Just get some Kleenex first.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Get some Kleenex
If you've ever been inclined to feel sorry for yourself or dislike any of your physical attributes (guilty!!), watch this video and adjust your attitude.
Just get some Kleenex first.
Just get some Kleenex first.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Well I'm glad THAT'S over!
I had my makeup session and photograph taken today for the book cover! Boy am I glad that's done.
I certainly got myself worked up about it too. I went to bed late (working on my WorldNetDaily column, which is due at noon on Fridays) and then woke up - poing! - at 4 am and couldn't get back to sleep. Toss turn toss turn. Okay fine, I'm up.
It was a busy morning - finish the column, release and feed/water the chickens, feed the cows, release Matilda and Thor, muck out their pen, milk Matilda, strain the milk, skim yesterday's milk, review the column with Don, revise and review column again, hyperlink the column, then drive 1.5 hours into Spokane and wind my way through the downtown section until I found the salon. (My appointment was at noon. I was five minutes late.)
Thankfully the salon wasn't nearly as intimidating as I'd imagined it would be, and it was full of nice ordinary people - a woman about my age getting (I think) a perm, and an elderly woman having her hair styled. My hair and makeup person was named Melanie, and she was large and cheerful and very easy to talk to. (She also had TWO cheek studs - those aren't dimples - and arms covered top to bottom with bright tattoos, which took a little getting used to.)
Melanie wasn't quite sure what to do with long hair (my hair is about waist-length though very thin) and offered to cut it to shoulder-length, which I declined. So she sort of swept it into a bun not too different than I normally wear but somehow managed to make it look much sleeker and more professional. She did something magical with my bangs and actually made them look...well, good.
And then came the makeup. Did you know that some makeup is applied with an airbrush? Honestly, it's a little compressor (a miniaturized version of what we use in the shop to spray the outside of our tankards) and she told me to close my eyes and literally sprayed a light foundation all over my face, including ears, neck, forehead, etc. This was to even everything out.
Then she opened what looked like a modified fishing tackle box chock-full of makeup and started selecting items. She was like an artist preparing her paints...which, come to think of it, she was.
She put makeup on my eyes. She put makeup on my eyelashes. She put more makeup on my eyes. She put makeup on my lips. She put makeup on my cheeks. She put makeup on my neck. What an extraordinary experience.
But in the end, it worked! My greatest fear was that some eager young makeup artist was going to try and make this 48-year-old woman look like a funky twenty year old. Nothing doing. Melanie clearly had experience working on country bumpkins like me. She put the makeup on thick - this was for a high-resolution photograph, after all - but not to the point of exaggeration. I couldn't have been more pleased.
Then it was a short walk to the photographer's studio. This was a solo enterprise run by a youngish fellow named Tony who was a third-generation photographer. He worked out of a nifty old retro building with brick walls. I didn't get many photos of the studio because he got right to work adjusting lighting, pulling backdrops up and down, tweaking those giganto light diffusers (or whatever they're called). He was very precise about the way shadows fell and would move a lamp a couple inches to give the background a subtle difference. Talk about a professional!
The photos themselves were very simple. I sat on a triangular stool with an arm in front on which I leaned (the pose apparently lengthens the neck and make the subject look less cramped and stiff). Tony took about fifty photos, virtually identical except for minute changes in pose - move my head a quarter inch, drop my chin slightly, etc. I kept wondering how on earth such tiny changes in pose could make any difference, but to my surprise it did (I saw a few of the photos).
He divvied the photos up into about thirds: one-third with me looking serious (not smiling), one-third with a sort of close-lipped half-smile, and one-third with a bigger smile. Toward the end of the session he put a filter on the camera that "softens" the picture, so those shots are now in the repertoire.
I didn't get to see all the shots, of course. He said he would download the photos and over the weekend send them simultaneously to me and to the publisher. Between us we'll decide on the most flattering photo.
Driving back through downtown Spokane, I saw this sign and had to take a picture.
And once I got out of the city, I passed my preferred kind of scenery: a barn reflected in puddled water.
So that was done! I came home and did some barn chores and did some lead-training on Thor and felt much better. But Don wouldn't let me shower off the face paint until he got some shots of me in front of Matilda's pen.
What an experience. I'm glad it's over! Now if you'll pardon me, I need to jump in the shower and scrub all the face paint off.
I certainly got myself worked up about it too. I went to bed late (working on my WorldNetDaily column, which is due at noon on Fridays) and then woke up - poing! - at 4 am and couldn't get back to sleep. Toss turn toss turn. Okay fine, I'm up.
It was a busy morning - finish the column, release and feed/water the chickens, feed the cows, release Matilda and Thor, muck out their pen, milk Matilda, strain the milk, skim yesterday's milk, review the column with Don, revise and review column again, hyperlink the column, then drive 1.5 hours into Spokane and wind my way through the downtown section until I found the salon. (My appointment was at noon. I was five minutes late.)
Thankfully the salon wasn't nearly as intimidating as I'd imagined it would be, and it was full of nice ordinary people - a woman about my age getting (I think) a perm, and an elderly woman having her hair styled. My hair and makeup person was named Melanie, and she was large and cheerful and very easy to talk to. (She also had TWO cheek studs - those aren't dimples - and arms covered top to bottom with bright tattoos, which took a little getting used to.)
Melanie wasn't quite sure what to do with long hair (my hair is about waist-length though very thin) and offered to cut it to shoulder-length, which I declined. So she sort of swept it into a bun not too different than I normally wear but somehow managed to make it look much sleeker and more professional. She did something magical with my bangs and actually made them look...well, good.
And then came the makeup. Did you know that some makeup is applied with an airbrush? Honestly, it's a little compressor (a miniaturized version of what we use in the shop to spray the outside of our tankards) and she told me to close my eyes and literally sprayed a light foundation all over my face, including ears, neck, forehead, etc. This was to even everything out.
Then she opened what looked like a modified fishing tackle box chock-full of makeup and started selecting items. She was like an artist preparing her paints...which, come to think of it, she was.
She put makeup on my eyes. She put makeup on my eyelashes. She put more makeup on my eyes. She put makeup on my lips. She put makeup on my cheeks. She put makeup on my neck. What an extraordinary experience.
But in the end, it worked! My greatest fear was that some eager young makeup artist was going to try and make this 48-year-old woman look like a funky twenty year old. Nothing doing. Melanie clearly had experience working on country bumpkins like me. She put the makeup on thick - this was for a high-resolution photograph, after all - but not to the point of exaggeration. I couldn't have been more pleased.
Then it was a short walk to the photographer's studio. This was a solo enterprise run by a youngish fellow named Tony who was a third-generation photographer. He worked out of a nifty old retro building with brick walls. I didn't get many photos of the studio because he got right to work adjusting lighting, pulling backdrops up and down, tweaking those giganto light diffusers (or whatever they're called). He was very precise about the way shadows fell and would move a lamp a couple inches to give the background a subtle difference. Talk about a professional!
The photos themselves were very simple. I sat on a triangular stool with an arm in front on which I leaned (the pose apparently lengthens the neck and make the subject look less cramped and stiff). Tony took about fifty photos, virtually identical except for minute changes in pose - move my head a quarter inch, drop my chin slightly, etc. I kept wondering how on earth such tiny changes in pose could make any difference, but to my surprise it did (I saw a few of the photos).
He divvied the photos up into about thirds: one-third with me looking serious (not smiling), one-third with a sort of close-lipped half-smile, and one-third with a bigger smile. Toward the end of the session he put a filter on the camera that "softens" the picture, so those shots are now in the repertoire.
I didn't get to see all the shots, of course. He said he would download the photos and over the weekend send them simultaneously to me and to the publisher. Between us we'll decide on the most flattering photo.
Driving back through downtown Spokane, I saw this sign and had to take a picture.
And once I got out of the city, I passed my preferred kind of scenery: a barn reflected in puddled water.
So that was done! I came home and did some barn chores and did some lead-training on Thor and felt much better. But Don wouldn't let me shower off the face paint until he got some shots of me in front of Matilda's pen.
What an experience. I'm glad it's over! Now if you'll pardon me, I need to jump in the shower and scrub all the face paint off.
Urban homestead
Urban homestead urban homestead urban homestead urban homestead urban homestead urban homestead urban homestead.
What the heck am I doing, you may ask? I'm trying to get a "cease and desist" letter, that's what.
I just stumbled across a controversy I had no idea was brewing. It seems an urban homesteading family actually trademarked the term "urban homestead," and they're in the process of sending cease and desist letters to any and all writers, bloggers, and libraries who dare to use the term.
Path to Freedom, Urban Homestead, Urban Homesteading, Grow the Future, Homegrown Revolution (and trowel/fist logo) are registered ® trademarks of Dervaes Institute, notes their website.
I found this hilarious to the point of absurd. Trademark terms and then harass anyone using them? Puh-lease.
So won't you join me? Urban homestead urban homestead urban homestead....
What the heck am I doing, you may ask? I'm trying to get a "cease and desist" letter, that's what.
I just stumbled across a controversy I had no idea was brewing. It seems an urban homesteading family actually trademarked the term "urban homestead," and they're in the process of sending cease and desist letters to any and all writers, bloggers, and libraries who dare to use the term.
Path to Freedom, Urban Homestead, Urban Homesteading, Grow the Future, Homegrown Revolution (and trowel/fist logo) are registered ® trademarks of Dervaes Institute, notes their website.
I found this hilarious to the point of absurd. Trademark terms and then harass anyone using them? Puh-lease.
So won't you join me? Urban homestead urban homestead urban homestead....
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Ack! PANIC!!
I just got word late this afternoon that I have an appointment tomorrow with a salon (to do my hair and makeup) and studio photographer to get my portrait taken for my book cover.
Oh. God.
I don't do well with this kind of thing. I don't consider myself an attractive woman and I take terrible pictures. I knew this formal event was coming - to get a photo taken for the book cover - but it was sort of comfortably far off and I didn't worry about it.
But now it's here. While some women might actually enjoy the process of getting all dolled up for a picture, I'm not one of them. Frankly I'm easily intimidated about this kind of stuff. And the salon the publishers chose - while I'm sure it's perfectly friendly and extremely professional - looks like it has all sorts of daunting high-octane clientele who prefer the funky fusion modern look.
God only knows what they're going to make of a dumpy farm woman who doesn't know one label of makeup from another and who never departs from a single hairstyle (my faithful bun). (Hmmmmm - during the course of the small talk which will undoubtedly take place during this ordeal, I'll be sure to mention that we castrated our bull calf this morning. It will be interesting to watch their expressions.)
So I'm facing tomorrow with knocking knees. Stand by, I'll let you know how it goes.
Oh. God.
I don't do well with this kind of thing. I don't consider myself an attractive woman and I take terrible pictures. I knew this formal event was coming - to get a photo taken for the book cover - but it was sort of comfortably far off and I didn't worry about it.
But now it's here. While some women might actually enjoy the process of getting all dolled up for a picture, I'm not one of them. Frankly I'm easily intimidated about this kind of stuff. And the salon the publishers chose - while I'm sure it's perfectly friendly and extremely professional - looks like it has all sorts of daunting high-octane clientele who prefer the funky fusion modern look.
God only knows what they're going to make of a dumpy farm woman who doesn't know one label of makeup from another and who never departs from a single hairstyle (my faithful bun). (Hmmmmm - during the course of the small talk which will undoubtedly take place during this ordeal, I'll be sure to mention that we castrated our bull calf this morning. It will be interesting to watch their expressions.)
So I'm facing tomorrow with knocking knees. Stand by, I'll let you know how it goes.
Nuts to you
Poor Thor didn't have a very good day. That's because we castrated him today.
(I'll pause while all the male readers wince in sympathy and cross their legs.)
For obvious reasons, it's best to steer a bull calf when he's very young, but they have to be at least a few days old to allow time for the testicles to fully descend. We used to have the vet do the castrating (surgically - without anesthesia - not overly pleasant for the poor calf - men, you can leave the room if you want) but we finally wised up and bought an emasculator.
This handy and inexpensive little device is nothing more than a gizmo that spreads a tight rubber band over the top of the calf's testicles. It takes literally five minutes or less.
The rubber band is slipped over the prongs...
...and then when the handle is squeezed, the band opens wide.
So this morning we pulled Thor into the pen.
The little guy was suspicious. (With good reason.)
It's a two-person job, but since the calf is so young (and used to being handled) it wasn't terribly traumatic for him. A simple matter of gently slipping the testicles through the band...
...and carefully releasing the handles of the emasculator so the band tightens over the neck of the testicles.
That's it! No struggles, no blood. Of course poor Thor walked around for the rest of the day with his tail slightly raised and his back legs a little bit apart. Doubtless it's terribly uncomfortable, but hey, we don't need another bull around the place.
Deprived of their blood supply, the testicles will wither and dry up, and should fall off within about two weeks.
We were going to dehorn Thor this evening, but the poor guy's been through enough for one day. We'll wait a couple days to let him adjust to the new sensation.
(I'll pause while all the male readers wince in sympathy and cross their legs.)
For obvious reasons, it's best to steer a bull calf when he's very young, but they have to be at least a few days old to allow time for the testicles to fully descend. We used to have the vet do the castrating (surgically - without anesthesia - not overly pleasant for the poor calf - men, you can leave the room if you want) but we finally wised up and bought an emasculator.
This handy and inexpensive little device is nothing more than a gizmo that spreads a tight rubber band over the top of the calf's testicles. It takes literally five minutes or less.
The rubber band is slipped over the prongs...
...and then when the handle is squeezed, the band opens wide.
So this morning we pulled Thor into the pen.
The little guy was suspicious. (With good reason.)
It's a two-person job, but since the calf is so young (and used to being handled) it wasn't terribly traumatic for him. A simple matter of gently slipping the testicles through the band...
...and carefully releasing the handles of the emasculator so the band tightens over the neck of the testicles.
That's it! No struggles, no blood. Of course poor Thor walked around for the rest of the day with his tail slightly raised and his back legs a little bit apart. Doubtless it's terribly uncomfortable, but hey, we don't need another bull around the place.
Deprived of their blood supply, the testicles will wither and dry up, and should fall off within about two weeks.
We were going to dehorn Thor this evening, but the poor guy's been through enough for one day. We'll wait a couple days to let him adjust to the new sensation.
Making a living in a bad economy
Don and I were talking yesterday about making an income in a bad economy. We're not necessarily talking a grid-down situation (in which case barter would probably be the only economy); we're talking about an economic depression.
As you may or may not know, we make our living almost exclusively selling wooden tankards (mostly wholesale). We're done this since 1993 and it's kept our family solvent, though not wealthy. Through harsh experience we've learned to be frugal and creative.
And - God bless 'em all - people are still buying tankards. We just shipped a wholesale order off to a fellow who sells them at the Arizona Renaissance Festival. We're working on a custom order for a co-ed service fraternity.
But the day may come when the economy is so bad no one will be buying a luxury like a tankard. Should that day ever come, what will we do?
We don't know.
What we need to come up with is an item that is needed rather than wanted. This is where I envy my friend Enola Gay because she makes things that are needed.
I've always said the best way for a cottage industry to succeed is to find a niche and fill it. We've filled a niche for almost two decades by providing wooden mugs to people who like that kind of thing. But we may need to transition to a new niche, one that would be important in a depressed economy.
I'm not exaggerating when I say we've spent years talking about this, and we're no closer to finding a solution now than we were then. So I got the idea to open this topic up for discussion.
What advice can you give a creative woodworker for a product or service that would be important in a bad economy? Do you have a regional product or service compatible with our skills that we would borrow for our region? We'd love to hear your thoughts!
(Husband of the boss commentary)
I think it's important to make a small additional comment here. Although I know that the job market is tight, I firmly believe (because I've seen it up close and personal) that more than a few of the folks currently out of work are unwilling to accept available jobs because those jobs are: (1) beneath their dignitary; (2) weren't in their previous field; or (3) don't pay as much as they previously received.
None of these excuses apply to me. If it means feeding may family I will stand waist deep in manure fishing out golf balls at my feet. So don't limit your suggestions to wood working. I have several other sets of skills and I've never been shy about learning nor about working hard if it means my family is made safer. So rather than focus on me, think - really think - about what a Great Depression will be like in the world of today. What jobs will keep bread on the table? We will all learn something by your thoughts and suggestions.
As you may or may not know, we make our living almost exclusively selling wooden tankards (mostly wholesale). We're done this since 1993 and it's kept our family solvent, though not wealthy. Through harsh experience we've learned to be frugal and creative.
And - God bless 'em all - people are still buying tankards. We just shipped a wholesale order off to a fellow who sells them at the Arizona Renaissance Festival. We're working on a custom order for a co-ed service fraternity.
But the day may come when the economy is so bad no one will be buying a luxury like a tankard. Should that day ever come, what will we do?
We don't know.
What we need to come up with is an item that is needed rather than wanted. This is where I envy my friend Enola Gay because she makes things that are needed.
I've always said the best way for a cottage industry to succeed is to find a niche and fill it. We've filled a niche for almost two decades by providing wooden mugs to people who like that kind of thing. But we may need to transition to a new niche, one that would be important in a depressed economy.
I'm not exaggerating when I say we've spent years talking about this, and we're no closer to finding a solution now than we were then. So I got the idea to open this topic up for discussion.
What advice can you give a creative woodworker for a product or service that would be important in a bad economy? Do you have a regional product or service compatible with our skills that we would borrow for our region? We'd love to hear your thoughts!
(Husband of the boss commentary)
I think it's important to make a small additional comment here. Although I know that the job market is tight, I firmly believe (because I've seen it up close and personal) that more than a few of the folks currently out of work are unwilling to accept available jobs because those jobs are: (1) beneath their dignitary; (2) weren't in their previous field; or (3) don't pay as much as they previously received.
None of these excuses apply to me. If it means feeding may family I will stand waist deep in manure fishing out golf balls at my feet. So don't limit your suggestions to wood working. I have several other sets of skills and I've never been shy about learning nor about working hard if it means my family is made safer. So rather than focus on me, think - really think - about what a Great Depression will be like in the world of today. What jobs will keep bread on the table? We will all learn something by your thoughts and suggestions.
How two states deal with coyotes
California:
The Governor of California is jogging with his dog along a nature trail. A coyote jumps out and attacks the Governor's dog, then bites the Governor.
1. The Governor starts to intervene, but reflects upon the movie "Bambi" and then realizes he should stop because the coyote is only doing what is natural.
2. He calls animal control. Animal Control captures the coyote and bills the State $200 testing it for diseases and $500 for relocating it.
3. He calls a veterinarian. The vet collects the dead dog and bills the State $200 testing it for diseases.
4. The Governor goes to hospital and spends $3,500 getting checked for diseases from the coyote and on getting his bite wound bandaged.
5. The running trail gets shut down for 6 months while Fish & Game conducts a $100,000 survey to make sure the area is now free of dangerous animals.
6. The Governor spends $50,000 in state funds implementing a "coyote awareness program" for residents of the area.
7. The State Legislature spends $2 million to study how to better treat rabies and how to permanently eradicate the disease throughout the world.
8. The Governor's security agent is fired for not stopping the attack. The State spends $150,000 to hire and train a new agent with additional special training re: the nature of coyotes.
9. PETA protests the coyote's relocation and files a $5 million suit against the State.
South Dakota:
The Governor of South Dakota is jogging with his dog along a nature trail. A coyote jumps out and attacks his dog.
1. The Governor shoots the coyote with his State-issued pistol and keeps jogging. The Governor has spent $0.50 on a .45 ACP hollow point cartridge.
2. The Buzzards eat the dead coyote.
And that, my friends, is why California is broke and South Dakota is not.
The Governor of California is jogging with his dog along a nature trail. A coyote jumps out and attacks the Governor's dog, then bites the Governor.
1. The Governor starts to intervene, but reflects upon the movie "Bambi" and then realizes he should stop because the coyote is only doing what is natural.
2. He calls animal control. Animal Control captures the coyote and bills the State $200 testing it for diseases and $500 for relocating it.
3. He calls a veterinarian. The vet collects the dead dog and bills the State $200 testing it for diseases.
4. The Governor goes to hospital and spends $3,500 getting checked for diseases from the coyote and on getting his bite wound bandaged.
5. The running trail gets shut down for 6 months while Fish & Game conducts a $100,000 survey to make sure the area is now free of dangerous animals.
6. The Governor spends $50,000 in state funds implementing a "coyote awareness program" for residents of the area.
7. The State Legislature spends $2 million to study how to better treat rabies and how to permanently eradicate the disease throughout the world.
8. The Governor's security agent is fired for not stopping the attack. The State spends $150,000 to hire and train a new agent with additional special training re: the nature of coyotes.
9. PETA protests the coyote's relocation and files a $5 million suit against the State.
South Dakota:
The Governor of South Dakota is jogging with his dog along a nature trail. A coyote jumps out and attacks his dog.
1. The Governor shoots the coyote with his State-issued pistol and keeps jogging. The Governor has spent $0.50 on a .45 ACP hollow point cartridge.
2. The Buzzards eat the dead coyote.
And that, my friends, is why California is broke and South Dakota is not.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
(singing) I'm sorrrrry, so sorrrrry....please accept my apologeeee....
Remember the Brenda Lee song I'm Sorry? Well, that's how I feel about the tons of unanswered emails I have piled up in my inbox. I'm up to about a hundred emails a day (a lot of spam, a lot of generic announcements, as well as a lot of personal emails), and in the last week I've been overwhelmed by farm duties, writing obligations, blog updates, schoolwork, run-around stuff (music and sports), household obligations, and all the other things your typical rural housewife deals with.
Right after posting this, I'm off. Music, animal shelter, a homeschooling group meeting, a family workout at the local health club, dinner...I probably won't have a chance to sit down at my computer again until about 8 pm tonight - when I'll have another eighty or ninety emails to download!
So for all the kind, concerned, helpful folks who took the time to send me an email, please accept my apology for not replying! Yet! I'll get to them eventually, but meanwhile I don't want anyone thinking I'm brushing them off or refusing to reply.
Right after posting this, I'm off. Music, animal shelter, a homeschooling group meeting, a family workout at the local health club, dinner...I probably won't have a chance to sit down at my computer again until about 8 pm tonight - when I'll have another eighty or ninety emails to download!
So for all the kind, concerned, helpful folks who took the time to send me an email, please accept my apology for not replying! Yet! I'll get to them eventually, but meanwhile I don't want anyone thinking I'm brushing them off or refusing to reply.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Snowy surprise
Where did this come from? Snow wasn't in the forecast!
When I got up this morning, we had at least four inches of wet snow and it was coming down like crazy. In contrast to the poor folks in the Midwest and East, we haven't had snow on the ground for several weeks.
The chickens were not amused.
They were reluctant to come out from under the awning by their coop.
And what did Thor think of his first glimpse of the white stuff? At first, not much. He wouldn't set foot outside.
But he finally mustered up his courage and stepped out.
At first he didn't seem impressed.
But he soon changed his mind. Wheeee, this is fun!
He galloped so fast the camera had a hard time focusing.
Lydia came in with big ol' chunks of snow on her furry dewclaws.
...and Major looked like a reverse Dalmatian.
Tuesday is the day the girls and I go to Spokane (music and gymnastics lessons) so we'll see what it's like to drive in this mess!
When I got up this morning, we had at least four inches of wet snow and it was coming down like crazy. In contrast to the poor folks in the Midwest and East, we haven't had snow on the ground for several weeks.
The chickens were not amused.
They were reluctant to come out from under the awning by their coop.
And what did Thor think of his first glimpse of the white stuff? At first, not much. He wouldn't set foot outside.
But he finally mustered up his courage and stepped out.
At first he didn't seem impressed.
But he soon changed his mind. Wheeee, this is fun!
He galloped so fast the camera had a hard time focusing.
Lydia came in with big ol' chunks of snow on her furry dewclaws.
...and Major looked like a reverse Dalmatian.
Tuesday is the day the girls and I go to Spokane (music and gymnastics lessons) so we'll see what it's like to drive in this mess!
Random pix
Lydia in a playful mood...
...and getting her belly scratched.
A neighbor stopped by to see Thor yesterday, and as we stood in the yard and looked out at the chickens and cows, it occurred to me it was this quintessential farm scene - quite pretty.
Remember Snap? He's turned into a fine-looking young rooster, and has been (cough) "on line" for a few weeks now, to the distress of our other rooster. (And maybe the hens too.)
Thor is walking very nicely on his lead rope.
Afternoon cud time. Matilda is on the left and Smokey is on the right. Smokey hurt her ankle a few days ago and we're keeping her with Matilda in the driveway area until it heals. Can you see Thor tucked in the middle back?
Here he is, blinking sleep from his eyes.
...and getting her belly scratched.
A neighbor stopped by to see Thor yesterday, and as we stood in the yard and looked out at the chickens and cows, it occurred to me it was this quintessential farm scene - quite pretty.
Remember Snap? He's turned into a fine-looking young rooster, and has been (cough) "on line" for a few weeks now, to the distress of our other rooster. (And maybe the hens too.)
Thor is walking very nicely on his lead rope.
Afternoon cud time. Matilda is on the left and Smokey is on the right. Smokey hurt her ankle a few days ago and we're keeping her with Matilda in the driveway area until it heals. Can you see Thor tucked in the middle back?
Here he is, blinking sleep from his eyes.
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