My "darling" daughter...

This kid...

A few years back she worked in a nursing home for a while. One day she came home and said, "Mom, when you get old and sick I am not going to put you in a nursing home." Before I could tell her that I appreciated that she continued, "I'm just gonna SHOOT you." It's been a running family joke ever since. If her dad or I get a cold we are quick to assure her, "We're fine! Don't shoot!"

In the past few years we, as a family, have discussed that when Chris and I die we'd like to be cremated and have her put our ashes in a nice jar and shake it up so we can be intermingled forever. Rachel has clearly been thinking about this, and today she asked me, "If you are cremated, do you still want a headstone?" Then she started to giggle. I looked at her quizzically. She said, "I started to ask, 'When I kill you, do you still want a headstone?'"

Raising children is not for the faint of heart.

Difficulties...

It is hard to get anything done these days. Just outside my windows there are things like this...



And this...



I find myself stopping productive activity to look outside and see the kids dancing and hopping. They are overwhelmingly appealing. And then people drop by that want to see them, and I am happily interrupted again. I love to show my critters off to friends and neighbors.

Having 6 fun, friendly kids is quite a distraction.

Today at FairWinds...

The male Goldfinches have moulted their dull olive feathers and replaced them with brilliant yellow. They flit about like shards of sunshine, and small flocks of them decorate my feeders, beautifully.



Meanwhile, my beautiful new Silky chickens are acclimating well. There is something sort of magical about them... they look so incongruous yet lovely strutting around the yard. And they are very friendly, happily letting us pick them up and carry them about.



Tonight when naughty Celeste snuck into the hen yard, in hopes of stealing the big bowl of poultry food, I asked Ziva to help me get her out.



The command is, "Get that goat." Ziva likes this game.



Celeste hid behind a little house the poultry sometimes use, and peered out. She well knows what "get the goat" means, and she does not like it one bit.



But Ziva prevailed, and she handily ushered Celeste out of the hen yard and all the way to the pasture. Good dog!
There she stopped to see if Luna's kids might want to play. When they nurse they often go down on their front knees, which to a dog looks like a play bow. Ziva bowed, too, and looked puzzled when the kids were more interested in getting a good drink than they were in the invitation to race and romp.

I tossed her ball for her a bit, and we went out to say hello to the piglets, too.



The piglets spent much of the day rooting around in the soft dirt, or wading in the little vernal pool at the end of the pasture. They had enjoyed their meals and snuggled into the soft straw for a few naps. They are happy pigs.

From Finches on the feeder to food stealing goats to pigs in the pasture, there is a lot of life here at FairWinds.

Random photo...

I finished my blog challenge yesterday, but have been enjoying my daily assignments. I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to blog about today, so I scrolled though my pictures and randomly picked one file. I vowed to blog about something I found in some picture in that file.



This is the shot I landed on. It is Beth, my friend and the most wonderful receptionist of all time when I worked at Yankee Clipper. She died too soon, and I miss her.

Every work day Beth would go to the bank, and while she was out she'd grab lunch for herself. It was usually something from a convenience store. She was prone to sticking to a certain lunch for extended periods. It might be two weeks of pizza, then 10 days of burgers. Or maybe some chicken. For days. There was a span of time the macaroni and cheese was popular. No matter what the lunch, she would eat about 3/4's of it, then crouch down to share the rest with the shop dogs.

The shop dogs were whichever dogs happened to be on the floor that day. My dogs were always included.Other employee dogs might be there, too. Then there might be some little dogs that were frequent guests at the place, and had good manners. The cast of little faces varied. In this picture there is Flirt the toy poodle,and a cute visiting Yorkshire terrier. Then there is Blossom, a pug we adopted from the shelter and didn't have long enough.



That dog loved to eat. And snuggle. And poop on the floor. But I digress. Back to Beth. She was one of those people that everyone liked. You just couldn't help it. And the dogs? They adored her. I do believe that dogs know a good person when they see one, and they all saw that Beth was a person to be trusted. Especially if she was handing out mac and cheese.

I miss Beth. And I miss little Blossom, too. I hope that Blossom has found Beth in heaven, and that they hang out together at lunch. I bet there is some pretty amazing macaroni and cheese there.

"Zoo" maintenance...

Today was the day that we cleaned out the goat room. The past two years we practiced what is called "the deep bedding method." This means that in early winter, when the weather begins to be cold, we start layering in bedding. Rather than removing the soiled shavings, we just add more on top. It starts with shavings,which are absorbent, then hay is added as the goats drop bits of it when they eat. When the weather gets very cold we toss in a bale of straw. The idea is that the deep bedding insulates the cold that comes up from the ground, and the bedding actually begins to compost, which generates heat to help the goats survive comfortably in the cold times. This is all well and good until it is time to remove the bedding in the spring. Then it is a rather horrible, heavy, odious task.

As the old bedding is removed, the lower levels are soaked in urine, and the air is perfumed with ammonia. It isn't pretty. The mix of shavings and hay and straw is heavy and wet. And to make matters worse, the job requires a lot of upper body strength, which I sadly lack. So, my sweet husband volunteers to help me. Not only is the work hard, but the ceiling is short and he is tall and the entire episode is marked with the sound of his head thwacking on the roof joists.



He raked and shoveled and hoed. He used his hands and his big boots and everything he had. He rolled up the bedding and pushed it to the door. And he never lost his sense of humor or his sweetness.

I pulled the old bedding out, and hauled muck bucket after muck bucket out to the manure pile. We estimate it took 50 bucket loads until we reached the dirt floor. It took 3 hours, 2 quarts of iced tea and a lot of stick-to-it-ativness to get the project done. The goats took turns peering in to see what we were up to, and then dancing on the growing manure pile outside. They found it all to be great fun. We questioned the process and decided next year we need a new plan.

We let the room air a bit then added two bales of clean, bright, fresh shavings. The goats explored the space with interest.

It feels good to have that big project behind us. And I am so grateful to my kind and patient husband for always being there, no matter how horrid the task. Left to his own devices, I suspect he'd live in a condominium and not have so much as a houseplant. Yet, here he is, shoveling muck and hauling hay, bottle feeding goat kids and erecting hot wire to keep pigs enclosed. And he does it all with kindness and generosity and deep, deep love. He didn't know he was buying into keeping a "zoo" when he met me, but he has risen to the occasion, beautifully.

Yearning...

After a long, cold, snowy winter, spring is more than welcome.
Yet she is acting shy and holding back. Last night a friend that lives about 15 miles from me reported that it was snowing at her place, and this morning when I went out to milk goats and feed animals the thermometer read 27F.

I long to put my coat and gloves away.

And I am yearning for the grass to grow and for flowers to bloom.



Though the buds on my lilac are beginning to swell a bit, they don't look like blossoming is anywhere near ready to happen.

However, feeling optimistic I filled and hung the hummingbird feeder yesterday.



I want to be ready when they arrive. The charts say that could be in the next two weeks. If I were a Hummingbird I'd wait a bit.
They will get here and yearn, too.

eXcellent smile...

I took Jane Doe for a little drive today. We went to visit a friend who had expressed interest in seeing the kids, but was not up to coming here. Jane rode like a champion in the truck, next to her friend Ziva. They both seemed unconcerned.

When we got there she stood quietly on my friends bed. And his face lit up in a wonderful, warm smile. He touched her soft fur.
And smiled again.

It was excellent.

What I do...

My commute to work these days is so sweet. I get up early, take care of all the animals, then tidy up the house. Then I think, "It's time to go to work..." and 30 seconds later I am standing in my sun washed studio waiting for pets to arrive.

And now, as I enter my first spring, arriving they are. My phone rings and rings.



I bake cookies, I make sure the coffee is ready. People come, they stay and watch me work, we chat and laugh and it all just SO good.



The days are busy and long, but sweet.

Outside the windows I can watch the baby goats play, the chickens scratch, the ducks waddle and splash.

I love what I do... and where I do it.

Very funny...

Sometimes things happen here at FairWinds that are just funny. Things that most likely don't happen anywhere else.
For instance, today was a beautiful, warm, sunny day. I opened up the door to the fenced yard so Ziva could choose to be in or out, enjoying the weather. At one point I looked from the studio to check on her and there was a chicken peeking inside from the threshold, looking like she wanted to come in. I told Ziva, "Get that chicken," and she hustled the bird back outside. I didn't think any more about it, and went back to work.

A while later my daughter came home. We chatted a few moments, then she went about her business. She reappeared a bit later, laughing and shaking her head. "I had NOTHING to do with this, Mom, but there is a chicken in the bathroom. She's settled down next to the toilet, looking like she may lay an egg. Want me to move her?" When I got done laughing I thought a moment and then replied, "Let's wait and see what happens."



I continued to work. About 25 minutes later my daughter came back,grinning, with a warm egg in hand. The chicken had left her offering then headed back outside. I think I can safely say that I don't know anyone else who ever had a chicken come inside and leave an egg by their potty.

Up...

I tend to focus rather intently on things that are right in front of me.
I often have to be reminded to look away and around to get the big picture.
This might mean something as simple as that I clean a room but forget to check the ceiling and corners for cobwebs.
Or that I have to remind myself to stand back from a dog I am grooming and get a different view before I consider the job to be done.

And I often have to be reminded to look UP...



When I see people that I care about struggling with major life challenges, things so difficult that they cannot be explained, I struggle to find perspective, no matter which way I look.

Things that are terrific...

When my husband and I married I was 24 and he was 25. We both knew how to cook... a little bit.
But really, not very much. We both also worked long hours. The rule was that whoever got home from work first would start supper.

Lucky for me, he got home first a lot. His plan was to put a pot of rice on first thing, then go from there. I would come home from work and smell food cooking. There would be music playing. And he would be there. It was so good. I would ask, "What's for supper?" He would grin and twinkle at me and answer, "Chrissy surprise!" In general he would add some canned cream of something soup to the rice, with some leftovers. It was never very yummy, but I was usually hungry and any food seemed palatable.

Then one night I came home and smelled something really good. I hopefully asked what it was. His brown eyes sparked and he answered, "Chrissy surprise." My spirits sank. I lifted the pot lid. Fragrant steam rose to greet me. It smelled really terrific.

But it was green. A green, bubbling, gelatinous mass. The smell was beguiling, but the look struck terror in my heart. Fortunately I was young and brave. I tasted it. And you know what? It tasted nice. The best Chrissy surprise yet. I had begun to love Chrissy surprise. This batch had deli ham slices, chopped, and frozen peas, with cream of mushroom soup and rice and a lot of spices. After you got past the appearance, it was plain old yum.

This was the last time he ever made it. After that he began to consult cook books. And he became a wonderful, amazing cook, tackling complex recipes with aplomb.

Fast forward 30 years or so....



The man can now cook anything. My favorite meal that he makes is a Cajun shrimp scampi. Shrimp, butter, garlic, rice and some pretty wonderful spices. He made it this weekend at my request. And I savored every morsel.

I didn't realize back when we were new that those pots of bubbling surprise were terrific, but they really were. Made with a dash of new love and a lot of rice. It was so sweet... but today's meals are both more highly educated and more delicious. Terrific is a word I would use. Yes, my man makes terrific suppers.

Sisters...

Sister Deb came to visit this weekend. She has not been here since Thanksgiving, so it it's an extra special treat to have her here. This morning we went out for breakfast at a fun, favorite, local place, the Come Spring cafe.
One of the specials was pancakes with homemade baked apples and whipped cream. Of course there were plenty of other things on the menu, but genetics prevailed and we both ordered the same thing. And it was delicious!

Yesterday Deb's daughter Aimee and her husband Tim came to be here, just for the day. It's a three hour drive each way, but they wanted some good Maine mojo and a visit with all the baby goaties. I adore seeing them, it is always a treat.

I took a moment, while we were all gathered around the table, to feel deeply, profoundly grateful that my sweet family takes the time and effort to come here to be with us. It is sometimes tricky for me to get away, with all the critters we have here to care for. But here were were, sisters and more, laughing and catching up. It is better than riches, by far.

Raven...

I have always been fascinated by crows, and recently have witnessed several Ravens, even more interesting because they are less common, and larger. I feed the crows here, and when a Raven passes through the crows all try to chase it away.

A few days ago a big raven landed in the pasture when I was working. My daughter spied it first. It hopped across the grass a bit, then stuck its head under some brush. It emerged with an egg that a naughty chicken had hidden clutched firmly in its bill.



Raven populations are on the rise.

According to the site http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Common_Raven/lifehistory "The intriguing Common Raven has accompanied people around the Northern Hemisphere for centuries, following their wagons, sleds, sleighs, and hunting parties in hopes of a quick meal. Ravens are among the smartest of all birds, gaining a reputation for solving ever more complicated problems invented by ever more creative scientists. These big, sooty birds thrive among humans and in the back of beyond, stretching across the sky on easy, flowing wingbeats and filling the empty spaces with an echoing croak."

I love to hear that distinctive croaking sound when a raven is in the area.



Even when they steal my eggs!



This is also from the above site: "People the world over sense a certain kind of personality in ravens. Edgar Allan Poe clearly found them a little creepy. The captive ravens at the Tower of London are beloved and perhaps a little feared: legend has it that if they ever leave the tower, the British Empire will crumble. Native people of the Pacific Northwest regard the raven as an incurable trickster, bringing fire to people by stealing it from the sun, and stealing salmon only to drop them in rivers all over the world."

The wildlife here fascinates me. Even the large, croaking, egg stealing wildlife.

Quiet hours...

If you believe that there are "morning people" and "night people," I fall firmly into the first category.
As much as I love my cozy bed, I rather like getting up early, before the rest of the family. I savor the quiet hour or so I have alone, as the sun creeps up behind the trees that grow to the east of the house.



I might tidy the kitchen, do a load of laundry, or do some writing. All around me the house is silent. I can hear my own breathing, because there are no voices, no music, no television. The livestock are still and calm outside the window, the dogs restful. It is time just for me.

Sometimes those early hours are among my most productive of they day. By 8 AM when I shower and dress I often think, "I've already had a full day!" Going to work can feel like a rest, if I have put those first minutes to good use.

Those early times before the day begins? I find them deeply pleasing.

Piglets...

The piglets have been here for three days now.

The first night they were here they were acting pretty traumatized from being removed from their birthplace and hauled in a trailer to a new spot. They did eat and drink, but they didn't quite figure out that they had a little house piled high with an entire bale of bright straw to sleep in. So, that first night they slept outside, and when I checked on them in the morning they were shivery and pathetic. I felt awful, it was only 28 degrees out, and they had slept on the cold ground all night.

Yesterday they explored a little more, continued to eat and drink, and they frolicked a bit. I put their food pan, filled with tasty treats like ginger snaps, inside the little house.

When we went out last night to check on them all we could see was one pig ear, protruding from the straw. They had burrowed in, deep, and were happily asleep and warm, under the bedding. I slept better, knowing they were warm and comfortable.



It is a pleasure to see to see the girls rooting about in the dirt, to hear their contented grunts.

We have not named them yet, but I feel sure the right names will come. Meanwhile, the piglets are settling in and learning to enjoy life at FairWinds.

One of these things is not like the other...

My daughter was here today while I worked in my home grooming studio. She was studying for an upcoming exam, but there was a lot of giggling going on. I went out to see what was happening. There were goat kids in the house! Prancing and dancing and pattering about on the floor with their neat little feet. We generally have a rule against house goats. Smooch the pug was not amused.










They got in his bed. They took up the attention of the humans.


They nibbled on... everything.



They got on the furniture.

Smooch and I finally insisted that the goats go back out to the pasture. Smooch was so relieved he took a nice nap to celebrate. He likes to think he is the cutest thing in the house. The baby goats made him worry that he might lose his position on the "cutest" list.

New life at FairWinds...

Two years ago we raised a couple of pigs to put pork in the freezer. They were kind of fun to raise, but to be honest, I was a little afraid of them by the time they got big. I figured if I fell in their pasture they would have me for supper. And they were pushy and bold, crashing against my legs like they were trying to topple me. But now I have Ziva, and she was bred to a.) protect me and b.) be bold with pigs. So I am feeling emboldened, too. And our family does like the taste of humanely raised pork. The plan was to find some little piglets this spring to bring home and raise.

Then my friend Scott called me last week. He had found a deal on some well started piglets,and did I want a couple? Of course I did. Bonus points, they are a breed called Red Wattles. They have adorable little things dangling off their necks. I think they are enchanting!
Scott kindly picked the piglets up and delivered them today. That's a good friend.



He had other pigs on the trailer as well. Two for him, and 4 more for other people. So there was a project... getting two pigs off the trailer and no more. Scott masterfully backed up just to the very edge of the hot wire. His friends carefully separated two piglets from the rest of the herd with a big piece of plywood. Before you could say "bacon!" two little girl pigs were off the trailer and exploring their new little pasture. They have a little house filled with clean, bright straw, a big pan of clean water, a food dish with dinner, and a couple of tasty ginger snaps. They have been raised on a concrete pad, and were pretty excited to root around in the dirt of the pasture.



Ziva was VERY interested in the sounds and smells coming from the trailer. Then she sniffed the electric fence and got 15,000 volts of electricity from the electric wire to her chin. It dampened her enthusiasm to the extent that she left the pasture and sat in the back yard, sulking pathetically. Poor Ziva!

Earlier in the day, Chanel and the goats had spent some time enjoying the warm spring sunshine.


Chanel has a new trick. She lies just outside the window, flat out. She looks very, very dead. People driving by stop their cars to look at the odd horse lying so still. When I see her doing that I open a window and call her name. She does not move. At this point I become convinced that she is dead. And I begin to wonder what one does with a dead horse. And I feel sad that she is dead. About that time she raises her head. I am getting more gray hair thanks to her shenanigans!



Shortly after the pigs were ensconced in their new home, Chanel came out to investigate. She looked intently at the piglets. She lifted her head and flared her nostrils. She inhaled deeply. Cautiously she stepped closer, ears pointed forward, eyes intent on the forms of the new creatures. Then she got their scent. She pivoted on a dime, bucked hard and galloped away, throwing clods of mud behind her. Horses dislike pigs. The goats were all eyes, extending their necks, craning to see what those things in the newly cordoned pasture were. In a few days everyone will be acclimated to each other and peace will reign.

The grass is greening and spring is coming along nicely. And there is new life at FairWinds.

Mud, glorious mud..!

When we first plotted a move to Maine, my friend Cindy quipped, "Why do you want to move here? We only have three seasons: Snow, Mud and Bugs."
I was undeterred.

Mud season in Maine can be rather impressive. We have ruts on either side of our paved driveway that are nearly knee deep. The lawn has gone from snow covered to mostly bare, but very spongy. I vacuum every day, and find dustings of mud and chunks of mud. Rubber boots are the uniform of the day.

And the low spots in the pasture? Picture a big puddle. Then exaggerate it in your mind. We have one so large we have dubbed it, "Puddle Pond."



All of this makes for one very, very happy flock of ducks. They had such a long, boring winter. They could barely leave their coop for weeks on end, the snow was so deep. But as it has melted their world has enlarged. Now all day they are motoring around the pasture, chasing what I can only assume are some wee, early flies, and finding puddles with great glee. They splash and flap, dipping their heads and necks down to sift through the water and mud. They are moving almost perpetually from dawn till dusk, marching around on their stubby legs, big feet "fwapping" on the moist soil.

At the end of the day, when the sun sets, they make their way to the duck palace. There they find a pan filled with food and seeds and treats, and a bed of clean, dry shavings. They tuck their heads under their wings and I imagine they sleep well there, safe and dreaming of mud, glorious mud.

Love and laughter...

I've been married to Chris for 31 years.
He has made me laugh every day for all of those years. The other day I told him I needed a clicker to tally up how many times a day he makes me giggle.
I'd be clicking all the time! Here is an example. This past fall I discovered a clothing brand called "Cuddle Duds." There are a few different types, but the one I love the best is sort of glorified long underwear. Supremely comfortable and sort of snug, they are great under other clothes on a cold winter day, and also super comfy just to lounge around in. I got 3 sets and they became my winter 'hang out' uniform.

Yesterday Chris and I were going to take a nap together. It was chilly and I wanted to change out of what I was wearing and put my Cuddle Duds on. I was digging around trying to find a set, to no avail. They were all in the washing machine. Chris saw me looking. He extended his arms to me and quipped from between the covers, "Don't Cuddle Duds! Cuddle DUDE!" I could not resist the cuddles or the laughter.

And then today, after Ella gave birth to twins, he didn't hesitate to lie right down in the shed to help one of them find a teat and get her first meal.
Things like that make me fall in love, over and over again.

Kids and the milk bucket..!

Several posts ago I wrote about Celeste goat having twins. Her kids are doing fine, but Celeste still hates them. For several days I kept her tied up so she could reach food and water, stand up and lie down, but not get away from her hungry kids. I went out several times a day and held her still so the kids could nurse, and hoped they were getting milk between times.

Yesterday evening I went out to repeat the process. While I was at it, Celeste kicked me twice, hard, then bit one of the kids and callously tried to butt her. That did it for me. I milked her and began to bottle feed the kids with her milk. They seemed pleased to have full bellies without threats of death. Celeste seems pleased to be rid of the little things.



So the milk bucket has been taken off it's shelf, where it has sat, unused, all winter. (In this picture it is next to a whole bunch of duck eggs.) And Celeste is being milked twice a day. Soon I will begin to milk Luna, too, and after Ella kids, I'll add her to the line up. The season has begun!

I will make yogurt and cheese and soap. I will feed extra milk to the dogs and the hens and the new pigs that will arrive next week. Meanwhile the kids will grow and flourish. The goats will be the center of our tiny hobby farm, and our well used milk bucket will see a lot of service.

Joy, present and past...

The four goat kids we have on the ground are getting big and bouncy. They are prone to spontaneous leaps though the air, and racing to and fro. It is quite intoxicating to watch. There is so much HAPPY in those little bodies. They seem to enjoy each others company, exploring their surroundings in a group and falling asleep in a warm pile on the straw. It's hard to get much done, when I can be so easily distracted by their antics.

I read this morning that today is "Siblings Day." I thought about that watching the kids play, and I began to think back to the fun memories of growing up with my siblings.



This picture was taken of us at my Aunt Marylou's wedding. I'm the little one with scabby knees on the right. Behind me is sister Diane, (Dicy,) who is currently keeping the angels laughing with her antics.She tended to be the one who tested the limits in our family, and I admired her to my toes. She was strong, capable and confident,and she was epically funny. I was lucky to have her for a sister.

To her left is my sister Deb. A more thoughtful and generous person never graced the earth. I remember lying belly down on our wooden bedroom floor when I was 5, while she patiently taught me to read. We had boxes full of books, The Happy Hollister series, in their red bindings, were what I read first.I've been an avid reader all my life, and she started it. It fascinates me to think that even as a small child she had a gift for teaching. She teaches children now, and has for over 35 years. She has spread the love of learning to thousands of children. I admire that so much!

Next to her are my beloved Chase grandparents. Then my oldest sister, Donna. One of my most magical memories of her is that she spirited me away one morning in the pre-dawn. I was about 6, and she drove me to watch the sunrise at Castle Hill on Crane Beach,(Ipswich,MA.) She brought her guitar and played and sang as the sun came up. She had (and has!) a gift of making anything seem like a big adventure. She is a children's librarian now, instilling the excitement of the adventures found in books to countless children. She also helps teach kids about the wonder of music at a music school. What could be more magical than that?

To her left are my parents, and then my sweet big brother, Dana. He was my hero when we were growing up. Big and strong and rather exotic, being that he was the only boy in the family. He kindly let me tag along on all sorts of adventures he and his friends dreamed up. He taught me how to dig worms for fishing, how to shoot a gun and use a pocket knife. He taunted and teased me mercilessly. And he still does.

I was so fortunate to grow up with siblings. Since I was the baby they pampered and spoiled me shamelessly. I loved it all.

All that joy the goat kids show as they grow reminds me of the happiness I had surrounded with my siblings. Joy in the past, joy in the present.

I got a sticker..!

My normal operation plan is that if I am sick or injured I don't go for medical help until I'm a hot mess or my husband drags me kicking and screaming.
I vowed to turn over a new leaf in January when I developed a blood clot in my leg. My new plan is to seek medical care before things advance too far.
So when a bad dog bit me yesterday, I gave myself good first aid and paid close attention to the wound. This morning when the area was red, swollen and sore, I called my doctors office the moment they opened. They told me to come right in, and I did.

I was so proud of myself I told the nurse I need a reward. She said, "There's a toy box in the lobby, help yourself." I said, "I was hoping for a sticker." She laughed at me.
After she took my vitals and was ready to exit I quipped, "Don't forget my sticker!" She rolled her eyes so hard I could almost hear them rattle.

When the doctor came in she smiled and shook my hand. I liked her on the spot. She looked at me quizzically and said, "The nurse said I was supposed to give you this?" She handed me a big, garishly colored Barbie sticker. I peeled the back off and slapped it proudly on my chest.



Bottom line, the bite is infected. I'm on antibiotics and keeping a warm compress on it. But it's all good, and I have a Barbie sticker to prove it!

Heifers and Ewes...

Friend Marion has new babies on her farm, too.

One of her heifers calved this week. A sweet little belted bull calf, sassy and frisking about.





One of her sheep has two pretty lambs, black and wooly. More babies are due soon, from other heifers and ewes. Spring and new life all around!