Garden Invasion

It began when Grace found her pepper and tomato plants eaten to the ground--$20 of nubbins. And, in the tradition of Mr. MacGregor, she threw the nearest garden implement with great gusto. The second offense was a little more aggressive. Thus began the Great Bunny Chase.

Under the horse trailer, in and out of bunny tunnels.

Around the silo, through the downstairs granary, and into another tunnel.

Becca, easily caught, is in the trap and waiting for a friend.

Almost!

Rabbits in hand--or two in the bush--Grace moved on to more productive ventures.

Outside, the chase went on:

Victory achieved--one more rabbit caught under the mower.

Phase 2-the slingshot... To put you at ease, be assured that no bunnies were harmed in the making of this blog.

Fortunately for Grace and MacGregor, the Big Guy picked up poultry fencing and secured her garden spot. Stay tuned as rabbits continue to multiply....


A Hurried Week

It's been a busy spring; an unusual spring. Until this week (May 13), the Big Guy has only had one week to do field work. Last year he had finished all the spring tilling and planting by the middle of April.
This is what I saw during that dry, warm week:

The sprayer coming toward the house (yes, it's blurry).

The sprayer heading out to the highway (still blurry, that's how fast David was moving)!

After chemicals were mixed and boxes were emptied, I loaded them in the back of the truck and took them to the burn pile in the pasture. Open the gate, unlatch the electric fence--and I was really glad it wasn't on because I tested it with my palm instead of the back of my hand! Cringe. City-slicker throwback.

 The equipment was out, lined up parade-style, ready to roll.

The sheep did little more than raise their heads and bawl. Mommas called and babies checked in, grabbed a drink, skipped, jumped and ran.

The path took me past the old Tarzan Tree / Mulberry snack station.





That same week, Rachael graciously agreed to make individual cheesecakes. Grace, ever the entrepreneur, had sold the eggs. There were a few in the fridge....

So I went looking for more.
In the downstairs granary, no eggs. In the lambing stalls, no eggs.

In the hay mow, from top to bottom, no eggs.

The view from the top of the hay bales (above the regulation-height basketball hoop).

 In the old granary upstairs, no eggs, but lots of smiles and memories.

Down the ladder, back to the house. 

"It's okay, Mom. I had enough." Life on the farm. It's good.

Easter Celebration, Spring Preparation

Because of Easter we've had a fabulous five-day weekend.  After another recent snow storm, we were grateful for the return of warmer weather.
Laura has taken up residence in her fort outside the back door. She slogged through the mud for a couple of days before the Big Guy bought mulch to spread over her living quarters.

While we were outside Saturday morning, I filled the bird feeder with Becca Bunny's company. In the last three years of freedom, she's survived a broken leg which the Big Guy (tBG) re-set--she hopped around in bandages for a week or two and has been good-as-new--and this winter, the loss of an eye. The eye was gone and infection had set in but tBG caught her, washed her up a couple of times and sent her on her way. The wound has healed and doesn't seem to keep her from enjoying life.

As proof, we discovered another set of bunnies a few weeks ago under the front porch. For whatever reason, her babies have a lion-like mane and ears that work independently of one another. We call them "Mad Hatters."

It's time to think about spring field work, but the ground is too wet and cold to get started. Ever the optimistic non-procrastinator, tBG spent the weekend filling tanks for fertilizer.

Sunday morning we enjoyed a wonderful celebration of Jesus with our local church body, then came home for a family meal. Laura liked the green bean bundles so much she took this lovely photo (which is code for, "I want to put this on my blog").

The kids and I cleared the table while the Easter bunny hid eggs outside. For whatever reason, he thought Matthew might "change his mind" about not wanting to scrounge for plastic, candy-filled eggs when he could be easily seen from the highway. Go figure.

If there was ever a question about who enjoys this activity more, the hider or the finders, here is evidence that our children will have to have children before the Easter bunny stops hiding eggs:

We had to look quickly--curious, hungry chickens were ready to enjoy jelly beans and chocolate!



Who would hide eggs in the chicken yard?  Only the Easter bunny.



 "A-hem!" is the key for, "I found an egg and it's not mine."  We had a lot of loud throat-clearing going on. (Notice the Big Guy, pointing.)



Pointing...



Hint, hint.



Before loading "Babe," his blue Ranger, Matthew checked the toothpicks he'd marinated since last spring. We thought they'd been eaten alive. Needless to say, Matthew was disappointed in the power of wintergreen. A bottle of cinnamon oil is on my list for the next trip to Stringtown, the Amish grocery store.

And on with life we go. The month of April has been set aside for planting.  Then, in May and June we hope to tackle the base of the front porch, which has slowly crumbled these last five or ten years of a hundred.
And for those of you wondering, the hay bale still hasn't been opened.  Life is just too full of good things.

Winter Adventures: Mastitis, Mink, and Midnight Madness

The Big Guy went to Colorado for a few days to visit his mom and brother.  While he was gone, our ewe who lost one of the triplets got mastitis.  What we don't have are pictures of Laura milking the ewe's bad teat and bottle feeding the little ones or my cornering #108 every morning for a lovely dose of penicillin.  What we do have are pictures of the crew eating breakfast.

  The Big Guy came home to a fresh layer of snow--if he'd been traveling home from Chicago, he wouldn't have made it for a day or two.  It was really very beautiful...and heavy.

That week we trapped a mink in the barn.  If adolescent boys are ever in doubt, this is a good instance of your scent giving you away.  A shower or distance (either one) would have kept this bad boy out of the hoosegow.



Then, late Friday night, as the snow was melting, Neighbor Dave called, wondering if we knew any reason for there to be traffic to and from Mrs. Hawley's.  No, not to our knowledge.  He called the sheriff.  Matthew and I jumped in one of the big trucks and made our way toward the river where we found 5 teen-aged girls, stuck.  Their little car apparently didn't "think it could."  And it didn't. Why a carload of young ladies would be on a dirt road no one had traveled or plowed would be a mystery--if we hadn't been teenagers ourselves.

I gave them my cell phone number and we went home.  Realizing their friends couldn't come to their aid and (perhaps) they were unwilling to call parents, they called us.  The Big Guy started the tractor and we rocked our way down the highway, pulling over long enough for the sheriff to pass. We got out at the crossroads, shook hands with the sheriff, towed the girls out, shook hands with the sheriff again and left as he approached their car, asking for insurance and I.D.'s. By 1:00 a.m. our world settled down.

The Rescuer

We sure hope spring is on the way. Winter's about outworn it's welcome. May the adventures continue in your lives as well, blessed with the goodness only God can provide.



Arrival

The first of the spring lambs arrived tonight--triplets!

The Big Guy and Ryan knew they were on the way before supper. At our children's request we had a New York supper tonight--bread, cheese and fruit.  While on vacation in New York City a few years ago, we enjoyed fabulous meals out and about, but only one a day.  The other meal was simple fare in the flat we rented, gleaned from corner grocers nearby.

The Big Guy (tBG) checked on progress in the barn an hour later.  Not yet. 

Half an hour ago we went out to the barn and found the mama and babies, safe and sound.

TBG and Ryan transferred the babies from the back corner to a clean, dry stall, holding them close enough to the ground so the mama would follow her "prodigies" who moved at an incredible speed for newborns.

The Big Guy instructing Ryan--and to answer your silent question, the rag he grabbed was hot pink....

 

Once in the stall, TBG told her how to extract the wax plugs from the ewe's udder.

 

 

Then he told her they'd need "the bucket."  "The bucket" has the tools and supplies we've found helpful over the years of delivering lambs.  It's resupplied each winter and hung on a horseshoe that's been nailed near the jugs.

 

 

With scissors and iodine in hand, tBG and Ryan trimmed and dipped each lamb's umbilical cord.

This little one got a little dirty.  By morning he'll be clean and dry.

 

After providing the ewe with fresh hay, water, and grain, Ryan checked on her two caged rabbits while three others hopped past our feet and down warm tunnels.

 

 

Hoover, the dog, is always happy to be of assistance.  And, yes, do you see the newly-painted livestock trailer?  If only I'd gotten pictures of tBG's indoor painting tent and apparel!

So, despite weather outside that's frightful, Spring has arrived at Pine Ridge Farm.

Building, Mourning, Celebrating...Together

At the time of our last post, Grace had just finished an interview with Zoe Martin of Iowa Farmer Today. 

Grace after the interview....

That same weekend, The Big Guy's brother and his son, came from Colorado.  It was a party--all four of our children, the Big Guy, the Uncle, the Cousin and the Boyfriend (I'm really glad we're past calling him her "special" friend!)--worked together on the new shop office between Christmas and New Year's.

The jefes making a plan (Spanish for "boss," used frequently at our house).

Matthew staining windows while the Cousin sweeps.

Grace's boyfriend, The Boyfriend, the carpenter.

The Friday after Christmas, we hosted a youth event at church and brought appetizers: little smokies, spinach dip in a bread bowl, and a layered Mexican dip with chips.  That made lunch on Saturday easy-peasy. 

For lunch each day the crew was here, we loaded up food from the house and set things up in the poker corner (a large, round conference table in the upstairs loft of the shop).  After a holler, each person grabbed a drink and headed up the angled stairs.  I think we had a great time--then again, I wasn't eating my meal at shoulder level from a lawn chair!

That Saturday we decided to open the mysterious hay bale.  I was bringing food down from the loft when the man-door on the shop opened and slammed.  Laura's wailing echoed across the aluminum walls.  Her new bunny, Cutie, was dead.  She'd gone to say hello after lunch and found a still, lifeless body.  After hugs and consolation, she set to work crafting a coffin.  Needless to say, none of us could handle the sight of another death that afternoon.

So, we continue to wait for "the un-baling."

On the up side, a few weeks later, everyone is back in the rhythm of school and work.  The Big Guy is trekking to and from various elevators. Matthew has started his second semester at college and the girls are well into their third quarter of the year.

We celebrated the Big Guy's birthday this evening before he headed in to a school board meeting.  If you want to know more about the cake, Grace may have it on her blog in a day or two. 

Happy birthday, Big Guy!  We love you.