Just Wow.....

...Or the Mighty Have Fallen.....

The other morning I was getting in my truck which is parked out front right now---garage full of computer desk yada yada---and I happened to look down towards the road. I noticed what looked like a very large limb had fallen from one of the Catalpa trees. The lilac bush was blocking my view, so I went ahead and got in the truck and drove down to the road gate. I couldn't believe what I was seeing---not a limb from the tree, but the tree itself was completely fallen on the ground.

I still can't believe it. Remember a few months back when I waxed rhapsodic about these mighty old Catalpa trees? Somewhere in there I noted that they had surpassed their projected life span of seventy years. That was kinda dumb on my part, evidently.

Damage Inspector Boone

To re-cap these trees were planted sometime in the mid 1930s. There were five of them still surviving from that original planting. There are now four. I am sad about losing this beautiful tree. Hopefully once it's all cleaned up (which will be quite a while!), I can eventually reseed a Catalpa there. Maybe from the tree itself.

Now, for the part that persists in creeping me out. The night it fell, there was no wind, no rain, no nothing. Granted I had the fans and air conditioning on part of the night, but there was also no sound. It appears as if it just gently, with nary a whoosh or a groan laid itself quietly down forever. Not two weeks before I was mowing around and around that tree for a half hour or better as I trimmed up the paddock. It's hard not to look at the rest of the trees with jaundiced and suspicious eyes now.

Looking the tree over it is obvious it was in distress--on the inside. Much of the trunk was rotted out, and when it fell it simply snapped at the base. If it had to fall, it could not have picked a better direction. It missed all major fences and except for a branch or two it also missed the other trees. It is also a blessing that there was no livestock in the paddock as well, since this is Jeff and Cal's old pen and I'm letting it rest for most of the summer.


I'm sure the ice storm a few years ago weakened it, and we've had some crazy storms this summer, with high winds, which probably completed the job. I still find it sobering that it fell on a quiet night. It'll make some nice kindling and fire wood. Nothing is better to get a fire good and hot quickly than Catalpa!

As for my truck that is parked out front? Well it's parked under two more of the Catalpas.....Time to get that garage cleaned out!

Rest your weary leaves on the ground old tree....you've been grand

Caution...Mowers Ahead...

...Stay back 100 foot!

Mowing crew break time....

Paycheck line...

The sheep are working hard at keeping the grass down. Even the hard to get to places like the above little corner in the yard. They were pretty nervous though about the tight quarters and the Boone-dork giving them the eye. I've been waiting to turn them on fresh grass until about 7 at night because it's just so hot right now. So far I've only had to mow the front paddocks twice this summer and that was just to trim down the few scraggly weeds. Good job sheep crew!

Don't forget to leave a comment here if you want to be entered in the Cat Calendar contest--it ends at midnight on August 4th!

C-c-calendar Cat Contest!

Noah says---"hurry and leave a comment! even if you have to dip into your nap time!"

August 5th, 2010 will mark the first birthday of the Kittens...who are fast becoming Cats. In honor of the day that instituted my gradual and unknowing slide into 'crazy cat lady' status, there will be a giveaway on the blog.

The 'rules' such as they are as follows:

You must comment to be eligible to win. Your name will be entered in the drawing only one time (but if you want to comment more than once, you certainly can!). The prize winner's name will be randomly drawn from all entrants. You can enter until midnight August 4th. Contest is open to USA citizens only, unless you live in another country and want to help with postage costs (if they are extremely high), then you are welcome to enter as well.

Please gear the subject of your comments to the following: Ways you have helped an individual animal in need; ways you help an organization; favorite animal adoption, rescue/success story; etc--I'm sure you all will have some good stuff to share. I would love to hear about how you help our little furry friends--inspire us and share what you do, or have done in the past. The need is great, and I'd like for this post to encourage us all to find avenues to help out!

The prize will be a 12 Month 2011 custom calendar from Shutterfly. The subject of the calendar will be (I'm sure you've guessed it) the little six pack of kittens, with some of my favorite pictures taken of them over the past year. This will be nice professionally put together calendar. If you enjoy cats, I think you'll enjoy this calendar.

Winner will be announced either on August 5th or as soon after as I can get it done.

Looking forward to reading your comments! Let the contest begin....

Clockwise from the top: Meshach, Noah, Chaco, Gabe & Verity in the middle--definitely need a bigger bed....

A Tail of Three Tortis

A Tale of Three Torties for Torti Tuesday. (say that three times fast...)

First there was this Torti. This is Lucy. I snatched Lucy from her mother, Vera (a feral cat) at a young age and brought her up to my house to join her half brother and sister (Shiloh and Karma). That was in September of 1985. She never looked back and was certainly never inclined to be feral. She was always messing around in my business and followed every step I took. She was an outside cat, and the only cat I've ever had that would run down the driveway to the road to meet my car when I got home from work! Then she would run up the driveway in front of me, with tail held high. She was a great buddy to my first beautiful collie girl, Hanna. (A blue merle). They played and played constantly. When she was about five months old she pulled a very dirty trick on me and got herself pregnant. She was going in to be spayed after she reached six months. About two months later she popped out six little kittens (does this sound familiar?)--all hale and hearty. Yes, I kept them all, but they all were expressed to the vet's as soon as possible for their spay/neuter surgeries-as was their mother! Lucy was always a character and made a deep impression on me. When she was nine years old she disappeared. Later I found her body in a ditch off the highway, but I do believe it wasn't a car that killed her, but the neighbor's rifle. It was a very sad thing and she was missed immensely.

Lucy

Then in the year 2000, four years after Lucy died, this little imp moved into my life. She came squalling up out of the field next to my house from the dark. I told her to go away. She was very tiny, and she thought she would stay. So she did. I named her DesiLu in honor of Lucy. They looked very much alike. Desi was also a very devoted little kitty and a huge character. Her and Tibby (a kitty who was so timid she had no friends) became great buddies and played for hours every day. Desi helped Tibby over her timidity and Tibby eventually moved out from under the chicken house and down to the breezeway. Desi also loved the collies and especially became good chums with Jody. Sadly Desi's life although intense was very brief. She died at age 2 and a half from a blood disease. The fight for her life was brief, and she quickly faded away.

DesiLu

DesiLu

Being owned by a torti is a tough job as they expect you to be as dedicated to their lives as they are to yours. So when little miss priss, Tempe, came along, I decided right off---no more tortis!. You, little miss, will go to a new home somewhere else, when you are weaned. Yeah, right.

So I think we all know who the third Torti is, of course---Tempe. Complete with the Torti 'tude, she took over from day one and has never looked back. Temperamental, sweet, nosy, and in my business--yes, she is a Torti. I hope she graces my life for many more years to come.

Baby Torti-Tude--Tempe

These three girls are so full of similarities at times it has been weird. Their markings are not the same, and two of my girls have had orange-golden eyes (Lucy and Tempe) while little DesiLu had green eyes. I guess I'm meant to be owned by a Torti regardless of what I think, and that isn't such a bad thing--most of the time. (Hey! Tempe! Get down--what are you into now??)

Here's Tempe and Ashley---Uhm....not really, just kidding. This is actually DesiLu and Jody--good buds.

This is Tempe and Ashley--deja vu all over again, huh?
Also good buds.

Tempe says 'like the 'bean ever stood a chance the day I was born. The Torti Path had already been paved.'

SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT---Free Giveway featured next month to celebrate a certain six's first birthday! More information to come.

Rocky

Rocky

March 22, 2004--July 9, 2010

Rocky was born to a big Dorset ewe, June, who had large dramatic eyes and a creamy fleece. His sire was Blue the big Merino. His brother was born first, and as Rocky was being born, I thought something was wrong with his face. Then I realized he just had his momma's big eyeliner eyes! Little did I realize there was something else wrong with the little fellow.

It didn't take long to see though that something wasn't right. The little guy couldn't stand up, and when he did, he couldn't stay up. Rocky was the first and so far only bottle lamb I've had in the ten years I've kept sheep. He stayed with his Mom that night and the next day, as I was hoping that things would improve. June was becoming very skeptical of the little thing and would bat him away with her head. She was never terribly mean about it, but very firm.

Off to the vet we went to see if they could tell what was up. My Mom drove and Rocky rode calmly on my lap in the front seat of the van. At the vet's there was much bewilderment, and finally an attempt to make a wire frame and cast for his front leg that seemed most effected. Sixty-five dollars later we were on our way home. I left the cast on one day, and then took it off. He could not get up at all with it on. Even I could tell it wasn't his front leg that was the problem, but something in the construction of his shoulders was off--something a leg cast was never going to fix.

By then Rocky was standing on his own and could even do quite the little run and playing gig. I tried to keep him in the house at night, but the slick floors defeated him, so out to the barn he went to his own stall at night. Eventually he spent most of the day in a pen by the house, nights in the barn with the flock and when I was home, dogging (or lambing?) my footsteps. His front legs were always going to be shorter than his back legs, but he managed quite well.

For a bottle lamb he sure was a stubborn and independent cuss. Once he was big enough to be with the sheep he went out with them during the day and became a solid flock member.

He loved the lambs and for many years would participate in lamb races. Since he couldn't run as fast as the lambs (although he could run pretty darn fast when he was younger!), he would strategically place himself about halfway down the lamb race route and join them on the last half of their lap. It was quite the sight to see. The other sheep always accepted him and never gave him any hassles. The only danger was at feeding time when it was 'every ewe for herself', so I fed Rocky separate.

As he aged he lost some of the agility and mobility he possessed in his first years. Each year he seemed to lose a little more, but still seemed cheerful and in good spirits. Only in the last year, for the first time, had I noticed that his light was waning. I had made up my mind to have him put down in the fall so that he wouldn't have to endure another winter.

Most farms would not have kept Rocky alive. But as you probably figured out this isn't most farms. As long as he seemed to be in no pain, I was willing if he was to let him live out his life here. Life always had challenges for Rocky, but his stubborn, independent spirit overcame them daily. He always had to do things his way, and I'd often get exasperated at him, but also admired his spunk.

Rest well, little guy, we miss you very much.

Blessed Rain

..before the rain....even the trees and shrubs were wilting....

After weeks of hot dry weather, everything was becoming scorched and wilted. The pastures had stopped growing, even the tree leaves were drooping. Finally after getting rain all around us for several days, we were blessed with an inch of rain Wednesday evening. Thursday we received another 3/4 inch. Everything has perked up, but it's still hot and humid and pretty miserable. The animals pretty much lay low except for early morning and late evening.

Monday the last of the two lambs went off to their new homes. It's always hard to see them go, but am pleased they went to a good home. These two were the '2.50 cent wether and the 75.00 wether'.

The other three lambs will be staying and it will soon be time to round everyone up and check if they need worming. There is also some serious halter breaking that needs to happen--this years three lambs and last years three ewe lambs. There is some big snotty attitude radiating off those three yearlings and it's time they became civilized--again. (Excuse me, did you just stomp your foot at me--you little turkey??)

Day lily refreshed by the rain...

The flock now stands at 21 sheep total. There are 15 Shetland (three wethers), 4 Merino/Dorset crosses (1 wether), 1 Dorset and 1 Merino (ram). This is the smallest my total numbers have been for a few years.

The consistently hot,humid weather this summer takes it toll--just as the extreme cold of last winter did. Rocky my crippled wether started going downhill this week and died Friday morning. He had been losing ground a little since the winter--first he stopped going out on pasture, then he would hardly stir out of the barn etc. This week though, he became very restless and when he didn't eat his grain Wednesday night I knew things weren't good. He was still eating leaves I'd picked for him up until Friday morning. It was a blessing I believe that he died, as there was no hope for improvement. He will be missed.

Saturday I met up with Jama and Jim to check out the Fiber U event in Lebanon. It was interesting to see, and they had a good turnout in vendors. They also had classes scheduled for all day long. Since we had missed the deadline and the fees were a bit steep we opted not to sign up for any classes this year. We are considering signing up as vendors next year, and perhaps there will be a class or two that will appeal as well. This would be great if it worked out as another venue to sell my wool products. This would give me three events for the year, all within thirty miles. Anyway, it was an enjoyable outing. I bought a pair of 'irregular' Alpaca socks (shhhh...don't tell the sheepies!), which was my only purchase of the day. The event was primarily given over to the Alpaca industry (gotta admire those Alpaca people for their game plan!), but there was at least one sheep breeder there (Icelandics). Lots and lots of beautiful items for sale--from fine shawls to rugs, wonderful felted items and of course lots of yarn and spinning supplies.

Afterward we headed to a local Chinese restaurant and had pleasant meal. Then a few errands in town and it was off for home. Where I directly turned on the air and let the dogs in for a nice afternoon's break from the heat.

This week's goal is to get the areas around the house and the front pastures mowed. They need to be trimmed up after the sheep had thoroughly grazed them. I was afraid to touch them before with the extremely dry weather. Better a tattered unkempt look than grass killed because everything needed to be 'neatened' up. The container garden is growing like gangbusters, and there are quite a few green tomatoes and one large pepper already.

Hope you have a great week!

Helping

I's here helping you make the bed...

Nos, really, I am......

Thanks Gabe--you make the job so much easier!

Cindy

Cindy and Me--in the beginning...

Once upon a time there was a girl and her pony. The pony was very naughty sometimes, but was much loved.

I have always been a horse addict. Only in the last years has my interest strayed, and that mostly due to lack of time and safe riding areas. Alas, don't tell them, but sheep are not my first love.

When I was a kid, I was all about horses. I had my little plastic farm horses, I had my Breyers (which later turned into an extensive collection and years of showing them). I had my horse books. I took pictures of every horse along the highway with my little 110 camera, and what was worse was I knew where every horse was along the highway. Oh, and we can't forget the hours and hours and hours I spent drawing horse stories! When I got a little older, I convinced my Mom we needed to go to a horse show, and for several years horse shows became our weekend hobby. No we didn't show, we just watched! We'd park the car up by the arena, and put our blanket on the hood and with snacks from the cook shack we'd be prepared for a wonderful time. And we enjoyed it allot.

As a kid I spent a lot of my time crawling around pretending to be a horse (or tending to my large sprawling plastic farm)--so much so that I had huge callouses on my knees. Of course there were the stick horses too, and even the ones that got their sticks broken off --in wild bucking sprees no doubt--stayed in the string. They just became ponies.

My cousin and I had room to roam on their farm when we were kids and we invented ranches and horses and rich husbands.

In 1972 when I was nine years old, I went to town with my Mom one day. When we got back home, I got out and started to the house. About then my Dad and brother walked around the corner of the house with a little bay pony. Cindy had arrived. I had no idea that I was about to become owned by a pony! My Dad had bought her at the sale barn for $27.00 and she came out to our house in a big stock truck, and from what I was told it was a hairy ordeal. None the less she arrived in one piece. My Dad led me around on her and we went down to show our neighbor Ernie. Needless to say, I was thrilled to pieces and I'll never forget that moment when Dad led her around the corner of the house.

Right after we got her she somehow got loose in the barn. My Dad was at work, and I remember it was all high drama, and my Mom wouldn't let my brother or me go in the barn, as she bravely opened the door and went in to try and corral the unhappy wild little pony.

From what Dad was told, she had belonged to a couple of kids who had broke her and she was around two years old. Cindy was sorta broke...she wouldn't buck you off all the time anyway. She was not bit trained and came with a halter. Good neighbors gave me the saddle pad. See the big field in the background with me on Cindy? It was allot of fun riding her out there, but coming back was quite scary, with her in a full out, runaway gallop. Invariably she took me close enough to the pig pen to scare me to death.

Cindy really had no training, and I wasn't aggressive enough to be able to handle her well. A bridle with a bit helped, and my Dad tried some to get her more manageable. She was a smart little thing, and I dearly loved her, but she was very ornery and stubborn. We spent hours together--many with me on foot. When I got older I finally got over my fear and she had mellowed over the years too, so that there were several years when I rode her all over, even though I was pushing the 'almost too big for her' mark. I would even ride her with my first dog, Boots--a little cocker/peke/poodle mix--in my arms.

I spent hours grooming her and braiding her thick mane and tail and even bathing her. One time we had her shod--although I can't remember why--and I'm surprised she lived through it. Our friend shod her and he was very horse knowledgeable. I spied on them through a crack in the barn, and she was horrible about it all, and I think he was ready to kill her, I'm pretty sure I heard some swearing! ;-) Every one of her hooves was a different shape and size, and she kept those shoes on maybe a few weeks, tops. I still have some of her little horseshoes.

She was horrible on fences, and would pull down a good fence in minutes with her hooves. Periodically she would get out and take off for a little while. One time she was gone a whole day and was exhausted when she came back. That was the last time I remember her making a run for it. She hated dogs in her pasture and would nearly run them into the ground if she caught one out in the open. She also got this way towards my cousin and me which wasn't very funny. She was very possessive of her little piece of ground.

Over the years she colicked several times quite severely. The vet had to be called at least once and maybe twice. I remember walking her around and around during these episodes. She was only fed oats so she wouldn't founder and she loved her little pan of oats.

I learned allot from that little pony. I'm sure she had a solid dose of Shetland in there somewhere and much of the famed pony personality. I only had her six years, but somehow it seemed longer.

One winter she slipped on the ice and sprawled out with her front legs almost in a splits. She never recovered from that. We had the vet out and he said she was wormy and we dutifully wormed her. She lay in the barn most of the time and I sat with her for hours. Our neighbor gave us some good hay for her. She went out on pasture the morning that she died and we thought she was better. My sister and her family came for Sunday dinner and as they were leaving I went to check on my pony. Cindy was stretched out dead, and it looked like she had went peacefully. It was March 2, 1978.

I was inconsolable, as I loved that little bay pony so much. Even with all her quirks and attitude she was my buddy and we had allot of fun times together. We started out as just two little kids learning the ropes together. I had outgrown her and wanted a horse, but our pasture was small and I vowed I would never sell Cindy. I would just wait for a horse later.

Later that year in July I got my horse, twice, but that's Lady's story.....

Beautiful Bay Cindy