Through the gate

Our new babies cried tonight, after I put my sweet Bean to bed. This was followed by an odd noise that I couldn't quite place, but the babies immediately stopped crying. All was quiet. All seemed well.

Half an hour or so later, my curiosity drove me to peek toward her room. There she was, at the very top of the stairs... crumpled on top of her blanket, thumb safely in her mouth, eyes glued at something down the stairs.

She gave me a silly smile and a soft, "mommmmmy".

This was her view:



Her new "beebee heeeeee!" were staring right back at her.



I felt a bit guilty tossing The Bean back into bed.

And wouldn't you know it. The kitties started to cry again after their girl was tucked away out of sight.

Edited to add: I'm aware that the gate was a ridiculous idea. I figured it would contain them to one room give them some peace from The Bean for about half a day. I was almost right.

A shiny red thing

A flash of bright red caught my eye through all the weeds.

My first thought: Now what the heck did I leave over by the spinach. My second thought: Wasn't the older brother working with his Daddy out here yesterday? What the heck did he leave out here. Must be a plastic sandbox toy.

He left his ten-inch-long piece of PVC pipe culvert out in the yard last week. Our grass grows freakishly fast. It disappeared underneath the jungle and his Daddy inadvertently blasted it to smithereens when he mowed.

It was not a good day. The older brother mournfully gathered up the plastic shrapnel that remained and left it in a respectful pile by our house. He is not only a plumber. He's also the Road Superintendent of miniature towns built around our yard.

I thought perhaps it was a good lesson though. You know, on leaving things lying about the yard.

And then my dear husband admonished me for abandoning a metal electric fence post in the garden corral. It was on it's side in the grass. The mower actually chewed that thing in half and tossed it aside like a toothpick.

I swear, I did not leave it out there. And for the record... he also mowed off the top of our metal ratchet sprinkler and then questioned the boys as to who broke the dumb thing.

Ah, yes. The shiny red object that caught my eye? It was only this.



Swiss Chard. So beautiful. So tempting to grab a handful and...

I can see them over by the barn. I'm giddy as I look for a poo-and-thistle-free area to flop myself down under our orchard (I'll call it whatever I want, regardless of what it looks like). They eyeball me, weighing whether the lure in my hand is worth the trip across the yard.

I hold my breath... waiting for them to run me over.



Then suddenly, the thundering stampede. They're of one mind, once one of them finally makes the decision. A herd of tiny Tyranasaurus race out of the black entrance of their lair, feet pounding the earth, bodies swaying from side to side.

But they're suspicious. What if I'm trying to poison them!



For your own good, Kim, look away. The last time I did this you said I broke your Chard lovin' heart.



They're hypnotized by the sweet prize. Is this a dream? Is it edible?



The insatiable reptiles rip their meal to shreds. It's a vicious attack, the kind of thing that is fascinating but horrifying to watch. Lightening fast, with precisely aimed strikes.

The Chard has no chance.



For a moment, I imagine them the size of a large carnivorous dinosaur. Pretty sure the T-Rex in Jurassic Park was modeled after a chicken.



Then again, I have small children.

Let's not go there.



KinderGARDENS week 12

Confessions of a chicken snob

A few weeks ago, I drove down the road oblivious to the fact that I would have no defense for what I was about to see. I was going to do chores for a neighbor. Innocent enough, right?

Defenseless, I tell you.

My resolve had been broken slightly the week before, when I did chores for the other neighbor. I'm considering blaming this whole thing on them.

I didn't even see it the first time I walked in the door.

It was sitting in the corner. On the floor. Naked wings spread out trying to protect a runaway pile of eggs that a normal sized chicken could easily have covered. It avoided eye contact with me, because that is the best way to hide. Even my two-year-old Bean knows that much.

I picked it up by it's armpits. Do chickens have armpits?

It quivered and shook.

I aimed it at my husband and squealed, "What is this thing!?"



And then I fell in love with it's bald head...



and it's wings, which apparently used to have feathers...



and it's tiny feathered feet...



I wanted to take her home.

I'm a hypocrite of a chicken rancher.

There. I said it.

I agonized for months over what breed of chicken to order when I started my flock. Months? It was more like all winter. I had to have a heritage breed. It was the only thing that made sense to me. I wanted to have a hardy flock with real history, and a real future.

Well, that was all good until I couldn't decide between Barred Rocks or Buff Orpingtons. Both have a reputation for being remarkable birds. So I ordered both, thinking I would decide which I liked better and harvest the others when the time came.

The next Spring, since I had followed through with my plan so well (ahem), I ended up with mixed breed chicks. They were beautiful. I kept three and gave the others away. Then, quite by accident, I discovered that my particular mixed breed was actually one that is commonly sold.

I held my head sort of high once again.

You see how well this "heritage flock" thing is working out for me?

I wanted to take her home, you know.



But she doesn't belong in my barn.

So instead I took these. The most disorganized mixture of hilarious chickens-to-be you've ever seen.



I took them straight home to my barn, and tucked them underneath my own grumpy hen. Nine more days... and The Old Nichols Farm will have fugly chickens too.

They make me laugh. I'm pretty sure that's more important anyway.

But if I ever manage to bribe convince my husband to let me keep turkeys, let me tell you... I guarantee they're going to be the most beautiful, intelligent, personable, heritage breed Bourbon Red Turkeys you've ever laid your eyes on.

Tapatoes

The week 11 KinderGARDEN assignment was to capture macro (close-up) images of the garden. I don't have a macro lens, but I do know a few tricks.

We're having a blast growin' baby birds.



This year's crop of dragonflies was incredible.



On our cranberry bush? We found ants tending herds of aphids. Great science lesson right there. And then we blasted them with soapy water. Darn aphids.



This is all so confusing for me. KinderSWAMPS, KinderCRITTERS...

Let me try again. The KinderGARDEN:

Tomatoes and potatoes. You'd be very entertained to hear the little brother talk about them.





"Mommy, do tomatoes grow underneath the ground?"

"Ummm... the roots do.

"MOM. Tomatoes grow under the ground."

"Sure! The ROOTS grow underneath the ground."

"No."

"You mean potatoes?"

"Yeah! Tapatoes!"

"Right."

Moving along...

It looks like we are gonna have an insane amount of raspberries. Finally.



But only three apples, which is a whole lot better than last year. How to split three apples peacefully among a five-person family, that is what we have yet to figure out.



KinderGARDENS week 11

4th of July random

My multiple choice 4th of July post last year was an awful lot of fun to write. I entertained the thought of making it a tradition. I'm aware that the 4th was well over a week ago. Don't worry, I won't let that stop me.

If you can't handle a heap of random awesomeness, run far and fast.

Drumroll please...

Some of us fantasize about the lake all winter, and once again it didn't disappoint...
a. because the weather was perfect and our sunblock did it's job.
b. even though there was a dead cow floating around the bend.

c. because the boys took swimming lessons a few weeks ago, and although the instructor just tossed the hesitant kids into the water and let them bawl, our boys are now fish.
d. because we convinced the little brother it was okay to pee in the lake.
e. all of the above.

A camel cricket pooped on the little brother, which caused...

a. him to scream like a little girl.
b. his cousin to be a hero. (I laughed out loud at that ridiculous thought as I typed it)
c. it to escape.
d. his mother to... ummm, I've completely forgotten where I'm going with this.

How about that dead cow!

I took one picture in full automatic mode...
a. just to see what would happen.
b. to prove that I'm not a photo snot. Or, because I couldn't reach the focus button on the backside of my camera. Ah... ah... ah... Ah-chooo!

c. even though I knew it would need some hefty correcting before it was worthy to be processed to a jpg.
d. because my Bean moves at the speed of light, and it's a crying shame how few pictures I have of myself with her.
e. all of the above.

I managed to get myself out of kitchen duty by sticking my arm into the toilet, which was a direct result of...
a. The Bean.
b. simple physics.
c. the previous bathroom occupant not changing the toilet paper.
d. too much alcohol.

This picture is brought to you by...

a. my uncle telling me exactly where I should park my tripod for the best view, and me telling him I had other plans. (Hi Dave!)
b. a cactus that just happened to be precisely where I kneeled, which felt strangely familiar.
c. that darn flag mocking me to get this photo, all the live long day.
d. an eight second exposure.
e. all of the above.

His Perspective

My plumber sometimes moonlights as a photographer. He makes cameras out of legos, and describes them in intricate detail. He can talk about his aperture and shutter speed, his fancy lenses and his batteries that last for one hundred years... and the hot shoe for his speedlight.

I have absolutely no clue where on earth he gets these ideas.

*cough*

I don't have a speedlight.

When he agreed to help by taking some pictures today, his excitement very quickly turned to panic. "Mommy! I don't know how to use that camera!"

"I made it easy for you. I turned this dial to automatic. All you have to do is peek through the window and push this button." Then I showed him how to hold the big camera in his small hands.

"WOW! Thanks for teaching me how to take pictures Mom!"

And then I practiced the relaxation techniques that I learned in the childbirth class I took exactly seven years ago. Although the camera in his hands may have been a beat-up second-hand malfunctioning entry level dSLR... I do not have any cheap lenses in my camera bag.

The safety lesson was longer than the photography lesson. We put the camera strap around his neck as insurance.

I took pictures of the photographer. The rest are his. He's shooting a gripped Canon XTi with a 50mm f/1.4 lens.



Asparagus:



Raspberries:



Popcorn maze:
I moaned about the fact that a number of the popcorn plants didn't grow. His perspective? "But LOOK at how many of them DID GROW!"





Flowers waiting for a real flower bed, enduring too much direct sun:







"I GOT YOU MOM!"



I'm dressed like a vampire because I sunburn faster than a naked hen.

Onions and Beets:



Garlic:



Ummm...

"Hey kiddo, you know those are weeds. Right?"

"No they aren't."

"Yes they are."

"No they aren't!"



"Yes they are. I skipped that part when I weeded. Now they're really tall."

"Oh."

*Click*



Flowers that he chose, in the swingset:



Strawberries hanging out in the swingset:
His daddy built a new raised bed and we will plant these today!



This KinderGARDEN update has been brought to you by the letter E, and the number 7. Well, almost seven.

KinderGARDENS week 9

Pool guest

Exhibit A: The pool guest



If The Bean doesn't want to hold the pool guest, it's perfectly reasonable to put it on her leg instead. Frogs get tired of swimming sometimes too. Obviously.



Once the amphibian is sufficiently rested, it's time to put him through a "pool blender".

Yes, the poor thing is in there. I didn't realize it at the time.



Which is a worse fate? Being taken captive to entertain a few young monkeys for the afternoon... or meeting a voracious miniature dinosaur chicken in a dark alley?

I guess it's over faster when poultry is involved.

You Capture - Water