Counting the Days

Don't get me wrong. I love my family.

But there still four and a half days left before the kids go back to school, Chris has a job scheduled, and I might actually get some desperately-needed solitude.

I could tell on Christmas Eve-Eve that I had reached my limit. We purchased tickets that day to the new Star Wars movie the next morning, and the thought of a few hours to myself sounded blissful. I threw out the idea to Chris that maybe I should stay home. "You really ought to come," he said. And against my better judgement, I let him talk me into it. That night, we had the kids downstairs with us late into the night due to tornado warnings, and I woke up the next morning tired and with a headache.

We piled into the van to head to the movie theater, and a mile away from the house, Chris started talking. "Please," I told him. "I really don't want to have to talk or listen to anyone for a while." And then I put Beck's Morning Phase on and stared out the window.

I am understanding more and more what I need to keep my introverted self mentally stable and happy. Having a minimum of three people in constant need of communication and attention in the sixteen-plus hours of the waking day for two and a half weeks straight is not what I need.

Four and a half days.

Oh, Henrietta!

I came up this concept way back when Joe was a baby, and I think the idea sat in my head for a year before I started putting it down on paper. Fast forward eight years or so, and this thing haunts me. A bizarre mash-up of art, comic strip, and/or children's book for adults, there's no real place for this. Going through the hassle and cost of printing it up seemed a bit much, but I wanted to be able to share it. So here it is in all it's glory:

Oh, Henrietta!

(When you click on the link, be prepared to hit the pause button. That will allow you to page through the slideshow at your own pace.)

November Begins

The leaves have mostly fallen, and the sky is dreary again today. I am sending pleas up into the heavens for a few more warm, sunny days. I have some bush-hogging I would like to finish up before cold, soggy, dead grass becomes a constant. The few nice days we've had recently have been taken up by other pressing chores and business matters.

Joe went out the first of the month with his BB gun to shoot at birds. He had done this on several occasions in the past, and though I don't like the idea of anyone killing random, innocent birds, it didn't worry me too much. I figured the chances of him hitting a bird with a tiny, 1/8" ball were slim to none. Apparently, it's a kid's job to prove their parents wrong. He hit one. And although, the BB didn't appear to penetrate the skin, the impact most have done damage, because it died. It was a cute, little gray and white bird. I will spare you the photos. Joe promised me he wouldn't shoot any more.

Last Thursday, I had gone to pick Z up from school and had dropped her off at my mom's for her piano lesson while Joe and Fin were still at school for Melody Maker practice. I was pulling into the driveway when I got this text from Chris:

Bad news. Isadora is not doing too well. She's lying down in the chicken coop. You better go see her before she dies.

Isadora is our oldest chicken that I named after my grandmother. She is the only one left from the first batch of chicks we raised. She had seemed fine the day or two before, but here she was, tucked into a nesting box in the middle of the day. She wouldn't eat and she wouldn't drink and she could barely hold her head up. When I picked the kids up an hour later (after I had a good cry), I gave them the news. The kids debated what we should do. Z suggested we cover her with a blanket. Finley wanted to put her out of her misery if she wasn't better in a couple days. Joe thought we should keep her alive so that we could have more memories of her.

The next day, she was worse. I could only tell she was alive by the slight movement of her body as she breathed in and out.

Saturday morning, I went out to check on her, expecting to find her dead. I opened the door to the coop to find the nesting box empty. Great, I thought. Some critter got in and snatched her. Or maybe she wandered off to die beneath the trees. But there she was in the chicken run, a little shaky on her feet, but looking for food. I made her some scrambled eggs and a mash of yogurt and bread crumbs.

Later that evening, I related my shock at her recovery to the family at the dinner table. "Never give up hope," they admonished. And so she is getting stronger day by day, looking just a little worse for the wear.

Sunday. I wandered by the old water trough I am using as a planter, and noticed an odd little shape in the dirt. Looking closer, I discovered it was a baby box turtle. Turns out, one of the turtles we held in there over the summer must have laid an egg or two (we found the shell in the dirt), and this little one actually hatched! She's hardly bigger than a quarter, and we are all enamored with her.

 I'm so thankful for things like this that infuse life with joy and wonder when the rest of it seems harder than normal.

And in the spirit of a never-dying hope, I bought some 2 gallon pots of blueberries and grapes that were on deep discount at Tractor Supply today. Time will expand and give me the chance to plant them somewhere before it freezes.

Busy, Busy

It's official. Bluebird is a state-licensed low-voltage contractor. After several months of headache and confusion and paperwork and money thrown here and there, we are eligible to put bids in on major projects and pull permits for whatever jobs we win.

I also got our business cards in the mail, and they look awesome. The website needs help, but whatever. One thing at a time.

In the meantime, there has been plenty of work to keep us busy, and it's all I can do to keep everyone fed and clothed and make sure the kids won't flunk out of school. (I am being a little over-dramatic, but it sure feels as stressful as I'm making it sound some days.)

We have been trying to plan a yard sale for months, but it keeps getting pushed back due to weather. Tomorrow looks promising, so Chris is planning to slap it together come hell or high water.

Things on the farm remain. Daisy got so worked up a few days ago when the neighbor's cows and donkeys wandered back into the pasture next to her that she flat-out jumped the fence. I retrieved her some time later after the pack of animals wandered (or was chased) back to their pond. Tired from all the excitement, she plopped down in the shade of a tree and let the livestock graze in peace. She (thankfully) hasn't jumped the fence since, but I expect she will again.

We had one Granny Smith apple grow on our trees this year, and Finley and I ate it today. The skin was covered in black stuff, but the insides were good.

I am sure there is more to write about, but duty calls... Until next time, whenever that will be.

Tearin' Down the Trailer

There are few things in life that give a person as much satisfaction as tearing something apart.

Chris got a bee under his bonnet and with minor help from me, emptied the trailer of the last of the junk we accumulated in the 4+ years we lived in it. (Side note- leather molds faster than other materials.)

So this week, we started pulling out the fixtures, letting the kids knock a few holes in the walls, and gutting the place.

I must say, while were living in the trailer, not once did I see a brown recluse. There were other spiders that were smaller, wispy, ghost-like versions of daddy-long-legs that were forever building invisible webs in the corners. Those I didn't mind. But since we've moved out, the brown recluses must have sensed the abandonment and are EVERYWHERE. Most of them are small enough for me to squish with my fingers, but when I pulled down a light fixture to find this big, juicy one (the photo doesn't do it justice), I nearly pooped my pants. 

 I mustered up some courage, managed to knock it onto the floor with a screw drivers, then stomped it flat.

Still have a ways to go, but I'm hoping by the time cold weather sets in, we'll have a new, prettier view out our living room windows.