My five year old has been in speech therapy since he was three and a half years old. He has come a loooooooooong way in that time.
Since he could talk, and by that I mean, since the time I could understand his mangled words, he has had a vocabulary beyond what is normal for his age. His speech therapist, Shelly, thinks that is partly why he has had so much trouble getting his sounds to come out right.
I was talking with Shelly and she was laughing, "Did I ever tell you what he came up with when I asked him to use an 'L' sound in a sentence?" No, she hadn't and I was more than curious. She explained that normally she would never ask a preschooler to come up with a use for a sound, and especially in a sentence. At that age therapy is about getting them to listen and then repeat what they hear. But knowing he has this wild stash of words in his brain, she put him to it.
And just what did my boy say?
First, he overemphasized the 'L' sound in the word of his choice, that he dug from somewhere out of his brain. "LLLLLog"
Shelly waited patiently.
The words were building up in his brain, and suddenly the dam broke and out flew...
"When Mommy cut the head off the chicken it went (he put his hands around his neck and stretched his head out as far as he could) BAAAWWWWKK!!! and it's head rolled right off the Log!"
Yeah, that's my boy.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Thinking after midnight
So I'm sitting here after midnight, eating almonds. At the moment everyone else in the house is sleeping. I should be sleeping too, but instead I'm busy thinking...
I'm thinking about the knoepfle soup I made today, how good and satisfying the chicken was that I used. Very satisfying. Satisfying in a very different way than using home grown vegetables.
That chicken arrived in the mail as a three day old chick in a cardboard box, last spring. I watched it grow from adorable and fluffy, to gawky teenager learning to crow, to big trouble rooster.
It was my decision to move him from coop to kitchen.
In that moment I was able to thank him for his life, knowing he had a real one. He spent his days scratching and singing out in the sun, interacting with the social order of the flock... so different from the lives of store-bought chickens.
In taking his life, I was mindfully aware of what my food really cost. I went from chick in my hand, to axe in my hand, to soup in my bowl. Amazingly good soup, but satisfaction on so many different levels.
I feel a connection to the prairie women of days past, who put chicken on the table in exactly the same way.
But I'm also thinking about how life can be so cruel. So many people are hurting. Hearts are breaking.
So many of us believe there is more than just this world, but what is beyond, we don't understand. We cry out to God, but often don't feel anything. The world is still cold and lonely.
In losing human lives, it makes us mindfully aware of just how short our time here is.
It makes us uncomfortable.
There are times we just want to feel warm and safe, there are times we just want someone to hold us, and tell us it will be alright. But all we can do is hope, and pray, and through our tears watch the sun come up tomorrow.
I'm thinking about the knoepfle soup I made today, how good and satisfying the chicken was that I used. Very satisfying. Satisfying in a very different way than using home grown vegetables.
That chicken arrived in the mail as a three day old chick in a cardboard box, last spring. I watched it grow from adorable and fluffy, to gawky teenager learning to crow, to big trouble rooster.
It was my decision to move him from coop to kitchen.
In that moment I was able to thank him for his life, knowing he had a real one. He spent his days scratching and singing out in the sun, interacting with the social order of the flock... so different from the lives of store-bought chickens.
In taking his life, I was mindfully aware of what my food really cost. I went from chick in my hand, to axe in my hand, to soup in my bowl. Amazingly good soup, but satisfaction on so many different levels.
I feel a connection to the prairie women of days past, who put chicken on the table in exactly the same way.
But I'm also thinking about how life can be so cruel. So many people are hurting. Hearts are breaking.
So many of us believe there is more than just this world, but what is beyond, we don't understand. We cry out to God, but often don't feel anything. The world is still cold and lonely.
In losing human lives, it makes us mindfully aware of just how short our time here is.
It makes us uncomfortable.
There are times we just want to feel warm and safe, there are times we just want someone to hold us, and tell us it will be alright. But all we can do is hope, and pray, and through our tears watch the sun come up tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
You Capture - Winter
I love these winter night photos, because they make it look as cold out as it really was. Hot cocoa with lots of marshmallows! The windchilll was -17F.
Some people here like to joke that we live in the frozen tundra. But the truth is, there are moments when it is no joke.
Does anyone know what is causing the vertical lines in the sky on the last one?
Some people here like to joke that we live in the frozen tundra. But the truth is, there are moments when it is no joke.
Does anyone know what is causing the vertical lines in the sky on the last one?
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Fate
smash [smash] -verb (used with object) to break to pieces with violence and often with a crashing sound, as by striking, letting fall, or dashing against something; shatter.
Yeah, you guessed it.
That is my coat pocket, of course, with some eggs that don't come any fresher.
Freshly smashed, that is.
I guess carrying three reusable canvas bags full of groceries, a backpack (diaper bag), a package of twenty-four double sized rolls of toilet paper, an empty dog food bag, AND at the same time having four eggs in my pocket is just too much.
I have never been very good at multitasking. Although, Lord knows I try.
One out of four isn't so bad?
Oh crap.
Yeah, you guessed it.
That is my coat pocket, of course, with some eggs that don't come any fresher.
Freshly smashed, that is.
I guess carrying three reusable canvas bags full of groceries, a backpack (diaper bag), a package of twenty-four double sized rolls of toilet paper, an empty dog food bag, AND at the same time having four eggs in my pocket is just too much.
I have never been very good at multitasking. Although, Lord knows I try.
One out of four isn't so bad?
Oh crap.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Christmas poem - part 2
I warned you there was a chance of a sequel. If you need a reminder, click here.
Twas the day after Christmas,
and all through our land
a deep snow had fallen.
I, with my camera in hand,
looked out through the window
at this most wondrous sight,
trying my darnedest to get
my camera settings just right.
When what to my wondering
eyes should appear?
Someone braving the blizzard,
my husband, a man of no fear.
All through the night
it had snowed and snowed.
And every time that happens
there's one spot on the road,
where a snowdrift grows
to such an enormous size,
that to leave with the car
would certainly be unwise.
Without a question I knew
my husband was going to see,
just exactly how large
that drift had gotten to be.
Then I saw our dog
prancing around in the snow.
Wherever her master went,
you can be sure she would go.
But the longer I watched,
something didn't seem right.
That dog had something in her mouth,
and she was holding it tight!
My husband was trying
to get her to come,
but it took quite awhile.
That dog isn't dumb.
He wanted to take it,
whatever she'd gotten.
Back at the house I was hoping
it wasn't stinky and rotten.
As I watched with my camera
through a gap in the trees,
finally the snow beast came to him,
although I doubt my hubby said please.
As he then headed back to the house,
my curiosity nearly killed me!
In just a few short minutes I'd know
what in the world it could be.
A pheasant!
It had flown up in front of her nose,
and that dog leaped into the sky!
She'd grabbed it real quick,
and in only one try.
Often that dog is a pain in the rear
but on this day, she was a winner,
for in catching that bird
she gave us our post-Christmas dinner.
Twas the day after Christmas,
and all through our land
a deep snow had fallen.
I, with my camera in hand,
looked out through the window
at this most wondrous sight,
trying my darnedest to get
my camera settings just right.
When what to my wondering
eyes should appear?
Someone braving the blizzard,
my husband, a man of no fear.
All through the night
it had snowed and snowed.
And every time that happens
there's one spot on the road,
where a snowdrift grows
to such an enormous size,
that to leave with the car
would certainly be unwise.
Without a question I knew
my husband was going to see,
just exactly how large
that drift had gotten to be.
Then I saw our dog
prancing around in the snow.
Wherever her master went,
you can be sure she would go.
But the longer I watched,
something didn't seem right.
That dog had something in her mouth,
and she was holding it tight!
My husband was trying
to get her to come,
but it took quite awhile.
That dog isn't dumb.
He wanted to take it,
whatever she'd gotten.
Back at the house I was hoping
it wasn't stinky and rotten.
As I watched with my camera
through a gap in the trees,
finally the snow beast came to him,
although I doubt my hubby said please.
As he then headed back to the house,
my curiosity nearly killed me!
In just a few short minutes I'd know
what in the world it could be.
A pheasant!
It had flown up in front of her nose,
and that dog leaped into the sky!
She'd grabbed it real quick,
and in only one try.
Often that dog is a pain in the rear
but on this day, she was a winner,
for in catching that bird
she gave us our post-Christmas dinner.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Up
Things are looking up.
The little bean is up, all the time standing up.
She stays up, by hanging on really tight with at least one hand.
If she's down, she is traveling to a new location to be up.
Like a little "whack-a-mole" she pops up all over the house.
The little bean is up, all the time standing up.
She stays up, by hanging on really tight with at least one hand.
If she's down, she is traveling to a new location to be up.
Like a little "whack-a-mole" she pops up all over the house.
Friday, January 8, 2010
The coldest days
It is a beautiful sunny day. At least it appears that way looking out the window. We've already warmed up from our bitter cold last night and right now as I type, it's a lovely -22F outside. Don't ask me what the windchill is, I don't even want to know.
I think I should have titled my blog, "Eggs in My Pocket". If you have followed me from the beginning, you know this has been an ongoing issue.
It happened again.
I just went out to the barn, but first I had to peel my frozen boots off the entryway floor. Then, I found an egg in my coat pocket. I put it there last night when I put the chickens to bed. This one was actually cracked, but the good news is it was NOT fully smashed, so my pocket is fine.
Chances are good that I have not learned my lesson. Only time will tell.
The other good news is the barn was still there, so Fritzy did indeed manage to keep his gorgeous tail feathers out of the heat lamp.
But look at his poorfreezer burned frostbit comb.
Last night was only the second time (other than when the birds were babies) that I have put heat on in the coop. It was a balmy -12 in there, and the birds were happy and singing in the red glow of the heat lamp.
Several of the hens are still wearing their fleece jackets. If you missed that story, you really missed out! Read about it by clicking here.
One of the hens was sitting on four eggs (which I put in my pocket, of course), and another was getting settled into the nest, so I expect it will be another five-egg-day. Five eggs a day from ten hens is really very good, especially when it's this dang cold.
I'll thank them with some warm oatmeal when I go back out.
I have to go back out, to (hopefully) gather that last freshly laid egg before it freezes; and because the heated dog bowl was frozen. Frozen solid. I kicked it hard just to be sure, and it hurt my foot. Yes, it was still plugged in.
Wondering what the problem was?
There is such a good power line running to the barn, if I plug heat in for the birds, there simply isn't enough juice left to keep the dog bowl thawed when it is this cold. Nice.
Marshall did not appreciate me pulling the ice out of his sensitive cat whiskers. The dog, on the other hand, did not care.
What an odd couple they are.
Right now, the dog and cat are warm enough, snuggled together deep in some hay, the moisture in their breath freezing to their whiskers again.
The chickens, I am sure, are still singing.
(The pictures in this post are grainy and out of focus because I wanted to capture that red glow the heat lamp was casting in the coop)
I think I should have titled my blog, "Eggs in My Pocket". If you have followed me from the beginning, you know this has been an ongoing issue.
It happened again.
I just went out to the barn, but first I had to peel my frozen boots off the entryway floor. Then, I found an egg in my coat pocket. I put it there last night when I put the chickens to bed. This one was actually cracked, but the good news is it was NOT fully smashed, so my pocket is fine.
Chances are good that I have not learned my lesson. Only time will tell.
The other good news is the barn was still there, so Fritzy did indeed manage to keep his gorgeous tail feathers out of the heat lamp.
But look at his poor
Last night was only the second time (other than when the birds were babies) that I have put heat on in the coop. It was a balmy -12 in there, and the birds were happy and singing in the red glow of the heat lamp.
Several of the hens are still wearing their fleece jackets. If you missed that story, you really missed out! Read about it by clicking here.
One of the hens was sitting on four eggs (which I put in my pocket, of course), and another was getting settled into the nest, so I expect it will be another five-egg-day. Five eggs a day from ten hens is really very good, especially when it's this dang cold.
I'll thank them with some warm oatmeal when I go back out.
I have to go back out, to (hopefully) gather that last freshly laid egg before it freezes; and because the heated dog bowl was frozen. Frozen solid. I kicked it hard just to be sure, and it hurt my foot. Yes, it was still plugged in.
Wondering what the problem was?
There is such a good power line running to the barn, if I plug heat in for the birds, there simply isn't enough juice left to keep the dog bowl thawed when it is this cold. Nice.
Marshall did not appreciate me pulling the ice out of his sensitive cat whiskers. The dog, on the other hand, did not care.
What an odd couple they are.
Right now, the dog and cat are warm enough, snuggled together deep in some hay, the moisture in their breath freezing to their whiskers again.
The chickens, I am sure, are still singing.
(The pictures in this post are grainy and out of focus because I wanted to capture that red glow the heat lamp was casting in the coop)
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