It's moo-thirty a.m....do you know where your cows are?

I mean...2:30 a.m.
The husband's cel phone rang this morning at 2:30, it was Antonio the night milker - there was a cow having a calf and he needed hubby to come over and "pull a calf"...guess you could call him the mid-wife for cows.
Hubby heads out to the other farm, I snuggle in hoping to go back to sleep. I start to drift off...
I hear a moo, the moo is coming from the wrong direction. After living here for thirty years a girl gets to know which direction a moo should come from, if it's a stress-moo, a horny-moo, a pain-moo...you get the picture. This was a stress-moo...and it was coming from the northwest - moos here should come from the south.
That's it, if a moo is coming from the wrong direction this could spell serious trouble.
I got out of bed, went to the upstairs window to listen, "moooo, moooooo".
Downstairs I go, outside...in my jammies and sandals. Walked into the backyard and out to the veggie garden, no moo. Walked back to the house to get a flashlight, moo, dang it...moo bouncing off buildings. Walked out to the silage bunker, hear stress moo. Brain wakes up a little more, perhaps it would be"hoove" (pun intended) me to get my car so I can drive behind the barn and use my headlights to scan the field...grab the cel phone and dog too! Drive out...and there she is - what the cow-crap??? She's brown - at least I think it's a she...the bovine is in the field and with the lousy light and long grass I can't see so good and I for sure can't see her "privates"! I know I can't chase her alone, in the dark, with a bad ankle to boot. If I did chase her...where would I chase her to? I don't know anybody in the neighborhood who has reddish brown cows - where on earth did this beast come from.
Think to call hubby, who I think is still at the other farm, get hubbys voice mail - I'm thinking he's busy with maternity duty and can't answer. Sooo...I go back to the house, thinking I'll wait for hubby to come back...then I hear the beep - his cel phone voice mail alert...he doesn't even have the stinking phone with him.
What's a girl to do?
Go back to bed, not my cow, can't chase it alone, where would I chase it to?
It's stinking dark, my ankle hurts, I walk verrry carefully - I dO NOt RUn!
Go back to bed is the only clear answer, I wouldn't even know who to call because I don't know anyone who has cows that look like that...in the dark I was guessing she was a beef cow. She's in the field, there's lots of grass...settle down missy and we'll deal with you in the morning and don't you daaaare get lost in the corn field...cuz we'll neverrr find you in there.
Hubby comes home an hour later...he had been home earlier but when he didn't see my vehicle he went down the road where he saw a lot of other trucks. When he was at the other farm there were two cows on the road, he also had no idea where they came from...so he locked them up and came home, he figured when he didn't see my rig I went to help with the rodeo-round-up...little did he know I was in my rig behind our own barns scanning the field for strange bovines.
We jumped in his truck, ( I changed from jammies to jeans fyi ), there were more cows, more guys in trucks, and some ATV's...while we were telling them about the beast at our place two more moosies came running out from some body's back yard. They were WiLD! CRaZy! BEaStS! The other farmers told us where the strays came from, and it was wayyy up the road, and they were scattered over a couple of miles - these gals crossed busy roads and nobody got hurt...a-freaking-mazing.
When we got home we checked the pool for cows, just in case - cuz it's happened before. No cows taking a midnight dip...whewww.
This morning when the sun came up there were three brownish/red cows hanging over the fence trying to make friends with our black and white girls.
Somebody came while we weren't home and loaded them up in a cattle trailer and took them back to wherever it is they belong, I hope they ship them someplace far away, becaue these girls obviously have a serious case of wanderlust.
Somebody owes me somethin', I hear the cattle hauler that was housing them at his place was out fishing or crabbing or something ....I think that a nice fish or a dungeness crab or two would be a lovely trade for a lost night of sleep.
Doncha think?
Just sayin'

Dead Salmon on the Wall?

My little vice is magazines...always has been. Last week I was cruising through a shelter mag and I saw an article on paint colors. Oh dear, I found a color that I really liked...Farrow and Ball "Dead Salmon".
What the ????
No way.
Sorry Farrow and Ball.
I just can't.
Paint names matter to me, call me a sissy-girl.
My house is Edelweiss with Stonewall trim.
The studio is Sunshine, office / Buckskin, cabin cupboards / Heartsmere, dining room / Providence Olive...I gotta love the name to buy the paint.
Even though I love the color...I just can't smear dead salmon on my walls.
Ewwwww!

Mal's Mallard Magic

Some days ... I tell ya.
When you don't know what on earth you're going to do, somehow your friends swoop in to save you.
That's what happened here at this old farm last night.

There I stood, in the middle of the driveway - camera in hand...with a frantic look on my face. Like magic...my "niece" Malorie appeared, a knight in shining armor, ok...a knightess in a shiny new Pathfinder.
You see...I was trying to rescue some duckies that had fallen into the fishpond that we had drained for repairs. The mama duck thought I was up to no good, so she chased me away from the pond, hissing and attempting to peck at my bare legs with her beak. Note to self: when doing battle with an angry duck, don't wear shorts and flip-flops.
I was at a loss as to what to do. The mama was so upset I was afraid she was going to hurt herself.
Then....ta daaaaa.
Malorie pulled on the driveway, I frantically told her my story and she said "I'm not afraid of a silly duck!"


Here's the really mad mama duck, standing at the edge of the abyss, where her two little darlings were four feet down...quacking for all they were worth

Hellooo...anybody up there?

Malorie walked right up to the pond, the mama quacked, hissed and fluttered...Mal stood her ground. Mama took to the air, flew around in circles to divert us I think. Hubby fished the ducklings out of the pond with a swimming pool skimmer. Hey...desperate times call for desperate measures!

The ducklings waddled off to the creek, mama flew back and landed in the water.
Hooray!

And they all lived happily ever after.

I love a happy ending, don't you?

The Evil Troll

Adding on to the farmhouse.

There...I said it. Now I'll never get a building permit.
I made a little trip to the county building permit office to ask some questions about getting a building permit to add on to the farmhouse. The Husband finally admitted he's never going to move. If this is going to be where I'm going to live until my dying days it might be a good idea to make it "old lady friendly" - that means a bedroom and bathroom on the same floor, right now the bedrooms are upstairs and the one bathroom is on the main floor. Negotiating the stairs in the middle of the night with arthritic joints is becoming more of a challenge.
The guy in the permit office was a creep...there were three other people who weren't, but the guy that they made me talk to about the process of adding on couldn't have been less helpful.
Here's a little of the conversation...I'm still seething.

Him: Who is drawing the plans?
Me: I've drawn it to scale and your inspector told me I should be fine.
Him: Do you even know how to draw a plan?
Me: Uh...well...I aced my drafting and design class but that was a few years ago.
Him: You think you can draw a plan? Are you an engineer?
Me: No, I'm not...
Him: I require a plan of the existing structure, a plan of the proposed addition, section elevation drawings and site photos.
Me: Okay...I've done that. Anything else?
Him: They're probably not to scale.
Me: Actually...they are.
Him: But you said you're not an architect or an engineer....they're probably not to scale.

At that point in the conversation I got a hot flash...or perhaps it was seething rage...not sure.
The evil troll inside of me is doing a freaky little happy dance that the construction boom in the county has come to a screeching halt.
Maybe that little creep at the county permit office will get laid off....
Oh...I can think that but I shouldn't really blog it.
Hot flash.
I did.
I AM the evil troll.
I am the evil troll that will never get a building permit.
Oh well, one more excuse to not spend the money on an addition.

Dear Trespasser(s)

My Dear Trespassers,

I have an idea.

When you come to my place to hunt, gather, picnic, frolic, exercise, hike and whatever else you like to do here...I think we should make a deal. I know you're not comfortable asking for permission to stop over here, so you can drop my request on the front porch before you leave...or a little IOU would be fine too.

When you take my daffodils, leave a bouquet for me too.

When you take my lilacs, same thing.

When you take my blackberries, leave an IOU for a pie or a little pint of jam would be nice.

When you take fall foliage, leave me a cat-tail or two for my bouquets.

When you take a duck, hmm...I like smoked duck breast, an IOU will do.

When you take service berries, same thing as blackberries, jam or pie is fine.

When you take a deer, I'll call the cops...the deer and I have a deal and those no hunting signs are there for a reason.

When you chop down a tree, a little stack of firewood would be a good idea.

But.

When you take a whole truck load of rose hips and wild red winter berries like you did today, you owe me a wreath and maybe even some money...that's pushing the limit.
I'm totally into sharing.
But.
What I don't want is your picnic trash, pop cans, dorito bags, beer bottles, wine bottles, dirty diapers and doggie doo doo, oh yeah...FYI, that recliner that you left doesn't match my decor.

Thanks,
I'll be waiting for my pie, the ice cream is in the freezer.
S~
p.s. about that case of whiskey you left hidden in the brush, I think you were probably planning to pick up later? We gave it to my brother-in-law, if I may be so bold - could you leave vodka next time?

G is for Grass Down

"He's got grass down" is farm talk for mowing down a grassy field to make hay or silage. I took this photo this morning over at "the twenty", that's farm talk for twenty acres that we own across the road. We don't farm our own land any more, it's all leased out to a neighboring farmer. All day yesterday he was mowing our fields and his. Tonight the crew came over with the big rakes, choppers, dump boxes and trucks. Here in farm country this activity is called "puttin' up feed". It worked out pretty cool that today is the letter G and it's a big day here for grass. The letter G is missing in a lot of farm talk, which I call "farmese".
Just a few examples:
puttin' up feed
makin' hay
mowin' grass
talkin' to the bank
milkin' cows
feedin' calves
choppin' corn
oh...this list just goes on and on...
guess I was purty lucky to find a G today...doncha think?
this is kind of a goofy post...but it's been a long day and I'm plum tuckered.

Farmers Trash

Goodness Gracious Great Balls of Wire

The Husband and I have a deal, before he throws something away or takes it to recycling....he checks with me. I call these things "junk with potential". Years ago I asked him to save any old fencing wire because I thought wire spheres would be cool as garden art....TA DAAA.

We were gone most of the day today to Papa Jacks birthday party, it involved four hours of driving but Papa Jack is one incredible guy and we would pretty much do anything for him. We got home just as the sun was setting and I was able to take a little walk around the farm. I snapped this photo out by the party barn, the light was so goregous...I love the color of the moss on the concrete wall.

Periodical Princess

A trip to the mailbox and what do I see?
It's a couple of magazines waiting for me!
Is it Garden Design or Bon Appetite?
Either of those, such a wonderful treat.

Trinkets and treasures from Pottery Barn,
blankets and pillows pretty with yarn.
Seed catalogs maybe, spring's on the way
I've been dreaming of lettuce fresh every day!

But what do I gaze at to my great dismay?
Not something I'd ever want to display.
I'm sure these are loaded with wonderful tips,
but unladylike words just left my lips.

I'm not at all happy, can't say I'm sad.
It's not that either of these mags are bad.
It's just not exacly what I'd hoped to see!
A mag all about cows and their pooh and their pee?