Yesterday was what seems to be a rare occasion more often than not lately. The sun was shining. A brief respite from the rain that was to begin again overnight. With the less than stellar weather, it’s not easy to get things done outside, but sometimes we have to buck up and wallow through.
I spent a good part of the day in the mud, pulling out weeds bound and determined to thrive despite the abuse. Truth be told, I am a firm believer in once a weed is pulled, another shouldn’t grow in its place. Problem is, they don’t agree.
Anyway, when I walked back up to the house for dinner, I noticed something odd. My parsley from last year is growing back. Parsley isn’t supposed to grow back in Ohio, but there it was. I still can’t believe it. Goes to show just how much of a mild, albeit wet, winter we’ve had. I made sure to pull the offending weeds and wild onion that grows in from around it, thrilled to have found the little surprise bounty. Then I was thinking about the rest of the herbs that die out for winter and are actually supposed to come back, how I hadn’t checked on them yet.
Have you ever had the opportunity to smell fresh oregano? For me, it is one of the most amazing smells. I’ll even include it and other herbs in flower bouquets for the added aroma. Anyway, I pulled a bit of the endlessly growing weeds from out and around it and that was all it took. Just a gentle glide over the oregano as I cleared around it and its smell rose up in the air like the most amazing perfume.
As Eldest walked up to the house I asked him if he smelled it. He said, “Smell what?” and I replied, “The oregano.” He said no. GAH! I swear those boys can smell a buck’s musk on the air from a distance, chocolate chips cookies baking in the oven when I just think about making them, but the delicious smell of oregano right under the nose…no.
So, here’s why I’m sharing this… It’s not because I want you to go outside and start sniffing things. That would be weird. It’s not so you go out and start pulling up your weeds, although you’re more than welcome to do that, too. It’s more on account of the little things a person unexpectedly comes upon that ends up to be the highlight of their day, the icing on their cake. It hadn’t crossed my mind to get into the herb garden with all the wicked wet weather we’re having. I can guarantee I wouldn’t have yet if it weren’t for noticing that little sprig of parsley that came out of left field so unexpectedly.
I’m asking you, as we’re continuing to batten down our hatches and tighten our belts while we wait out the virus, what gems might you discover that you may not have otherwise if you took a look around? What might you do today that you may not have had a chance to do if you were away from your home? From reminiscing over grandma’s old recipe book to searching through that container of parts in the garage, I bet there’s something that’ll catch your eye.
My work here continues on without a whole lot of change, but even so, happening upon one little surprise made for a most deliciously fragrant day. Take a moment to stop and smell your oregano while you have the opportunity. You never know what else you might find. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
I was going to do this yesterday, but time slipped away, and before I knew it the day was heading closer to over than I had realized. So, here I am, a day late and definitely more than a dollar short since the farmers market is still closed, but we’re all in this proverbial boat together. Therefore, I write…
Yesterday was a joyously hard one. Young’un isn’t so young anymore. In fact, it’s official. He’s an adult. It’s hard to imagine, even with the vivid imagination I have, that we moved here when he was a 5-year-old on the cusp of 6 and yesterday he woke up to 18. We were all so new back then. New community, new friends, new adventures ahead. Shoot, the past 12 years here have been one adventure after another, and I am so happy Young’un has been by my side to share in so many of them. Frankly, it’s been a joy to have experienced so many things with Hon, Eldest, Kid, and Young’un. I am a very happy and fulfilled mom.
Why, it truly doesn’t seem that long ago since he and I were out at the chicken coop that first year, watching them grow up and into laying eggs and crowing before the sun. I’ll never forget when one of the roosters jumped on a hen and Young’un determined they were playing leapfrog. For quite some time I’d hear him talk about how those roosters sure liked to play leapfrog.
He’s been by my side to watch animals being born, give care, and ease the passing of those who have died. Together, Young’un and I have become beekeepers, learned how to make maple syrup, planted strawberries, and learned the basics of blacksmithing. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried, and we’ve grown together. I’m amazed we made it through learning to drive. Seeing that look on his face a week ago when he put his nervousness aside and aced that driving test to earn his license made my heart full of pride for another accomplishment notch on his belt.
No, it’s not always been sunshine and rainbows. When is it ever? Of course, just like with his brothers, we’ve butt heads more times than I’d have liked…or will like…because I know it’ll happen again. Even so, Young’un, like his brothers and my Hon, are my universe.
So, to you, my youngest, my Young’un, my Nicholas…on this second day of your adulthood, I wish you the sun and the moon. I wish your dreams become reality and your life full and joyous. Together, you, Will, Samuel, and your dad hold my heartstrings. I’m your biggest fan and am here for you. Love, Mom
Since we’re all supposed to be sequestering ourselves at home or going to work and then home at the moment, I thought I’d take a bit of time to share some stories I’ve not shared on account of my thinking about it and then doing something else.
You probably know we’ve had a couple of steer for about a year now. They’ll be with us for about six more months or so and then they’ll be off to freezer camp. Now don’t get upset with me saying that. It’s a fact of farm life for many. I will truly miss them. Whether the animals here stay for years or stay a short while, we don’t take them for granted and provide them with the best care and love.
Our steers are named Stewie and Ribeye. For being on the cusp of hitting the one-year-old mark, they’re quite squirrely and rambunctious. I really would have thought by now they’d have calmed a bit, but those boys can be quite boisterous. Stewie in particular.
From the time Stewie came to us as a calf, he’s been one for fun and getting into trouble. He’s like a young boy hopped up on Sour Patch Kids. He’s all sweet and cow-eyed one moment, sour and salty the next, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. He keeps me on my toes. The only problem has been finding the right thing that stops him from bucking and leaping, pushing me around. You see, I’m the queen of this here farm. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it.
At times Stewie and Ribeye tend to get too close, swinging their heads, leaping around, general steer merriment along with a small dose of what you might have seen at the rodeo. Not always a good and safe situation. I tried carrying the yellow whiffle ball bat with me and holding it out for them to keep their distance or smacking against my hand and Stewie didn’t care about that. That bat was another thing to play with, along with water buckets, hoses, feed scoops, and just about anything else. I used all sorts of words in my stern teacher voice that means business. Words like no, stop, quit, and (#@)(*#%. None of them had any affect…until bup.
I don’t know what it is about bup, but that one word caught Stewies attention. It just came out one day in my frustration of trying to get him to stop knocking into my water bucket and soaking my boot. It was weird. Ever since the first bup left my mouth, that one word has stopped him from doing whatever it is he shouldn’t be.
It didn’t take long for Ribeye to followed suit when he heard the word. When I say bup, I mean business. I don’t know about you, but when my mom used to use my middle name, I knew I was in big trouble. Same thing when I say bup and hold my arm with my palm towards them. It’s like the dreaded middle name. Boy, I tell you, I do that and they not only stop in their tracks, but the get the saddest look on their faces. The world ends when I bup and give them the hand.
So, there you have it folks. Bup. I don’t know why it works, but it does and that’s what’s important. All it takes is a stern bup, throwing up the hand with it depending on the situation, and play time is over. If I knew that particular word held such weight beforehand, maybe it would have worked with a few ornery rams…or maybe the boys when they were younger. Regardless, it’s a real and working word around here and I’m happy to have it. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
You know how it is. Sometimes it’s hard to find good help. You pay them well, they show up on time, you are generous with perks…all seems to be going smoothly and then *BAM* doesn’t work out.
Case in point, our steers. They’re paid quite generously in hay, feed, and grass. Plenty of water…lots of room to romp…excellent healthcare…you get the picture. They’ve been living in a cattle dream for almost a year now. Problem is anything new in the pasture or anything they think doesn’t belong is deemed a reason to mess with it. They just can’t seem to leave things alone, whether it’s a migrating goose or a water bucket. Maybe it’s a steer thing. I know the sheep are curious about things at times, but then after they satisfy that curiosity they move on. Stewie and Ribeye, not so much.
The weather here continues to be rainy, our little dry creek an on again off again raging river - a problem when our larger maple trees for sap are on the other side (or in that water as the case seems to be). Hon and I decided, despite the sap collecting season being near the end, that we’d collect some and have a bit of syrup to enjoy this year. We also decided to give collecting some black walnut sap a go.
Our friends at Earthdancer Farm have tapped their walnut trees for several years now and told us how good it is, so we figured we'd give it a go. The walnut trees around here are later to bloom than the rest, the silver maples the first to bloom. Anyway, Hon and I tapped our few black walnuts, most of which are in the pasture, hooking on the jugs for collection, tieing them on with rope for good measure, and walked away to let the sap collect. Of course, Stewie and Ribeye noticed and were right alongside of us as we tapped the trees, supervising the process, making sure all was done properly. Since then I’ve shooed them off countless times. Considering they don’t have opposable thumbs or any other way I know of to help with the sap process, they’re just plain ‘ole up to no good in their curious steer way.
This morning I went out to check on the sap. One jug was completely full (yay), one had a little in it (yay again), and the other was hanging by a rope thread, empty, with a big split down the side. Now if it were super windy or stormy last night, I’d maybe think that had something to do with it, but I’m sure that wasn’t it. Especially since I captured video evidence of the culprit fooling with the jug that had a little sap in it. GAH!
So, there you have it folks. A couple of curious steer that really aren’t being helpful with sap collection. I have a feeling they’d rather lick the jugs and butt them with their heads in fun than consider leaving them alone for us. Even so, I’m determined to collect enough black walnut sap to make a bit of syrup for our family to enjoy giving a go. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
So when I got home from the farmers market this afternoon, Young’un mentioned Felix, our farm cat, might have been sprayed a bit by a skunk last night. Hmmm…what’s sprayed a bit? Over the years here I’ve been sprayed along side one of our dogs, one of our curious sheep, Z, had been sprayed by a skunk, and quite frankly, skunk just don’t impress me even an inkling. I don’t like to smell them or see them and trying to get that smell out of myself, the dog, or the sheep’s wool was no picnic.
Later on, Hon called and asked Young’un to check how much poultry food was in the bins, so he went to look and came back in, telling me as he washed his hands that he pet Felix and she didn’t really smell bad. Ugh. He put his hand up to me and said to smell it. Uh, no. Now, I don’t know about you, but I equate that along the same lines as when someone says, “Ew, that tastes bad. Try it.” Why in the world do I want to try it if I’m already being told it’s bad, or in this case if I know without a doubt it’s bad because I didn’t need that hand in my face to smell it? Young’un persisted in wanting to stick his hand in my face and I persisted in fighting off the terror of the situation because let me tell you, soap or not, his hand smelled. Probably still does. I won that battle, by the way.
Fast track to evening chores I just came inside from finishing up. As usual, I took Felix her food out at the red barn. When I rounded the corner to do that, I came upon the most horrid skunk smell I’ve had the displeasure of smelling in a while. It was so strong I swear my toes curled and my nose hairs burned away. It was mostly coming from Felix, along with what seems to be the area she cats around in with the week’s hay bales for me to use. I even sniffed her to make doubly sure of where the noxious odor was mainly coming from. I then gagged as I gave her her food, I gagged as fed the cows and the sheep, and I gagged as I got the hay in the racks.
I like to think Felix got sprayed because she was defending her universe. I mean, really, what else could it have been? She won’t stand for any of the plethora of strays around to set foot in her barns, let alone on her farm. She’s made our place a one-cat farm and I’m just fine with that. She knows poultry are friends and their eggs are off limits, regardless of where they are, unless we break open an egg for her. I imagine her seeing the skunk take a stroll into the barn, maybe looking for a new home, maybe looking for a meal, and not standing for the situation, defending her home….jumping off the haybales, landing on the skunk, batting it around with her paws…you get the idea. Work with me here and just imagine.
When Young’un got out to the red barn I told him his nose must be broken because Felix didn’t just get sprayed a bit…she got SPRAAAAYED and it didn’t just stink…it STAAAAAANK! He really doesn’t think it was that bad, but trust me, it’s worse. I’m sitting here reminiscing on the situation and it’s like the smell is trapped in my sinuses and just won’t quit. I think I taste it, too.
So there you have it folks, Felix, continuing to defend her universe against hostile invaders. I also think there’s only one thing I can do in the morning…let Hon go out and do chores with Young’un. Oh and by the way, as I’m writing this, Young’un fessed up and said it was much worse than he originally said, even admitting that when he was out there this evening Felix was doing some gagging and highly doubts it was a hair ball. Ever give a cat a bath? I’m not even going to get into that story and I’m also not going to try to do it again. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
Imagine…you get up before the crack and take your youngest to a class he was gifted for Christmas. It’s an 8 hours class, and with it being 1 ½ hours to get there, you decide the best thing to do instead of driving back and forth is to dress better than troll under a bridge and go tool around the area, do some shopping, have a me day.
You get to the destination, thinking you’re going to drop him off and then hightail it out of there, but before you can get to hightailing the instructor asks you what you’re plans are for the day. Hmmmmm…shopping? Moonshine tasting? Then he says how about stay and take the class. They have an opening. I said I’m dressed for shopping and wearing a white shirt. Instructor says there’s shirts up front and go grab one to change into. I said although I want to learn, I don’t figure Young’un would want his ‘ole mom cramping his style. Instructor says he’ll put us on opposite ends of the work area and we won’t even need to look at each other if we don’t want to. I said they wouldn’t have been planning on me for lunch and didn’t want to impose. He says there’ll be plenty of food. I mean really, how could I say no? Besides, I had truly really really reeeeally wanted to learn anyway. Did I mention this was a beginning blacksmithing class? Well, it was a blacksmithing class.
Next thing you know, I’ve changed my shirt and am sitting down with Youn’gun, ready to learn about being a blacksmith. Yes, we sat down together. We even worked together throughout the whole day, his choice, too. I have got to tell you, I was absolutely captivated. From beginning to end, my mind was just a whirlwind of ideas. Not only that, it was absolutely amazing listening to Doug Lockhart talk about how being a blacksmith had become his passion. It was amazing hearing how his children are following in his footsteps, how they work together, how his love of creating things has found a home inside them, too.
I’m not going to lie, I was nervous when it came to the actual making portion of the program. No, not the heat from the forge or hitting something with a hammer. It was the fact that I was learning something up front and center with one of our kids, that we were learning together. We were both in the same novice boat wearing the same lifejacket of inexperience, learning something we were both interested in.
Let me tell you, if you’ve not had the opportunity to learn the basics of a skill that’s caught your interest, do it. Take the plunge. Don’t let something hold you back. I could have told Doug no, I’ll do it another day, chancing that day never came about. I could have missed the opportunity to spend the day with our youngest learning something awesome and new. Without a doubt I would have spent the day looking for things to do to keep me busy all by myself, wishing I would have said yes. See where I’m going with this? Let me put it another way…get off your butt, stop making excuses, and do it. You never know where the experience may lead.
So there you have it folks. Young’un and I are now the proud owners of several types of hooks we made together. We left the Lockhart family and their Southern Ohio School of Blacksmithing that day feeling proud and excited about our accomplishments. Now we need to find ourselves some equipment of our own to practice what we’ve learned. We came home telling Hon we need to find an anvil…we need to find a forge…and hammers and tongs… Our eyes have been opened to some truly cool and creative things we can make from a piece of metal that we’d not have thought about before. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
I know, it's been a super long time since you've heard from me. Don't judge. There's still a ton of stories in my head just busting to get out and one day you may find them here. Kind of like the skunk in the barn. I swear that little stinker's just waiting for an opportune time to do a little something, too. In the meantime, my heart is bursting with pride and I want to share.
It's no secret how proud I am of each of our sons. Hon and I are truly blessed. It's amazing how quickly time has flown and they're young adults or on the cusp of adulthood. Our Young'un is 16, Kid is 18, and Eldest is 21. They are so different from each other, yet the same in other ways, like pursuing their dreams, conquering their fears, and finding their way in the big wild world.
If you've been around my blog for a while, you may remember after we first moved here one of my dreams had been to turn our little silo into a space for my ever growing collection of looms, fibers, spinning wheels, and the like. I hadn't gotten to it in the 11 years we've been here now, but figured some day I'd get to it. As I've gotten older...and no, I'm not old...50 and on the cusp of 51 is still a spring chicken far as I'm concerned... Anway, as I've gotten older, I've slowed down with the fiber arts, enjoying it immensely still, but at my own pace. I still shear, clean, spin, knit, weave, demonstrate... That's not changing, but I've mellowed.
Some time ago Eldest mentioned wanting to give making pottery a go. Because I'm worse than a dog on a bone when it comes to some things, I pursued the possibility. When Will (aka Eldest) turned 21 this past July, Hon and I gifted him some pottery lessons at a great little church-run pottery shop in Chillicothe, The Potter's House. I met the wonderful volunteer manager, Rachel, of Biers Run Mudd, there. The Potter's House is completely run by volunteers, by the way. You should check them out if you haven't. Their mission is amazing. Anway, before I knew it, I walked out of there, gift certificate in hand for pottery lessons...then walked right next door to the stained glass shop to get myself into trouble with a future project for myself, but that's another story.
Long of the short of it, Will has become an incredible potter. Hon and I are absolutely amazed at the talent that has poured out of him. He goes to his job at 3:00 a.m. and then heads over to the Potter's House afterwards to spend time at the wheel...or the kiln...or the glaze...whatever it is mudslingers do at any given stage of their craft. We're still in awe that he makes his own glazes, instead buying pre-made ones. He even gives lessons.
In talking with Hon about our budding young artist as the months have gone by, I revisited my goals, looked at what's important to me vs. what's still important but not quite so much. I decided as much as the little silo redo into a Sharon-silo was a dream, it WAS a dream. It was time to let it go and hand over the possibilities of the space to Will if he wanted it. He had already built himself a lovely little greenhouse last summer just off the back of our home, so I had no qualms over whether he was up to the task if he had interest in conquering the silo. Let me tell you, the man has plans!
Will has been cleaning the little silo up and out and looking for equipment he needs to further his dream. Just the thought of the snakes I've encountered in there over the years gives me a bit of a shudder. There's painting to be done, electric to be hooked up, and who knows what else in the works for the space. It's real small, but will be an amazing place for him to get his creativity on.
Hon and I are super proud of how Will has taken a hold of his dream and not let go. He's sold his pottery at craft and artisan shows, and is going to be participating at a juried artisan show/sale in Cincinnati next weekend. He's sold pots to the wonderful gal at Wild Roots in Chillicothe and has pottery for sale at The Potter's House (along with many other amazing artists). Tom Johnson of Two Roasting Joe's and Livy Cakes, a new coffee shop and bakery he's opened up with his daughter in Chillicothe, has some of his mugs for sale. Even the fantastic little hardware store in town, Frankfort Hardware, carries some crocks that they special ordered from Will. He's sold hand crafted bonsai pots (Will's into bonsai, too, by the way) and various other pieces to folks through word-of-mouth and the internet. It just amazes me how he has bloomed and it's exciting to see him grow!
So, there you have it folks. Trust me, I could go on and on. Will's one of our kids, so my long-windedness knows no bounds. Last week he settled on a name for his business, by the way. Little Silo Pottery. Gives me happy tears and makes my heart swell with joy knowing our eldest young man is putting his creative stamp on the big wild world. Until the next story, which may come sooner than you think... Smiling & Waving, Sharon
So, if you’re in Ohio, or most places in the northern part of the united states, you’ve gotten snow last night, it’s snowing now, or you’re waiting on it. Nature of the beast, baby. Live in an area that gets the colder winter weather, you’re more than likely going to get snow of some sort.
Earlier today I was perusing Facebook, looking at posts from friends. Marsha had a picture of her husband shoveling snow, the goat lady posted that she slid off the road and thankfully got back home safely, and Becky was trying to figure out how much she may have gotten with the drifting. Post after post, other folks were grumbled about having to shovel, plow, or snow blow snow away.
Let me tell you, I have a secret obsession. Well, it was a secret, but I’m going to finally be free of it. I’m ready to share with the world of folks that read my stories. Just don’t tell Hon and the boys because they don’t read my stories and I’d rather they not be wise to it. *shhhhh* I like to shove snow. There. I said it. I’ll say it again…loud and proud… I LIKE TO SHOVEL SNOW! Truly. I don’t particularly like the cold, but I, in all actuality, love love LOVE to shovel the snow.
Now, to all you who are thinking, “Cool! Come on over babe, I’ve got plenty for you!”. Let me just clarify…I like to shovel my own snow. Not yours, deary, definitely not your twisty one, girlie, and particularly not that scenic and lovely goat trail of a driveway, gal - and you know who you are. I love you dearly, but ugh, no. Ours. Just ours. Our driveway, our sidewalks…I even shoveled around the water spigot outside the house juuuuust in case, you know, on the off chance someone needed water from it, even though the water is turned off to it for the time being. I don’t just shovel around the mailbox, I shovel down the road leading up to it too, so the mail lady has a nicely formed exit ramp leading to it. I usually shovel completely across the road from the driveway before the township snowplow gets here, but they must have been out in the wee hours this morning, because it’s a rare occasion they beat me to it.
Let me tell you, our township snow removal guy is awesome! The man usually comes around when I’m at the area where the driveway meets the road. He could be like the plow guy where I grew up, burying the end of the driveway in snow from the road, but he slows and turns the plow to face the opposite direction as he gets to the driveway, so he doesn’t block in what I’ve already shoveled. As much as I like to shovel, it’s no fun shoveling hard compacted snow from the snow plow.
There you have it folks. My secret is out. Snow removal. Nothing fancy, though. As much as I’d love to be yahooing around on a tractor with a plow blade, or even zipping around with a snow blower, it’s just me and my old trusty rusty handled snow shovel. It’s like when I’m working in the garden. I have time to myself to collect my thoughts, let them wander, or belt out show tunes no one will complain about. Remember, ixnay on the owremovalsay, okay?! Keep this on the downlow. I asked Hon to take my picture, telling him it was for a Facebook post showing how much snow we got, even though it ranged anywhere from 6 inches to a foot on account of the drifting. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my trusty snow shovel awaits… And guess what, the weather forecast for Monday is…yes, you got it. SNOW! Smiling & Waving, Sharon
So it’s Wednesday and I got to thinking about last weekend and this one coming up. Oh, happy hump day, by the way! Anyways, fall seems to be the time of year when there’s a lot of fun activities going on. It’s a great way to get yourself out in the community and have a good time before the cold weather sets in and you’re freaking out over the holidays…try not to do that, by the way. Those holidays will come regardless and you might as well try and enjoy without stressing yourself to the moon and back.
Think about it…fairs, festivals, parades…runs, walks, hikes…haunted houses, fun houses, dinners at houses…and that’s what I’m thinking about mainly today. The dinners. You know I’m a foodie at heart, whether I’m making it or someone else is. Plays an important part in social interaction, too. Even in books and movies you’ll find meals being described and folks gathering around the table.
Just this past Saturday Hon and I went to a spectacular dinner. Truly. Spectacular. You see, it was Pastured Providence Farmstead’s second farm-to-table dinner and a movie. Our friends Paul and Heather are the caretakers over there at Pastured Providence in Chillicothe. They and their kids are one of the most personable and kind families around. Again, truly. I don’t mince my words – look at the size of my stories.
Last year Paul asked me if we’d be interested in contributing to his first dinner and a movie, and of course we were all about doing it, both the contributing and the eating. We’re a family that gets a lot of enjoyment out of participating in community events, whether it be helping get it together, contributions of some sort, or just plain ‘ole attending it. It was a fantastic time and we had hoped for an encore this year.
Earlier in the summer Paul had asked us if we’d be interested in doing it again this year and I kindly said, “Sure,” while in my mind I was hooping and hollering and yelling, “Wahoooo, yeeeees to another dinner!” He had asked if we’d be interested in contributing acorn squash, which we had been growing and knew we’d be able to have for it despite the persistent squash bugs we’d been battling. Ugh squash bugs *shudder* We also had planted sweet potatoes, which also became a part of the meal. I had asked Paul if he were interested in us throwing in a goose too…figuratively, of course. Let me just say, together with other area farmers and businesses folks who provided food, drink, their culinary skills, music, and more… It just makes me so darn happy to see folks working together to bring something like this dinner to the community!
Something I really like about Pastured Providence Farmstead is their way of doing things, the way they rotate their herd, the way the livestock grows up to be some of the finest beef, lamb, pork, and poultry around. Paul took the time in between eating and watching the movie to tell his guests about their way of working with their livestock and the importance of rotational grazing. People enjoyed their glimpse into how some of what they had just enjoyed for dinner was cared for. Really. I listen. Sat with a nice couple who came from Toledo…that’s right, folks. They were in the area, saw some information on the dinner, and BAM there they were! Wonderful people they were.
The movie Pastured Providence showed this year was called “Sustainable.” In a nutshell, it’s about the instability of our food system and people who are leading and teaching others a way to fix the problems. It may not be a romance or a shoot ‘em up bang bang, but it was absolutely outstanding and I really do recommend it. After watching the movie Hon and I felt in our hearts, even more than before, we’re right where we need to be on our little farm.
So, there you have it folks. Our great time last weekend out at Pastured Providence Farmstead’s farm-to-table dinner and a movie. What are you going to do this coming weekend? Why not check out some of the local activities going on? I know while I’m at the last Chillicothe Farmers Market of the season, Hon and Eldest will be at a pigeon show in Louisville, KY. You’ll be amazed at all the little things going on that fit any budget and walk of life. It may be getting chilly outside, but there’s plenty of good times to be had before we’re wrapped like pigs in blankets keeping warm. Oh, and thanks to Paul for letting me snag a picture of their dinner off his website…which happens to be www.pasturedprovidence.com I’m not above plugging a great family business. Check ‘em out! Smiling & Waving, Sharon
A few nights ago Hon came in and asked if I’d ever seen a glow worm before. Nope, never had, so of course that meant investigating was in order. I grabbed the flashlight and away I went. Now, let me tell you, I was fully expecting to see worms. We’ve had springs where it was so wet there were worms sticking out all over the ground at night. The fun of it was when I’d shine a flashlight on them and they’d pop back in their ground holes quick as lightning. Knowing they were out there and stepping over them in the dark wasn’t a joy to think of, but I figured as long as I had my shoes on…
Anyway, back to the glow worms. When I went outside and turned off the flashlight I was able to see their faint glow in the grass. They really reminded me of lightning bugs the way they would glow…and then as soon as I tried to take a picture they’d disappear. GAH! However, because I’m a bit persistent over things, I finally was able to take a picture for you…just in case you’ve not seen one before. Note it looks worm-ish and for some reason it reminds me of the green worm thing that was eating hot dogs at a hotel in the Ghost Busters movie. I'll have you know I took more pictures of the dark before finally getting this one for you.
Here’s the thing about the glow worms, though. I learned they’re not worms at all. I know, I can’t believe it either! They’re more like a beetle type insect. I figured they were a worm, like those old glow worm toys from years back, only obviously not so big and without the nightcap. You know, a worm. Now I feel there’s one more thing that’s not quite what it seems…like French fries that didn’t originate in France, and tomatoes being a fruit, even though they’ll always be a vegetable to me. Glow worms aren’t worms at all.
So, there you have it folks. Glow worms. They’re not actually worms, but they were an interesting sight to see and I’m happy to have had the experience. A cool night outside next year would be worms popping in and out of their holes by way of flashlight while glow worms walked about. May have to keep an eye out for that. Smiling & Waving, Sharon
I'm the queen of our farm, although the animals wouldn't agree. My title is Head Chicken Wrangler, but most days I'm just called Mom. Life on a farm is full of family and hard work and I wouldn't have it any other way.