tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55418297207596303572024-03-05T03:31:56.596-05:00On the Garden Path at 5~Acre FarmWhere age, infirmity, and financial hardship meet faith, hope, and a simple dream to be self-sustaining on a small Georgia farm.The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-30443726170306749442012-06-06T11:22:00.001-04:002012-06-06T11:22:56.541-04:00The Thrill Is Gone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grapes growing in the trees between the Kitchen Garden and the dog pen.</td></tr>
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I'm sorry it has been so long since my last post. Somehow, our calendar cleared in May, and we had a couple of very light weeks in which to relax (for the most part). I've spent part of the time still trying to organize the house, and John and I have used some of this time together to finally get our garden in.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new garden, yet unnamed, where the chickens used to live.</td></tr>
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My enthusiasm for the garden this year has really been non-existent. It has taken me months to decide that I even want a garden. Of course, <i>wanting</i> a garden isn't an option for John and I. We <i>have to</i> have a garden to supplement our income, and free up our cash for other necessities. So, perhaps it has been more a case of procrastination. I'm not sure.<br />
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A month or two ago I bought lots of veggie plants while I was waiting to decide, but left them to John's care while I tried to figure out if I was going to participate in the planting of the garden this year or not. I really thought I'd get more interested before now, but John has been very good to wait patiently for me to make up my mind and join him in the garden. I'm glad I finally did.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A variety of sweet and hot peppers in the new garden.</td></tr>
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When my mother passed away two years ago (this August), my life changed significantly. I not only lost my best friend and cooking muse, I lost the best reason I had for getting out of the house for social activity ~ visits to see my parents. It took a lot of time to convince my parents to move to Georgia so we could be closer and take care of each other; but they finally moved here in January, 2006, and I couldn't have been happier! Though I would have loved to have them living next door, the closest property we could find was 20 minutes from 5~Acre Farm. Here at home, or at their place, the four of us would get together <i>at least</i> once a week to share meals, movies, music, laughter, and marvelous, rich, hours-long conversations that were most frequently about scripture, and the deep things of God. These visits were my greatest stimulation and inspiration!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cucumbers in the new garden.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomatoes in the main kitchen garden.</td></tr>
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Since Mother passed, I haven't been very stimulated by or inspired about much of anything. I've tried. I've prayed. I've looked deep into myself. I've looked far outside myself. I've explored options. I've pushed myself. Nothing. My interest in everything seems to have dropped off significantly in spite of my desire otherwise. So, nothing has caught my imagination or stimulated me in the slightest! Well, except for two things. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overflow tomatoes in the spring garden</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Master Chef entry: Neck Bones & Jasmine Rice</td></tr>
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Last fall I auditioned for <b><span style="color: red;">Chef Gordon Ramsay</span></b>'s television show, <b style="color: blue;">Master Chef</b><span style="color: blue;">. <span style="color: black;">The idea of a cooking competition definitely stimulated my imagination and my competitive nature, and it reignited my love of cooking! The fact that I might even have a chance to meet Ramsay was an added incentive. So I spent a couple of weeks going through my recipes and found a "signature dish" that I spent a month perfecting for my audition at the Culinary Institute in Atlanta. Although I was eliminated in an early round of the competition, I had a great time, met some awesome people, gave a young woman a plate (when she realized she was supposed to bring her own and didn't), and, for a little while, I dreamed!</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz73Ncm30izQzPjuNE6Q_hdAuFl3ny1OmB0_ewR01ckEQQHtcIdPMN-D0yQvuGdlKRg_qovX0_PF32zHtkvz9ZD33bqHIhDjbXoguiYYoGNHCQkA-ikqtT4QNIsktRkI7lJwciKNRTWW1D/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz73Ncm30izQzPjuNE6Q_hdAuFl3ny1OmB0_ewR01ckEQQHtcIdPMN-D0yQvuGdlKRg_qovX0_PF32zHtkvz9ZD33bqHIhDjbXoguiYYoGNHCQkA-ikqtT4QNIsktRkI7lJwciKNRTWW1D/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellow Squash and Zucchini</td></tr>
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: black;"><b><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5541829720759630357#editor/target=post;postID=8883452922946375898" style="color: purple;" target="_blank">Smoked Pork Neck Bones & Jasmine Rice</a></b>. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnMvcLQzBjCcT0TlSpK2Hq_8Ro0kc9RI7s4uWrowAjvzww6iiRpiXMkWCfdVZfEP-OGwnKmz7i6iDqFBmn1Q8cXuUxC2U9ZtyMLPFPV0n4LPT3AwS_4Uu2S3QjPVOCy_m9QGLA39lJlqe_/s1600/013.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnMvcLQzBjCcT0TlSpK2Hq_8Ro0kc9RI7s4uWrowAjvzww6iiRpiXMkWCfdVZfEP-OGwnKmz7i6iDqFBmn1Q8cXuUxC2U9ZtyMLPFPV0n4LPT3AwS_4Uu2S3QjPVOCy_m9QGLA39lJlqe_/s320/013.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomatoes, Cucumbers, bolting lettuce, and basil in containers</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBN3jbmo1eeZV87gmXb2RsAuYmdDxcvNiPVKuIWMIXYG31rGWpG1MyKJyAvnx8diQwPtE8_37KLiE2aC63RiERian3-WOfTPCG2-B5MwAPnzjKxEwD1_iS_IEEQiF-CHiTMY-7sZN1T79J/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBN3jbmo1eeZV87gmXb2RsAuYmdDxcvNiPVKuIWMIXYG31rGWpG1MyKJyAvnx8diQwPtE8_37KLiE2aC63RiERian3-WOfTPCG2-B5MwAPnzjKxEwD1_iS_IEEQiF-CHiTMY-7sZN1T79J/s320/006.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first two baby squash!</td></tr>
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: black;">T</span></span>hen, there was my decision to renew this blog in the new year. I have to say, I have enjoyed it. This blog has been a good project for me. It is a daily incentive to find something new and worthwhile to write about. It is stimulation to my creative thinking process, and it gives me a reason to get outside, take more pictures, and observe my life more objectively to see what, if anything, might be interesting to others. It has been challenging, at times, to come up with ideas for the blog, even though some weeks there are so many things going on, I can't begin to write about them all! And it has been surprising to see which posts have gotten the most attention (<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5541829720759630357#editor/target=post;postID=7835168531914249705" target="_blank">recycling an old mattress set</a>, and <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5541829720759630357#editor/target=post;postID=7302015616259118089" target="_blank">handgun classes</a>). It was also truly heartwarming to learn that there are people reading my blog, enjoying it, and even being inspired by it! Wow! I never saw that coming, but it has been a real morale booster, to say the least.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wj5RUL3c3vC9y0GH1cLJF_1q5_SsBy7Lj7OmvhU8WlsWRuVWtsNcBnhIGg7WcWkaJve8LfJ9jlt_OoN01OVV5_3cCBaAqKeHMcSQ4-VWc42vb8mWYJ6JUcPdhI7kghN5AvSUzULrNb7e/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5wj5RUL3c3vC9y0GH1cLJF_1q5_SsBy7Lj7OmvhU8WlsWRuVWtsNcBnhIGg7WcWkaJve8LfJ9jlt_OoN01OVV5_3cCBaAqKeHMcSQ4-VWc42vb8mWYJ6JUcPdhI7kghN5AvSUzULrNb7e/s320/012.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabbage & collards left to flower for the bees and go to seed for collection</td></tr>
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Many homesteaders today work full or part-time jobs. Besides providing an income that keeps their small farms going, employment, and activities with friends, on or away from the farm, provide morale through much needed social stimulation. Friends, co-workers, and those people briefly criss-crossing our lives as they pass through their own, are a breath of fresh air for the isolated homesteader.<br />
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Knowing other people, and meeting new people, is stimulating! Our imaginations are awakened, and our blood stirred by fresh feelings. New thoughts and ideas are often birthed, and we are inspired to dream bigger, reach further, and jump higher than we might have otherwise been inclined to do - because of our relationships with other people. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoK7YJv_k1lrs8ukLneA2mwa767hAorcCvFTKm6aL1AM15IN5N7xyc1tOxKGYyMjaoHDPz7h8xUAuDRG8_2RhTs4s-UeI5fPXNYWnVlwqHHgiqlWAFm1QN2RHaqLLKfqUcs6PcS3BvRoKE/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoK7YJv_k1lrs8ukLneA2mwa767hAorcCvFTKm6aL1AM15IN5N7xyc1tOxKGYyMjaoHDPz7h8xUAuDRG8_2RhTs4s-UeI5fPXNYWnVlwqHHgiqlWAFm1QN2RHaqLLKfqUcs6PcS3BvRoKE/s320/015.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cucumbers</td></tr>
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My own life here at 5~Acre Farm is pretty isolated. John and I visit his family several times a year for birthdays and holiday gatherings, we see members of my family several times a year, and we have a small church family that we gather with each Sunday. Doctor visits and errands, which don't count as social outings (<b><i>or dates</i><i>, John</i></b>), do bring us in contact with others, and are sometimes pleasant and stimulating; but our lives, for no intentional purpose, lack the richness that leisure time with friends offers. What I'm saying is that John and I have each other, but we don't have any close friends. So we manage, and we compensate.<br />
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Facebook is a godsend for the isolated and shut-ins. John and I are both pretty active on Facebook. John is at his computer
for a while each morning and each afternoon, and I'm at my computer on and off all day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV3CwoKYeKxYmB7mOWx0dkTUHpyOacBS6U01DEeNgo4iyTrKkgiEsn-uMN1UnwTLEzHvWw7cW8SVEuPS1w1lSw4uPvkTcbKwZyw8iBm_L8dw2kBogx8aDmRlb9ehIofeo9MTpiuFkwjzHM/s1600/014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV3CwoKYeKxYmB7mOWx0dkTUHpyOacBS6U01DEeNgo4iyTrKkgiEsn-uMN1UnwTLEzHvWw7cW8SVEuPS1w1lSw4uPvkTcbKwZyw8iBm_L8dw2kBogx8aDmRlb9ehIofeo9MTpiuFkwjzHM/s320/014.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny tomatoes!</td></tr>
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Like everyone else, I have several hundred Facebook friends. Many were added because of the FB games I no longer play, and some were added because of common interests like gardening, canning, or prepping. The majority of all these friends are Christian. Overall, I enjoy following everyone's adventures, "Like"-ing their posts, laughing with them, praying with them, and even crying with them when they suffer sorrow. There is only a handful of these friends who cross my path on a daily basis though, whom I feel I've been getting to know a little more than casually; a few people I really like calling friends, who, even online, help fill that social void in my life.<br />
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I have had one very special Facebook friend who met a lot of the criteria I mentioned above. Living on opposite sides of the country, we of course have never met. We haven't spent a lot of time chatting, nor have our conversations been of a personal nature. We simply have been crossing paths once or twice a day for a moment or two, and sharing a few laughs, family stories, gardening experiences, and the Word of God. Most of all, there has been a lot of mutual encouragement through difficult times. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1kpsb9dxnDioBvN10LA-U7VsYk6OLzP77_62UqyFAixu0UM86Vp_onIvlC1VB8Cezkfj7PMPUsooKiJAT0-plG1F0GlAyisXnIQjWbAyXgkzZZTCyaZw_AgRBZVwayPdH0rMKn1vyRqA/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1kpsb9dxnDioBvN10LA-U7VsYk6OLzP77_62UqyFAixu0UM86Vp_onIvlC1VB8Cezkfj7PMPUsooKiJAT0-plG1F0GlAyisXnIQjWbAyXgkzZZTCyaZw_AgRBZVwayPdH0rMKn1vyRqA/s320/007.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our crabapple trees in bloom.</td></tr>
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This week our Facebook friendship ended. In parting ways, I realize that I will sincerely miss what this friend brought to my semi-isolated life; a marvelous sense of humor, a gifted story-telling style, a powerful devotion to family, and an unquenchable desire to serve God at a deep and passionate level. Every encounter we had encouraged me to persevere through my own physical and financial hardships, to re-envision my own dream and keep reaching for it, to laugh and smile, and to remember that I am on a path that God is laying out before me on a moment to moment basis. Sadly, I will not soon get over the loss of this good friend.<br />
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But change comes - joyfully, sorrowfully, confusingly - it comes. Sometimes it is expected, but often enough, it is not, and how frustrating that can be! So, since we can't stop change, we have to figure out where we fit in with change when it comes.<br />
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I think, the thing to do with change is to embrace it. <i>You</i> are still there in the midst of the change, and who you are doesn't have to change - not by your choice and not at the demand of someone else. You simply have to adapt. I simply have to adapt. That's the embrace! Adapting! I've always been good at that. I realize, however, that I haven't been adapting for some time. I think I've been standing stiffly in one place for too long, stubbornly trying not to move until what I'm tired of chasing comes to me. Isn't that ridiculous? How did I ever let myself get stuck there?<br />
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So it's time to loosen up, time to walk away from stubbornness and indecision, to run even, forward, toward that dream I still have for a happy, self-sustainable lifestyle shared with my beloved husband, even if it is only ever just the two of us here at 5~Acre Farm. It's time to embrace the change, even the things I might not like, so I can continue on the path that God is placing before me one step at a time. If the thrill is gone, then it's time for me to find my thrill and get it back!<br />
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What about you? Is there something you need to let go of so you can move forward? Is there some change that you need to embrace so you can adapt and move on? Just remember, God is still there with you, placing your path before you, one step at a time! Now go get your thrill back!</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-31154944684697728812012-05-16T23:25:00.000-04:002012-05-16T23:27:44.038-04:00Happy Birthday Dad!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>Do you know what awesome things happened in 1927? Well, among other things...</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First trans-Atlantic phone call</td></tr>
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The first transatlantic telephone call was made via radio from NYC to London, England on January 7.</li>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FCC created</td></tr>
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The US Federal Radio Commission (later renamed the Federal Communications Commission) began regulating radio frequencies on February 23.</li>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Academy Awards</td></tr>
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The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences was founded on May 11.</li>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charles Lindbergh</td></tr>
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Charles Lindbergh made the first solo nonstop transatlantic flight, from NYC to Paris in his single-seat, single-engine monoplane, the Spirit of St. Louis, May 20-21. </li>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">World Population, 2 Billion</td></tr>
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<li> At some point in 1927, the World population reached 2,000,000,000. (two billion). </li>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhno0X7e89tLA2nBC1F3EOwRCc6Ac7ooLLbTHmkc_dYTnQbCdh3QnQFtCZae6efx8QzNtG25KGFxHRPCJ3wbFkHJGyqtQoJjKCZNq5-ZBnSIehLK5u7L9DkiBWc0Hnkni5BbpjlZ8F0LHZ4/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_275" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhno0X7e89tLA2nBC1F3EOwRCc6Ac7ooLLbTHmkc_dYTnQbCdh3QnQFtCZae6efx8QzNtG25KGFxHRPCJ3wbFkHJGyqtQoJjKCZNq5-ZBnSIehLK5u7L9DkiBWc0Hnkni5BbpjlZ8F0LHZ4/s400/content___media_external_images_media_275" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wish I had a baby picture of Dad!</td></tr>
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b style="color: blue;">And most important of all, on May 16, 1927, my dad, <u>Gentry Wright</u>, was born! </b></li>
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It's rare that I find a good gift for my dad. It isn't that he's hard to please. It's just that he doesn't ever want or need anything. It's been this way all my life! He's the only person I've ever had trouble shopping for. I have to watch him really close for months, or remember things he's mentioned in the past. But this year, I think John and I did good for his birthday!<br />
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This year we decided to take Dad to <b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Family-Billiards-Cafe/148886051845739" style="color: red;" target="_blank">Family Billiards & Cafe</a></b> on Broad Street in Monroe, GA. It's a great, family-oriented billiard parlor, and they serve unbelievably great food! Their menu includes wings, half-pound burgers, hot dogs, and great sides! If you live anywhere near Monroe, you've just got to try this place out!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnKT5tYN0rCAWyfnZSVWkH18gIYNH8-BhxJKVFeA-TCr4r7XD0aEG2SX8jtrhoFqIAF9eVkvY0TbuC_PG4qM1Npnq4mjVEhDX94fuS-ID_IllenR7mdEiXflUNOuO3_agYvpPIHUvNVP0/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_325" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnKT5tYN0rCAWyfnZSVWkH18gIYNH8-BhxJKVFeA-TCr4r7XD0aEG2SX8jtrhoFqIAF9eVkvY0TbuC_PG4qM1Npnq4mjVEhDX94fuS-ID_IllenR7mdEiXflUNOuO3_agYvpPIHUvNVP0/s200/content___media_external_images_media_325" width="178" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFQxg8c7PhPmqQxqmIMQRSWgCvd6zMVJ6nQ0l2z8N6Htuu2So7RlmaorehKE-0-n-d9tWyLMB8OBmMHp47DJ60bwSV1_pipqcqKESNKho5sAgbmtEU9y6dhtA59JkxHrfwB4GM9NPwLJAd/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_308" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFQxg8c7PhPmqQxqmIMQRSWgCvd6zMVJ6nQ0l2z8N6Htuu2So7RlmaorehKE-0-n-d9tWyLMB8OBmMHp47DJ60bwSV1_pipqcqKESNKho5sAgbmtEU9y6dhtA59JkxHrfwB4GM9NPwLJAd/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_308" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFQxg8c7PhPmqQxqmIMQRSWgCvd6zMVJ6nQ0l2z8N6Htuu2So7RlmaorehKE-0-n-d9tWyLMB8OBmMHp47DJ60bwSV1_pipqcqKESNKho5sAgbmtEU9y6dhtA59JkxHrfwB4GM9NPwLJAd/s320/content___media_external_images_media_308" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss Dot</td></tr>
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<b>Dot Jernigan</b> is the manager of Family Billiards & Cafe. She's a really great lady who knows how to to make you feel right at home. It's an added treat that Miss Dot also knows how to cook a really great burger!<br />
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We started the afternoon with a game of pool, and let me tell you, we sucked! Dad used to be a real hustler, and I was known to make some really amazing shots once in a while, but neither of us has played in 40 years! Honestly, we were pathetic, but we kept going, and you know what? We got worse! It took a full hour to finish that first game.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwlWpezGZFk1qEWa61zxdAiU5Cf5mk9jlBHvMb_lgaKN1KVsbMbnXlwx_xpzSToi6RKzblWy17GpiUGwYg4Gh_M_q5XfLjR4CL-IhePG1bCy-IdQlBWO6PQ7igJj6aaBMpPwWwPRujSrQ/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_307" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwlWpezGZFk1qEWa61zxdAiU5Cf5mk9jlBHvMb_lgaKN1KVsbMbnXlwx_xpzSToi6RKzblWy17GpiUGwYg4Gh_M_q5XfLjR4CL-IhePG1bCy-IdQlBWO6PQ7igJj6aaBMpPwWwPRujSrQ/s320/content___media_external_images_media_307" width="240" /></a><br />
So we took a break and had a bite to eat. Dad had the half-pound hamburger and crinkle fries. He was just saying the other day that nobody serves crinkle fries anymore, and he likes them because they're gentle on his gums. So that was a big plus!<br />
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I had the half-pound Chili Cheeseburger, and it had grilled onions on it! OMG! Major yuuuuum! John started with Teriyaki wings and fries, then had two slaw dogs. I'm telling you, even the Diet Cokes tasted better at this place!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXAvdiCtL71SPvQzEvg3qFHVbWLrc1F042F2UMEyDosc1s72-8PBB5J3JukYT-hjpwKwxEKZKFO7jPImkwr-wR-G1i3qRHbpWtdfvcgA6aGqZTYk-GnaDBIJEgkHqPh4uLbbNNvt2knmK/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_292" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXAvdiCtL71SPvQzEvg3qFHVbWLrc1F042F2UMEyDosc1s72-8PBB5J3JukYT-hjpwKwxEKZKFO7jPImkwr-wR-G1i3qRHbpWtdfvcgA6aGqZTYk-GnaDBIJEgkHqPh4uLbbNNvt2knmK/s320/content___media_external_images_media_292" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reporter Rachael Ward interviewing Dad</td></tr>
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While we were there, <b>Rachael Ward</b>, a reporter from the <b><a href="http://waltontribune.com/" style="color: blue;" target="_blank">Walton Tribune</a></b> popped in. I called the paper earlier and found out they would be very interested in doing a story about my 85 year old father, a veteran of three major wars, who served directly under General William Westmoreland in Vietnam, and has a number of other extraordinary life experiences to share!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYud8Xdvz78HXb838E1rllugYrOXu98oO2wBdpjpche6pM6BG5WZT2BU9b38SY-Vj63W5AblfddcKYLc1vG8eKUU7v8Jj7mkYftjw4KL5VGZqaF2FHkyVMaq5SS2A_HflQBrj28aRFutQz/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_288" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYud8Xdvz78HXb838E1rllugYrOXu98oO2wBdpjpche6pM6BG5WZT2BU9b38SY-Vj63W5AblfddcKYLc1vG8eKUU7v8Jj7mkYftjw4KL5VGZqaF2FHkyVMaq5SS2A_HflQBrj28aRFutQz/s320/content___media_external_images_media_288" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner and billiards at Family Billiards & Cafe</td></tr>
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We had a great time today! After we ate, I was surprised to hear Dad say he was up to another game of pool. John and I took alternate shots against Dad. After watching the first game, John said he felt like he could play us on an even field! Believe it or not, Dad and I improved significantly during the second game. We still sucked! We just didn't suck as bad!<br />
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I really love my dad! I'm so glad he's still here with us. I don't know how much longer he's going to stick around (he's anxious to go on and be with my mom), but I'm going to enjoy every minute we have together, and I'm going to keep looking for experiences he can enjoy ~ because he's really tired of sleeping through his days!<br />
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</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-65334028751374080122012-05-15T21:29:00.000-04:002012-05-15T21:29:05.245-04:00Maggie Update<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Maggie is doing great! She had her follow-up with the Veterinarian this afternoon and got a good report. A few more days of antibiotics and she'll be completely out of the woods!<br />
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After we got her to the vet last week, Maggie showed marked improvement within 24 hours, and she has continued to improve with leaps and bounds daily. She's more active, and close to being her old self again!<br />
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The top layer of Maggie's skin, which had turned red with the infection, has yellowed, and is peeling away. The doctor said it was to be expected. The wounds are healing well, so Maggie will be able to spend more time outside, an hour at a time.<br />
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Maggie has even gained a little weight since last Thursday. That's no wonder since her appetite has been good, and she hasn't had to do anything more athletic than lay around the house for the last five days! <br />
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So all is well for now, and we actually have several days in the next two weeks where we aren't scheduled to be anywhere but home! I even had time this evening to do a bit of planting in the garden, but I'll catch you up on that later!<br />
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<br /></div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-35716026216805218262012-05-14T22:17:00.000-04:002012-05-14T22:17:59.652-04:00Early Morning Hospital Visit and Breakfast Out<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My father had cataract surgery this morning. We had to be there at 6:30 a.m.! I couldn't believe it! But Dad was first in, and his surgery was over quickly. <br />
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The surgery went really well. It's remarkable how far medicine has come in just the last 50 years. When I was a small child, my grandmother Carroll had cataracts, and she wore those very thick "coke bottle" glasses. She still could see very little. I can remember my mother trying to point out a bird in the garden, and although grandmother was saying, "Yes, yes, I see it," it was obvious she couldn't. Now, they remove the lens and replace it! I don't know what they replace it with, but its fantastic. My mother had both eyes done a few years ago, and this makes both eyes for my father. Now? His vision is nearly perfect!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In recovery after surgery</td></tr>
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After the surgery, Dad felt well enough to go out to breakfast, so we went to IHop. I don't get to go to IHop very often at all! Well, I've been three times since February (with a guest, after John's dental, and today), but before that? Years!<br />
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So we got home, and it's been quiet all day. All of us took a nap at some point, trying to catch up on the sleep we lost early this morning. <br />
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We're out early again tomorrow morning. Gotta take Dad to the doctor's office to get the patch removed. He'll be using drops for a while, but he isn't having any pain, and his vision will be just great within a week!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hospital volunteer escorted Dad to the curb</td></tr>
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Personally, I'm hoping Dad's vision will be improved by Wednesday. That's his birthday, and John and I are going to take him to a
family-oriented pool hall for hot dogs and a few games.<br />
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Dad used to play
pool often, and he was a real <i style="color: blue;">shark</i>!
It's going to be a surprise, so don't say anything! I'm hoping that
once he has been there and played a few games, that he'll want to go back on a
regular basis. It will give him something to do every once in a while, and keep him active.<br />
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On another topic, Maggie is doing great! She's practically her old self,
and can't figure out why she is getting to stay inside all the time. We
have to take her back to the vet tomorrow, so I'll give you an update
on her condition tomorrow evening.<br />
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Have a good evening, and take care of yourselves! <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Yshjvj0rH9vv8pFa6fTSWMrh48lBDTxM4X97ymRyHJ0zRsxKZpwwRNRt90IMZ_ybVrRTYU599fPUjBwJY3tojOB3o7BgFVpc3pQjcFtdZVL6pTi-veQ2S_CMi0oJUsev5VxGgLfJ1Pfv/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_256" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Yshjvj0rH9vv8pFa6fTSWMrh48lBDTxM4X97ymRyHJ0zRsxKZpwwRNRt90IMZ_ybVrRTYU599fPUjBwJY3tojOB3o7BgFVpc3pQjcFtdZVL6pTi-veQ2S_CMi0oJUsev5VxGgLfJ1Pfv/s320/content___media_external_images_media_256" width="240" /></a><br />
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<br /></div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-2257732926777122962012-05-11T20:22:00.000-04:002012-05-11T20:29:37.070-04:00Maggie Goes to the Veterinarian<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maggie</td></tr>
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There's something I have to tell you. I'm ashamed to tell you, but I have to tell you. I'm horrified that I let it happen, but I want to tell you about it so you can prevent it from happening to you. I don't know. Maybe this would never happen to you. Maybe it's just me, and I really am neglectful. I'm still going over that one in my head.<br />
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I've mentioned before how busy we stay here at 5~Acre Farm. My last post focused on that. Well, it's really easy, when you're busy, to see something (one more thing) that needs your attention and think to yourself, "I need to take care of that, but I don't have time right now," as you're running to your next responsibility. Then, the something you noticed slips your mind until you see it again. Then, when you see it again, you realize it's worse because you didn't take care of it when you first saw it, and the shame rises in you, but not nearly as profoundly as the sudden fear.<br />
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I think it was on Tuesday evening that I noticed our dog, Maggie, had a raw spot on her back, near her tail. It was only the size of a quarter, but it <i>was</i> raw. I was on my way out somewhere, and she was bouncing around quite a bit, so I told myself I'd look at it later. Then I forgot about it, even though I saw Maggie on Wednesday. But she looked fine, and was bouncing around as usual.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March, 2012</td></tr>
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Maggie is around 12 years old, and came to us four years ago, along with Lucy, who is 15 years old.
A close relative of mine lost her home in the mortgage mess that was going on back then, and we
agreed to take her two dogs since she wouldn't be able to keep them anymore. She'd had the two dogs for more than 10 years, and it was terrible to think of them going to a shelter after so long in a family setting. Since John and I already knew Maggie and Lucy, and we
loved them, bringing them to the farm was an easy decision to make.<br />
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Maggie is a favorite, and our most vocal yard-baby. She is always the first to greet us at the gate and announce our arrival home to all the other dogs. She practically sings, she is so vocal, and you'd swear you can hear her saying "I love you!" when she's going on so. As I'm opening the gates, it's common for Maggie to head-butt me in the rear-end, and then slide between my legs affectionately. It's her most emotional greeting, and I've become strangely accustomed to it. Maggie is a large dog, and very furry, but she isn't clumsy at all. In fact, she's very delicate and feminine in her ways. I could say so much more about this adorable dog, but let me just add this, that Maggie is a blessing, a beautiful blessing, and we thank God for the day she and Lucy came to live with us.<br />
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So, Maggie seemed okay on Wednesday. When I saw her, she seemed normal and fine, her usual self. I did spend a minute trying to look for the wound, but she wouldn't hold still, and I couldn't see anything, but I know now, I didn't look close enough. And that is why I feel so ashamed. I should have been more deliberate in checking Maggie out, even if she did seem fine. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the Vet's office, Thursday evening</td></tr>
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Thursday morning I had a doctor's appointment and left. Maggie wasn't there to see me off. When I came home, Maggie was the only dog who didn't show up to greet me. I was aware of her absence, but I kept moving, things to do, you know? Later, in the afternoon, John had to go out. I walked out with him and realized Maggie was nowhere to be seen, and I realized at that point that I had not seen her all day, and that was unusual. John had not seen her either. We both started looking for her. Our house and yard has a six foot chain link fence around it, so if she hadn't gotten out of the fence, she was somewhere in the yard. I soon sent John on his way so he wouldn't miss his appointment. A moment later I found Maggie under the front porch. She was sitting up against the foundation, looking at me, but she wouldn't come when I called her. Big sign to me that something was wrong.<br />
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I went inside and got some bologna to coax Maggie out from under the porch. When I came back, I went to the side of the porch where I would be closer to her, and that's when I saw them, the flies, swarming around her back, and I knew, dear God, I knew what was happening.<br />
<br />
I got Maggie out from under the porch and she was able to walk with me. I took her inside and put her in the bathtub right away. I still couldn't see the wounds through her heavy fur, but I knew what was happening. I began pouring warm water down her back, and rubbing the area with a wet cloth. She sat there quietly letting me, looking at me with such trust in her eyes, but I knew she was in terrible pain. I didn't think the water was accomplishing much, so I ended up pouring two large bottles of hydrogen peroxide down her back where I thought the wounds were (I still couldn't see them).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAMMbx-RWKO6dUQLBzV7PqKZkE8LccH_kZE9-FRpnQDkoMkUjZw9IhEWLbe7Ri14uCfFtKq-MrEaV6Mp2rXBng96gU7NvVeJkic404hfZw1fx9-55vUpR-cvC6uDZAzsXLpcPS1xkv2dGA/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_216%25281%2529" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAMMbx-RWKO6dUQLBzV7PqKZkE8LccH_kZE9-FRpnQDkoMkUjZw9IhEWLbe7Ri14uCfFtKq-MrEaV6Mp2rXBng96gU7NvVeJkic404hfZw1fx9-55vUpR-cvC6uDZAzsXLpcPS1xkv2dGA/s320/content___media_external_images_media_216%25281%2529" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Today, back shaved. Red area indicates infection</td></tr>
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I called our Veterinarian's office for advice, and waited for the doctor to call me back. In the meantime, I called John too, and told him what was happening. He cancelled his meeting (which was a very important one), and he came right home. The vet's office called back, and I told them we were bringing Maggie in.<br />
<br />
We were at the Vet's office at 5 p.m., and by now, Maggie couldn't walk. John and I put her in a blanket and carried her to the car rescue style (the way we'd learned in CERT training), then into the Vet's office and straight to the back where we put her in a tub. The assistant began shaving Maggie immediately (no small feat for the amount of fur she has); and here's the awful, shameful, disgusting part... Maggie's wounds were filled with maggots! That's what I knew when I saw the flies around her under the porch.<br />
<br />
The doctor was so upset by what she saw, she wanted to accuse us of neglect, and I was so distraught, I almost let her, but I knew we'd missed it primarily because Maggie is an outside dog, and her fur is so thick. This whole incident had happened in less than 48 hours!<br />
<br />
"She isn't out of the woods yet," the doctor told us. They had shaved most of Maggie's back, cleaned out all the maggots, and pumped her full of fluids and antibiotics. If they didn't tell us that Maggie was too far gone to save, I thought they'd want to keep her overnight, but she was well enough to go home by 8 p.m., and it was an added blessing that her blood tests came back with positive results. The doctor didn't expect that at all! We'd caught it in the very nick of time!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWzOlIEUV05PCzkesR4j6a6lqgF49izILnJuLnB46jTIhyphenhyphengAboKW9YFWrJK3bh9uUvJ_qOl9XTYBZdyYL0C-fYyXOJ8zN_kxqHWAPaOADXRm6BPDfrSJ691OFb6Loz3QPeZBFvWrWff1w/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_224" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWzOlIEUV05PCzkesR4j6a6lqgF49izILnJuLnB46jTIhyphenhyphengAboKW9YFWrJK3bh9uUvJ_qOl9XTYBZdyYL0C-fYyXOJ8zN_kxqHWAPaOADXRm6BPDfrSJ691OFb6Loz3QPeZBFvWrWff1w/s320/content___media_external_images_media_224" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Resting at home this evening</td></tr>
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<br />
Maggie is fighting a massive infection! She'll be on antibiotics and pain meds for a while, but she is showing strong signs of recovery. She spent last night and most of today just resting <i>inside</i>. This evening, she is walking around a bit, sitting, scratching, and doing normal dog things. Her appetite is good, and she is drinking sufficient amounts of water. She's able to go out to use the bathroom, and John or I have gone with her to make sure no more flies bother her. My dad even went out today and bought a liquid bandage (for dogs) to use on the wounds when she goes out.<br />
<br />
We've got a follow-up visit with the veterinarian on Tuesday afternoon. I'm confident that Maggie will show marked improvement... at least, that is my prayer.<br />
<br />
<br />
I am so grateful that Maggie has survived this ordeal. John and I have talked, and we realize that we need to stop letting the chaos of other people's lives, and unexpected events, take us away from our primary responsibilities here on the farm. What are our primary responsibilities? Each other and my dad, our animals, and then the house and land.<br />
<br />
John and I have always had a tendency to drop what we're doing and run to the rescue of others in need. It's been our ministry in some respects. We have poured out ourselves and our resources for the sake of others. However, when doing so means that serious problems develop at home, because we aren't there to deal with them, then our ministry is tainted, and we aren't truly honoring God. We aren't being good stewards of those lives and the property that He has put in our care. Home is and should be, our primary ministry. Home is every Christian's primary ministry. We should work outwards from there.<br />
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Although John and I want to continue doing whatever we can to help those who call upon us, and others who are in need, we realize that it's time for us to pay more attention to our responsibilities at home; each other, my dad, our animals, and the house and land. In other words, we need to get our house in order, or we're not going to be any good to any one!<br />
<br />
<br />
<u><i>Things</i> are not as important as <b>life</b>, any life</u>. This is a really important piece of wisdom that busy people need to realize and hold on to when the tornadoes of life are carrying us away. Somehow, lately, I've let "things" distract me, and I haven't given adequate time to "life"; my yard-babies, my dad, my husband, and, frankly, myself.<br />
<br />
If I don't take care of my car, and it dies, I can get another car. If I
don't take care of my garden and it dies, I can plant more vegetables. But if I don't take care of the lives that
have been placed in my care, and they die, they cannot be replaced, and their loss will be felt deeply and profoundly.<br />
<br />
If you live a very busy life that tends to push you around a lot, I hope you are (or will be soon) making time to take care of <b>life</b>; your life, your family's lives, and your animals' lives (especially if you have a small farm, and those animals live outside all the time). Life is more important than anything, and it is meant to be appreciated, and enjoyed!<br />
<br />
Time to change things up, don't you think? </div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-542742513222731132012-05-08T16:31:00.000-04:002012-05-08T16:32:30.332-04:00A Busy Month of May, and Samantha Is Growing Up<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad waiting to see Samantha at the Vet's office</td></tr>
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Well, my computer was in the shop for nearly a week, and although I have a Xoom Pad, I couldn't access my blog account on it for some reason. Grrrr! Very frustrating! I've got my laptop back now, however, and I'm ready to go!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc620ix7HKKVEHShq-q833Hfz_1Tc26OYk99zynE0dvGhDKcQqkAfWwWYFWuiqRahs-2th5Jhx6QQL0RwO90kT9Wq5aCA3M1wjvR3dQN3Z7Ef9IclkSHPLoKY6KmUpVLv7BXKGGYZ0_QEn/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_194" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc620ix7HKKVEHShq-q833Hfz_1Tc26OYk99zynE0dvGhDKcQqkAfWwWYFWuiqRahs-2th5Jhx6QQL0RwO90kT9Wq5aCA3M1wjvR3dQN3Z7Ef9IclkSHPLoKY6KmUpVLv7BXKGGYZ0_QEn/s320/content___media_external_images_media_194" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samantha with the Vet</td></tr>
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In this blog, I frequently mention that we stay pretty busy here at 5~Acre Farm, not just with farm chores, but with numerous appointments and errands, and those surprises that pop up in-between.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjFCBy_dOqARw5xN9l9UJ1hBrj8rr1S2m2TCPa5F32OOQhy_hEdXjg-DCGP6YMXx3SE4tSe8PZloo0bWIJKXwm3ph22_0ZGxeiYQDwFqwtPfYiC_4lxL_c9ErBDnhHA4w1vyoMN5NkX41S/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_202" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjFCBy_dOqARw5xN9l9UJ1hBrj8rr1S2m2TCPa5F32OOQhy_hEdXjg-DCGP6YMXx3SE4tSe8PZloo0bWIJKXwm3ph22_0ZGxeiYQDwFqwtPfYiC_4lxL_c9ErBDnhHA4w1vyoMN5NkX41S/s320/content___media_external_images_media_202" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going home, post-surgery</td></tr>
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Well, May has not been an exception to that rule. In just the first eight days of this month we have had no less than nine engagements; and the remainder of the month is filling up fast!<br />
<br />
I just wish I could remember to take photographs more often so I can post them here and talk about them!<br />
<br />
<br />
<u><b>Our Schedule So Far This Month</b></u><br />
<br />
May 1 Morning: Dad: Pre-surgery eye exam<br />
and X-ray at VA clinic<br />
May 2 Morning: Me: blood work at my Dr.'s office<br />
May 3 Morning: John and Me: Job Fair in Lawrenceville<br />
Afternoon: John: Cardio Clinic at VA Atlanta<br />
May 4 Morning: Samantha to vet for spaying;<br />
Dad: Pre-surgery eye measurements<br />
Afternoon: Pick up Samantha from vet <br />
May 5 All day: Chantal and Gentry visit;<br />
we all went out to dinner<br />
May 7 Evening: Beekeepers' MeetingWatkinsville<br />
May 8 Morning: Me: check up with my doctor<br />
<br />
We missed church on Sunday due to sheer exhaustion (and I really wasn't feeling well)!<br />
All I can say is, it's like this every month!<br />
<br />
<b>More About Samantha </b><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERvFeEecYOkHZmTWed6LanZxP0YmLuwRPa-6oKMGjSgEXop0_cTou8dDdbhzAb_4qwTAgbkMXKuM_GJNqQP2hm4UNBCnU4dbBybTnqJhG5y-i1hAieWoHJvgUgmqwb5NemrWVHjslM-Dg/s1600/001.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhERvFeEecYOkHZmTWed6LanZxP0YmLuwRPa-6oKMGjSgEXop0_cTou8dDdbhzAb_4qwTAgbkMXKuM_GJNqQP2hm4UNBCnU4dbBybTnqJhG5y-i1hAieWoHJvgUgmqwb5NemrWVHjslM-Dg/s320/001.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny Samantha, 8 wks old, Dec 2011</td></tr>
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The biggest thing so far this month was Samantha's surgery. Not a big deal, really, getting a dog spayed, but for some reason all of us were over-concerned. John and I took a long time deciding to get it done. We debated about breeding her and letting her have a litter of pups. She'd be a great mom! But in the end, to insure <i>her</i> best health, we opted for the surgery.<br />
<br />
Samantha was a scant eight weeks old when I got her in December of 2011, a tiny handful of terrified fur. We all fell instantly in love with her, especially my father, and the infatuation (extravagant passion or attraction) has continued!<br />
<br />
With Samantha, I get why people call their pets their "babies." She's a dog, but she is the closest thing I've had to a baby in a very long time. There are a hundred things I could mention that back me up on this, that prove why she is like a baby, but I promise I won't do that to you. It would be like taking out a wallet and pulling out that long, two-sided acordian of pictures that I'd expect you to "ooh" and "ahh" over as I describe each and every photo! I just can't do that to you!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicjh25w3EeXdcIuY2jDso1_BdRIu4Ar2x0o9q_5Jna8NtjmK8NLyRcyaI6VHsM5SdqaPY7HWFCR5g8SSXKPExbidH_y37qkpDvN2uEfyMdXh56VpWVCAmxc8HZiTm2-kU0XsrgpfQWSOL1/s1600/Samantha+Jan+2012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicjh25w3EeXdcIuY2jDso1_BdRIu4Ar2x0o9q_5Jna8NtjmK8NLyRcyaI6VHsM5SdqaPY7HWFCR5g8SSXKPExbidH_y37qkpDvN2uEfyMdXh56VpWVCAmxc8HZiTm2-kU0XsrgpfQWSOL1/s320/Samantha+Jan+2012.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">January, 2012</td></tr>
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<br />
I can only say that this little girl is spoiled rotten by all of us, bullies and bosses all the other dogs, harasses the chickens daily, and gets her way in just about everything. And why not? She continuously entertains us, makes us smile and laugh, and heals our wounded souls just by climbing into our laps and licking our faces. She sleeps with my dad almost every night, and I'm delighted that she is so much good company for him. He has had far fewer sad days since we got her.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsS4DqHEexGRc5aKjvCth3T93IzqTHFq7h6EhcxCCyN89OpCclpLYA-4mTpRZfcFnJL_9iyI_mT5VxfOU9sJkjlAVJiNubKSK8gxH4OAaCKZIvlrcsbi8c6HzG6Onrh0fjwetcMMGmHSPA/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsS4DqHEexGRc5aKjvCth3T93IzqTHFq7h6EhcxCCyN89OpCclpLYA-4mTpRZfcFnJL_9iyI_mT5VxfOU9sJkjlAVJiNubKSK8gxH4OAaCKZIvlrcsbi8c6HzG6Onrh0fjwetcMMGmHSPA/s320/003.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 2012</td></tr>
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I have to say though, that I am always secretly delighted on those once-in-a-while late nights when Samantha trots into our bedroom, jumps up on the bed, licks me in the face to say hello, and then settles herself down between John and me. It is a blessed comfort to one (me) who doesn't think she needs comforting that often.<br />
<br />
Samantha is smart, and is different with each of us. She plays quietly and naps a lot with my Dad, comes to me for slightly rougher play and comforting, and leaves John alone until he comes to her. Then she rolls over in that "you're the man (alpha)" kind of way that acknowledges John's leadership position, licks him on the nose when he gets close enough, and runs off when he looks away.<br />
<br />
Outside, Samantha does harass the other dogs, as I mentioned. They didn't like her at first, which puzzled me. They've always been open and accepting when new dogs came. Then I realized, they just didn't know what to do with her! She was so tiny, so full of energy, and so zipping around like a bullet! Samantha plays rough, runs hard with the big dogs when they take off, and she never acknowledges that she is low dog on the totem pole. While all the other dogs are sitting around panting, it's Samantha helps herd and re-pen stray chickens. When she goes out each morning, the chicken pen is the first place she heads to, announcing her arrival and her authority!<br />
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Well, back to this busy month! Catch you all later!<br />
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<br /></div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-73020156162591180892012-04-29T22:18:00.000-04:002012-04-29T22:18:44.850-04:00Ready... Aim... Would You?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">9mm Smith & Wesson Semi-Automatic</td></tr>
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<u><b>Concentrate</b></u><br />
<i style="color: #274e13;">"Concentration or the lack of it is what separates good shooters from mediocre shooters. Even if you know the fundamentals, it takes a lot of concentration to make yourself think about them for <u>every</u> shot. Shooting a handgun well does not take a great deal of strength, but it does take a great deal of concentration - it's simple, but not necessarily easy. You must block out external distractions and think about each and every shot </i><i style="color: #274e13;">before and, </i><i style="color: #274e13;">as you fire it, not afterwards." </i>- Fundamentals of Handgun Shooting (Walton Co. publication)<br />
<br />
John and I spent Saturday morning at the Walton County Sheriff's Office thoroughly enjoying a "<i><b><span style="color: blue;">Personal Self Defense and Handgun Safety</span></b></i>" class. Captain Bobby Tribble led the class, and was a genuine wealth of information, and completely entertaining! Turns out he has taught in a Police Academy, and he was chosen to train a group of 72 citizens (out of 1000) from Haiti, who had come to the States to be trained as Haiti's first police force! How cool is that?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0lTKZ4qIBhDDeNnhuEaKIlCFnywp01wmVOe7DrTLbpzmjtw1nP1aRVFYJyn26vLyf1p2lscJppFMPOUEdUrqokNFl9o9ASFKnil8HaAlyZpBvjJUHAhvNzA3dszfN31So9yVAWWAcvSi/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_154" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0lTKZ4qIBhDDeNnhuEaKIlCFnywp01wmVOe7DrTLbpzmjtw1nP1aRVFYJyn26vLyf1p2lscJppFMPOUEdUrqokNFl9o9ASFKnil8HaAlyZpBvjJUHAhvNzA3dszfN31So9yVAWWAcvSi/s320/content___media_external_images_media_154" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Captain Bobby Tribble, Walton Co. Sheriff"s Dept.<br />
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We spent the majority of the class going over the various situations in which we might need to use a gun to protect ourselves,and/or someone else, and the Georgia laws that address those situations.<br />
<br />
We learned that we are "justified in threatening or using force against another when" we have a reasonable belief that "such threat or force is necessary to defend ... against such other's imminent use of unlawful force" and "justified in using force which is intended or likely to cause death or great bodily harm only if [we reasonably believe] that such force is necessary to prevent death or great bodily injury ... or to prevent the commission of a forcible felony." (O.C.G.A. 16-31-21)<br />
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In other words, we can use a gun to protect ourselves and others who might be with us. We can shoot anyone we think is threatening our lives. We cannot shoot anyone whose intent appears to be burglary or simple theft. We cannot shoot anyone who is causing damage to any part of our property, our pets, or our livestock. Pets and livestock are considered property. If, however, when confronted, a burglar, or those causing damage turn with an intent to do us bodily harm, then we can shoot them.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFVhlWkMUK_Fjn70qSBVXYLevn7wHiaY8qflDcmIUzfaZMkgQwSSnqsHK-5zlBWHOLnuhfkZ1eCpXKOtftvks2KdUN31q-1F9d8plVn0OxHc8k5OxhMsNx-Xw7dVASl9vWHoX6H-Zupj5B/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_136" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFVhlWkMUK_Fjn70qSBVXYLevn7wHiaY8qflDcmIUzfaZMkgQwSSnqsHK-5zlBWHOLnuhfkZ1eCpXKOtftvks2KdUN31q-1F9d8plVn0OxHc8k5OxhMsNx-Xw7dVASl9vWHoX6H-Zupj5B/s320/content___media_external_images_media_136" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Class members, 15 yard range</td></tr>
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There is a whole lot more, but these are the basic considerations when deciding to pull a gun on someone who is threatening our life or property here in Georgia.<br />
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One of the most interesting things we learned in this class is that in Walton County, GA, we can own as many guns as we want as long as we have a permit, and concealed weapons (on person or in vehicle) are encouraged. <br />
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We spent the final hour of the class out on the firing range. John and I didn't have our own guns, so we had to wait our turn to use one provided by the Sheriff's Department. Although we have a couple of rifles, we do not own any handguns at this time. I wanted to wait until after the class to choose and buy my own gun. I wanted to be clear about what kind of gun would be best for me. That's a good thing, because out on the firing range there were several elderly ladies who learned that the guns they had brought with them were too powerful for them. They had too much recoil for these ladies to handle.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCAaMjToo5BKX_IoMsEgYaWlQMVyyQjkGUJg97q82rvVnKg4Jlaq2O1apCjk6vClVRhIMLunWPm3GwO8t11O2GNfVY_HffLUF44xlKS0pdKKU-qitrazEh4xb1JIu_HjPY60c4itLM8N6n/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_144" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCAaMjToo5BKX_IoMsEgYaWlQMVyyQjkGUJg97q82rvVnKg4Jlaq2O1apCjk6vClVRhIMLunWPm3GwO8t11O2GNfVY_HffLUF44xlKS0pdKKU-qitrazEh4xb1JIu_HjPY60c4itLM8N6n/s320/content___media_external_images_media_144" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John practicing with a semi-automatic</td></tr>
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During discussions in class, I decided that I prefer a semi-automatic to a revolver. A small revolver, like a Saturday Night Special, has less recoil than a standard revolver; but a semi-automatic has even less recoil than the Special, and it's lighter weight. It doesn't require as much trigger pull strength either. A semi-automatic holds more bullets than a revolver, and being easier to reload, you can have a large number of rounds quickly and easily at hand. I also learned that the majority of law enforcement officers in America carry a 9mm semi-automatic. In Walton County, they use a Smith & Wesson. Captain Tribble offered that he thought the Smith & Wesson is a better made gun. In the three years our Sheriff's deputies have been using it, they haven't experienced the first misfire, jam, or breakage. You can't beat that!<br />
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Out on the range, I fired a semi-automatic, and it confirmed that this is the gun I want. I'm not only thinking about self-defense, I'm thinking toward the possibility of civil unrest brought on by an economic collapse or natural catastrophe, in which home defense might become a primary concern. (It could happen.) If our government were to break down, and/or the economy were to collapse, chaos would see the development of smaller pockets of society, and the possibility of roaming gangs with violent intent. (It could happen.) In such a situation, bartering might replace a monetary system. Because a 9mm semi-automatic is a very popular gun, and plentiful at this time, parts and ammo would be easier to find and barter for than most other guns and ammo.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOLV3_j-rCtcUOFs6X6Jh7S30lltz8BnsQTr7Zvzu3wiz7m2JKmR21p_64b_DCyYCyqXZAzvNYr84DaZNcV_99ptRvwr01_wMbZs5D4UJtsSeDgXVvcwD4Qv4P9CPiH-asfwz6twEeTAnd/s1600/content___media_external_images_media_135" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOLV3_j-rCtcUOFs6X6Jh7S30lltz8BnsQTr7Zvzu3wiz7m2JKmR21p_64b_DCyYCyqXZAzvNYr84DaZNcV_99ptRvwr01_wMbZs5D4UJtsSeDgXVvcwD4Qv4P9CPiH-asfwz6twEeTAnd/s320/content___media_external_images_media_135" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#9: John's target. #10: My target</td></tr>
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When I fired the first shot, I hit my target dead center. Not bad for someone who hasn't fired a gun since she was five years old. I've held plenty, I just haven't fired them. Oh, and I was only standing 15 yards from the target!<br />
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With that first shot I felt the power of the weapon in my hand, and I instantly, in that split second, thought about that target being a human being, and all the implications that pulling that trigger would mean if it were a human being I was firing at. Isn't that something we all ask ourselves, even if we've never held a gun? Can I do it? Can I kill someone?<br />
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My dad taught me how to fire a rifle when I was five years old. That was my one and only lesson, and I've never forgotten it. Dad was career Army. He served in three major wars. My brother served three years in the Army. He and my dad were in Vietnam at the same time. (It nearly drove my mother insane). My husband, John, was in the Navy for 10 years during the Cold War, and "rumor has it" a lot more happened during that war than the government wants us to know.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQK7XWf5GQbVhEGg3u1smUqRCe0opnd0nOX3O85GwAtv9IQR2KM5VIn1fbpk118zkJrNXFQAqmAA1gQcBL10_golpWTM1zCXy18bpnmyQV10IqZmHvY1HzQvvDM5p5jH5QZumiNDRLNPKu/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQK7XWf5GQbVhEGg3u1smUqRCe0opnd0nOX3O85GwAtv9IQR2KM5VIn1fbpk118zkJrNXFQAqmAA1gQcBL10_golpWTM1zCXy18bpnmyQV10IqZmHvY1HzQvvDM5p5jH5QZumiNDRLNPKu/s320/005.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My target. Not bad shooting!</td></tr>
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My point is that I have lived my whole life aware of guns, their power, and their usage. I've even been hunting a few times, although we didn't find any game, I was glad I didn't kill anything. I didn't have the heart to kill an innocent animal for sport; and I didn't need it for food. However, I have also known that if I had to, I would kill an animal to feed my family, and if I ever determine that it is the only choice I have, I <i>will</i> kill any human being I determine is threatening "bodily injury or death" to myself, someone I love, or someone I recognize is in immediate danger of life and health. I sincerely do pray that I never have to make that choice, but I have to make myself ready to make that choice, and if the day ever does come, believe me, I know what choice I will make.<br />
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</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-88532897503826777672012-04-28T21:23:00.000-04:002012-04-29T09:55:31.860-04:00Sweet Dreams, Lulu<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvzleXvxj5GPDYJSMY5lITl9J0S3Qi-1dZW7SnmXbTg-UtMoDbvx3AXrGRs8lb7JMBcmy9nS72R_Dg5MoksYrt_Z9rEwL__67U31wy0DT4K1-24ZglCmtP9GkYHPdx3-AUIwfJ0YBUaLv/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8YgQWPKOJidemfzZSHRgaHBXKXt48nT8pl6Gx_Z6jDalt5FRA6M-3XkxuvPFHKmqBjbM_pNBenknyllYy6BImwFCP5SnvS5NfYPIb8U1l9t2HN-CKZG9lFpBGiKR1TDwFwKP8PyqCU41/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8YgQWPKOJidemfzZSHRgaHBXKXt48nT8pl6Gx_Z6jDalt5FRA6M-3XkxuvPFHKmqBjbM_pNBenknyllYy6BImwFCP5SnvS5NfYPIb8U1l9t2HN-CKZG9lFpBGiKR1TDwFwKP8PyqCU41/s320/004.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John, and Jesse James Carroll walking the burial site</td></tr>
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We buried Lulu early this morning, not long after sun-up.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8nemKSlsqjU7JscET7FNxuncGZue5cq1VkIIGp-8j0vPUCtdncBuqrWm407O25p9DHpnB_zhyphenhyphenkMBgcfO-1hnE1YOKqXxIXztm7D9qS4WoVci62x0DN4DpWlACRWd8xYmE8TtrmmwZX3o/s1600/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8nemKSlsqjU7JscET7FNxuncGZue5cq1VkIIGp-8j0vPUCtdncBuqrWm407O25p9DHpnB_zhyphenhyphenkMBgcfO-1hnE1YOKqXxIXztm7D9qS4WoVci62x0DN4DpWlACRWd8xYmE8TtrmmwZX3o/s320/011.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jesse begins digging the hole that will be Lulu's grave</td></tr>
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When you bury a beloved family pet in the back yard, perhaps you have a simple ceremony, wrapping the pet in a favorite blanket, and leaving a favorite toy with him in a small grave you've dug yourself. You whisper your good-byes amid tears of love and sorrow, and perhaps you leave a small marker, or plant a flowering bush as a reminder. I've done it many times myself. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRrizQFE5pDdc4G6lCcStQYuhad4_3ucUh7lzAC8bs-ZZN6nIxnJRDvTXX8ubVS2-RYoHEPSXiW3f6FPkR5PjHwI1pVgofdcxMdxD2Lh-ynsE7kBoGvlyQvyFx12thzyekTzhYi1zcjPW/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRrizQFE5pDdc4G6lCcStQYuhad4_3ucUh7lzAC8bs-ZZN6nIxnJRDvTXX8ubVS2-RYoHEPSXiW3f6FPkR5PjHwI1pVgofdcxMdxD2Lh-ynsE7kBoGvlyQvyFx12thzyekTzhYi1zcjPW/s320/016.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hard, dense clay soil. Difficult even for the bobcat</td></tr>
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On a farm, however, when you're burying an animal much larger than a
family pet, especially in hot weather, you need a bigger area and a
deeper hole, something larger than a shovel to dig with, and speed, in
order to get ahead of the decay.<br />
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Yesterday, John was able to find a man who agreed to bring his bobcat
over and bury Lulu for us. Jesse James Carroll, quite a character we
found out, came over yesterday afternoon and looked over the area where
he would dig the hole. He is a very nice man, and he quoted us a very
reasonable price for the job. He was also quite sympathetic to our loss.
That was a nice bonus for us, we thought.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK3DiOw8bUxjbVGYB1jVwHnPoMGSLJnr_le9VDEIlfGTn4HQ27QrFfrjf186pbPkoQEXFusHmGQNehLmIinWiozcAsVT4TJXOKLxv1b85eiSTspxnGFQ9tsi7QWP580VUXTXZN791KUVHv/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK3DiOw8bUxjbVGYB1jVwHnPoMGSLJnr_le9VDEIlfGTn4HQ27QrFfrjf186pbPkoQEXFusHmGQNehLmIinWiozcAsVT4TJXOKLxv1b85eiSTspxnGFQ9tsi7QWP580VUXTXZN791KUVHv/s320/021.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last scoop being removed</td></tr>
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From start to finish, the whole process took about 45 minutes. The "hole" was not really a hole, but a scooped out area deep on one end and shallow on the other. When it was ready, John dragged the container (an old water trough) with Lulu in it, down into the hole and, very unceremoniously, dumped Lulu into the deep end.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrigWxnU-pafDhaKsSVO5Str9iXu5UsuPFgqHeoqJrQJz_LcThA9bsI6AUpAOcSZgKjShoeNCnLctsbWtJFdsf0L_hUO1nbUCjZBjSDCRmvoPTPRKsMw3rBqqCN_6mwBvwwZ9tdHipyI7/s1600/024.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUrigWxnU-pafDhaKsSVO5Str9iXu5UsuPFgqHeoqJrQJz_LcThA9bsI6AUpAOcSZgKjShoeNCnLctsbWtJFdsf0L_hUO1nbUCjZBjSDCRmvoPTPRKsMw3rBqqCN_6mwBvwwZ9tdHipyI7/s320/024.JPG" width="320" /></a>Although I took lots of pictures of the entire process, including pictures of Lulu in her grave, I have chosen not to post many of them here, desiring to be sensitive to readers who might find such pictures too difficult to view. However, I did include one picture that shows Lulu already partially covered with soil. I thought it was important to the goals of this blog to show the full reality of farm life, and how we must deal with some things in a very pragmatic way, even when they affect us emotionally.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-sOgCFuC5CuQ6bXvHnLaiIMvqepRzArlnIhEGlag4tEB2uVeJ7uA0PseJ8rBGo0VcB7MonHyFI0uYbH4CyYXCvuaYuhDXHkGwM8YtCePdeaiFxsJO9BZZ-gTjK2KkwKH7mPflY2D9dYb/s1600/026.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-sOgCFuC5CuQ6bXvHnLaiIMvqepRzArlnIhEGlag4tEB2uVeJ7uA0PseJ8rBGo0VcB7MonHyFI0uYbH4CyYXCvuaYuhDXHkGwM8YtCePdeaiFxsJO9BZZ-gTjK2KkwKH7mPflY2D9dYb/s320/026.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifRg3Cyy7pu_DGprhvvI8Y4gNcCeKKjwuVLQK542wbqiM_FpvPtNmxiF46NLLd_Ycn-Ej_y16t47SVir9QXi7kBOMgE6TmqxLd2DtlgA7VCLuhd_qO7h0TEGsEZRWXU_BsYpcOHPQsb17O/s1600/025.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>I said my good-byes to Lulu yesterday, but spoke another quiet good-bye
this morning as the first scoop of dirt fell over her. John too, I found
out later, said his good-byes during the burial process. Neither of us
cried. It's difficult to muster tears when there's a stranger digging a huge hole in your back yard with giant machinery. We were both too busy
watching the bobcat jerk back and forth and around to think about how we were feeling about losing Lulu. It was rather
nerve-wracking, actually, and we were both relieved when it was over.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhphhPhkFGTNYA8XI4cQaWSusfFkAYFOlnYwfaxiAGrj_HkdrkDgtNMEHIDHWtUiKP7_EY53oNwwxRwc-tsvOSH8wKKASkrxVNu_yoAksgm1qWDPqR2t6J-a9hCTXKuWNtNgSOS2j9oJaU6/s1600/032.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhphhPhkFGTNYA8XI4cQaWSusfFkAYFOlnYwfaxiAGrj_HkdrkDgtNMEHIDHWtUiKP7_EY53oNwwxRwc-tsvOSH8wKKASkrxVNu_yoAksgm1qWDPqR2t6J-a9hCTXKuWNtNgSOS2j9oJaU6/s1600/032.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhphhPhkFGTNYA8XI4cQaWSusfFkAYFOlnYwfaxiAGrj_HkdrkDgtNMEHIDHWtUiKP7_EY53oNwwxRwc-tsvOSH8wKKASkrxVNu_yoAksgm1qWDPqR2t6J-a9hCTXKuWNtNgSOS2j9oJaU6/s320/032.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPB7jNUA-Ym6lDdmsrlBIcKWLvn2FJxpVov3aDTH9CjEwVe382KLC-qKvQBwMkkRK6Gmz17SNX5z0TUE8MO7sPUhnb6aPkjyFgWZUV4dMHqX_dikjLTuMcPT_HmSN1H9uVkQrLsOVJHWh/s1600/035.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPB7jNUA-Ym6lDdmsrlBIcKWLvn2FJxpVov3aDTH9CjEwVe382KLC-qKvQBwMkkRK6Gmz17SNX5z0TUE8MO7sPUhnb6aPkjyFgWZUV4dMHqX_dikjLTuMcPT_HmSN1H9uVkQrLsOVJHWh/s320/035.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8MKcr0GJhM1BNRV4qLP6gz7ZQsQhTpkA8coqL7vsFWWXVZE9w1rDqygQF1eay5ctJWmsql6iYK2gltqZEjwTC894Yvqg-0zKffF5_7Dd1h_Rpz0oDLobu19dqKxeDuN2ytncfl7wtyMm/s1600/040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8MKcr0GJhM1BNRV4qLP6gz7ZQsQhTpkA8coqL7vsFWWXVZE9w1rDqygQF1eay5ctJWmsql6iYK2gltqZEjwTC894Yvqg-0zKffF5_7Dd1h_Rpz0oDLobu19dqKxeDuN2ytncfl7wtyMm/s320/040.JPG" width="320" /></a> John and I had to leave rather quickly after Lulu was buried this
morning. We had been scheduled for more than a month to attend a gun
safety class at the Sheriff's Department, and we were already going to
be late. So we had no time for a ceremony for Lulu's passing. We're okay
with that. It doesn't mean we loved Lulu any less than we did the other
pets we've lost and cried over, and buried with ceremony. It just means
that even on a farm the business of life keeps us moving forward,
preventing us from standing still in any one moment for too long. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7WH2Y80AEOaJmJw9UPaPJR78Yr9J8vaG92I7sR97hCpCPCodhbZdMPR1xzavbHSTtyI73rBw4RVUFRsXSzGRdjdXLsNAh0p-97WvLn45DetTkBA5dWHWbK1GgIrvQhNPg-bKx76t0h9Y/s1600/036.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi7WH2Y80AEOaJmJw9UPaPJR78Yr9J8vaG92I7sR97hCpCPCodhbZdMPR1xzavbHSTtyI73rBw4RVUFRsXSzGRdjdXLsNAh0p-97WvLn45DetTkBA5dWHWbK1GgIrvQhNPg-bKx76t0h9Y/s320/036.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7P-yaQED6U8ngX7culwVIlfZSgr2oerQMwg9nUNqZDhRgAfcDHC_mSVoeFMrI5q9sBCcX7HYbS6E22IE-1zfrOd5v5RkX0ohVKdN8bEuEPfhnJAG758Z26I0GTlbtxlBydh2umRkCCLtQ/s1600/043.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-66745900999824876192012-04-27T21:30:00.000-04:002012-04-27T22:50:55.535-04:00Lulu In Our Hearts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Lulu died today.<br />
<br />
Of all the aging animals on our farm that I daily expect to find dead, Lulu wasn't one of them. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYpRYKagPEVbSbHw1HvWVSK9HUFbmqotzDWCfELWmOqv3il0sZmur_7s-Tk4U-VG6PvnASQepgMJN_fcTmbl8na36DXb7LrxHPXfjcvmgm82Nbm80vVziXrHqQxflqTQvRhJHC0etI0fKS/s1600/2430+-+Copy.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYpRYKagPEVbSbHw1HvWVSK9HUFbmqotzDWCfELWmOqv3il0sZmur_7s-Tk4U-VG6PvnASQepgMJN_fcTmbl8na36DXb7LrxHPXfjcvmgm82Nbm80vVziXrHqQxflqTQvRhJHC0etI0fKS/s320/2430+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In her younger days: Lulu in 2007</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was very unexpected. She was getting older, and she couldn't get around as well as she used to. She'd been experiencing some constipation this last week, but that was all, we thought. We certainly didn't think she was going to die from constipation. John called the veterinarian two days ago for advice, but they weren't a lot of help over the phone. I don't think we'll ever know what killed Lulu, but I do know we will miss her very, very much.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgsG_0-KYcN0jlXqbdlHbXgtmFdSAeCs6SiDR-n1UT9vAkOkZGCTPm6hOVZ1AozC16i3DQTPEb5nDeMPQt0iL_2FxfYji-etypy0XUkrPavclXeTZYX37f0XKhTStdSA2kmorsGclrF8-/s1600/LuLucooling.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAgsG_0-KYcN0jlXqbdlHbXgtmFdSAeCs6SiDR-n1UT9vAkOkZGCTPm6hOVZ1AozC16i3DQTPEb5nDeMPQt0iL_2FxfYji-etypy0XUkrPavclXeTZYX37f0XKhTStdSA2kmorsGclrF8-/s320/LuLucooling.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lulu taking a cool dip on a hot summer day</td></tr>
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<br />
I was outside this morning, and although I didn't look in on her, I did hear her give her usual morning grunt as I passed by and said good morning to her; but my dad went outside at Noon to give Lulu a banana (she loves bananas), and she was gone. Even though I heard Lulu grunt this morning, I think she died in her
sleep. I don't think she was in any pain, just some discomfort, maybe,
and that's a good thing, isn't it? <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLY-JKs8cVZpkWkalHlvLlNa2QsY59EbQsqxLDFUp32uBZlhK8gRztDZW7QbH_pk9huSg11dcx-7DzVJcx9pHWTIM286zs1YJHegxgx10vWSjLxn9a5St2goy3DGGh2ElGcqWvuUZ961Pr/s1600/2498.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLY-JKs8cVZpkWkalHlvLlNa2QsY59EbQsqxLDFUp32uBZlhK8gRztDZW7QbH_pk9huSg11dcx-7DzVJcx9pHWTIM286zs1YJHegxgx10vWSjLxn9a5St2goy3DGGh2ElGcqWvuUZ961Pr/s320/2498.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2009, at her heaviest, just after a Spring mud bath</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcqmiCIpbF7pXlsTCNYI_jjFvzpj5ZOT8bPjUGtei-fM_pPy3IAEJgDbowz2H_ieFV7WtOdLHf03QuVRUrddgP5gIKzHrhNwP2_7A5X2p4EF-uO4szS58sJ3K1B54rPHZczhFvFAsgXukU/s1600/049.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcqmiCIpbF7pXlsTCNYI_jjFvzpj5ZOT8bPjUGtei-fM_pPy3IAEJgDbowz2H_ieFV7WtOdLHf03QuVRUrddgP5gIKzHrhNwP2_7A5X2p4EF-uO4szS58sJ3K1B54rPHZczhFvFAsgXukU/s320/049.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a walk across the yard</td></tr>
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</table>
John adopted Lulu during his second marriage. It was the wife who wanted the cute little pot bellied piglet that had to be "formally" adopted; but it was John who fed her and took care of her as she grew, played with her, fell in love with her, and kept her when the wife left.<br />
<br />
It's John who told me the story about Charlie, the chocolate lab puppy chasing the piglet around the house, and the piglet chasing Charlie; and John who calls Lulu "the best little foot warmer ever!" It's John who would scratch Lulu's belly and talk love to her, feed her chocolates as treats, and complain like all heck when Lulu waddled too slowly down the patio in front of him blocking his way.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQhNreHIoyPmihbw94Z0pVSqKvj2I-vBSkFKG9969QWGqnar_x3LUdLS_BtOAwiFZUCfgxhihy0yKaRiy88QMaxuqQHBIt7uDBMsTH4jimL0CDrgh4lZ9E_84XI2ieG7p9YTtVk42E-D_/s1600/IMG_1855.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQhNreHIoyPmihbw94Z0pVSqKvj2I-vBSkFKG9969QWGqnar_x3LUdLS_BtOAwiFZUCfgxhihy0yKaRiy88QMaxuqQHBIt7uDBMsTH4jimL0CDrgh4lZ9E_84XI2ieG7p9YTtVk42E-D_/s320/IMG_1855.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking for a sunny spot on a winter day</td></tr>
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The first time I met Lulu, she bit me. Well, she tried. Or maybe she was just trying to let me know that she was there, the primary "female" in John's life for several years before I showed up. She came up quietly behind me and nipped at my calf. I knew at that moment, when I jumped in surprise, that Lulu was sizing me up, and letting me know that she was no push over.<br />
<br />
<br />
My family raised pigs when I was young. We raised them to resell or butcher, but invariably there would be a standout that we turned into a pet, if only for a little while. So, when I came to 5~Acre Farm, it was easy to accept Lulu as one of the "motley crew" of four-legged, independent personality creatures that John and I had gathered around us; one more grunting, begging yard-baby greeting me whenever I stepped out the back door.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYveYW2cNOAfBiGb6j4uoOtKOoMv32vpD9c1xx12zaAWiBj-ml2xbRMqSUPc-vjkaps7B_yF2Rqm0zoaXBbrIXaBsJNqOFGiXO69ztVTOtxqJC_DxwsTQ8epQY4E6Xb76_17M6T7JErOT/s1600/011.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHYveYW2cNOAfBiGb6j4uoOtKOoMv32vpD9c1xx12zaAWiBj-ml2xbRMqSUPc-vjkaps7B_yF2Rqm0zoaXBbrIXaBsJNqOFGiXO69ztVTOtxqJC_DxwsTQ8epQY4E6Xb76_17M6T7JErOT/s320/011.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bedding down under the ramp at the back door</td></tr>
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Lulu was easy to love. She trotted around the yard with the dogs, ate
their food and hers, and loved a good scratch behind the ears. I could always count on her to relieve me of kitchen scraps, especially before we got the chickens. I'd often run out the back door with a special treat just for her. She'd grunt and complain in a high pitched squeal if I had to wake her, but it would drop to a low grunt as she sniffed the treat and gobbled it down in a "Gimme! Gimme!" style.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACQcM3SdzBERuLWv_PiK9XOkes7MVC1pXo8HY5rDO6qC8ecNrE-BTVlmgmkkqu6SkJpRJAgJxoZU1FbvYF56j3lJEub2I87KWtQ__CCgU3v2VCGgEr8ryl-E9Aobi24x7Hi3yHak9JReY/s1600/009.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACQcM3SdzBERuLWv_PiK9XOkes7MVC1pXo8HY5rDO6qC8ecNrE-BTVlmgmkkqu6SkJpRJAgJxoZU1FbvYF56j3lJEub2I87KWtQ__CCgU3v2VCGgEr8ryl-E9Aobi24x7Hi3yHak9JReY/s320/009.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjUFEqW6FaCGsyH3lUcfkrfjkKopC5Qk1w7JcVlopLoEoQAnZq5Zlw7ZiDElUE0UMqIveDZi78Wu3uEBdkFiJZhiu_iZMLJJxz7QGWsP2wjF7TxJA_W4FQmWWW6_rXXWvw3Ywdt68LH9h/s1600/IMG_1854.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVjUFEqW6FaCGsyH3lUcfkrfjkKopC5Qk1w7JcVlopLoEoQAnZq5Zlw7ZiDElUE0UMqIveDZi78Wu3uEBdkFiJZhiu_iZMLJJxz7QGWsP2wjF7TxJA_W4FQmWWW6_rXXWvw3Ywdt68LH9h/s320/IMG_1854.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter sunbathing</td></tr>
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<br />
I have many wonderful memories of Lulu... Lulu sunbathing, Lulu in the shade, Lulu in the kiddy pool, Lulu eating chocolate! But I have two favorite memories of Lulu. The first is from the fall of 2004, when we had a huge crop of grapes come in. It was the first year I started canning, and I began with the grapes. I did a batch of grape jam, several jars, and was planning on many more when I got a call from a family member who was having an emergency. I left two 5-gallon buckets of grapes untouched, and was gone for a week. When I returned, John had not done anything with the grapes. They were still sitting next to the fridge, filled with fruit flies! I took both buckets outside and decided to dump a good bit of them in Lulu's dish. Of course, Lulu dug right in, and really enjoyed those grapes. Later on, she was acting funny, waddling around, singing, and harassing the dogs. It took me a while to realize she was drunk! The grapes had fermented! The next morning she was pretty quiet and still. My guess, a nasty hangover!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYUryvLm2EgxJlG6T3R7Y2CWHukRKGMbk58Cz8jTE3HqLBTlbTPQgGm-USdtf-K6zF50YBpGcMtTXAnBKp3dgxLbF3XsiPTL3Y6nJ_FTSJXBXgC3BVmq6RUkoSBkN_-nUx18hVOnmUOYV/s1600/Lulu+from+behind.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYUryvLm2EgxJlG6T3R7Y2CWHukRKGMbk58Cz8jTE3HqLBTlbTPQgGm-USdtf-K6zF50YBpGcMtTXAnBKp3dgxLbF3XsiPTL3Y6nJ_FTSJXBXgC3BVmq6RUkoSBkN_-nUx18hVOnmUOYV/s320/Lulu+from+behind.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lulu, in better days, strolling through the yard</td></tr>
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My second favorite memory of Lulu is also from the fall of 2004, Thanksgiving day. This one isn't a visual memory, it's more a memory experience. Before I share it with you though, I have to explain that in those days Lulu's favorite resting spot was right at the back door. Her large bulk filled the small space at the top of the ramp, always making it difficult to come and go through the back door. In the summertime, she stayed there because she could feel the cool air blowing out from under the door; and in the wintertime, it must have been the leaking heat that kept her there. In any event, Lulu, sprawled out at the back door, though frequently annoying, more often made for a good laugh when friends and family visited, being required to "just step over the pig" because the pig wasn't about to move!<br />
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Well, on that Thanksgiving day, the house was full of family visiting for the weekend, and I was in the kitchen juggling cooking responsibilities with several different conversations and a host of questions about where "this" or "that" was. My niece, 19 at the time, loved visiting, and loved all the animals. She'd gone outside to give out treats, I think, but I wasn't really aware of her activities until I heard Lulu at the back door, grunting and squealing, loud enough that it took my attention away from everyone else standing around me. The back door was open, and I hollered out to my niece to "just step over the pig" and come on in. Lulu was still squealing in a high pitch, and even higher than that came the high pitched squeal of my niece, "I can't get in!" Forever, this memory will remind me of the little brother in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0010HLGZA/ref=pd_lpo_k2_dp_sr_2?pf_rd_p=486539851&pf_rd_s=lpo-top-stripe-1&pf_rd_t=201&pf_rd_i=B0000AYJUW&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_r=0DC5XF2SQCESE0SX8BBK" target="_blank">A Christmas Story</a>, who, heavily bundled against the cold, falls down in the snow and squeals, "I can't get up!" My niece sounded just like that!<br />
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So memories of Lulu are all we have now.<br />
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Today John wrapped a strap around Lulu's back legs and drug her out of her bed under the back porch. It was John who managed to get her into a protected place away from flies and sniffing dogs until she can be buried; John who got on the phone and found someone with a backhoe who could come over tomorrow and dig a hole in our little pet cemetery, and John who cleared the cemetery of brush and small trees to make room for Lulu's place. Today, it was John who insisted on doing all these things by himself, because it was John (who has loved Lulu all
these years), who yelled and screamed at himself for being so busy this
week that he didn't see how serious Lulu's situation really was. <br />
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Death is something everyone has to deal with sooner or later. Perhaps losing a cherished pet when we are young is a good way to introduce us to the inevitable loss of a person we love. Some of us, while we are still young, are suddenly confronted with the death of someone close. Many of us are much older the first time we lose someone. In either case, it is an agonizingly raw experience that turns us inside out and shakes us to the core of our beliefs. Death changes us. It changes our whole perspective on life. It changes us because it steals our innocence, and it introduces us to our own mortality.<br />
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When someone we love dies, it really helps to know God, to have a relationship with Christ, faith. It gives us the assurance of something else on the other side, something better than we can imagine, better than we've known here. Faith gives us the hope of life continuing, maybe in another form, but continuing. It gives us the hope of reunion, not only with our God, but with all those who have gone before us, those we remember, and those we never met who are waiting patiently to meet us. Faith in God comforts us when nothing else can, and it is unfortunate that only those who have faith (even just a little bit) can understand why this is true. <br />
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John and I have both experienced the loss of people close to us, and here at 5~Acre Farm, we have dealt with the loss of several pets. In the eight years since I came to the farm we've lost four of the six dogs I brought with me, and Popeye, my mom's Boston Terrier (I took care of him in his last year). I hospiced each of them as they grew old and sick, and I held each one in my arms, crying and telling them how much I loved them as the Veterinarian administered the final sleep. Besides the dogs, we've also lost June cat, Stars and Stripes (ferrets), Einstein the Polish rooster, the girls (three old hens), and various hens and roosters (to illness and predators).<br />
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On a farm, the lessons of life and death are inescapable. If you're paying attention, those lessons, along with the lesson of sowing and reaping, the lesson of time and seasons, and, yes, the lesson of "the circle of life" can teach you about much more than farming. These lessons can teach us about ourselves, about others, and about this world we are passing through.<br />
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I hope, wherever you are ~ on a farm, in the suburbs, in an apartment in the city ~ that you have the chance to do more than make it from one day to the next, in this maddening competition to just survive. I hope that you have the chance to observe and pay attention to the life lessons around you that, though universal, are uniquely constructed for you. I pray that when death imposes himself upon you through the loss of someone you love, that you will have the strength to survive the impact, and the faith to know that there is yet more to come beyond this life we now know.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lulu's temporary resting place</td></tr>
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</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-41207988557315904372012-04-26T14:05:00.000-04:002012-04-26T14:05:23.793-04:00It's A Hard Life!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toby, chillin' by the rose bush in the front yard</td></tr>
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You know up there at the top of this blog where it says, <i><b>"Where age, infirmity, and financial hardship meet faith, hope, and a simple dream to be self-sustaining on a small Georgia farm"</b></i>? Well, I've talked a few times about age and infirmity. Today it's all about the "financial hardship" part.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samantha's favorite thing to do, checking out the chickens</td></tr>
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We had a plan last fall, a good plan ... renew our equity loan in January (which we had previously paid off) and use the money to push us further into the "simple dream" part. A big leap forward, instead of the tiny steps we've been taking. The plan for the money included a new roof, a new HVAC system, fencing, cows and pigs (for the freezer), and a small heard of meat goats for income. Then our little farm would start paying for itself, freeing up our limited income to repay the loan quickly. That was the plan.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old, faithful Charlie, always nearby, watching</td></tr>
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In January, when we went to renew the loan, they determined that our home value had dropped significantly in this economy. (Thank you, Mr. President.) They renewed the loan for less than half of what it had been. There is so little money available, we can't afford the roof <i>and</i> the HVAC system. It means we also can't afford the fencing for our five acres, which means we aren't going to get cows, pigs, or goats this year.<br />
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But there's more.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful Maggie, the mama of the group, so patien
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In February, the transmission in our 5-year old van went out. That cost us $2400, which we had to take out of the equity loan. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patty, snoozing between adventures</td></tr>
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In March, while Dad and I were on our trip to North Carolina, I noticed the transmission slipping in my car. The same thing happened when we went to North Carolina 1.5 years ago. It cost us more than $2000 to fix it then. Today, the mechanic called and it's going to be $2200 to fix my car. The mechanic who "fixed" it before, didn't update it (don't know what that is exactly), but it meant the transmission had to be broken down completely this time to figure out what was wrong. Next time (please God, no next time) it will only need to be hooked up to a diagnostic machine to determine what's wrong with it. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Dad, 85, and still here with us. Thank you, God!</td></tr>
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Today, while mulling over all our financial problems, and wondering if we're ever going to have the farm of my (simple) dreams, I started a load of laundry, only to find that the washing machine has stopped working.<br />
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<br />
<br />
Our budget is tighter than a violin string right now. There is no spare cash. Dad is helping us out a bit, but he's not the fountain of financial relief. And he's trying to help someone else, who needs more help than we do.<br />
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<br />
I didn't ever think that I would be 55 years old and still struggling this hard. I thought, after a lifetime of working hard and doing my best, that I'd reach a stage in my life where I'd be able to live more leisurely, that I'd be comfortable financially, and that I would not be stressed about money. I guess the laugh is on me.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John, in a rare, not working moment</td></tr>
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<br />
When I was younger, I faced many financial struggles trying to live as an underpaid single woman in a two-income society. I would bemoan my circumstances to my mother, looking for advice and sympathy, and, frankly, a handout. My mother was faithful to rescue me from many of those struggles. She'd ask me how much I needed, and she'd write me a check. In the "memo" space at the bottom she would always write, "I love you."<br />
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But Mother always gave me one more thing with the money, and it has stayed with me far longer than the money ever did. With every handout my mother would say, "It's a hard life!" She almost always laughed lightly when she said it, and smiled wryly at me, like she knew something I didn't. <br />
<br />
<br />
My mother said, "It's a hard life!" so often, I'm inclined to say
it was her mantra. I often said it with her, laughing, trying to make
light of the circumstances which precipitated my need, her gift, and the
statement. But I didn't get it, not then, not like she did.<br />
<br />
<br />
I get it now Mom. I really get it, and I'm laughing, lightly, and smiling, wryly. "It's a hard life!"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love you, Mom! Miss you more than I can say!</td></tr>
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<br /></div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-55938008599768249112012-04-18T23:41:00.000-04:002012-04-18T23:41:40.042-04:00Texas Rain is Big, and My Garden is Getting Started<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stan's TX rain garden. Look close, you'll see a few veggies.</td></tr>
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One of my Facebook friends, Stan, lives in Texas, not too far from the Gulf, and he's really been groaning about the fact that he hasn't finished planting his garden yet. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A narrow island of plants surviving the flood at Stan's</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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I think Stan has had a great excuse. It's been raining in his neck of the woods. Not just a sprinkling. Not just a downpour now and then. The rain has been coming down like a monsoon! Practically non-stop for weeks! I think he mentioned getting 5 inches in one hour the other day, and 30 inches overnight.<br />
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I don't think Stan is the only one sick of all the rain. Recently he posted that the crayfish are so fed up of the rain, they've been crawling up on his deck to get out of the flood. And evidently, the Ark is nowhere in sight! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A break in the rain reveals Stan's soggy garden area</td></tr>
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Well, as gardens go, I don't have an excuse as good as Stan's! Normally, I'd have started my container garden in late February, and my main summer crops would be in-ground by late March or early April. But I still haven't planted anything... not even the 30 lettuce plants I bought last month!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our van, loaded down with veggies and blueberry bushes</td></tr>
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I haven't felt like getting on my hands and knees in the dirt this year, and I have only two excuses to explain myself.<br />
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First, it seems like <i style="color: blue;">my time hasn't been my own for quite a while</i>. I don't get up each day and decide how I'm going to use my time. I get up each day, check the calendar, and race to keep up with everything that's already been decided. There are various doctor visits for John and Dad, dental visits for John and me, Landlord duties, and a plethora of other responsibilities concerning family and the farm, all necessary and important, and I don't begrudge a single one of them! But I have no <i style="color: #274e13;">me</i><i style="color: #274e13;"> time</i>.<br />
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By that I mean I have no leisure time. As full as my life is, I have a bit of a hole in my life where pleasant, leisurely personal activities should be thriving. I'd love to have some free time to paint again, or make homemade creams and lotions, go to yard sales and flea markets, or finally make that quilt that I've been wanting to make for years out of Barry's old Hawaiian shirts. I did make the time to go to some thrift stores recently, but the whole time I felt rushed to get back home and get back to work!<br />
<br />Secondly, <i style="color: blue;">I haven't felt like planting a garden this year</i>. I'm usually sitting down, finally, when John comes in and mentions the garden; and sitting down, tired, I can't muster the interest in deciding if and when we need to start a garden. My age and health are a big part of this problem, but after some thought, I've decided that I must have some unacknowledged resentment over the combination of my health and my lack of <i>me time</i>. Maybe too, my attitude has been some form of passive aggressive behavior, and realizing this, finally, it became necessary for me to take steps to snap out of it!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plenty of veggies to plant now<br />
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Having a garden isn't a choice here, it's a necessity. We can't afford to skip it this year just because I don't feel like it. Even though there is a significant cash outlay to purchase transplants, in the long run, growing our own vegetables, then freezing and canning them, frees up our finances for other necessities; and, just as important, we know the foods we are growing and eating are healthy and chemical free. There is no chance that our grapes will be harboring pesticides in their skins, and no chance that our tomatoes, peppers, and eggplants will make us sick because of these same pesticides, or mishandling between field and store.<br />
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So I knew when I woke up this morning that today was the day I would take the leap. I drove John to the dentist this morning to get a new crown on one of his teeth. Afterwards, I suggested we go to the Garden Center at Home Depot, just across the parking lot. We started with tomatoes, lots of tomatoes, then squash and zucchini, eggplant, cucumbers, sweet peppers, hot peppers and cantaloup. Then I threw our budget to the wind and we picked up four blueberry bushes, a couple of years old and already fruiting. Last year, the twig in a tube of dirt didn't pan out for us.<br />
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We stuffed our van full and drove home in a light rain (nothing like Stan has been experiencing in Texas). We put everything out on tables to catch the rain, and I was delighted with the variety of plants and their beauty. I felt myself stirring with the anticipation of choosing beds and planting ... yes, being on my hands and knees in the dirt.<br />
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I've taken the leap! The veggie plants are here. The garden is waiting. The clock is ticking until they're in the ground.<br />
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So I'm all in for the garden this year! How about you?</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-59324909488390882622012-04-15T13:42:00.000-04:002012-04-15T13:42:43.814-04:00Time To Go To The Fair<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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While I was in North Carolina, the <b><i><span style="color: blue;">Walton County Fair</span></i> </b>came to town! John couldn't wait for me to come home so he could take me to the fair, and I haven't been to a fair in more years than I can remember, so I thought this was a great idea. Saturday was beautiful! Sunny but not hot, with a cool breeze. It was perfect Fair weather.<br />
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There was all the standard Fair food: Hamburgers, hot dogs, corn dogs, cotton candy, candied
apples, and that all time favorite, funnel cake! Lemonade, sodas, and
Sno Cones! I had a sno cone, and John ate the funnel cake!<br />
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There were great rides that John and I are both too big and too old to ride!There was The Whip, The Octopus, Tea Cups, The Moon Ride, the Kiddie Train, and a whole bunch I can't remember the names of! Oh, and there were Bumper Cars! I always loved bumper cars. They're my favorite!<br />
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And games! There was the standard Fish Toss and win a goldfish. Remember that one? There was Duck Race, John played "Shark Attack" (catch 3 sharks and win a
prize) and won me a little brown bear! Then we played a water target
game and I won a stuffed dog! I was really happy that we won a couple of
things. I was very happy that they weren't super-huge. As I told John, I wouldn't know what to do with a six-foot banana or a life-sized Spiderman!<br />
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Overall, we had a great time! I wish we'd had some children with us. That always makes a fair more fun! But there were lots of children there, and we had a good time watching them have a great time! <br />
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<br /></div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-59656508070895193012012-04-11T06:59:00.001-04:002012-04-11T07:00:31.199-04:00Poppop & Rachel<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dad and I had an early breakfast at the motel this morning, then we headed off to visit with Kathleen, Daniel, and Rachel. Kathleen's husband, Tim had to work today, but we got to see him later, at dinner.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First things first: lots of hugs!</td></tr>
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It was a wonderful day! While Kathleen and I chatted away about all kinds of things, and shared family stories, Daniel, who is graduating from high school in May and headed for college in the fall, was also there, listening intently to the family stories, and sharing a few of his own. What an incredible young man he is! Tall, and handsome, and full of the excellent qualities every young man should possess. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Combing Poppop's hair</td></tr>
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While all this conversation was going on, Dad got a word or two in, but he was being completely monopolized by little Miss Rachel! She couldn't get enough of him today, and likewise, he couldn't get enough of her! I was really enjoying the conversation with Kathleen and Daniel, but I was quietly in awe of what I saw going on between my dad and Rachel.<br />
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Great-grandfather, and great-granddaughter! Rachel hasn't seen Dad since she was three, but evidently he left an impression, because we were told she kept asking for him to come back, and was excited to know we were coming this week! She ran out the door when we arrived, and ran right up to Dad!<br />
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Later, we all headed into Sanford for lunch at <a href="http://www.mrslacys.com/" target="_blank">Mrs. Lacy's Magnolia House Tea Room</a>, a favorite Rachel spot! I
highly recommend it if you're ever in Sanford, North Carolina. It's
quaint and charming, and the food is classy and delicious! <br />
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Lunch at Mrs. Lacy's was quite the event! Again, it was Rachel and Poppop taking center stage as the rest of us just watched, marveled, and laughed.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Discussing crackers</td></tr>
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At one point Rachel, full of youth and energy, and exuberance, leaped into the middle of the floor and started dancing and twirling, finishing with a dramatic drop to the floor. I'm telling you, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isadora_Duncan" target="_blank">Isadora Duncan </a>would have given Rachel a standing ovation!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lemon tasting time!</td></tr>
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Back at the motel this afternoon, Dad told me that Rachel asked him about having no teeth. She wanted to know if he could eat and what he could eat. Dad told me she stopped and looked like she was really thinking about it for a few minutes, then she looked up at him and said, "Poppop, I love you anyway, even if you don't have teeth!"<br />
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Awwwwwwwe! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tea tasting time!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikI2VEqduZ240w0zo26fvYfenzLtuE_Fj3H-xtEsCmZg39JPqiKsirmYqxTkdCPPzq1G7gbBPSBhd3i9QHzR-fJ-lmB_s_4fzqhsM8NrbHiTKSqhAIsvuPfmmWbnqCUYySdfbKeJ8NVWI/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiikI2VEqduZ240w0zo26fvYfenzLtuE_Fj3H-xtEsCmZg39JPqiKsirmYqxTkdCPPzq1G7gbBPSBhd3i9QHzR-fJ-lmB_s_4fzqhsM8NrbHiTKSqhAIsvuPfmmWbnqCUYySdfbKeJ8NVWI/s400/013.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More "lovin' Poppop" time!</td></tr>
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</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-54714350734193967672012-04-09T22:33:00.000-04:002012-04-09T22:33:25.214-04:00On the Road Again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Road trips are something I have always loved and looked forward to. As a child, family vacations were rare, but they always involved long distance travel to visit relatives I barely knew. The travel, the sight of new places along the way, and strangely familiar people at the end of the drive were always stimulating to my imagination and my sense of adventure. From my 20s, through my 30s, I was always on the road. I was single, with a flexible schedule, and the one most free to move about, so I was the one who traveled to visit others, family and friends scattered about. And I loved it!<br />
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I'd leave from western North Carolina, out on the road no later than 4 a.m. most times, and be at my parents' beach home in time for breakfast, or half-way across the state of Tennessee by sunup, on my way to Missouri to visit my sister and her family. Long hours on the road never deterred me. They excited me as I counted down the hours until I'd reach my destination, mentally marking the now familiar landmarks and favorite stops along the way! Singly focused on my destination, my travel was always planned for efficiency of time, as few stops as possible, and certainly, there was no meandering along the way, stopping at this place and that to shop (of all things)!<br />
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In those days before cell phones and GPS, I traveled on the prayer that my car would not break down somewhere far from home. Of course it did however, often enough that I stopped stressing over the chance of a breakdown, and learned how to cope with it if and when it happened! Somehow, I managed to get past those scary moments and reach my destination with the help of angels, good samaritans, kind auto store owners who trusted me to mail them a check, and one time, three CB buddies who didn't have anything better to do than rescue a damsel in distress on the interstate a half hour before sundown.<br />
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In the old days, if I was traveling to an unfamiliar place, I studied the road maps and wrote each and every step of the trip on 3"x5" note cards that I taped to the steering wheel, where they were available at a glance. As prepared as I always hoped I was, there would inevitably be a glitch that would have my stomach in knots, if only for a few anxious moments along the way. <br />
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Today, we travel with GPS systems that plan every step of our journey for us, and keep us informed as to how long it will take us to get there. Just when I think I may have missed a turn or gone too far, a soft, feminine voice I call "<b><i style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The Lady of Directions</span></i></b>," speaks up through my phone to gently reassure me that the left turn I need to make is still a half-mile away, or that I have 106 more miles to travel before I reach the exit I need to take. This certainly takes the angst out of a journey that might involve more than a straight shot down a single road!<br />
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So this morning my father and I bid farewell to John, all the dogs, and the pig, and left home at 8:45, heading first to a nearby Bojangles to share a leisurely breakfast before we hopped on the interstate and headed for North Carolina to visit my niece and her children; my father's granddaughter and great-grandchildren. Dad Googled our trip yesterday, and his mapping of our journey lined up precisely with the travel itinerary <i style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>The</b></i> <b><i style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lady of Directions</span></i></b> had determined. So, with an electronic guide and a paper backup in hand, I felt we were good to go, with no unexpected surprises. I was surprisingly relaxed heading out on our journey.<br />
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Traveling up the interstate at 70 mph (never as much as 80 mph!), we made really good time! Then, for some reason, <i style="color: purple;"><b style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The </b><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lady of Directions</span></b></i> and the paper backup agreed that we needed to get off the interstate and head up a little two-lane road through many, many miles of small towns and rural roadside wilderness. Trusting all sources of pre-determined travel routes, I didn't question our departure from the interstate, nor did I realize that travel efficiency had just been tossed out the window. But I did realize rather quickly that our detour from "a straight shot" down the interstate had become charming, and nostalgic, and delightful! Dad and I marveled at the fresh sight of virgin land, where man had not stamped his progressive trademark of crowded civilization: strip malls, gas stations, and used car lots. We rode mostly in silence, admiring the countryside, and we shared a few travel stories.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A 1929 English Austin, similar to one Uncle Marvin owned</td></tr>
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My dad told me the story about his Uncle Marvin, who, in 1932, moved his entire family from Roseboro, NC to Columbia, SC in an English Austin automobile. Uncle Marvin and his wife, Rose, sat up front. Children, Monroe and Louise sat in the back, and the family's belongings were stuffed in amongst them all. Unfortunately, this left no room for James, aged 14, who had to ride the entire trip standing on the back bumper, holding on through the back passenger windows. What an adventure that must have been for James, traveling that distance at probably no more than 35 mph, hanging onto the back of a car! Do you think anybody could get away with that now? Do you think they'd want to? I can imagine James (long gone now), somewhere in his elderly years, still telling his version of this story to grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and others who probably stared at him in disbelief, to his great amusement!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miles and miles, and miles</td></tr>
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Even I can remember family vacations down these two lane roads, through one small town after another, traveling, most of the time, at speeds that didn't top 45 mph. Roads like these were the main thoroughfare across America before the interstate road system was implemented. A distance that now takes an hour or two up an interstate used to be a full day's journey or more on these old roads. And it was on these old roads that the phrase "<u><b>See America First</b></u>" was immortalized.<br />
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From one small town to another, the traveler would meander past mom & pop two-pump gas stations, where you could stop for 15 cent gas and a freshly made bologna sandwich, past huge, never-ending fields of cotton, tobacco, or corn, past sky high half-naked pines distinctly Carolina, past ancient barns teetering on rock foundations, past rivers whose names sing of their Native American heritage, past fields of cows, past sandy ditches, past children watching for cars and waving as they passed, grinning and laughing as they stared and pointed at license plates and marveled over where the cars had traveled from to now be there passing them. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The US Interstate Road System</td></tr>
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Today we drove maybe 50 or 60 miles without seeing a big name gas station, a strip mall, a big name grocery store, or a Wal-Mart. We drove through miles and miles of roadside wilderness, and small towns that still held some of that old world charm, with names that made me chuckle, or struggle to pronounce them, or wonder who named them, and why. Places like Camden, Cassatt, Bethune, McBee, Meddendorf, Cheraw, Hoffman, Pinebluff, and Southern Pines. And we drove forever without seeing another car! Honestly, not a single car!<br />
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And then we knew we were approaching civilization. Traffic was picking up. We went from being the only car on the road to two, then four. Then there were six cars on the road, and eight! It was becoming a traffic jam!<br />
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And then, before we knew it, we were in Sanford. <b style="color: purple;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The Lady of Directions</span></i></b> had guided us well, and delivered us into the parking lot of yet another Bojangles, where Dad and I feasted on spicy chicken and dirty rice before we found a motel and called Kathleen to let her know we had made it into town.<br />
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Time to rest now, and save our energies for tomorrow, for time to be spent with family, with history, with love, and all, in the unending merciful grace and love of God.<br />
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<br /></div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-36333895588698468862012-04-08T18:42:00.000-04:002012-04-08T18:45:05.465-04:00What Dreams Are Made of at 5~Acre Farm<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Purple Thrift on the hill at the front of the property</td></tr>
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We are hoping that this will be the year we get our five acres fenced in. It should have happened already, but, as usual, there have been delays. For now, about one acre is fenced in around the house, right in the middle of the farm. It's six foot chain link fence, installed when John's dad lived here.<br />
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I like the fence we have. If we could afford it, I'd want six foot chain link fence around the entire five acres! It provides a strong sense of security from intruders, while allowing the animals inside the fence to "free range." Right now, those free ranging animals are the dogs and Lulu, our pet pig, and the occasional escaped chicken.<br />
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I really like the way the fence defines a "yard" area around the house. It acts like an edge that we can work toward or away from. There are lots of shade trees, flowering plants and trees, bushes, and the larger of our two fig orchards, as well as a single apple tree. There used to be a row of peach trees along the front inside of the fence, but they died off. A couple are coming back, but not at all in the place I wish they were. I am hoping to plant a row of pomegranate trees along the front fence soon. John's father did an excellent job of landscaping the area when he settled here. It's more than 20 years later, and John and I are reaping the benefits of his wisdom and planning.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQKQssqI3Rn3tgOPQX4JuGyz07EyiGSnAle3OulPg0X_4Ukf4Y7XPRWzSjGEHZ8Sd-Dl4bn9em-FHU6pQYyzgONYpmEYvKxG1WE71ffrbm6FIeLXDe4Oc7bNXBUF2ImTu8NPf6eMchgPtH/s1600/004.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQKQssqI3Rn3tgOPQX4JuGyz07EyiGSnAle3OulPg0X_4Ukf4Y7XPRWzSjGEHZ8Sd-Dl4bn9em-FHU6pQYyzgONYpmEYvKxG1WE71ffrbm6FIeLXDe4Oc7bNXBUF2ImTu8NPf6eMchgPtH/s400/004.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front field, looking NE toward the fenced in area and house</td></tr>
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Outside the fence, at the front, facing south, we have a lovely large field. I'm not sure, but it might be between one and one and a half acres. We aren't using it for anything right now, but we have been considering various crop ideas like corn or wheat, and we've also thought about using it as a rotation field for a small herd of meat goats. <br />
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Behind the fenced area, we have a larger field, probably about three acres. I posted pictures of it recently. This is where we also have our bee hives, apple orchard, second fig orchard, numerous grape vines, greenhouse, and several storage units. Once we have the property fenced, over behind the storage units, among a lot of brush and bramble is where we'd like to put a herd of goats. Behind the greenhouse is where we'd like to put a couple of pigs, and in the open field is where we'd like to put a couple of cows!<br />
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This is all kind of an outline of what we're trying to do with our property. If we actually pull it off (and this year, I hope), I'm going to be thrilled, and we will be about 90% complete in our plans for self-sufficiency. The only other thing to do is get ourselves off the grid, and I can't tell you which is going to come first, off-grid or fenced in animals!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqiULMxIyRMVMt2KD0Ss-nkGn8Pe67XBTC69jUsFNGCZFxU3K9zsU6-a5pfoaU4Yqd4GonMqDX8zwIC6dsZalcjIx90Qlc-siSxHYqyrUxv6ShQv5836absqE0aXw7b2XDf7rJk1F9sTmS/s1600/001.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqiULMxIyRMVMt2KD0Ss-nkGn8Pe67XBTC69jUsFNGCZFxU3K9zsU6-a5pfoaU4Yqd4GonMqDX8zwIC6dsZalcjIx90Qlc-siSxHYqyrUxv6ShQv5836absqE0aXw7b2XDf7rJk1F9sTmS/s400/001.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Primary chicken pen, behind the Crepe Myrtle, south of the fig orchard</td></tr>
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Yesterday I blogged about John moving the chicken pen over and
creating a new garden bed where the chicken pen used to be. Today, I thought I'd show you where the chicken pen is now.<br />
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Originally at the SSW corner of the fenced-in area, it has been moved only slightly back, eastward, under an oak tree, behind some Crepe Myrtles, right next to the fig orchard!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At right, through fencing, brown area is where chicken pen used to be</td></tr>
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John used the dog pen we actually use for the dogs to move the chickens, setting it up next to the pen, herding the chickens into it, closing it, then taking the panels of the chicken pen apart, reassembling them in the new area, and scooting the dog pen (with chickens) over to the new place, lining up the doors, and herding the chickens back into their newly placed pen.<br />
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There is a lot of grass for the chickens to eat for now (and John loves giving them the mowed clippings), lots of underbrush for them to explore and dig through, and later, when it gets hot, there will be lots of shade for them to rest in, escaping the intense Georgia heat. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX41EQ1p-v6zJJ1bR7cPUXpqB8-vsSy1gFW1v5LINnoaOYU48TiaqjpvvxggwZhxkzgoAOQZ9dIPC5erFmm61IQHyGxINHlwi37ar7tf21GvoWADtkW0jUxvqB-GDzuiNYjjn3ehyphenhyphen9Viwn/s1600/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX41EQ1p-v6zJJ1bR7cPUXpqB8-vsSy1gFW1v5LINnoaOYU48TiaqjpvvxggwZhxkzgoAOQZ9dIPC5erFmm61IQHyGxINHlwi37ar7tf21GvoWADtkW0jUxvqB-GDzuiNYjjn3ehyphenhyphen9Viwn/s400/011.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moose, caught in mid-crow</td></tr>
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That's Moose, a white Leghorn. He was chosen three years ago to be our primary breeding rooster. We hatched about 50 of his eggs in several batches over last summer. I was delighted that we had at least one (but not more than two) white chickens in each batch of hatchlings. Only one was female though. The white roosters, along with a number of other roosters, are waiting to be "dispatched" (butchered) as soon as we get the chance.<br />
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This is the Rooster Pen. It is directly across from where the Primary Chicken Pen used to be. This once-grassy area became a secondary chicken pen. When the hens were transferred from here to the primary pen, and the roosters were put in the chicken kite, this area became my Spring Garden. That was Spring 2011. Here, I grew several hundred onions, Swiss Chard, kohlrabi, rutabagas, broccoli, and Brussels Sprouts. I was looking forward to planting summer crops here, but it turned out we needed the area for the roosters, who had grown big and fat!<br />
<br />
We were supposed to dispatch the roosters in early February with help from the folks at <a href="http://www.darbyfarmsga.com/index.html" target="_blank">Darby Farms</a>. That was put on hold, and at this point, has not been rescheduled. But these wonderful, well-fed, fat roosters <i>will </i>be dispatched before summer is gone, and this little plot of land <i>will</i> become my fall garden! Until then, I'll think about the collards and cabbages I will plant here, and maybe some more onions and Swiss Chard. Hopefully, I can plant some more rutabagas, kohlrabi, and Brussels Sprouts, and I might even think of planting turnips! I hear baby turnips are absolutely delicious!<br />
<br /></div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-45682883333433236462012-04-07T22:41:00.000-04:002012-04-07T22:41:19.872-04:00Moving the Chickens, Finding a Garden Bed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Primary Pen: Mostly hens</td></tr>
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John is always working hard around the farm. He's got more ideas than he has time to implement them.<br />
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Late yesterday afternoon I stepped outside to see what John was up to. He'd been telling me for days that he was going to move the main chicken pen to a nearby area under the trees. <br />
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Well, he moved it! All by himself! His idea is to have the chickens in a well-shaded area as the summer gets hotter, and to let the chickens clean out the area under the trees. That works for me!<br />
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If you haven't noticed already, the chicken pen is constructed of two 20'x20' dog pens. We were considering several types of chicken pens when a number of baby chicks were more than ready to be moved out of the brooder pen two years ago. We put them in a 10'x10' dog pen temporarily, and quickly realized that it was the perfect pen for adult chickens. And the dog house? That works too! The chickens love it! They lay their eggs in there during the day, and roost in there at night. The A-frame thing is a cover over the food dish, and another favorite perch for the chickens. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where the primary pen was, now the new garden bed</td></tr>
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The area where the pen was standing will be another new garden bed. The area is 20'x20', the size of the pen that was there, and having already been cleared and fertilized by the chickens, it makes for a great garden bed! There are some brushy stumps that need to be removed, but John says he can do that rather easily. <br />
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Before sundown yesterday, John had tilled up the area to about 18 inches deep.<br />
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Of course John's entourage was nearby to observe and lend a hand as needed. <br />
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Maggie took point.<br />
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And the hard working genius behind almost everything that happens here at 5~Acre Farm, completed yet another task just before the sun settled low on the horizon, then quietly moved on to another task, anxious to do as much as he could before darkness settled in <br />
and his day would officially be over.<br />
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The End.</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-47539343179575486872012-04-05T22:49:00.000-04:002012-04-05T22:52:47.207-04:00Time to Hit the Thrift Stores!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
I had a chance to get out of the house today!<br />
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Please understand, I'm out all the time it seems like, with John, on our way to the grocery store, the farm supply store, family gatherings, and various meetings, projects, and errands. Often, I can't wait to get home! But all that time on the road doesn't mean I get to go the places <i>I'd</i> like to go to. <br />
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When we're out driving, I often see interesting places as we pass them, and I think to myself, "I'd like to stop there sometime." I can't tell you how many places that is, and I haven't managed to visit a single one of them in the last several years!<br />
<br />
So my goal today was to visit a few thrift stores in the area. I'd ridden past them numerous times without having the chance to stop, and since the warm weather has settled in, I was really feeling the itch to get out on my own for just a bit!<br />
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My mother and I loved going to yard sales and thrift stores together. Mother always believed that she'd find some unnoticed treasure, and often, she did! So I thought of Mother often today while I was out, missed her terribly, and looked for my own unnoticed treasure. And what do you think? I found a few! Mother would be proud of me!<br />
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I spotted this basket tower (right) in a catalog more than a year ago. I was still thinking about it recently, but continued to agonize over the cost, $100. I had the perfect place for it picked out in my kitchen, where it would fit perfectly, and I was convinced that it would help contain some of the clutter I've been struggling with. I just couldn't bring myself to justify the $100 cost.<br />
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You have to realize, I'm very thrifty. I have been all my life. I've always managed with second hand things, and I rarely buy things new, especially really nice things. So bringing myself mentally to the place where I decide to spend large sums of money (over $20) on items is an agonizing process that takes a lot of time and consideration for me!<br />
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Well, while I was out today I found this basket tower (right). It was only $20, and although not exactly like the $100 basket tower, I recognized that it would fit in the pre-chosen place, and it would do the job of containing the excess clutter. I didn't have to think twice about this purchase! A couple of the baskets are ragged, especially the one on top, but I can work with that!<br />
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I also bought a metal corner shelf rack (right) that I will use on the front deck for container plants. I paid $12 for it at the same thrift store where I found the basket tower. I thought it said $2 when I took it to the cashier, and was surprised that it was $12, but I decided to get it anyway, since the basket tower had been such a deal. I have two other metal shelves that I use for my container garden on the front deck. One is a baker's rack, and the other is an over-the-toilet shelf unit. I found both at the county landfill a few years ago. So that was a cost of $0! And I've been more than pleased with both. I can get a lot more container plants on my little 10'x8'deck using these shelf units.<br />
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The only other thing I bought today was a book, <b style="color: black;">Back to Basics</b>. I couldn't believe my luck when I found it! It's a marvelous collection of instructions on traditional American skills. It covers a lot of topics, from buying land and building on it, building materials and techniques, to alternative energy sources, year-round gardening, and old-fashioned recreational activities for any season. But what I really love is the section on old time skills and crafts for the home and homestead. Natural dies, spinning, weaving, hooked rugs, broom making, metalworking, soapmaking, candlemaking, and basketry are just a few of the crafts and skills covered. I'm really going to enjoy reading through this book and adding it to my collection of homesteading books.<br />
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Do you like visiting yard sales, garage sales, estate sales, or thrift shops? What unnoticed treasures have you found? What unnoticed treasures are you still looking for? Or will you know them when you see them?<br />
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<br /></div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-57052826056771545742012-04-04T20:31:00.000-04:002012-04-04T21:05:09.399-04:00Hunting and Gathering, and Cans of Deals<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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" 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Not long ago, we were at our favorite discount grocery store. They sell a lot of stuff that was overstocked in other stores, or is nearing its expiration date, dented cans, and unlabeled frozen things (half the fun is figuring out what some of them are). In other words, they always have a lot of great deals to take advantage of. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I work on a budget, of course, so even in a discount grocery store, I have to watch the dollars and cents. That can be difficult when John is also finding great deals and bringing them to me. I have to admit, he can find some really great stuff, and I count on him to find the good deals on meat. I have to say though, sometimes John's idea of a good deal is a giant jug of salad dressing, or those huge, industrial size cans of food, like pasta sauce, whole tomatoes, sliced olives, jalapenos, and boiled peanuts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">What is it with men and those giant cans of food? Is it something left over from their hunter-gatherer days? The bigger the "beast" the more clan members they can feed? The bigger the beast, the better they look? Face it ladies, we all know when they guys returned to the cave, our attention went straight to the guy with the antelope on his shoulder, not the guy with the rabbit hanging from his waist! So maybe these giant cans are a shadow reminder of those glorious hunting days!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Anyway, back in the grocery store, each time Hubby
approaches me with one of those giant cans, his face is lit up like a child's on Christmas
morning! I try to look loving and patient. I look like I'm seriously thinking it over. John, grinning expectantly, always does an
excellent job of pointing out the dollar value of each item, bless his heart! I, looking at him seriously, acknowledge his arguments as sound and worth consideration. Then, I gave him an equally sound argument on
the waste, once opened, of food products we would rarely use. It's almost heartbreaking to watch him sulk back up the isle to put each can back on the
shelf.<br />
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I have to admit though, from time to time, I have given in to him and purchased one or two of those industrial size cans. A large can of pasta sauce, for instance, (unlike a giant can of jalapenos) can be opened, used to make a rich, thick sauce, and then frozen in batches. At $2.00 or $3.00 a can, that makes that particular can a good deal to take advantage of.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">That said, I have also said yes a few times to things I later regretted. Take the 22 lb. box of garlic buttered bread sticks John just couldn't live without! It was a real deal for $4.00 two years ago. And the approximately 18 lbs. still sitting in the freezer is still a great deal ... for those who like and can eat those <i>nasty</i> tasting things! </span></div>
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</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-25742132999032411282012-04-03T18:18:00.000-04:002012-04-03T18:18:01.501-04:00Dinnertime: Ham Steaks with Green Beans, Baked Potato and Sliced Tomatoes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS6AN3mywdW0Zo10OT79epuu8hwedcacKqIJzxLn4tmucL1bqzvBJ9guKR9Y1T51E6Jwbn-gufduYKllKaoChgs4_k5Lr6Sb31e-aMwMugSaTxzGM1TcW-bjUKan-Ft4So_sEqYLhkZqn_/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS6AN3mywdW0Zo10OT79epuu8hwedcacKqIJzxLn4tmucL1bqzvBJ9guKR9Y1T51E6Jwbn-gufduYKllKaoChgs4_k5Lr6Sb31e-aMwMugSaTxzGM1TcW-bjUKan-Ft4So_sEqYLhkZqn_/s400/004.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Warm days are settling in, and lighter meals are the rule of the day! We found some very nice ham steaks a few days ago, so we fried a few up today and served them with a small baked potato, green beans sauteed in butter, and sliced tomatoes. How good is that?</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-82944755019687496522012-03-31T16:51:00.001-04:002012-03-31T19:38:43.389-04:00Dinnertime: Chicken with Peas & Onions, Couscous, and Tomatos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zbqjBzqpcP_FQUoVvsM_pEnP108RDPI0qKvOYUJrDKHHjwtquHD0dY7rKIEqkuM4uAXl1C25NiK9TyvorkScHmXlfbQWO1c7aQQFKvURBF-2iWJRaeV9QqKxmQfangPtiTqz96tWbsnn/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zbqjBzqpcP_FQUoVvsM_pEnP108RDPI0qKvOYUJrDKHHjwtquHD0dY7rKIEqkuM4uAXl1C25NiK9TyvorkScHmXlfbQWO1c7aQQFKvURBF-2iWJRaeV9QqKxmQfangPtiTqz96tWbsnn/s400/001.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>The days are getting warmer, so the meals need to be lighter. This one, made with pre-cooked chicken, took all of five minutes to throw together. In a bit of olive oil, saute the onions, add chicken, add peas. Serve with Couscous and sliced tomatoes. Absolutely delicious! </div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-34464076405832562452012-03-27T20:30:00.000-04:002012-03-27T20:30:22.847-04:00Show Us Your Pearly Whites!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyQXTQvLruZiBUmzxtYIrB6MOSUOTFo-2RYq8cFeEpeQr0WnXDB3ogrp8uhZDmvzdWostjqgTWdHwXiPWvmV1yNa1JoPIKbpOf2leDus2NPIu0hJNgpSy4XJ63nyiCw_R6ej0W1eU5Tlt0/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyQXTQvLruZiBUmzxtYIrB6MOSUOTFo-2RYq8cFeEpeQr0WnXDB3ogrp8uhZDmvzdWostjqgTWdHwXiPWvmV1yNa1JoPIKbpOf2leDus2NPIu0hJNgpSy4XJ63nyiCw_R6ej0W1eU5Tlt0/s400/012.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>It has been a long time since John and I had any dental work done. With limited funds being stretched in a variety of important directions since we married, our dental needs have repeatedly fallen to the bottom of the list.<br />
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A few weeks ago we found a good dentist and arranged to have an initial visit for X-rays, exams, and a cleaning. Although John had his cleaning, I did not. They told me I would need a deeper cleaning, that I had a tiny cavity to be filled, and that my wisdom teeth should be pulled. John was going to need a lot of work. We knew that though. He'd had problems with his teeth for years (a gold crown fell out some years ago). The estimate for my dental work: $1900. The estimate for John's dental work: $2400.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidFG4OHEJ2lNPj4jWgRSNFbOBdH2XXdA9_PpPHc448g24JYmJi8-xLOu4ba-ET2ktcubt2CnwN8cHGUmLpVhNRetF5fEsdkFxv-FHbIJzr8Cqam_i4okgHB_qJRzUUCEtNPp5DoBzQjEYe/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidFG4OHEJ2lNPj4jWgRSNFbOBdH2XXdA9_PpPHc448g24JYmJi8-xLOu4ba-ET2ktcubt2CnwN8cHGUmLpVhNRetF5fEsdkFxv-FHbIJzr8Cqam_i4okgHB_qJRzUUCEtNPp5DoBzQjEYe/s400/013.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
Last Tuesday, I had my teeth cleaned and the cavity filled. The bone loss was caught early, and more will be prevented. I was very happy with the results! My teeth are now very clean, and I am on track with their care! However, I did decide not to have my wisdom teeth pulled. I'm 55, and I've never had a problem with them. If I get them pulled, I'll have holes and healing to deal with, and my jaw line will change as a result. I felt it was better to leave well enough alone! The final cost: $650.<br />
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Today, John had the first phase of his dental work done: one molar root canal, a core buildup, a porcelain crown, and the extraction of one tooth. The extraction appears to have been the hardest part. The doctor said he'd never had such a difficult time. Tamika, the technician, said big guys are always difficult. John's strong bone contributed to the need to extract the tooth in many pieces. The whole procedure took a little more than three and a half hours. Today's cost: $1620.<br />
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When did going to the dentist get so freaking expensive?!!?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5sFt7ubN0Yp5RpuKxjwc5d2ZWlaFVvQL7um_g6LPFiDvVT9DaeG4To95GoN7lBaNEQ0EU1bUnnPyyZgwd6mXav9JgiFayJooYLuvXZlzGk7v812Tf8t0pESEtZIRjMHJo50EreifZuwC/s1600/014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5sFt7ubN0Yp5RpuKxjwc5d2ZWlaFVvQL7um_g6LPFiDvVT9DaeG4To95GoN7lBaNEQ0EU1bUnnPyyZgwd6mXav9JgiFayJooYLuvXZlzGk7v812Tf8t0pESEtZIRjMHJo50EreifZuwC/s400/014.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Tamika, a brave young woman!</td></tr>
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John is sleeping now, heavily, under the influence of pain medication and strong narcotics. He isn't going to be able to eat anything solid for a few days. He isn't going to feel like doing anything for a few days. That's okay. I'll pick up the slack around the farm, and make sure John has cold, ice cream-protein powder shakes to drink when he gets hungry.<br />
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You know guys ... such babies!</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-67810639447887759402012-03-23T23:18:00.000-04:002012-03-23T23:18:47.015-04:00Pictures of the Farm, Spring 2012, Part One<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Htd9fQ2MBVkdrF3jc91CACd7ph12inWjULVxZeaNELA3b2rfWsVpvuQIHIJ5UrZh3ZVzr2o7fQi0kHhlK1_tVfBUx8IsbY9tBXA__BbDSndqV8g5GJCr2_g7g7L2LYYoJz2h6DGM5S1s/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Htd9fQ2MBVkdrF3jc91CACd7ph12inWjULVxZeaNELA3b2rfWsVpvuQIHIJ5UrZh3ZVzr2o7fQi0kHhlK1_tVfBUx8IsbY9tBXA__BbDSndqV8g5GJCr2_g7g7L2LYYoJz2h6DGM5S1s/s400/016.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#1</td></tr>
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John came in late this afternoon and asked me to go riding with him around the property. So I grabbed my camera and hopped into the golf cart with him.<br />
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I managed to get a few nice pictures before the sun went down, and thought I'd share them with you tonight.<br />
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We started our tour near the <i style="color: blue;"><b>chicken pen</b></i>. That's Samantha in the foreground of <i><b>picture #1</b></i>. She's grown so much since we got her in December! She's the most fearless little animal I've ever known and an absolute bundle of love!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaCHmN_yIXJrjWxWTIke9mMgN2Ef7cAgAHQsYitwvI1ixo5zFVI7mi8Uzj1wq3RS4xetMLIycgdqPB814gWtE_3oJF5zMVCr5OYlLBpar4PSrA1mvbeJUUCGNYgBG4U4x5WIXKFHdMRBYP/s1600/043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaCHmN_yIXJrjWxWTIke9mMgN2Ef7cAgAHQsYitwvI1ixo5zFVI7mi8Uzj1wq3RS4xetMLIycgdqPB814gWtE_3oJF5zMVCr5OYlLBpar4PSrA1mvbeJUUCGNYgBG4U4x5WIXKFHdMRBYP/s400/043.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#2</td></tr>
</tbody></table>That's Maggie behind Samantha, watching the chickens, and yes, their "coop" is a dog house! That was John's idea, and it works! If you look close in the first picture, you'll see one of the hens up on the top of the pen. They do that all the time!<br />
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In <i><b>picture #2</b></i>, we're looking at the chicken pen through the yard fence. That black spot down center is my dad's Scottish Terrier, Chu Chu. All the dogs like to check out the chickens several times daily. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6_bqPH4qwDmO_qV4HlG0p8Qe3TnAncUE2dv7cgGJxz2VQZpux6usDAddCrPb4ewl5xzHPo9s5c1nimIBT3MmzpdPx_Jx8R6_-JesYCQJ0oECqDR_epmKKz9fmVU6C78xRvo9t4evCS9L/s1600/018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6_bqPH4qwDmO_qV4HlG0p8Qe3TnAncUE2dv7cgGJxz2VQZpux6usDAddCrPb4ewl5xzHPo9s5c1nimIBT3MmzpdPx_Jx8R6_-JesYCQJ0oECqDR_epmKKz9fmVU6C78xRvo9t4evCS9L/s400/018.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#3</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrlPZA0gKjGyyOUO6ZuOjPtkWBp_DYjAZbD6JRvmpIrzkRnBNeLSfur_I-X9yuw7aAkS6IlcVFr3AbFw7f93eRVe9Np2nYlKdLrsjfsqfMtuhotBs71yMMZPnoDkqHYCwzBfY07rGJZnyq/s1600/028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
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In <b><i>picture #3</i></b>, you can see the Crepe Myrtle. It hasn't bloomed yet, but it will be a dark pink when it does. More importantly, behind the Crepe Myrtle, you can see our <i style="color: blue;"><b>primary</b></i><span style="color: blue;"> </span><i style="color: blue;"><b>fig orchard</b></i>. We'll have an abundance of small brown figs ripening in August. Last year, I canned the harvest in a light syrup. This year I might try a fig jam!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EP1AkGUjyW6MrjoVsp6rNW77r3Qz76wfKkPB7QWjFQurmZeZNkelJxks2Oc6qgDuxebcN61dvGgz6MxpU5vbIKjgzDyyubgQYjV96FcASSQV9cvnOtXEWpH7_L3u3vDvp5XXlGiHmCFc/s1600/020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3EP1AkGUjyW6MrjoVsp6rNW77r3Qz76wfKkPB7QWjFQurmZeZNkelJxks2Oc6qgDuxebcN61dvGgz6MxpU5vbIKjgzDyyubgQYjV96FcASSQV9cvnOtXEWpH7_L3u3vDvp5XXlGiHmCFc/s400/020.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#4</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrlPZA0gKjGyyOUO6ZuOjPtkWBp_DYjAZbD6JRvmpIrzkRnBNeLSfur_I-X9yuw7aAkS6IlcVFr3AbFw7f93eRVe9Np2nYlKdLrsjfsqfMtuhotBs71yMMZPnoDkqHYCwzBfY07rGJZnyq/s1600/028.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrlPZA0gKjGyyOUO6ZuOjPtkWBp_DYjAZbD6JRvmpIrzkRnBNeLSfur_I-X9yuw7aAkS6IlcVFr3AbFw7f93eRVe9Np2nYlKdLrsjfsqfMtuhotBs71yMMZPnoDkqHYCwzBfY07rGJZnyq/s400/028.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#5</td></tr>
</tbody></table><i><b>Picture #4</b></i> is a shot of our back yard looking South to North. That entire row of greenery was fully blooming <i style="color: blue;"><b>Forsythia</b></i> only two weeks ago! In the distance, besides John's blue work van, you can see the <i style="color: blue;"><b>chicken kite</b></i> that John designed and built. <i><b>Picture #5</b></i> is a close up of the kite from the back end. I'll blog more about the chicken kite another time.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB1SXpqUPbgqy5iAFQhR3cKpcxnjp0LXLOpzheHTF_wImdITobO9I7zHf6v-7mGRRHEWvK8zZJldhCq-EePZuifORdgNkyOSTyI1dj-m_c-5CMdy71kOPyMo8hbnieE0x-RSXB283SoimA/s1600/022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB1SXpqUPbgqy5iAFQhR3cKpcxnjp0LXLOpzheHTF_wImdITobO9I7zHf6v-7mGRRHEWvK8zZJldhCq-EePZuifORdgNkyOSTyI1dj-m_c-5CMdy71kOPyMo8hbnieE0x-RSXB283SoimA/s400/022.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#6</td></tr>
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<i><b>Picture #6</b></i> is a shot of <i style="color: blue;"><b>the back of our house</b></i>, facing West. The patio is a bit junky right now. We've been doing our spring cleaning and we've gathered a lot of stuff we need to get rid of. John never disposes of anything too quickly, in case it has another use. I'm a household recycler, but John is a recycler of any kind of machinery!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksRZnNTFgEC0-H56SFSTUzUSQFTq6XPgB15cpzKrxADz92NgVBZ8Y7uXc6L6yom1eoUeG82eLYP7zw577kmuMTonfrRV9rtQK5ltp4-eazMDS1aiZjPlf_pswj8fp2Ne1AysbhWNlMiAf/s1600/023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksRZnNTFgEC0-H56SFSTUzUSQFTq6XPgB15cpzKrxADz92NgVBZ8Y7uXc6L6yom1eoUeG82eLYP7zw577kmuMTonfrRV9rtQK5ltp4-eazMDS1aiZjPlf_pswj8fp2Ne1AysbhWNlMiAf/s400/023.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#7</td></tr>
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<i><b>Picture #7</b></i> is a close up of two of our three <i style="color: blue;"><b>snowball trees</b></i>. They bloom twice each year, in the spring and in the fall. I absolutely love these trees! As the blooms age, before they turn brown, they are easily blown from the trees by the wind. Once, the petals on the ground gave me an idea, and I gathered a bunch of the petals and strew them all the way up the driveway, as a welcome for my mother, who was on her way over to visit (with my dad). She loved it!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8pUgaForM4825jbegtqlqrVNvVGXKfDxlF6viZy3HXgL2z5wdZNGFOOY-3ggwVzv9-m3grvz1AUnpI36e0ayAi7aoJ-8jKeEkN_U8cB3qN7cogidQb3d25WdctUcdP8Ho3mpicC-29qt/s1600/033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8pUgaForM4825jbegtqlqrVNvVGXKfDxlF6viZy3HXgL2z5wdZNGFOOY-3ggwVzv9-m3grvz1AUnpI36e0ayAi7aoJ-8jKeEkN_U8cB3qN7cogidQb3d25WdctUcdP8Ho3mpicC-29qt/s400/033.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#8</td></tr>
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Picture #8 is a shot from the back gate, facing East over the <i style="color: blue;"><b>lower part of our property</b></i>. On the left, at that bunch of trees, are the bee hives. To the left is my father's grapevines. Further back are some storage units, and out of sight, to the left, our greenhouse.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwAZG4utdubQS4nJzY4VNGOqABImchsk2Q_TBmYFy0hQ2YTrvqbCS3gfh3M1vVdFCu1eLY8_ugIJvFzyuK4ki1b5gftcu_1cVkRt8b3JranchyONmJAtiNt7CQckEltC18fZJ4jRe9HLB/s1600/035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwAZG4utdubQS4nJzY4VNGOqABImchsk2Q_TBmYFy0hQ2YTrvqbCS3gfh3M1vVdFCu1eLY8_ugIJvFzyuK4ki1b5gftcu_1cVkRt8b3JranchyONmJAtiNt7CQckEltC18fZJ4jRe9HLB/s400/035.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#9</td></tr>
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<i><b>Picture #9</b></i> is facing South, <i style="color: blue;"><b>along the back fence</b></i>. Those are <i style="color: blue;"><b>Garden hives</b></i>, 5-frame, that John moved there at the advice of a more experienced beekeeper. John successfully split our three hives into six, and may be able to split again in the next few weeks. On the other side of the hives is our mulch pile. It's three years old and a lot smaller than it was when we got it!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyA3AUoR4jlxlDHMErSmKGffGmKDiq_pB4ON0dr6RngDM90Cxoe8q8GRXVPSBDnhEmSST2M7l-BFVZv23sGWqSQCTMvVWj2_ejTIqU1xar12g_uA6TsETksdOfSXNxwxlvQ-XjYMySlS_x/s1600/037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyA3AUoR4jlxlDHMErSmKGffGmKDiq_pB4ON0dr6RngDM90Cxoe8q8GRXVPSBDnhEmSST2M7l-BFVZv23sGWqSQCTMvVWj2_ejTIqU1xar12g_uA6TsETksdOfSXNxwxlvQ-XjYMySlS_x/s400/037.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#10</td></tr>
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<i><b>Picture #10</b></i> is of our one and only <i style="color: blue;"><b>pear tree</b></i>. In seasons past, the limbs have been so full of giant round pears that they hung to the ground with the weight. The tree hasn't produced in the last two years, but is showing a lot of fruit this year. Picture #11 is a close up of <i style="color: blue;"><b>little tiny pears</b></i> already filling the branches!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQSoJreKMcrpQBY1yzTH_JeIsFQ9UIuQOFF97SE7P4dkPG91UmOC8ds8UYphUu5Fl865VaYxqE95CIby9XY6BC-dge0Ce7foS8k90nD2wTIGS9TD_yCPmY6QFCVSTav7C9SvZssEvtWee/s1600/039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQSoJreKMcrpQBY1yzTH_JeIsFQ9UIuQOFF97SE7P4dkPG91UmOC8ds8UYphUu5Fl865VaYxqE95CIby9XY6BC-dge0Ce7foS8k90nD2wTIGS9TD_yCPmY6QFCVSTav7C9SvZssEvtWee/s400/039.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#11</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eUVSCzNUWB7XV2_tPPNMIAczBRLzGJcvcl_AgQumiBGS8dh2lV0k9lYvSsiR1GUVIH_sPRLvgQzdcKtJl3sc3iOS6MAbz249X95B45beQPVB5NxeIdoa2BM4U8aXg06uWd-pN5uzzk3g/s1600/048.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eUVSCzNUWB7XV2_tPPNMIAczBRLzGJcvcl_AgQumiBGS8dh2lV0k9lYvSsiR1GUVIH_sPRLvgQzdcKtJl3sc3iOS6MAbz249X95B45beQPVB5NxeIdoa2BM4U8aXg06uWd-pN5uzzk3g/s400/048.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#12</td></tr>
</tbody></table><i><b>Picture #12</b></i> is a shot of <i style="color: blue;"><b>the greenhouse</b></i>. It sits on the back of the property on the North side. It gets the first rays of sun in the morning, and a good bit of the day's long light. John helped his father build this greenhouse in 1992. <b><i>Picture #13</i></b> is a closer shot of the greenhouse. Those trees in front of the greenhouse are our <i style="color: blue;"><b>secondary fig orchard</b></i>. Yeah, we need to clean out the undergrowth!<br />
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It's after 11 p.m., so I think I'll stop here so I can publish this blog before Midnight. My next blog will be a continuation of this one, with plenty more pictures!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiX4MrEnjaJnsxVtj6GSmZzyMBY2qQLy7JaxLcK0-annmReJvQp-d6u3S4zzqrEYrI3NXxurxyXdOpTkoF6c8WaHXgFVYmzPO0XuHYrAXeCBf-h1kfQLwLM9wskcTaVQM4eztnBzLQ2z8Q/s1600/049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiX4MrEnjaJnsxVtj6GSmZzyMBY2qQLy7JaxLcK0-annmReJvQp-d6u3S4zzqrEYrI3NXxurxyXdOpTkoF6c8WaHXgFVYmzPO0XuHYrAXeCBf-h1kfQLwLM9wskcTaVQM4eztnBzLQ2z8Q/s400/049.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">#13</td></tr>
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</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-44848703870595052472012-03-17T20:20:00.001-04:002012-03-19T10:09:30.895-04:00Time Keeps on Slippin', Slippin', Slippin'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwC2PRTZrj0hYfIdaRNTESj7Ek0HwIBDIOY7eZ0SI_b6bjTBE6N7YH2oy1-zQI1ooQMar-cZib-JHowXQ2W0RCzkUNVyWmi9bHvfCGF48vDAuNMzzX7si5W0_x5oacRay8iLkQBqfrTqG/s1600/024.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwC2PRTZrj0hYfIdaRNTESj7Ek0HwIBDIOY7eZ0SI_b6bjTBE6N7YH2oy1-zQI1ooQMar-cZib-JHowXQ2W0RCzkUNVyWmi9bHvfCGF48vDAuNMzzX7si5W0_x5oacRay8iLkQBqfrTqG/s400/024.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Collards and Broccoli bolting</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuq7Gq28kTh4SVZzkGXA59B3xTUhifz2Td3n_SNWrN4BaUvvZ8TbFyn693yXzAtHkRIP_yrjbTBpQUAMNq0GE_uGcLqYiS1rY5QLMKgF5yOLQ9TtHMfdWbqsWdJJlvln2_W94AFmVjsg0s/s1600/025.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuq7Gq28kTh4SVZzkGXA59B3xTUhifz2Td3n_SNWrN4BaUvvZ8TbFyn693yXzAtHkRIP_yrjbTBpQUAMNq0GE_uGcLqYiS1rY5QLMKgF5yOLQ9TtHMfdWbqsWdJJlvln2_W94AFmVjsg0s/s400/025.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh yeah, and weeds! Plenty of weeds!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>While we were pushing ourselves at a murderous pace through the last three very busy weeks, distracted by doctor appointments for John and Dad (two to three a week), a reception for my niece and her husband, a grandchild's birthday party, bees getting ready to swarm, and a couple of pressing projects ~~ like turning our storage room into a guest room (with company almost on the doorstep at the time), changing things around in my father's room (because he was ready for a little change), and emptying out my father's house so others could move in ASAP! (Why is everything always asap?), as well as finding someplace to put all the stuff we had to move! (Can you say Yard Sale?) ...<br />
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<div style="color: blue;"><b><i>The winter garden moved on without us!</i></b></div><br />
Mother Nature doesn't move at the preferred pace of men. She doesn't slow down and wait for us to catch up, and she certainly isn't in a hurry to get to the finish line of any particular project like a vegetable garden, no matter how much we beg her! (Are we there yet?)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitOVfYcuoZJS7YfHZvMOpFHy_ITRY7cu_c_v5Du7ubKR6_GOybyl81oLnXzA2WZyXCZ3JVQjyTtDdc0mtYZOHskskCR09sSgtb2d7t4C34_tr0IPTitYqucYFG7ufJAkQ__9QTvwm-ZqXE/s1600/027.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitOVfYcuoZJS7YfHZvMOpFHy_ITRY7cu_c_v5Du7ubKR6_GOybyl81oLnXzA2WZyXCZ3JVQjyTtDdc0mtYZOHskskCR09sSgtb2d7t4C34_tr0IPTitYqucYFG7ufJAkQ__9QTvwm-ZqXE/s400/027.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfect and beautiful heads of Cabbage ready to pull ... and weeds</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Mother Nature moves in perfect harmony with Time. They are an inseparable couple. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOAz3oxnUlcfXz1vsAxVMGT-CIA1RWIY1ZNQh5HJpDxRkJ1uzW5y664IsULNLfqppkeueVoBa_cWURa2WdcmY1-8fJ6vJNe2MXRtcq6LDWRRv9e68tLvn49ycpUkHQtp3U9wy43e-KUUgP/s1600/026.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOAz3oxnUlcfXz1vsAxVMGT-CIA1RWIY1ZNQh5HJpDxRkJ1uzW5y664IsULNLfqppkeueVoBa_cWURa2WdcmY1-8fJ6vJNe2MXRtcq6LDWRRv9e68tLvn49ycpUkHQtp3U9wy43e-KUUgP/s400/026.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowering Broccoli ... and weeds </td></tr>
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If you turn your back on Mother, she doesn't get offended, and she doesn't storm off in a huff. She very simply just keeps going ~ in the same direction, toward the same goal, at the same pace, hand in hand with Time.<br />
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When we turn around again and look, we are shocked to see that we have missed out on something, that Mother dared to carry on something (like a vegetable garden) without us! We might feel hurt. <i>We</i> might feel offended. But Mother doesn't notice.<br />
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She's already moving on. This project is over, others are in the works, and new ones must be started, whether we are ready or not.<br />
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Early tomorrow morning, I will harvest the cabbages and the collards, and see if there is any broccoli worth saving. At least I got a great first harvest of broccoli about a month ago. It's the side shoots that have bolted. I'll wash, chop, blanch and freeze the collards for summer eating. I'll cook lots of fresh cabbage this week, give some of them away, and see if I can find a local shop to buy a few of them (there are about a dozen heads).<br />
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I can't help it that we've been so busy of late. Things have to be prioritized, and I think we've done a good job of balancing our responsibilities. The Winter garden was well established and nearing it's end. We knew that. Our constant attention wasn't needed, although more than a passing glance and a nod to the fact that we needed to get in there and do something would have been good.<br />
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As Mother Nature always does, she let us slip by this time, but not without a mild chastisement, a small penance to pay to keep us in remembrance of her authority, of her timeline. Oh yes, she has given us perfectly beautiful, edible fresh vegetables, but she also gave us weeds.<br />
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As John and I move ahead now to clear the garden bed and prepare it for the summer crops, as we're bending over our hoes hacking at the weeds, Mother's lesson will teach us that it is a good thing to visit the garden daily, no matter what, to pull a few weeds, daily, a few at a time, when we see them, so they won't gather in such number at the end of the season, laughing at us as we bend our aching backs over our hoes, hacking away at their laughing little green faces.<br />
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Mother sure can be a ...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The <i>real</i> eternal struggle of Man!</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh, wait! As I sit here planning to harvest veggies early tomorrow morning, and spend the day processing them, I suddenly realize I have church in the morning! Ah, well, looks like it's going to be a busier day than I thought!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwC2PRTZrj0hYfIdaRNTESj7Ek0HwIBDIOY7eZ0SI_b6bjTBE6N7YH2oy1-zQI1ooQMar-cZib-JHowXQ2W0RCzkUNVyWmi9bHvfCGF48vDAuNMzzX7si5W0_x5oacRay8iLkQBqfrTqG/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-41801780767422901362012-03-16T22:24:00.000-04:002012-03-16T22:24:11.750-04:00As Busy As Bees!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdDncV2_8LhXlzFbwq0Ck9CF8xEDfSwkk2OVnVrrlsVIR2XuelNUkERS6GFcu_s6vQMUKS2YtySSGfS1oi_34tVS39gAAPvo_nUZq-Ezda7A4GuzleXgjmDNUrVwbVG2wYK34d0Zo0ldg/s1600/107.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMdDncV2_8LhXlzFbwq0Ck9CF8xEDfSwkk2OVnVrrlsVIR2XuelNUkERS6GFcu_s6vQMUKS2YtySSGfS1oi_34tVS39gAAPvo_nUZq-Ezda7A4GuzleXgjmDNUrVwbVG2wYK34d0Zo0ldg/s200/107.JPG" width="200" /></a> Things have been pretty busy here at 5~Acre Farm. We're only just getting a chance to catch our breath... well, I am. Poor John is still pushing himself at a maniacal pace! His primary concern right now is the bees. With the unseasonably warm weather this week comes the possibility that the bees are ready to swarm.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqxuUfB1F8HROuypnaUdRQEEA3EiZST5liM3xQ2Ud2Q56oOiEN-twKlZLT90QuXivIH64xMTKS5oxJvVStOnZbDG4uoJxT65ESYmpVEN_s579N3f4b2ttwQ5iQTi00Rl7uZFBEGHBaWou/s1600/022.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqxuUfB1F8HROuypnaUdRQEEA3EiZST5liM3xQ2Ud2Q56oOiEN-twKlZLT90QuXivIH64xMTKS5oxJvVStOnZbDG4uoJxT65ESYmpVEN_s579N3f4b2ttwQ5iQTi00Rl7uZFBEGHBaWou/s200/022.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John, ready to check the bee </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Swarming indicates that the honey bee colony is reproducing. The old queen bee will leave the hive with about 60% of the worker bees to form a new hive. That's tens of thousands of bees leaving the old hive box where a new virgin queen will take over and produce tens of thousands of new worker bees.<br />
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We're raising Minnesota Hygienic bees, which were developed at the University of Minnesota over several years. "Hygienic" bees are just that, hygienic. They are the Felix Unger of bees, and if you don't get that reference, just think about bees with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). They keep their hives absolutely spotless, reducing the chances of mites and diseases, and increasing their chances for strength and survivability.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first three hives</td></tr>
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John's job right now is to watch for signs that the bees are preparing to swarm and have new hive boxes ready to be inhabited. If the boxes are nearby and ready, at the right time, John will capture the queen and put her in a cage, then put the cage in a new hive box. Other bees will be pulled to go with her. She'll be kept in the cage, in the hive box until the colony is established. If John misses the chance to do this, the bees could swarm and go high up into the trees or even leave the farm. That would be a big loss for us, since we are trying to grow our bee colonies and potential for honey.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwj41TXfzb2onM_7V_Iip8J2ayiX1wPFE2GKbo01XUECOm_sR0RX1J_AAx1Ev1Q8ADaSep7D4OYF2vOIzR7VfOKyLW9PCRBlrmAFSAw2PX5VXxr5Slu53TL_3cQrv-296GgBTAF1WLFj7_/s1600/040.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwj41TXfzb2onM_7V_Iip8J2ayiX1wPFE2GKbo01XUECOm_sR0RX1J_AAx1Ev1Q8ADaSep7D4OYF2vOIzR7VfOKyLW9PCRBlrmAFSAw2PX5VXxr5Slu53TL_3cQrv-296GgBTAF1WLFj7_/s320/040.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Opening the hive</td></tr>
</tbody> </table>If John is successful, we will go from three hives to six. Our potential for honey will also double. This being our first honey season, we are expecting to harvest 10 quarts per hive. That is what has been suggested to us by other beekeepers. That's 30 quarts total. Next year, with six hives, that will mean 60 quarts of honey. If we have six hives next year, they will potentially double to 12, and will produce 120 quarts of honey the following year. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizrasPPB_3QUbghinI7R5yIfrKnrhvvovyZ7G9tUCpJy2Ir2xQ3sr0kzHiF5GDwYnj7L-12TFM_7AscrXHQGxQ19RlivH3codU5CyyVTZ2sqNoGGOx6Jtxgl5NpNky8H3MV_700xE5cQ_r/s1600/044.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizrasPPB_3QUbghinI7R5yIfrKnrhvvovyZ7G9tUCpJy2Ir2xQ3sr0kzHiF5GDwYnj7L-12TFM_7AscrXHQGxQ19RlivH3codU5CyyVTZ2sqNoGGOx6Jtxgl5NpNky8H3MV_700xE5cQ_r/s320/044.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These are 10-frame hives</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
That's a lot of honey, and it sounds great doesn't it! But it's not that simple. All kinds of factors will influence the size of the hives, their reproductive abilities, and the amount of honey to be harvested. Bee health is imperative. Right now, we are lucky to have not just strong hives, but super-strong hives. This, I believe, is due to John's absolute attention to detail in their care. He inspects the hives daily, reads everything he can find about bees, does internet research late into the night, and asks zillions of questions of the other beekeepers at our monthly beekeepers' meeting.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4QgA3gYSRk0st-qeYAa2pt3B4lH55D184xYHuvD4orJGrsk8kNnd5HCiTGu-ExKkL0mklzJ2_PcquLSvpAprdOO-S-NdFHd1dAYOYAN7IDkMRn618A90G1d2tv_9A7u7phHCacQfY4Bhj/s1600/050.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4QgA3gYSRk0st-qeYAa2pt3B4lH55D184xYHuvD4orJGrsk8kNnd5HCiTGu-ExKkL0mklzJ2_PcquLSvpAprdOO-S-NdFHd1dAYOYAN7IDkMRn618A90G1d2tv_9A7u7phHCacQfY4Bhj/s320/050.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Removing an outer frame for inspection</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
The bees also have to be well fed. In order for the hive to thrive and prosper, you can't rely solely on flowering plants and trees to provide pollen and nectar. When we brought our bees home last June, we started giving them sugar water on a daily basis. Seven pounds of sugar per gallon of cold water was recommended. We kept this up well into fall, until, at one of our monthly beekeepers' meetings, the best beekeeper in the state told us we probably didn't need to give them that much. We stopped the sugar water for a little while, but started giving them a lighter syrup in the new year.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhre3OCLLUK1GWA-HlPywOy6hXwuu427Tx93rAvOp0T6jf8hljB7qU-u0hLqseNg9UY0trzQfYhaXx_Rf89qXyMGeDvNH0xheVfyPb8Em_howMVapPPwrl3giy78zzWIoo_vgWqHKRgfe_t/s1600/052.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhre3OCLLUK1GWA-HlPywOy6hXwuu427Tx93rAvOp0T6jf8hljB7qU-u0hLqseNg9UY0trzQfYhaXx_Rf89qXyMGeDvNH0xheVfyPb8Em_howMVapPPwrl3giy78zzWIoo_vgWqHKRgfe_t/s320/052.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frame, bees on both sides, filling in the combs with hone </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Now, it's Spring, and we're holding off on the sugar water again while nature provides the pollen and nectar the bees need. However, to insure that the bees are getting sufficient nutrients, John is providing Protein Patties to supplement nature's provision. "Pro Patties" are filled with vitamins, anti-oxidants, and trace minerals that contribute to colony strength. As indicated, these pro patties provide needed protein, whereas the sugar water provides carbohydrates. You can see the Pro Patty (halved) on either side of the top of the hive box. Each hive has already consumed three split patties in one month.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzNlML_HmWPgaBFsHwIrRH_HeMWDwadjKbc796QzAfhjO_Oqx7XcHxYRkQM68S28CdQWZjbGX_CNrrERDV58NeYVxzWGtIwLyDx7oTYOeiunG251l9YTqRn2cN_1xZOgCZib_4fz1-zBQ/s1600/061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzNlML_HmWPgaBFsHwIrRH_HeMWDwadjKbc796QzAfhjO_Oqx7XcHxYRkQM68S28CdQWZjbGX_CNrrERDV58NeYVxzWGtIwLyDx7oTYOeiunG251l9YTqRn2cN_1xZOgCZib_4fz1-zBQ/s320/061.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inner frame, fully covered and filled in</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
The bees also have to have a fresh, available water source. There is a fresh-water pond less than a half-mile away, on our neighbor's property, and we keep fresh water near the hives. John has hung a few hummingbird feeders nearby, and, to the right of the hives (see photo above) there is an old humidifier that John re-purposed as a waterer.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxOVlpZvl1qx67yRddUCCBXplrP2BFGlNTu5Xn1dAgNNvO_GNjQv3zt0NOLOTLE3faTqWwDEky8Nqxnmg-aXGV_tRFgiZgTqbigmSOteKcbZp9r2tCeuVyuhLBB4E03pTNT0-9rgpzgDJq/s1600/060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxOVlpZvl1qx67yRddUCCBXplrP2BFGlNTu5Xn1dAgNNvO_GNjQv3zt0NOLOTLE3faTqWwDEky8Nqxnmg-aXGV_tRFgiZgTqbigmSOteKcbZp9r2tCeuVyuhLBB4E03pTNT0-9rgpzgDJq/s320/060.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The yellow hive tool is used to separate and remove frames</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
It is also important to keep the bees in a poison-free environment. Weed poisons, crop dusting poisons, even bug spray can all take their toll on a bee colony if they are exposed. 5~Acre Farm is, for the most part, removed from populated areas, and we do not use any poisonous chemicals on our orchards and crops. The few neighbors we do have must not be using poisons on their lawns and flowers, because we haven't seen any evidence of it in our hives.<br />
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The Hygienic bees are great at keeping their hives clean, but John is still diligent to inspect regularly for signs of mites, wax moth larvae, beetles, and other harmful insects which can quickly decimate a colony.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrfjCCVdZCA_u7QKRbw3JaRjyqyaYqemghIuT1bclnAIbS5BgibMlNuotbDkoK1FKIcizBDfUI-I7zsKvf-0RIdoDRH_0T1RjkawR0Jox8q29LE-Dh_No808_TDnwDnQVLDzu_7p2GXsU/s1600/066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRrfjCCVdZCA_u7QKRbw3JaRjyqyaYqemghIuT1bclnAIbS5BgibMlNuotbDkoK1FKIcizBDfUI-I7zsKvf-0RIdoDRH_0T1RjkawR0Jox8q29LE-Dh_No808_TDnwDnQVLDzu_7p2GXsU/s320/066.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John built this removable rack to hold frames while he works</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
As strange as it might seem, having a fire ant colony near the hives is a good thing. They keep the surrounding area clean of dead bees, beetles, larvae, and spilled honey and pollen, and anything else that is littering the area.<br />
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To sum up, if your goal is a strong, thriving hive, the following points are important issues to pay attention to:<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAblKoHrQN2G_lMAtkzbyLx_fSRNsfAXz0ljFs4vu64KtSa-ZDhOB9o3B7yPXxLm4rQx9aYaPgWGj03IiHc_E3306wktkfdik7j1tnphnrkP9kjI21GVoSQyReLpws3fAPUXocau649IsH/s1600/089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAblKoHrQN2G_lMAtkzbyLx_fSRNsfAXz0ljFs4vu64KtSa-ZDhOB9o3B7yPXxLm4rQx9aYaPgWGj03IiHc_E3306wktkfdik7j1tnphnrkP9kjI21GVoSQyReLpws3fAPUXocau649IsH/s320/089.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honey!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;"><li>A nutrient rich diet</li>
<li>A clean, intruder-free hive</li>
<li>A fresh water source</li>
<li>Avoidance of chemical poisons</li>
<li>Frequent hive inspection </li>
</ul><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgInzLC9oJCSipprWvCq55gOTnGnsMK2toMUcwzWiCIqm6vriVw8KLMeLlcj_t5W49p2485QP5f0zIZyZGTgksS4Mo96jmf9DnDIUk1Rh-fG71z_M1TeV4u6gYKScpnBj2PsYFUSOizpB8t/s1600/080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgInzLC9oJCSipprWvCq55gOTnGnsMK2toMUcwzWiCIqm6vriVw8KLMeLlcj_t5W49p2485QP5f0zIZyZGTgksS4Mo96jmf9DnDIUk1Rh-fG71z_M1TeV4u6gYKScpnBj2PsYFUSOizpB8t/s320/080.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Larger bees are drones</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I'll post a lot more about the bees as the season progresses. It is exciting to be involved in this process. Mother Nature does some incredible things, and we not only get to watch, we get to participate! John has dived into the deep end of beekeeping, and he is doing a fantastic job. I have every confidence that he will be considered an expert within a couple of years. I'm glad that John has taken the lead in beekeeping. He is teaching me a lot, but I find my time primarily needed elsewhere on the farm. But I am blessed to know that these bees are in the loving, capable hands of my husband.<br />
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John likes to tell folks that we have acquired a half million new employees. They always look stunned. Then he jokes about how difficult it is to fill out all those tiny little W-9 forms. Folks don't always get it right away, but they always have a good laugh when they do!</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5541829720759630357.post-58044685934141398182012-03-15T23:43:00.001-04:002012-03-15T23:43:59.878-04:00And the Husband of the Year Is ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJg3JnPV4s72UI54n7kSfGGwO7TKkDuKP2T_iydgxHbcVGVpma7xglYpjY3P13ZNXD3E7p1ngRoZIqfoDePNtOOivmbc3lTWYPg34IM5sAXAQ0d4k8uwVtKnXEtLMZXTRgeQZOmpOkOHP/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJg3JnPV4s72UI54n7kSfGGwO7TKkDuKP2T_iydgxHbcVGVpma7xglYpjY3P13ZNXD3E7p1ngRoZIqfoDePNtOOivmbc3lTWYPg34IM5sAXAQ0d4k8uwVtKnXEtLMZXTRgeQZOmpOkOHP/s400/019.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
This is my husband, John. It is almost Midnight, and John is doing what he does every night. He is cleaning the kitchen so I don't have to.<br />
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John works every day, all day long on the farm. He works until after dark. Then, before bed, he goes into the kitchen and cleans up before I get the chance to do it.<br />
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I don't require this of John. I have never asked him to do it. He does it because he loves me, because he wants me to rest, or have enough time to do my blog, or ... you know what? He had me at "he loves me."<br />
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Is this the husband of the year, or what? <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihaj85Mxn7-XCyOt1MvLTtGQHSFWi6UUPKFbWTddOO04z5PZGWa7fxNrTgCZVoz088uS-VLUV7WhOpYBdlrr5KoF0KWRahR5bwDKnKYiMnP9xD0lcg4BxffOcVnKlbFEtddXDJMzAJKOpw/s1600/MAN+IN+THE+HAT+060310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihaj85Mxn7-XCyOt1MvLTtGQHSFWi6UUPKFbWTddOO04z5PZGWa7fxNrTgCZVoz088uS-VLUV7WhOpYBdlrr5KoF0KWRahR5bwDKnKYiMnP9xD0lcg4BxffOcVnKlbFEtddXDJMzAJKOpw/s400/MAN+IN+THE+HAT+060310.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can't help lovin' that man of mine!</td></tr>
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</div>The Farmer's Wifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06273767816174160036noreply@blogger.com0