I Wonder.

Little E-Claire is now pretty much feathered out and independent. While I suspected her mother was one of the Americaunas, it is now apparent I was correct. Of course, we all knew who the father was. E-Claire was hatched by Grendal, the Muscovy duck. She was fostered by Marie-Claire, our resident surrogate mother-hen, a Maran. Lately - over the past few days, she has been tight as white to one of the Americauna hens, who has, in turn, become rather friendly toward her. This is not an Americauna trait in my experience - they are aloof and tend to be loners. Could this be the layer of the egg that is now E-Claire? Is there some sort of bond - genetic? cosmic? - between them? Maybe it's just the unrelenting heat and humidity working its way into my brain. Any thoughts?

The Single Homesteader.

I have been running across a lot more postings by single female homesteaders who are searching for a partner with a new sense of urgency.  I have been there, sisters, I have been there.  Speaking strictly for myself, my sense of urgency seems to grow in direct correlation to my sense of weariness.  Or when winter starts to raise it's hoary head.  Most women I know who have the gumption to whack out a farming life on their own, are strong women.  With strong personalities and a strong sense of self.  But, even the strongest of us -- when faced with acres of rocky, overgrown land that needs clearing and fencing, or when the sheep/cattle/goats/horses have torn down that same section of fence that was just fixed for the hundredth time and are are in the middle of the road -- will cry "Enough Already!" and feel like we can't do it alone any longer.
     While I haven't given up the search for a help/soul/mate, I've learned to take a deep breath, step back and ease up.  Past experience has shown me that when I act blindly, I am indeed blind to all the red flags and sirens that go off around me, and I end up in an unhappy relationship.  I am glad I have gotten (a little) smarter as I have gotten older.  I am also lucky that I can turn to friends to help with that rocky, overgrown piece of land.  It's a tough row to hoe, but I do believe there is someone out there for every one of us - you just need that magical combination of right time, right place, right guy, Moon in Capricorn, crows in the pine trees.   Remember that you want someone to share this (mostly) wonderful farming life with you.  If you love your life, that love will shine through to someone who will not only share the hardships with you, but who will get to share in the love as well.  Just my two cents.

Yankee Ingenuity.

The sun's out, there's a nice breeze, laundry tree is beckoning - I'm one-armed.  What to do?  (click on photo to enlarge). 

Signs of Summer.

One of my favorite summer drinks is sweetened mint iced tea.  There is something so beautiful about a carafe full of bright green mint leaves (with their lovely contrasting brown spots.....).  The kitchen smells minty and, as soon as it cools, I can strain it, stir in some of last year's honey, and pour it into a large frosty glass full of ice cubes.  It doesn't get better than that.

I Love a Parade.

One of the many things I love about where I live is that it's a small town.  And they have a parade down Main Street every Fourth of July (or Fifth of July, this year).  Our small library is manned and supported by a fanatically loyal group and every year they put on a Cafe a la Mode event to coincide with the parade.  This entails tables covered with all manner of wonderful, homemade pies, muffins, coffee cakes and other amazing baked goods that are sold - pies by the slice, with or without ice cream - to support the library.  It is also a great excuse for everyone to gather under the tent and catch up; a/k/a gossip.  There are older folks, younger folks, little folks, dogs.  And they are friendly.  Then there is the parade - every piece of fire equipment within a 50 mile radius is buffed and on show, there are beautiful old cars, floats, bagpipers, firemen, rescue squads, bands, horseback riders, you name it.  Every year there is a theme and all floats are judged and win prizes.  Lots of people line the street and take pictures.  It is just wonderful, and it is representative of what is best about America - it's small towns and the people who populate them. 

The Beauty of the Blogosphere.

It continually amazes me that there is such a wealth of knowledge and diversity being blogged every day.  Although there are times when I curse the computer - especially those times where I sit down for a minute and get up having lost 2 hours - it has allowed me to meet wonderful people, read funny and heartwarming stories, find support and humor when I needed it, and realize how small and amazing our world is.  One of my biggest support needs, it turns out, is gardening help.  I have just started back gardening this year, after a many-year hiatus (waaaaay back in Ohio, over 17 years ago) and I have forgotten everything I ever knew.  Which wasn't much to start with. 
  This brings me to my most pressing problem - Zucchini.  While most people quake and run for cover when the word "zucchini" enters the conversation, I lust after them.  I was so excited when I planted my four healthy plants in my new raised beds, fortified with llama 'beans'.  I was even more excited when all the flowers opened and small fruit began to form.  Then I watched in horror as they shriveled, turned yellow and fell off.  I thought I would cry.  I Googled the affliction and came up with lack of nitrogen.  This seemed odd, since they were planted on a firm foundation of 'beans', compost and all manner of organic nitrogen-rich material.  Then I received a lovely email from Susy at Chiot's Run.  She wrote in response to my comment on her blog.  Turns out, it's a pollination problem.  I have my paint brush ready and, raging humidity or not, I will be pollinating my zucchini blossoms tonight!  (And just where are my bees???)  I highly recommend her blog - lots of useful information and beautiful photography.  Thanks, Susy!

Ah, Morpheus!

Had my follow-up visit with the doc today and learned all kinds of interesting things about my inside structure and the additions thereto (suture anchors - cool!).  And he said, "You are very young [for this]", twice.  Which means that I love him because I choose to ignore the [for this] part.  I also love him because a) he's cute; b) he has a good sense of humor; c) is a great surgeon, and, finally, d) because he said I can sleep without the dang sling.  That means *gasp* I can sleep in a prone position!  Flat, horizontal, board-like, flat as a pancake, on my back.  No more vertical, non-sleeping sleeping.  And I can tell you, it's not possible to have sane dreams if you're sleeping sitting up.  It dredges up all kinds of past teenage-angst, like those dreams where you find yourself the only one naked in your English Lit class.  You haven't?  Never mind, then.  Can't start PT for another two weeks, but sleep!  That's fantazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz....