House on Hillsboro

A (Curious) Boy and His (Rather Tame) Turkey.

The End.

Maybe next time, Pretty Bird.

When you are the world's smartest chicken, hanging around the house all day just doesn't always cut it.  Apparently.  When Jack and I headed outside today promptly at 2:00 as usual to pick Ava up from school, Jane (whose many talents include noting routines) was in midair, half way up to landing on the hood of my truck.

 

Which I thought was cute and all but moments later it became clear that she wanted to come along.  Really bad.  And Jane has a way of being very convincing - looking me in the eye, pecking the window,

this.

Good grief, I could hardly bear it.  So she went.

 

But she didn't go because I am already the ONLY mom in the car pick up line with a perpetually mud covered, 4-wheel drive, diesel.  A chicken on my shoulder would have just been too much.  Besides, I wouldn't be surprised if the other moms didn't have some wagers on that very thing happening.  And I flat refuse to give them the satisfaction.

Ava & Jack are Very Successful.

A person is a success if they get up in the morning and get to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do.

- Bob Dylan

Steve (the owner of the net and teacher of the technique) is now 100% superstar to Jack and Ava.

Most fun we've had all year.

Frankie,

I know how you like to go outside and act all tough in front of the other dogs.

But I know the truth.

Dear JD,

How are you?  All is well here at home.

We are all fever free (finally!) and only a slight cough remains of whatever dreadful virus plagued us these past few weeks.  All my company have come and gone (Hi Daddy!  Miss you.) and I used the last few quiet, unscheduled days to sew my little heart out - right to the point of causing the bobbin to cry Uncle and stop working completely.  Poo.

Gosh, you have been so patient with my unintended blog absence and it didn't go unnoticed.  As a token of thanks, I brought the camera and your babies with me to feed this afternoon to document the day, just as it occurred.

We stepped out to an overcast day but no rain and a comfortable 60 degrees.  Straight out of the door FRANK ran to you know where

(this thicket is Jane and Henny Penny's favorite hang out) to chase you know who. 

But Jane, being the world's smartest chicken and all, knew just what to do -tattle to Mama - and she did.  So I tended to business and the ladies went back about their's.

And Frank slinked out, ashamed as he well should be.  He KNOWS better.  Stinker.

And exactly 17 seconds later he had recovered from my severe lashing (you know how I am) enough to go about his business as usual. 

Then we were all off, down to the camp for the pre-feed parade the horses put on for us everyday.  So nice of them, that is.

And as usual, immediately following the parade was the stampede to the first feed bucket, like clockwork.

Little sweetie helped Mama and Jack,

well, you know.  The usual.

Have I mentioned I tidied up the camp.  Yup.  See pic below, but I'll warn you - this one pulls you in and makes you stay awhile.

See, told you.

The hay is holding out nicely.  I know how you worry about that.

But the feed buckets are driving me crazy.  We need a new system, for sure - project one when you get home, maybe?  Um, make that project two.  (Sewing machine, One.) 

The new horse is rounding out nicely, don't you think.  I've been calling her GG.

We spent the rest of the evening doing the usual.  Like this.

And that.

And the inevitable.

When we are picking up the new feed troughs remind me to get the kids taller boots.

She misses you.  So much.

And yes, Maggie was there with her usual look that I'll call

PET.  ME.

and yes, I was wearing my red "outside shoes" but THIS time I didn't bother to take off my stripy socks because we live miles and miles from another soul and statistically speaking I could frolic outside in that long, sweatshirt kitty cat nightgown most any day and not get caught.  But Steve dropped by.  And I was a bit embarrassed.

Steve's arrival ignited a new death match between Slick & Slim (two Whippet looking dogs that made themselves at home here while we were away on our exotic diamond expedition).  Embarrassing, AGAIN.  Especially when his dog, Lacy, was so well behaved AND well dressed - every single one of our dogs was nekked as jay birds.  Heathens. 

Anyhoo, about his time, Jack fell down in the pond and screamed that he was coooooooooold while sister risked life and limb to save him.  (Make those tall boots hip waders.)

And that was it.  Typical day.  But no you.

So we laughed a lot less and the kids didn't reach death defying heights on the swings and no one kissed me on the fishing deck.  But you can imagine, these pictures will help. 

Forever Yours,

The Lady of Hillsboro

Have You Ever?

Can you guess what Jack is holding?

Baby Walrus?  No.

Bear Cub?  No.

Elusive German Giant Rabbit?  Nope.

A log?

Beaver?

Manatee?

Nope.  Nope.  Nope.

On our way to feed this morning, Jack and I noticed Pearl had taken an uncustomary morning break from her Mama duties which meant we could have Mini Pearl all to ourselves.  We quietly scooched into the pen and I knelt down by the kennel, leaned to peer in, and heard a tiny, muffled grrrrrr (hee hee) then I saw her and WHAT ON EARTH? - she is the fattest puppy ever.  Her NOSE is fat.  Her eyes are mere slivers because she can't hoist up her 2 ton brows.  And she is the softest, warmest thing I have ever touched and Jack and I do believe we may have held her forever but all that being awake made her hungry and she was sure Jack had something for her somewhere.

Then Pearl, who was still far away heard/sensed her baby's hunger grunts because Mamas are cool like that and came running.  Lord, let me tell you she wasn't one bit pleased that we had Mini out all willy-nilly like that and took her straight in the kennel for some emergency nursing before that poor baby starved right to death.

Geez.

Anyway, Mini just didn't seem to suit her anymore.  So now she's Ruby.  Ruby with the eyes that won't open.

Opportunity Knocked.

I wish I could sleep through it when Jack does this to me.

Good Day, Good Dinner.

What do you do when you come home from traveling abroad on your husband's last full day home for over a month to an empty kitchen but desperately want to have a good day that ends with a satisfying home cooked meal and do not want to spend one precious moment of this day in the grocery store, the nearest of which is over twenty miles away?

You turn over your garden in preparation for spring and find three plump earthworms.

And it's all downhill after that.

Ava caught nearly every one,

and was right by her Daddy's side (as usual) when he started to clean them.

And the next thing I know I am on the couch for thirty minutes rocking and patting and wiping and telling her how God made fish for us to eat and Jesus himself ate them many, many times and I am pretty sure that they were one of his very favorite foods.  And, no they don't feel the pain of their death, it is instant. 

But secretly I have my doubts.

Then I told her just to let it all out because Mama knows exactly how she feels.

I do believe our little pond grows the most delicious fish this side of the Mississippi.  One bite and I was transported right back to 1983 - Gramoo's screened back porch, bare feet dangling off a wood bench, paper plate balanced on my lap of tiny pieces of fresh caught bream and perch carefully picked off the bone by my Mama, an orange cat meowing by the screen door and Gramoo saying, "Don't feed that cat Karen, or it'll start hanging around."  Seriously, it was like time travel.  You can not get fish like this in a restaurant.  You can not buy fish like this at the store.   

So very satisfying.  The whole bit of it.

Turn 'em Out.

For the five months we have lived here, the horses have been able to stare at me at my kitchen sink through the big bay windows of the living room.  They would stand there in the muck of their small, temporary paddock and written all over their faces was "Fence too small", "Need more room", "We're bored", and the worst one of all "I think we'll walk out of this crappy fence tonight and take at stroll down the road right at the break of dawn when all the chicken trucks come through doing 70."   But then a few weeks ago they began to hear the unmistakable clank, clank, clank of a man driving fence posts and all day long they ignored me and my dishes and stood with their ears pricked to the East.  Hopeful.

JD fenced five acres ALONE in under three days during the most bitterly cold days of the winter.  (Normally, I'd have hung around to help where I could but these days Jack and I are a two for one special and it was too cold for the little dude.)  It all happened like magic, really.  In the early morning he bundled up and headed East and in the late afternoon he would return and this continued for several days (not weeks!) until one morning he said, "Today will be the day."  and I squealed.   

And sure enough that very (cold & gray) afternoon, we turned the horses out into the new pasture for the first time.

This way, boys.

Welcome.

Yes, Plank, seriously.  You may go.

Come see.

There's more this way!

JD is a fence building marvel.  And I can say for certain,

I'm not the only one who thinks so.

Frank, 12 wks.

Then:

And Now:

These pictures were taken TWENTY-FOUR days apart.  Is that amazing?  What a difference three weeks makes.

P.S.  Please accept this invitation to my new 'Photo-A-Day' Blog, Everyday Hillsboro, where I will post all of the pictures that don't make it here, pictures of my Everyday life with an emphasis on good picture taking (technical and otherwise) that you don't always find here, and none of the reading, misspelled werds or poor grammar that you do.