Sights from around Crooked Acres.
The garden, from the front left corner toward the back right corner. Like I said, there’s not much there yet. (That red building is the garden shed.)
The garden, from the back toward the front (that house you see belongs to our next door neighbor. Our land is in kind of an “L” shape, so our garden is behind their house).
This year, we’re growing Oca. I’ve never grown or even eaten it before, so I hope it’s good!
The garden shed and the orchard. I use the word “orchard” lightly.
A baby pear growing on one of the pear trees (we also have peaches, apples, and plums. Maybe this year we’ll actually GET some fruit from those trees).
Muscadine vine. We originally had two muscadine plants – one died, this one’s thriving.
Baby muscadines!
“HEY! Quit lookin’ at the muscadines and come give me some pettin’!”
Poor ol’ Charlie, with the twisted-up toes.
Copper Marans rooster. Headed off to Freezer Camp one of these days.
Copper Marans rooster and his wimmins.
I don’t know what kind of rooster this is, but Fred’s decided we’ll be keeping him around for a while.
Three broody Buff Orpington hens, sitting on eggs. These three are from our original batch of 12, which we got three years ago.
This is the back side of the big coop out in the back forty. That little tan addition on the back side of the coop was meant to be a dog house where George and Gracie could get in out of the bad weather. However, the dogs used it ONCE, and never again no matter how much Fred begged, cajoled, and climbed in there to show them how super-fun it could be. It appears those two damn dogs enjoy them some bad weather. After much nagging from me, Fred finally turned it into a maternity coop. It is my goal – nay, my DREAM – to get all the goddamn chickens out in the same yard, so that those two dogs up there? They can do their jobs and protect ALL the chickens. In a perfect world, we’ll figure out how the hell to get the blue coop out there so that the broody hens and their babies can have a decent coop and a small fenced-in yard and still be protected by the dogs. Maybe someday we’ll be able to be away from the house at dusk without Fred worrying himself gray about the chickens.
It’s funny – if I pick up and snuggle Miz Poo or Elwood and then pick up and snuggle a Bookworm, I practically end up accidentally tossing the Bookworm over my shoulder, they’re so light compared to the grown cat.
But if I pick up a Rescuee (that’s what I’m calling them, the Rescuees. Cydney, who’s another Challenger’s House foster mom as well as the sister of the woman who gave me sweet little Franco, suggested that name for the group – since they were also rescued from an engine block, behind a wall, and a cage at the vet’s, it fits pretty well, and it rolls off the tongue a lot more smoothly than “The 99s”!) and then pick up a Bookworm, I feel like I’m about to throw out my back, since the Rescuees weigh about 1/4 of what the Bookworms do.
Between the Rescuees and the Bookworms, my home is awash in sweet kittens. And I’d have it no other way!
Franco checks out the green tube.
Sheila keeps an eye on one of her brothers.
Franco looks like a wee bear cub, doesn’t he? And Gavin CLEARLY does not approve.
Gavin is killing me with that stink eye he’s shooting at Franco.
Gavin’s all “THIS ARE MY TOY YOU GO AWAY NOW PLEASE.”
Gavin examining the inside of the green tube, while Garrity checks out the toys.
Gavin’s aghast at the intrusion from Franco. “Sir, I am in MY PRIVATE ABODE, you cannot just PEER through the windows at me! Gendarme! Arrest this man for invasion of privacy!”
“What doin’, lady?”
Rhyme, balanced on the end of my bed and staring up at the ceiling fan.
Rhyme, trying to decide where to go from here.
Maxi, trying to look innocent.
Previously
2009: Way to look ferocious and defend those chickens, puppies.
2008: And I’m sure there’ll be plenty o’ bitching.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: It is, in fact, a happy-go-lucky-shpadoinkle-dy daaaaaaaaaaaaay.
2004: First day with the new brain, you know.
2003: So, Fred got it into his head a few weeks ago that he wanted a kayak.
2002: And further, you don’t get to be indignant and hurt when they act pissed off and boo you off the stage.
2001: No entry.
2000: Yesterday, I sneezed twenty-three times in a row. Fucking allergies.