Sights from around Crooked Acres.
Happy Gracie.
George, keeping an eye out for trouble. You know how those chickens can be.
There was a squirrel up in the tree, and Gracie wanted that squirrel to know that she was wise to his shenanigans.
This is the “I see something. Should I be concerned?” watchful look.
Sweet Miss Gracie. (Don’t worry, I gave her a kiss for all of you!)
Three broody hens, sitting on their eggs in the maternity coop.
Very young rooster, hanging out on the edge of the dogs’ watering bowl. It makes me nervous when they do this, but I’ve never seen one fall in.
Chicks, roosting on fallen branches in the pig yard. The little ones just LOVE the pig yard, for some reason, and all fifteen of them are almost always running around in there.
Some of our tomatoes got early blight, so I was spraying fungicide. I’m a fungicidal maniac.
As Fred’s been clearing pieces of the fallen tree from the chicken yard, he’s been putting some of the smaller pieces in the back yard for the cats to play on. Corbie thinks this will do nicely, thank you.
Elwood chasing Kara around the back yard. I think you can imagine how much she cared for this.
Kara highly disapproves of it when we’re out of the back yard. What if something happens and she can’t save us? BAD HUMANS.
I bought some of this fabric last week at Jo-Ann Fabrics. I think it’s utterly adorable.
Baby cucumber.
Baby zucchini.
Baby pattypan squash (I call them spaceships. “Go out to the garden and pick a couple of spaceships, will you?”)
Baby cherry tomatoes.
They’re pretty sure it’s time for the cookies.
“AH SMELL COOKIES!”
“GIVE US THE COOKIES!”
“COOOOOOOOOOKIES!”
Bold Pig gets her cookie.
Spunky Pigster gets her cookie.
And one for Hernia Girl.
Someone asked if the pigs are for sustenance. Yes, they are. They’ll be with us (and spoiled rotten) until around the end of September. Then Fred will load them up and take them off to camp. Then a few days later, in a completely unrelated incident, he’ll go out to run an errand and come home with boxes to fill up the freezer.
(We refer to it as “sending the pigs off to Freezer Camp.”)
They won’t all be going to camp in our freezer – one will be going to our freezer, and the other two will be going to freezers in other homes. One’s going to a former coworker of Fred’s and the other is going to be split between two of Fred’s current coworkers.
So somehow I completely failed to mention in yesterday’s entry that the first thing Maggie did when we let her do some exploring around the house on Sunday was to start yowling and rubbing on the boy cats, and then doing the march-in-place “HERE I AMMMMMMM!” dance that cats who are going into heat do. It’s a special experience, really. She wasn’t constant with the yowling and the marching (seriously, I wish you could have seen the look of utter bewilderment on Corbie’s face when she was marching in front of him), just did it every couple of hours. I decided she wasn’t so much IN heat as headed in that direction, so Monday morning I called and made the appointment to have her spayed on Tuesday. I dropped her off first thing Tuesday morning, but they weren’t able to get to her ’til late in the afternoon, so she spent the night and I picked her up yesterday morning.
She was fine, she’s such a calm, laid-back girl that really nothing bothers her much. Her babies were happy enough to see her, but they didn’t crawl all over her and act like they’d been fading away from the sadness of missing her. Actually, judging by the way they ran around this house while she was gone, I don’t think they even realized she was gone.
Sleepy McMaos.
Princess Poutyface, off by herself.
“What you want, lady?”
Checking out Jake.
“What IS it?”
“I don’t know. BUT I DON’T LIKE IT.”
That’s Fergus Simon with the attitude.
There are no pictures of this, to my dismay, so you’ll just have to imagine, in your head, how incredibly, amazingly wonderful it was to see. On Sunday evening, we let Maggie in to visit with the Spice Girls. We were curious what her reaction would be, would she growl and hiss and smack them? Would she ignore them? Would they be scared of her?
As it turned out, Maggie walked into the room, and Clove ran over to her. Maggie sniffed Clove’s head and then explored the room a little. Eventually, she flopped down on the floor by the door, and Clove – who was sitting in my lap – looked at her. I said “Go say hi!”, and picked Clove up and set her down near Maggie. Clove went over, and Maggie sniffed the top of her head again, then started washing her.
It was absolutely the sweetest thing, I wish I’d had the camera with me. Clove closed her eyes and raised her face to Maggie, and she looked so utterly happy and Maggie cleaned her, that I might have teared up a little bit. Cilantro eventually wandered over and was cleaned, too, but Coriander was mostly uninterested in what Maggie had to offer.
They snuggled for a few minutes, and then Clove nuzzled around and nursed – or tried to, I honestly don’t know if she actually got any milk – for a few minutes. Maggie finally stood up and walked over to the bowl of kitten food. Clove followed her over, and they ate together. Then Maggie stood by the door until I let her out.
I kind of wish I’d tried putting Maggie in with those little girls a week ago. Clove is such a tiny little thing and hasn’t been gaining weight as quickly as I’d like. She isn’t losing weight, and she’s eating fine and is bright-eyed and playful, but her sisters are several ounces heavier than she is, so of course I worry. Maybe she just misses her mama, and having a little time with Maggie is just what she needs.
I did let a couple of the McMao boys in to see how they’d react to the Spice Girls. They – Finnegan and Fergus Simon – sniffed around the room as though it was familiar to them, and when the Spice Girls approached them, they hissed and ran away.
Leapin’ Coriander! (LOVE the smile on her face!)
Coriander watching the feather teaser, while Cilantro smacks at her tail.
“I like frogs.”
Cori’s feelin’ sassy. (When she gives me this look, I call her “Sassafrass.”
Wee bunny Clove. (I call her “Little Bit.”)
v
Cori loves a good ear rub.
Smilin’ Jake. Looks very smug, no?
Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: Spending the night in Dulles. WHO’S A LUCKY GIRL???
2008: I suppose I appreciate the lack of drama, but damn.
2007: No entry.
2006: Who else would put up with this sort of bullshit?
2005: Teen labor: I highly recommend it.
2004: The quarry.
2003: You can’t tell I’m PMS-ing with a vengeance, can you, with all this talk of food?
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: So, have I mentioned that I’m an idiot?