Vote for Gracie! (Thank you!)
Sights from around Crooked Acres.
Probably the last Rose of Sharon bloom for the season.
I am now understanding why y’all were amazed that I planted Purslane. Invasive is exactly the word I’d use to describe this stuff. It’s growing EVERYWHERE now. (On the plus side, next year I’ll just harvest it from the lawn!)
Left to right, Meyer Lemon tree, sweet gum tree (which started growing in the driveway, then Fred potted it to see if he could keep it growing. Because we don’t have enough sweet gum trees. Please, can we have more gum balls to slip on in the Fall and Winter?) and garlic chives, which didn’t do much this summer.
Leaves are finally changing.
Volunteer tomato plant in the middle of the row of butternut squash.
Teeny tiny butternut squash. Hope springs eternal, I guess.
If he plants Tabasco peppers next year, I’m going to kill him. What a PAIN to deal with, these tiny peppers.
Morning Glory, I love you.
Okra flower. So so pretty.
Sungold tomatoes. I finally started pulling up the tomato plants earlier this week – got about half of them pulled up – and got a huge bucket of split and chewed-on tomatoes for the pigs and chickens. I’m going to pull the rest of the tomatoes up later today. Time to put the big garden to bed.
Charlie Peppers now has the nickname “Chuckles.” Patty’s nickname is “Sissy.” I remember a time when I thought Charlie Peppers was never going to meow, he was so quiet. Now he’s the whiniest little complainer I’ve ever seen. Good thing he’s cute.
“I sleep now. You go ‘way.”
“HEY. Where you goin’?!”
Molly, near the laptop where Fred works on his book. One day he reported that when he sat down to write, the document had a row of Ts across the bottom. Clearly Molly wants to be a writer, too!
The face. The little crossed eyes. Doesn’t Lucy Peppers just kill you DEAD?
Molly makes herself at home.
Tree full o’ Peppers.
Pepper tree!
In the evening, when it gets dark out, we call all the cats inside so we can close the back door. As a reward for coming inside, they get crunchies. Some cats like them, others don’t. These cats assuredly do.
Tommy, Jake, Elwood, Buster, Miz Poo, Corbie.
Previously
2010: “I SAID stop making the googly eyes at me, Melodie!”
2009: I love me a good juicy Asshole.
2008: Pretty batshit crazy, as it turns out.
2007: No entry.
2006: You all have my full permission to skip the boring stuff to get to the cute kitten stuff.
2005: I forsee a lot of spud-teasing this evening.
2004: Phil Hellmuth is a whiny little bitch.
2003: “And then he told me he likes to have sex with you in the break room every day at 11!” he lied.
2002: No entry.
2001: Recovery.
2000: No one ever said I had a long attention span!