders, just waiting for me to feed them. Learning their antics and peculiarities is among one of my favorite things. You wouldn't think there would be that much to learn about birds but there are approximately 10,000 different species of birds world wide and they are each unique and special. My backyard brood is small, less than 10,000, but I can only absorb a small amount of information at a time.

Other birders have given me some insight into my own observations recently. For one thing, I have had very few cardinals this year. I don't know where they are but I am really worried about this.

There have been about 4 blue jays attending meals and boy are they cantankerous. They are so beautiful but they scare off all the other little birds and gobble up lots of seeds. As I was watching them I noticed that they were eating sunflower seeds, shells and all! They would ingest about 5 of them and fly away. So as I was discussing this with an elderly gentleman at church, another bird-watcher, he explained to me that the blue jay has a strait bill and cannot crack the shells with his beak but must hold them in his feet and peck the thing open. He was simply filling his beak, taking his bundle to the trees and leisurely pecking them open.

It made me feel a little more sympathetic towards the blue jay. While Mr. Cardinal is graced with that splendid sharp/crooked bill that so easily shucks sunflower seeds, Mr. Jay bird must peck his seed apart.

peck peck peck

He is quite magnificent, I must say.

So is Mr. Cardinal. I don't think that he considers himself better because he can shell his seeds so easily. He may look proud but I find him humble and sweet.

As I do Mrs. Cardinal. Even with her muted colors, she is so splendid and graceful.

...aaaannnd I think she sees me!

And then you have these guys. They come in droves but certainly add a little life to the party.

This bird watching has much to teach, yes indeed.

The Sweet Things

2010-01-05T16:34:00.005-06:00

There is a book that resides on my coffee table called 101 SALIVATIONS: FOR THE LOVE OF DOGS. It combines my love of photography with my love of dogs. There is every breed of dog imaginable posed in the cutest settings and interspersed throughout the pages are quotes about dogs. Truisms and heartfelt expressions about one of God's greatest gifts to man. Here are a few...

No one appreciates the very special genius of your conversation as the dog does. -Christopher Morley

A dog has one aim in life... to bestow his heart. -J.R. Ackerley

The dog is the god of frolic. -Walt Whitman

A dog has the soul of a philosopher. -Plato

Happiness is a warm puppy. - Charles M. Schulz

I have yet to read a quote about a dog that doesn't embody my Eddie. So proud, so goofy, so sweet, so endlessly happy. He is a nicer person than most people I know, and I know some very nice people.

So I try to learn from Eddie, I try to be as nice a person as he is. One thing he does that almost breaks my heart is that he will longingly look out the window as Rodney drives away. He rejoices when he walks through the door, and he practically mourns his leaving.

Today I decided to do the same.

We sat together and watched until we could see our Rodney no longer. Then we hugged and reassured ourselves that he won't be gone long. It did my heart good to take the time to miss my sweet husband.

I just hope he will understand my licking his face when he returns home.

Heart Failure

2009-12-31T13:01:00.002-06:00

I purchased a calendar yesterday.

In case you weren't aware, tomorrow is a new year. Therefore, it was quite a practical purchase.

I happened to be at Books-a-Million so the choices of calendars was almost overwhelming.

That was until I saw one that said...

Just Boxer Puppies

Ok, that made my choice easier. That was until I opened it up and had a heart attack.

Brace yourself....

♥

Holy Moly. Oh, my fainting heart.

Oh soft wrinkling skin.

Oh sweet puppy lips

Oh paws and armpits of fur.

I tried to explain to Rodney that we should never be without Boxer puppies. There should be plenty on hand at any and all times. They should be in every room, around every corner, in my pockets, in my hair, and on my lap.

I don't think he understood.

For now, I will just swoon every time I look at my new calendar.

Happy 2010 to everybody!!

Bokeh

2009-12-29T09:19:00.006-06:00

If you are not a follower of Pioneer Woman, you are really missing out on lots of smiles and inspiration. Inspiration is what us creative types are living for, it is our drug of choice. At least it is for me. I am a visual learner and I love when light bulbs go off in my brain, it makes me feel alive.

I love to read P.W.'s "confessions" because she blogs a lot about her dog, her kids, and her farm. It is life-affirming.

One of my other favorite things is her photography, because, she not only shares her own lovely photography but gives practical and very simple tips and tricks about how to create a beautiful and professional-looking photo.

So, today I am going to share my latest inspirational lesson with all 2 of my faithful followers.

Hi Mom!

Now, understand that I am an AMATURE photographer. I keep my camera close and I snap away at things that I think are pretty, cute, inspirational, or will make others gush and smile. If I like it, I assume there might be another person in the world that might like it too. I am not going to pretend that I know anything about apertures, shutter speed, or any other fancy camera settins, I just like what I like and push buttons until the picture looks like I want.

I learned a new photography word...ready?

Bokeh (BŌ -KĀ) the visual quality of the out-of-focus areas of a photographic image, especially as rendered by a particular lens.

In Jenni's terminology, it is those cool, out-of-focus, lit up thingys in the background.

It just so happens that Christmas lights happen to lend themselves greatly to this phenomenon.

If you love to look at beautiful, inspirational photography, I really encourage you to go to P.W.'s site and check out other peoples bokeh.

You can also visit Flickr to see thousands of breath-taking bokeh pics.

So here are my bokeh pics. Believe me, now that I have learned a little about how to create beautiful bokeh, I'll be in constant search of opportunities.

I am also thinking of leaving my Christmas tree up all year just so I can have this background

I haven't learned every secret but I figured one thing out...

you can use anything for your subject in the foreground

or you can have nothing in the foreground

just bokeh alone

big, soft, aesthetically pleasing bokeh

oh, then I remembered I had more than just white lights. It is just going to be a constant search for chances at bokeh photography, and I'm afraid this obsession may last for a while.