Phew – NaNoWriMo is done!
I achieved my 50,000 words.
Ironically, though, I'm working on a longer story this time – 70,000 words. That means I'm only a little over 70 percent done with the first draft if I want to finish the story. And I do want to finish the story.
So I've asked Don to keep me on the straight and narrow and not let me forget to complete those extra 20,000 words.
But for tonight – it's time for a bit of a celebration. I see a glass of wine in my immediate future.
Here are a few random bits and bobs from the last few weeks.
We have a shed in our yard we use for garden tools, etc. The doors were open on it for about a week or so. One day Don saw a robin fly in with food in its beak, and we thought, "Uh oh, robin built a nest inside." If that was the case, we'd have to keep the shed doors open until the babies fledged.
Later that same day I went to put something inside the shed and saw this:
Not a nest, but a fledgling that had made its way in.
Of course we left the shed doors open. By the next day, it was gone.
Ground squirrel.
Full moon behind a pine.
There is a single volunteer sunflower plant growing in one of the potato beds.
It's always worth examining things like this up close...
...because you never know what you might see.
And another small spider, this one on our screen door. I believe it's a young orb weaver.
I have some basil plants growing on the deck. I was going to transplant them into the garden beds, but never got around to it, so I repotted them in larger pots and they're happily growing.
However something was eating the leaves.
Aha! Found the culprit. Look how closely it blends in, color-wise. I scooped it up and dumped it over the side of the balcony.
Grasses, blooming.
Allergies, anyone?
A clump of irises growing by the side of the driveway. This photo was taken about a month ago.
In late June, I baffled to see what looked like carrots growing in the rocks next to one of the garden beds. Carrots? How?
The mystery was solved a few weeks later. Not carrots, but Queen Anne's lace, a member of the carrot family.
I know Queen Anne's lace is technically an invasive weed, but I absolutely stinkin' love it.
A very, very distant doe and her fawn.
Some quail parents herding their chicks toward the safety of some brush.
Sunrise..
...and sunset.
For the last few weeks, we – especially Don – have been engaged in fencing our large pasture. Up to this point, the cows had been confined to the smaller areas below the house. While it was wonderful to see them eating down the grass and thus reducing the fire hazard, the available forage would only last so long.
So we've been fencing. And fencing. And fencing. Why does it seem like fencing takes forever?
But at long last, the task was done. A few days ago we gave the cows the "big release."
Our property is sloped, and the only access to the larger pasture from the corral where the cows stay during the night is up a fairly steep embankment.
Don built a sort of chute to make sure the cows went where we wanted them to go.
On the Big Day, we opened the gate. Maggie immediately started cropping the grass before she even got up the chute.
Pretty soon Mignon noticed the excitement. "Hey, what's going on?"
Then Fillet got in on the action and scooted up the chute without any hesitation.
I got the distinct impression the cows thought they were getting away with something nefarious. "Hey, look what we found!"
We left them alone to explore their new digs. Later, during the heat of the afternoon, I went to check on them and found them happily chewing their cud under the shade of some trees.
Isn't our Maggie a pretty girl?
The first evening in the new pasture, Don had to traipse far and wide to call the animals in for the night. But thereafter, they got the hang of it and come in automatically each evening for a bit of grain. In the morning, I release them to graze for the day.
What a pleasure it is to stand on the porch and watch our cattle grazing.
One afternoon they grazed right up to the fence line...
...and Frumpkin (Older Daughter's cat) – who was parked on his "catio" – had saucer eyes as he stared at them.
There should be enough forage in the large pasture to keep the animals occupied through November or so, when it will be time to feed them hay in the barn.
Little by little, step by step, we're becoming a homestead again.
I have terrible vision. Anything beyond about six inches from my face is blurry. I've worn glasses since I was ten years old and am completely dependent upon them.
But this extreme near-sightedness has one amazing side benefit: I have extraordinary close-up vision. Seriously, it's practically microscopic. I call it my super power.
For this reason, I always remove my glasses any time I'm doing close-up work. This is a long-winded explanation of why I wasn't wearing my glasses the other day when sorting blueberries.
The blueberry harvest is in full swing, and I'm picking about a quart of fruit every other day. Before bagging and freezing it, I sort through to remove any stems, leaves, blossom remains, or other debris.
Like this:
Anyway, I was sitting there minding my own business, sorting the blueberries, when something caught my near-sighted eyes. Take a closer look at the berry at the farthest left:
It had a collection of tiny (empty) insect egg cases adhering to the skin of the fruit.
They were extraordinarily tiny and perfect.
I popped the egg cases off the blueberry easily with a fingernail. You can see the scars on the fruit itself.
Just one of those microscopic marvels I was blessed to see, all because I have lousy vision.
