Facing Myself - September linky

Kids finally in bed, and a million things on my "to do" list.

You know this kind of light makes me twitch if I can't grab my camera and run out the door.

Obsessed? No. "Golden hour" light owns me. I have no defense. You see how much work I'm getting done.



Twenty minutes, I told myself. Just for me.

Got any idea what I found? There are more in my other hand.



A little bit of heaven. In my garden.



They look good, but they taste even better. I can't even begin to describe it.




Okay guys, the linky is open through the end of September. I cannot wait to see the self portraits you all come up with this time! I would encourage you to go back HERE and check out last month's entries. Some awesome stuff in there!

Oh yeah, and HERE are the rules.

That's not a rooster I hear crowing

Alternatively titled: I don't need no stinking alarm clock.


It's a good idea, on the farm, to be in the habit of waking up well before 6am.

Every. Single. Day.



There is work to be done. Gotta fire up that John Deere.



And get your butt out into the corn fields.



It's such hard work... enough to completely poop you out before your brothers are anywhere near waking up.



And those brothers, they get up way too early.


You Capture - "Mornings"

Wandering in the evening

If we can make it just a few more weeks without frost, our raspberries will be perfectly ripe. Fresh and new and yummy. They've been teasing us, one here... one there... but now we've begun to find them a handful at a time.

I had to chase the dog out of there yesterday. She gets all kinds of good things, she doesn't need every last one of the raspberries too.

This little damselfly was about to go hunting for mosquitoes. Yet its own life is nearly over. I can feel that hint of crisp change in the evening air. I wonder if the little creatures are aware of it.



The day is complete when everything is saturated with that fabulous golden light, it is brief but magical.

I chase the diminishing light with my lens, forced to change my camera's settings almost constantly. Finally I admit that I just can't collect enough light with the tools I have. My tripod is in the house. I'm not running back in for it, not tonight anyway. The mosquitoes are terrible.

But until those blood-thirsty demons send me racing for the safety of the house, I sit alone with my camera... quietly observing, listening, feeling, seeing.

Well, okay, so I'm not technically alone. This big sharp-clawed rumbling orange beast loves to tag along.



And I don't mind.



He's good company.



More Summer's Simple Things at

The second day of school

The first day of school gets all the attention.

Clothes are laid out the night before. Moms put a tissue in their pocket, just in case. Cameras click click click. Everyone is at least a little bit unsure.



The first day of school, our big kindergartner was ready. His mom was ready. The camera was ready. As we waited, someone noticed spiderwebs and admired them, which calmed any remaining nerves.



Although preschool last year had prepared us all for school itself, the bus was a new thing. He wanted me to step on the bus with him. I was happy to.

Amazingly, considering it was only a few weeks ago that he declared, "And I'm not gonna do it", all was well.

In a cloud of dust, our big kindergartner was off to his first day of school.



Of course it was the second day, when I let my guard down, that the drama arrived.

Again, I waited outside with the kid. The bus was coming down the driveway. The doors opened... but he hesitated.

So our ninety pound beast of a dog got on the bus instead.

Happy tongue swinging, flapping tail slapping the seats, nose investigating, completely ignoring my request for her to get her butt back on firm ground. I finally had to grab her collar and pull. She knew mom meant business and didn't argue.

The giggling kindergartner got on the bus. You would laugh too, if your gigantic dog wanted to go to school with you.

And then I discovered that my clever three-year-old had locked me out of the house.

I have everything under control. Always. Yes, I do. I'm the mom.

Hidden treasure

After we got our big kindergartner on his bus yesterday, and watched that cloud of dust go down the gravel road for the very first time, it seemed strange with him gone. We needed something different to do. So I grabbed my two younger ones and we set off in search of something special.

I figured the chance of us finding it was actually quite good, since the adults have been migrating through our yard by hundreds and hundreds, these the last two days.

It didn't take long before we were immersed in the magic. We found one!



We got up close and inspected it thoroughly.


{See the hovering fly?}

Then we collected it. Someone giggled because it left a trail of tickles on his hand.



Next we found a super-tiny itty bitty one. So, so small. You may not believe it, but we even found one tinier than this.



But there were plenty of big ones too.



We built a little cardboard mansion and gathered a banquet of milkweed for them. Now we watch and wait.

For me, personally, this is something really special. My Dad got me interested in insects when I was little. I searched year after year looking for Monarch caterpillars. I never found a single one.

You Capture - "Outside"

All photos on this post were shot with the lensbaby 2.0 and the super-wide angle accessory.

Also, yes I have a bunch of pictures of the Monarchs migrating through our backyard, and I did use a real lens for that. I'll get some of those pictures up soon.

Delicious quiet

The boys are out fishing with their Daddy, in the wind. The Bean is down for a nap, recharging her batteries. The house is quiet, momentarily.

Quiet. It's delicious.

My quiet is balanced on top of the sound of a cricket singing and the trees dancing in the wind and something else.

A screen door is softly tap tap tapping as the wind pulls it barely open and then lets go.

Why?

Because my "I am such big fancy stuff" Red rooster crowed.

He does not crow once. Nope. Once he gets fired up he crows at least a dozen times. At least.

Where?

He crowed right underneath The Bean's window, and she is sleeping, you recall.

I jumped off my chair, out the door and down the back steps, nearly landing on a hen.

Red saw me coming.

He took off for the lilac bushes and I was close behind. I chased him across our clover and bee filled yard... bare foot. I did not get stung. It must be my day!

Around and around we went. I told him to shut-up. I said it nicely. Maybe.

Dude gave me a dirty look like he always does when he admits that I am the bigger rooster. And I am. He knows it's true, just needs a reminder once in awhile.

And then we just stood there looking at each other. He is a beautiful bird. His tail feathers whipped around in the breeze. The sunlight bounced off his back. He turned and I watched him walk his ladies across to the other side of the yard.

I am sitting here listening to a cricket singing, the trees dancing in the wind, and the tap tap tapping of the screen door that I didn't quite get latched on my way back in. I do not hear any chickens.

Quiet. Mmmmmm...

Tilt shift baby!

When you live way out in the boonies, where your chickens lay eggs in the doghouse, you still have to enter society once in awhile. Unfortunately. I'd rather be moving our couch in search of escaped amphibians.

Both of which I had to do twice this week.

Was it only yesterday I swore I would never go grocery shopping with all three of my offspring ever again? Ever. For the rest of my days.

I was so distraught I even forgot to use my coupon. It was that bad.

Honestly, the kids aren't normally so bad... two is okay. Three is a gamble. I'm sure it's due to some phenomenon involving psychology, calculus, time of day, and the pull of the moon's gravity on the earth. I don't know. I won't ask my husband because he would sit down with some duct tape, graph paper and a paper clip and figure it out.

And yet, I find myself about to lose my mind again. I find myself having grabbed the cart with the bad wheel that wobbles around and around, praying we find what we need and can get the heck out of here before disaster strikes.

Squeak, squeak, squeak...

Things seem a little off. Perhaps it wasn't a level headed idea, but we gotta get this job done.



Sorry Bean, but the big kid needs shoes.



How is it possible that a kindergartner has need for two pairs of shoes? At school. Need as in "required". Gah.

Hey Wal-Mart! Guess what? I went to K-Mart, so there!



Shoe shopping is serious business, this can't be rushed. But we're already feeling dizzy.

The monkeys want to be free!



Suddenly he realizes that if he pulls up on the front panel of the cart, his cage door starts to open! It lifts the Bean forward up into the air! She squeals and hangs on for dear life... but it's a bad angle for him, and she's too heavy to go all the way over.

He drops the partly open cage door.

It falls back into place.

The Bean plops down in her seat.

Her fingers?

Pinched.



Frogs in the living room is nothing compared to this.