Jumping into spring!

Last night was my jumping lesson. The second one of the new spring, we are still riding indoors for the lesson, thankfully out of the wind, in a gorgeous large indoor arena, complete with lights and a sound system spinning old Hall and Oates. Last night there were 4 of us in the lesson, Spot- a gorgeous, tall, spicy, athletic, young, paint gelding, Beau- a 4 year old draft cross, that is lots of draft, with roan dapples and a thick Currier and Ives body and a unruffled demeanor, Indy- a dapple grey Thoroughbred mare, hugely athletic and handy but a bit opinionated and flighty. Oh- and Oslo- my little pony. Who, has lost weight and is in more athletic frame at only 1350lbs now. Of the four, Spot and Indy are the most experienced, but both can be real spitfires. Beau is by far most unflappable, and has the least experience, mostly due to his tender age. But, aim him at a fence, and he reasonably jumps over. Oslo has more experience than Beau, just not in the jumping arena. When Oslo and I paired up-( almost one year ago!) he came with a sheet of paper with his history and such. (I got him through a rescue, he was a donation to the program as a fundraiser- read: couldn't sell him, so took a tax deduction). On it was the statement "Doesn't jump, just knocks the fence down." From this, I sumrised that he had not had proper instruction and confidence to be taught what to do when pointed at a few flimsy poles propped off the ground. I got right down to it. In fact, the very day I brought him home, we went to his first jumping lesson. We "jumped right in".  He built slowly the understanding that he needs to pick up his feet, tuck his legs up and push up and over the fence. Other than one hugely spectacular blow up in the arena mid summer, he handled it pretty well. He still tends to resort to volcanic action when suprised or worried, but it happens less often now.

Last night we worked on gymnastics. No, not the beam, or the parallel bars, but equine gymnastics. Designed to get the horse to think, collect, coordinate, gymnastics are a series of low fences in close combination. we started with just trot poles on the ground, so they have to lift their feet and stay in even rythym in order to not land on a pole. Then, the poles came off the ground a bit, about 6 of them, so they have to still concentrate, and lift legs higher.

This is a horse doing trot poles.

We then moved to a trot pole to a bounce. A bounce is when two fences are placed at the correct distance so the landing stride is also the taking off stride. This requires coordination, thought and freedom of movement. The rider has to learn to trust the horse while the horse negotiates the obstacle, and the rider assists with balance. They have to become a bit more of a pair.

This is a horse free-jumping a bounce. The blue barrel on end in the foreground is to keep the horse from heading out through the opening after jumping the first fence. Our bounce was not this high!

Oslo was doing fairly well, still a bit suspicious of cantering through the obstacle, but making his way just fine. Then, our instructor added another element. So, now we had a trot pole then a triple bounce. This is fence- land-takeoff-fence-land-takeoff-fence land. This surpised my mount a bit and we had a bit of a to-do after this one. We did it a half dozen more times, until we could accomplish it with some grace and no volcano.

Typical gymnastics line. Rider is in "two-point".

Then, the middle fence went lower and the last fence grew higher. And here is where we had an "A-Ha!" moment. My instructor had me stay in "two-point" position (where you are up out of the saddle, weight in your heels and lower leg, chest lowered to the neck, fanny out behind) for a few strides after the fence. This put me in his hands, as with my weight already forward, he would have an easier time dumping me with a buck. But it worked! He all of the sudden had to stop himself after the fence. The first time through, we really nearly hit the back wall, as he was expecting me to haul him in after landing. I didn't. But, I also wasn't going to let him rip around the corner. He had to put on the major brakes and even had to yank his head up a bit to get his teeth  from hitting the wall. Next time over, he decided to slow himself after the fence. Self preservation is a wonderful thing. (Yes, so why am I riding a 1350lb beast with faulty brakes and volcanic action? Let's not question this too carefully.) After that, he started feeling much more confident and controlled.

Indy had the biggest drama of the night. Right after Oslo had his "to-do". Indy went through the line and demonstrated just how athletic she can be. Tenaciousness exhibited by her determined rider, Kara, the pair stayed upright. Wow, that horse is flexible. 

The Myth of the Mulberry. By the Feathers Grimm.

The day of the Great Birthday Chicken Massacre, was a chilly, grey day in February. Youngest was turning 5 years old, and had wanted a Fireman Party. To this end, we had gone for a tour of a firestation and a wonderful little ride in a emergency vehicle, all very exciting. The party included fireman games and fireman hats and the arrival of the gear of a fireman for all the little 5 year olds to try on, swallowed in the scarred, enormous boots, necks wobbling under the weight of the helmet.

During the party, I had gone outdoors to collect something, and naturally, looked up to the barn to see how the birds were getting on. The girls were all out, having a time in the brown grass of February. Set just downhill from the barn, bordering the corn field is a large mulberry tree. From it hangs a relic of optimism- a broken, moss coated porch swing which I should certainly remove, but I continue to let it hang, watching it slowly molder to unreconizability. But, this day, the porch swing was not the only inhabitant of the single mulberry between dirt and the grey sky. Several large birds perched in its spread. I raced off the back porch, up to the tree in trepidation. Sure enough, as I got closer, the compact, strong bodies of hawks lifted to the sky and then settled back down. My hens pecked easily and ignorantly all around the barn yard. Mindfull of leaving a household full of 5 year olds, their minds turned to the glory of fighting fires... I abandoned the birds and raced back to the house to run the party. Imploring- to no avail- for my older children to go protect the hens, I frantically tried to make moments for me to run up to the barn and back without stopping the revelry. Peeking out the window, I spied a bunch of the young Buff Orpington hens making their way right under the tree full of patient predators. The hens moved intently gazing at the ground, one foot at a time hovering before making the next step, their soft, gutteral coos lending tune to their concentration. Ever hopeful- even in February, for the Easter Egg Hunt-type joy of finding juicy seeds or darting bugs. My intervention was too late- for now I was three hens short, and very unhappy with my afternoon's work. Since when do hawks hunt in packs? They are singular predators. Had I opened the drive-thru window for Accipitrinae? No amount of my shouting had convinced the birds to really leave. They would fly out of the tree, then circle back and land. Dead bodies of my hens below. One missing.

I tried to hide my distress from the party-goers, and soon bundled them hurriedly into the cars of their parents and "Thanks so much for coming!"

Now, my fondest desire was to make the hawks think the tree was a less than safe place to queue up for luncheon. Yelling didn't seem to help, and you aren't supposed to kill hawks (although my feelings of charity had fled). So, I loaded up my husband's potato gun. This was a gift for his 40th birthday from my clever and humorous sister and her husband. The other half of the gift had been a bottle of moonshine. (Nothing says welcome to 40 like flying potatoes and 100 proof). For the uninitiated- your forties will hold all manner of wonders- the potato gun is a pvc pipe creation in which you shove a proper sized potato, fill the back chamber with combustible gas- disinfectant spray- and then a gas barbeque starter creates the spark that ignites the gas and propels the potato from the end of the pipe with some force. I loaded my tuber-zoomer and snuck out to the tractor sheds, 50 yards south of the well-fed hawks in the mulberry. Planning to try and hit the tree-somewhere- with a potato, which would seem like the tree itself was arguing with their purpose.

Taking a stab at aiming towards the center of the tree, moving slowly, slowly, concealed behind the edge of the tractor shed, I pushed the starter.
The sound of the ignition and departure of the potato was a bit loud. To my dismay, then wonder, the birds burst out of the tree, away from the sound- and for the one farthest south- right into the path of the potato.
Astonished I watched the potato and hawk meet at high velocity, causing a small cartoonish burst of feathers to slowly fall to the ground, the hawk swiftly winging away into the gloomy afternoon. Torn between triumph and guilt, I stayed with the hens until they put themselves to bed in the furthuring darkness. No hawks made an appearance.

The Mulberry, in the fall, with a rainbow sunspot on the right.

Indeed, to this day, I have not spotted another predator in the mulberry tree. Maybe its danger has fed a source of folk wisdom in the hawk populace- "Once upon a time, there was a group of friends who found a wonderful place to sit and eat their luncheon. Unbeknownst to them, their perfect picnic spot was not what it seemed...."

The Day of the Turtle Theft

Tucker announced the presence of a spring hawk today. Bounding around, barking at the sky, in warning of dire consequences should the hawk intrude. This pleases me greatly, as the hawk is a beautiful hunter that unfortunately likes chicken. For the first few years of Tucker's life, I tried to get him riled about noticing and warning the big fliers. I would see, or hear a hawk and rush outside, calling to Tucker in that high-pitched frantic voice "Hawk! Tucker! Hawk! Hawk!" and pointing meaningfully at the sky.  He would humor me, bounding right and left, run to the top of the hill, bring me a unstuffed Tucker toy. Not for a minute tilting his head to the sky and clueing in to what I was desperately attempting to connect.
That all changed on The Day of the Turtle Theft- the day where all birds larger than a song are BNG (Bird non-grata). It happened on a Saturday morning in late spring. I was at work when Tucker brought a prize home to the family. I never actually inspected said prize, but from the tales of Huz and kids, I learned that Tucker had found a large chunk of rotting turtle. Turtle Treasure of great stench. I believed them. The nose knows.
For a few days, he carried the turtle hither and yon, as he does with his other possesions- Mr. Pig, 'Raffi, Buffalo, etc. Turtle was one of the club. Until The Day of the Turtle Theft. It was a sunny late morning, a few days after Turtle was adopted.  Tucker was basking in the extravagance, next to Turtle, when from the previously unremarkable sky, down came a very bad bird, a bird of few scruples. In truth, it was a bird for whom I am grateful, and he/she was just doing their verily important job. Turkey Vultures are quite prevalent around here, and are usually found hovering around the carcass of a road kill deerskunkraccoonpossum. Naturally, Turtle was ready for a Turkey Vulture to tidy up a bit. Tucker was highly resentful. A Pirate from the sky had stolen his bounty.

To this day, he has a special bark he reserves for large birds. Sometimes they are so far off in the distance I have a hard time zeroing in on his target. Vultures and hawks both qualify for preemptive warning, and our chickens are just a smidgen safer from hawks. If only Tucker had become so inclined before The Great Birthday Chicken Massacre of '05.....

CMD's located in Ohio.

The very first dark purple shoot of asparagus just pushed its way into the world today. Soon, they will be coming up all up and down the rows of the asparagus garden, and we will be thinking of all sorts of creative ways to use asparagus!
We don't have peas to plant yet, so I will have to go on a pea seed hunt. Last year's pea plants bolted quickly, and it was a fairly unsatisfying as the peas weren't as sweet as we've had in the past. Also, in year's past, the seeds had already been ordered by this time. Hmm. Caught behind the 8 ball, a day late and a dollar short- again! All to the benefit of the local nursery.
Also, tomorrow must find me doing something about the durn poultry. They are intent upon scratching up all the gardens, sending the tender rising shoots of the bulbs flying in a mass of dirt. Creating mini craters in the freshly scratched soil to bathe in and picking at bugs that are just trying their new legs. Chickens of Mass Destruction.
Speaking of destructionists, the sheep have found a new and creative way to escape from the field to the greener grass (yes, on the other side of the fence). This is particularly disturbing, as the truck just came back from the truck doctor, as the wiring beneath the bumper had been destroyed by the sheep itching their backs on the underside of the truck. $700 dollars later, I have a functional electric system for the trailer again, and I'm not anxious to have the sheep out there doing their "thang". They are less itchy now that they're naked again. They were shorn last weekend by the best neighbors in the world. So, now I've got wool. Yes Sir, yes Sir three bags full. Black and white wool. Available for anyone who wishes to do some carding and spinning. I guess I just don't have the time.
What I do have? Emerging asparageese, itchysheep and CMD's.

Huz and his shadow

A few weeks ago, I mentioned that spring was on the way, "ready or not, here I come!". I was not ready, and am still not ready. Too many things left undone this winter, but, the joy that you feel when the weather starts to warm and the grass begins to green and the bulbs push up through the ground and the buds swell on the end of the forsythia- well, that can't be stopped. And, soon, I'm feeling spring. Preparing to move on, despite all the things left undone. In this area, St. Patrick's day means time to plant the peas. Early spring lettuces and potatoes are up for planting too. To that end, Huz went into the kitchen garden last night to turn the soil and get it ready for the goodstuff. He wasn't alone. His BFF joined him for the task.

 That's right. Henry the Horrible, our resident Dinosaur is in love with my husband. He follows him around, never assaults him and gets very distressed when he drives away, flying along beside the car as far as his wings will take him, then running as fast as his little legs will go, honking loudly, eyes wide. When the really nice weather arrives and we tend to open our doors, I expect we'll be chasing him out of the living room where he'll be hoping to join Huz for the game and a beer.

Thoughtful Thursday

Looking back at past March pictures, I found this one of a plate of cookies I created for Easter Sunday at church. It took a while to make dough, refrigerate, roll, cut, bake, cool, edge ice, royal icing fill, and finish with edible glitter. But they were cute, and tasty. The big bunnies were about 8" across in size.  I set them out, with an admonishment to all creatures great and small that they would live forever in woe for even thinking about eating them before Easter Brunch.
Youngest, as usual, couldn't save himself. I ended up taking about four of the large ducks and two of the big white bunnies to church on a smaller plate. What took hours to create, my then seven year old had taken seconds to consume. I am still waiting for a high voltage cake dome to be created. So, if you are a bored MIT student- there is a need.

Demonstrate it. 4-H style.

In 4-H, each member is required to do a Demonstration. This is a talk, with or without technology and props that is meant to be informative in some manner. These Demonstrations are done before the club each year. I really enjoy this aspect of the 4-H experience. When kids first become a 4-Her, the idea of doing a Demonstration can be intimidating. For some kids, even after several years it can make them nervous. But I find that invariably, nervous or not, they do become much better public speakers. Some of them become fantastic public speakers, and no doubt, this facet of 4-H contributes to future successes.
The Demonstrations have huge variations in complexity and delivery. Almost without exception, I learn something from everyone. The youngest members of the club, called "Cloverbuds", also give Demonstrations. Adorable. I've learned how to make cut out peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, how to make "goop", the steps to excellent chocolate milk and how to bottle feed a lamb. Youngest once demonstrated how to make sushi. He stood on a chair to reach the table, donned an apron and went about explaining how to fill the nori and roll it into sushi. He chose to fill his sushi with cucumber, crab and avocado. Pretty certain that was a new one for most of the folks watching. Then, he fearlessly fielded questions about making sushi. His first demonstration, at age 4, he enthusiastically explained the solar system, presenting his own version made from Styrofoam balls. Again, he had to stand on a chair to be seen. I stood behind him, holding on, as he was still likely to have "leaps" of excitement and be surprised upon landing. Jupiter was his favorite planet, and he expounded on its virtues.
Now, a full fledged 4-Her, he has selected to do his Demonstration on "Amazing, Quick Breads". I can't wait to hear what that's about. Last night while I was working, he made a few samples to take with him. While trying to get to sleep last night, the room held the sweet smell of pumpkin bread, making me hungry.
Eldest is doing a power point presentation on Careers in Pediatrics. She apparently developed this in her Infotech class at school. Goodness knows that's not my forte( the powerpoint- I do love Veterinary Pediatrics!).
Middlest, well, hmmm. I think she's deciding to wing it a bit. And, I don't mean doing another Demonstration on the parts of a chicken.
Eldest and Youngest ( with some coercion) have signed up to do their Demonstrations at the County Communications Contest. Yep, even more public speaking experience. Just makes it easier. Middlest? Well, maybe next year. Perhaps by then she'll have a topic.

A 4-H'er Demonstrating a sewing technique

Middlest Demonstrates How to make lip gloss.

Dear Central Casting- pleeeeease get this boy his own show!
Demonstrating how to disassemble and reassemble a gun.

Mud+Pigs=Cake.

It is nearly 11p.m. I am waiting for little pink pigs to set. I made the little pigs from white chocolate, tinged pink, to perch in the thick waves of dark chocolate buttercream frosting atop a chocolate cake. Middlest made the cake while I was at work this evening, so that part was at least finished when I got home tonight. I also am waiting for the sheep lollipops to set that will go in a ceramic pot crowned by a billowing cloud of white sheepwool roving. No, this is not what I planned to do when I got home from work. I planned to take a bath and go to bed, but the 4-H Chinese Auction is tomorrow, and we coun'ry people do love a cake. Chocolate too. And pigs. Lord knows he's made enough mud this past week or two for any number of stereotypic rolling hogs. Not possessing of swine, the Cowfeathers horses have taken up the banner and are doing quite a nice job.  But this cake doesn't feature horses, and I hope the piggies are ready soon. I'm a tired.

My Erudite Sweet Sixteen

To be fair to myself, I did offer Eldest the option of celebrating her 16th birthday in whatever manner she chose. I gave a few options- rent a party room, invite family members from all over the country and see how many brave Ohio in February, go someplace, do something... she was tempted by the family but thought the showing might be scarce. In the end, she elected to have a party at home. She wanted a theme- as she has chosen in the past. I thought it should reflect one of her passions. Since they currently total 2- Marching Band and Reading- the choice wasn't too difficult. I couldn't make a Marching Band party happen in my brain. So, we settled on a Literary theme.
She decided on 14 guests- including younger sister, Middlest. We created invitations- a favorite thing to dream up, not always so easy to implement.  We created imitation Harry Potter books, using the text, but modifying it to be about the party, and changing the title to accommodate the occasion. Each book was fitted with a bookplate of the guest's name.



The top one is the invitation. We made 13 of these, all in different colors.


Then came the creation of a cake. This can't just be simple around here, we go for elaborate cakes. This year the cake, in order to reflect the theme was- books.

The guests were to dress as a book character of their choosing. Eldest's parties have often including playing dress up in some manner, and most of the girls have a fun time planning and implementing. Last year's Greek Party featured togas...
This year we had everything from Dr. Seuss' Things 1 and 2 to Vampire Diaries and Maid Marion from Robin Hood. The best costume was pulled off by Kendra, who went all out and became "The Frizz", Miss Frizzle from the Magic School Bus series- including having Lizzie the Lizard on her shoulder.

Eldest, dressed as Kate Wetherall from Mysterious Benedict Society and three friends.

Middlest as Nancy Drew

THE FRIZZ!

Youngest as Greg from Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Middlest and Eldest decorated the rooms with even more books than usual- we are bibliphiles, all. And hung the chandelier with ribbons, glitter pens and the bookmarks we made for the occasion.
After the girls arrived, they split into three teams for a Literary Trivia Bowl. Each girl had a spoon, and each team had a pot to bang in and get a chance to answer. The easier questions had some really LOUD bangs. Try these; I'll name books, when you know the author, bang in. Okay: Here is New York.......Stuart Little....Charlotte's Web BANGBANGBANG- It's E.B. White. Get it?
Or, I'll give you the first line of the book, when you know it, bang in. Okay: "He was an old man who fished alone in a skiff in the Gulf Stream and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish." BANGBANGBANG! Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway.
Well, this game was fun, and loud, and the guest's got better and spot on guessers.
While this was going on, Huz was busily working away on filling the buffet table. As part of the party, Eldest and I had assembled a list of books that I then hunted used book stores for until I had a group of 15, one for each guest and the Birthday Girl. Each guest received a book, and in the book is a ladder with the names of the partygoers. Each girl hands the book down to the next girl on the ladder when they finish the title, eventually getting the book back after it has passed through each guests hands, and maybe into their brains.  For the menu, we matched a food item to each book. Here is the menu:
Totally Wicked Punch- Wicked
Help Yourself! Sweet Tea - The Help
Iocane Powder Pastries- The Princess Bride
The Thornbird, Roasted Turkey with Rose Petal Sauce- The Thornbirds
Dragon Drummies with T-Eragon Fire Sauce- Eragon
Miss Havisham's Wedding Cakes- Great Expectations
Pride and Preju-Diced Carrots- Pride and Prejudice
Yippy Skippy Zippy Chippies- A Girl Named Zippy
Mendelian F1 Peas- Gregor Mendel
Mini Chee-Asburgers- Look Me in the Eye- My Life with Asberger's Syndrome
Fried Green Tomatoes- Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe
Peeled Potato Pie- The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
The Mohican's Last Cornbread- The Last of the Mohicans
Three Musketeers- Yep, you got it.
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle There's Nothing to Eat in March Napkins-Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Huz slices The Thornbird as the guests cruise around the buffet.

They tucked into the buffet, The Thornbird being the clear winner, with girls coming back for fifths.
We then had a rousing game of Eldest's favorite: Candystop
On to cake, presents and a few more games, including a creative writing game that brought out some wonderful, crazed, creativity, and showed a few real writing stars.

Happy Birthday To YOU!!
We Love you, Eldest One.

Keeping Up Appearances- just call me Hyacinth.

I know this is a special time in my life, when it is full of kids and activity and "doin's". I know, also, that there is an elasticity to time, and a sine curve to what is happening around me. But, honestly! My last blog entry was on Thursday morning. I then mounted a treadmill that had been frozen on "running really fast, in somewhat panicked fashion". Find work schedule blessedly light, can make trip to grocery store and craft supply to get provisions for Eldest's 16th Birthday Party on Saturday. Spend hour confounding workers at Kroger as to why I want dead white roses (for Miss Havisham's Wedding Cake from Great Expectations) and drum stick shaped frozen chicken things (they DO make those? For Dragon Drummies with T-Eragon Fire Sauce from Eragon). 16 book bags, composition notebooks and glitter gel pens. Get tempera paints and brushes and little cups for window painting on Sunday. Go home in a flurry to finish the bookmarks, make name labels for book bags and unload strange assortment of Literary Based Foods. Friend Terry arrives to talk paint colors for her room-in-progress, Friend Scott arrives to save the Birthday Party Literary Trivia Bowl with books on the subject, and Friend Dave arrives to pick up post driver- oops, forgot to get post driver out for Friend Dave to pick up- again. Send Youngest to remedy error (for third day running). Pay friends for coming to see me. Why else would they bother?
Take Eldest back to school to get ready for evening Wind Ensemble Concert, Middlest to Saxophone lesson, whilst driving, work on homework with Youngest. Leave saxophone lesson with Middlest and Youngest, Middlest changing into toga while driving because we are now late for dress rehearsal for Destination Imagination. Arrive at dress rehearsal, watch three other skits while waiting for Middlest's team to be called. Realize you don't have camera. Look around for kindhearted but empty promises from other parents to send you copies of pictures, as they are also WAY too busy to get around to that (but, alas,  not too busy to remember their cameras). Observing dress rehearsal important, as you will not be present at the competition, sending Middlest instead with other family who schedule better. Loudly applaud excellent, creative and funny skit starring Middlest and her three other DI compatriots. Realize it has grown dark, and chickens are out, probably feeding skunks. Leave Middlest and Youngest to the kindness of neighbors to make their way home. Hope concert is going well for Eldest, glad Huz can be there to clap.
Home to do barn chores and count chickens (all present, with unmolested necks). Lament once again to the horses that they are terribly neglected, and yet another day has passed without being ridden. Now, 9 pm, kind neighbor drops off two youngest, Eldest and Huz arrive with sub sandwiches for them all to eat. Have failed as mother in providing nutritious meal in timely manner.
Friday arrives. Panic a bit about what I am hoping to accomplish in the next two days. Get up an hour early in order to plan way through tasks. Three cakes have been baked, need two more. Clean house ( maybe Eldest can do, as this is for her Birthday party? Fantasy.) Write note for Huz to brine turkey (for The Thornbird from book of same name). Cut cooled cakes into book shapes and frost with buttercream icing, (first layer, to be followed by a second layer of buttercream and then rolled fondant to make books) and put in fridge. Realize need to leave for work soon. Have buttercream in hair. Brush out buttercream and utilize headband. Put on professional smile. Blessedly bury self in work. Puppies, old kitties, unwell, vomiting dogs. Leave for home in downpour wishing headlights on old Denty were more affective. Home to mostly sleeping house, Huz making valiant effort to stay awake.
Saturday. Cake. Party. Go. Subject for whole other blog. By clinically insane party planner.
Sunday, up before Augustus, Uglybird, Prettybird and Arthur-itis (our Roosters) to do barn chores and head to north of TBC(The Big City) to have Middlest try out horse. Youngest has fever, leave Huz to arrange ride for Eldest to go to church and teach children's church in my stead. Realize roads are covered with ice, and drive will be nearly twice as long as expected. Enjoy ride. Middlest does nicely on the mare, only downside to mare is she is dead lame. Always.
Leave north of TBC to head back to small town, meet members of 4-H club to paint windows in downtown Circleville for Ohio 4-H Week. 9 kids show up- organized by 4-H president and committee chair, Evan,  and do bang-up-job on filling massive windows in vacant restaurant with 4-H logos.
Realize missed Girl Scout Cookie Booth selling and Birthday Party of dear friend of Youngest. Glad Eldest remembered this and called in regrets to party hosts due to Youngest's fever.
Take home frozen bones. Wish for bath, wish for bath, wish for bath. Get bath.
Hesitantly look at calendar. Still expected to drop off truck and trailer at auto shop for spring fixin'. Decide since trailer lights and breaks are on the fritz, due to sheep itching backs on bottom of truck, will wait for daylight. Also note calendar had expected the sheep to be sheared this weekend, given vaccinations and treated for parasites. Not happening.
Monday- do barn chores. Note still empty trap still stinks like skunk. Drive light-less trailer through downtown C-ville, managing to not get rear-ended. Leave list for Mr. Tobin on what I know needs fixing on truck and trailer. Wait for friend Terry to pick up Youngest (home from school due to fever) and I from Tobin's (it is in the coun'ry). Go to Terry's house to see progress on room (December New Year's Resolution Project). Really becoming a beautiful sanctuary. Dispense advice on paint colors and furniture removal. Bless Terry for trundling us about the coutryside and taking us home. Get crackers for undoubtedly cranky teens about to get off bus and get in car. Get grumpy teens. Feed crackers and Girl Scout Cookies ( that arrived also this week, and are filling up commons room. Not all mine. ) Drive to Animal Shelter to walk dogs for Ohio 4-H week. Slosh trough mud and poop and get walked by bunch of dogs. Take pictures ( did not forget camera this time. Maybe getting better at this?) Leave shelter, drive into town to buy solid color blouse for filming commercial tomorrow. Have 11 minutes to shop as must get kids home in order to come back to town for 4-H committee meeting. Buy $72.00 blouse that does not fit me, but has a collar. Drop of kids. Wave to horses, go to 4-H Committee. Arrive to sleeping house, Huz making valiant effort again to remain upright. Realize have not printed out script for commercial tomorrow. Realize all library books were due today, and wake up kids to get their library cards so I can renew them online and they can avoid fines. Search for overdue book that cannot be renewed. Read script in bath.
Get up early to review script, as cannot remember what commercial is about. Wash hair, try to look pretty. Put on expensive blouse. Spill tea on blouse. Do barn chores, call Youngest in sick to school again, go to work. Foolishly film advert for youtube at work. Nice blouse. Aspirate mass on Tucker, beloved dog, as he is a Golden Retriever and thus prone to cancer.
Drive home. Think that writing about my life in blog will relax me. Feel exhausted.
Realize in an hour Middlest gets home, then must pick up Eldest from Flute lessons, take Middlest to Girl Scouts and run County 4-H Dog workout for Youngest and other Dog Obedience 4-H'ers- simultaneously.

Ask Again Later...

Love  ...Spring....Stink is in the air! I guess my pet skunk didn't appreciate riding in the back of a pick up truck, for he/she ( I did not investigate) expressed displeasure during the ride. My apologies to Mike Faler of Critter Control for the miasma of funk surrounding his truck for the next few weeks. And, as just repayment for misfortunes dealt- who fired the first shot? The trap is similarly attired. Now, here is what I do not know. Will skunks avoid marshmallows in a box quite tainted by the graffitti of another? Will I suffer the stank of that device (currently outside the barn, as it is not to be borne within) and not catch another skunk? Assuming the all clear, then subject Youngest's new Khaki Campbell Ducks to a possible skunk in wait? Cue the following beheading, neck chewing and days spent nursing dying ducks in my mudroom. Get the Magic 8 Ball. Shakyshakyshaky...... "signs point to yes".

Suspicious shades of green.

Today, as we hauled the stall cleanings out by manure bucket (too sloppy to get a heavy wheelbarrow through the muck) and added to our admirable pile ( I like to watch it steam and create the magic composted smack of nutrients to benefit the gardens), I noticed the barn pasture has this hue that looks suspiciously like green. I also noticed a peculiar feeling in my sentiment. It involved that tremor that bespeaks of projects. So, I enticed Middlest into helping excavate a mound of weeds and trees in the corner of the neighboring cornfield. I was suspicious that this mound housed woven wire fencing pulled up by a generation past, folded into a book and tossed in the corner. There are several of these mounds. Of course, we need to do something about fencing for the sheep, and woven wire is the best bet. Why not attempt to reuse-recycle? We pulled and yanked and finally got the mound loose. Then pulled and stepped and tugged to make it somewhat linear. Straightened out, it is the length of  one  side of the paddock. Not bad! Now, to contact the farmer who owns the field and find out if he is particularly attached to the overgrown fencing.
Also time to sheer those sheep! Dear Kendra, please help me sheer the sheep.