MommyCoddle

let the counting begin again

Last week, the girls and I stopped in at my aunt's farm for a quick visit. We were bringing her dinner, giving her a night off during her week of wedding prep for her son's wedding reception that would be held at their farm.

I'll have to bring her dinner more often.

When we drove home, the car doors barely shut. Though we only showed up with a casserole and bread, we came home with a quart of blueberries, two dozen eggs, a bale of straw, and five hens.

It felt like an episode straight out of the beverly hillbillies--chickens squawking, straw flying out the car windows, barefoot kids munching on blueberries, and the smell, oh we won't talk about the smell.....

So five new girls came to join little old Henny Penny. Who suddenly thinks she's top dog around here--and puts on quite a show when the food comes out. But I'm sure she'll settle down, eventually.

The new girls are a somewhat scrappy-looking bunch. Blondie back there was broody at her old digs, and took a lot of pecking while she guarded her "nest". The others lost a few feathers during their couple days in confinement, as they learned the ropes of their new digs.

And Elizabeth, the apparent self-proclaimed chicken farmer, always manages to keep things interesting.

On the second day of the chickens' arrival, when we were still keeping them penned so that they would settle into their new home--Elizabeth was found out in the chicken coop. We were getting ready to leave for dinner and when she came over from the coop, I assumed she was checking nesting boxes for eggs.

Little did I know, Miss Smartypants was opening the door and letting all the new hens have a premature taste of freedom. Catching them that evening, as dusk fell and fox-hour arrived was quite "interesting". There were brooms and hammers and possibly even a few four letter words involved....possibly.

The new girls still haven't learned the ropes of getting their picture taken. They didn't grow up in front of the lens, like Henny Penny. They don't know that when I cluck at them, they're supposed to pose and hold still. But since they're already giving us eggs, and we're counting again, I'll let it slide.

a good 20 minutes

I stepped outside with my camera yesterday, while I waited for the grill to get hot. Within just a short window of time, maybe twenty minutes, I was able to capture little snapshots of our life. I love looking at them today, and realizing all the activity that can happen in just a short span of time. Sometimes, it's nice to capture it and hold it together all in one place....for me they tell a story. And they remind me of little benchmarks in time-- the ducklings daily excursion outside, the last chicken--who keeps close to the house, a new technique for swinging, an upgrade from nakedness to underwear, the agony that is sharing the swing with your little sister, a patient favorite kitten, a rare, still moment between two four-legged friends.....

What stories could you tell, if you captured a good twenty minutes today?

Ruby is home.

Ruby is home. A little skinny. A little squirmy. A little medicated. But very happy. And very loved. In fact, if possible, I think we might love her more now, for all she's been through.

Thank you for your outpouring of concern and care for Ruby and our family. It warmed our hearts.

(photo by katie pertiet)

Now if someone could just explain how you keep an 11 week old puppy quiet and sedentary for two weeks while she recovers......

pray for ruby

Yesterday afternoon, Dan was working outside, while the girls and I were in the house, in various stages of "getting ready for naps." Ruby had fallen asleep under the car and Dan backed it up, unaware that she was under it, sleeping in the dark shadows. We aren't sure exactly what happened. She wasn't completely run over, but must have been somehow pinched by the tire.

We took her straight to the vet, even though she was able to walk. But we could tell she was in shock. The news was grave--she had internal bleeding in and around her lungs and was in critical condition. We left her at the vet and returned home to pray and wait.

While one vet remained "hopeful", the night shift vet had a much more tragic outlook and seemed to be preparing us for the worst.

We went to bed, and I watched the hours tick by, thankful for one more hour passing without any bad news. The phone finally did ring in the middle of the night--the vet--needing permission to draw some of the blood and fluid off of her lungs.

I managed to get a few unsettled hours of sleep around dawn, as I waited until 6:30, the time I was supposed to call and get the next report.

The news was better. Encouraging. Ruby was awake, "acting like a puppy", but still having a hard time breathing. The outlook is much better. And a few things we were waiting to hear about--which could have been very serious--have all come out clear. Can I say that I have never been so excited to find out that my dog went the bathroom??!

It sounds like Ruby will be home tomorrow morning. She'll be slowly weaned off oxygen and then monitored. Her body will have to take care of itself, and heal itself. The rest is up to her.

I know some people would probably scoff at the expense and trouble we are going through for this little 11 week old puppy. But our family has been through enough loss this spring, to face it one more time. As my husband said to me, when I called him from the vet office, weeping over the "estimate" in front of me, that I was to sign my name to, "She's too good of a dog to just let die." She's already made an indelible mark on each member of our family--even the four-footed one, who comes to the car door, every time we drive in, looking for his new little pal.

I covet your thoughts and prayers for sweet little Ruby--for her continued healing and swift return home to her family.

Thank you, friends.
xo.

ruby

It's like instantly having a newborn in the house again--without the nine months of preparation, doctor visits, showers, blurry ultrasound pictures tacked to your refrigerator.

On Saturday, Emma and I snuck out of the house well before normal waking time to make a two hour road-trip west to pick up a special furry package.

Meet Ruby, the newest member of the mommycoddle household.

We've been waiting patiently for this day for quite awhile. Passing up on puppies that "just didn't feel right". But this time it all came together perfectly.

For now, she's learning the ropes. Getting her ears boxed by fluffy black cats, finding her favorite spot under the red bench in the mudroom hallway, learning there are appropriate times to play with a large (and very patient) yellow lab--but not at three o'clock in the morning, discovering that the girls are okay when they're splashing in the pool and you don't have to jump in after them.

And she's learning who her people are.

After a walk around the farm this morning, practically tripping me with every step as she galloped to keep up with my big black boots, she's now asleep under the kitchen table--body sprawled out under the chair, chin firmly planted across Emma's little toes.

(photo by katie pertiet)

This one's a keeper.

The final count

I almost didn't write this post this morning, for fear I might win some award for Internet's Most Depressing Blog. But since you've all been on this journey with me, I can't help but share it with all of you.

Saturday night, we lost all our chickens, but two, to a fox. The fox took a guinea the night before, and so Saturday night Dan and I got out to lock in the hens in what we thought was plenty of time. It was dusk. When I stepped out onto the porch I could hear the commotion. I ran back inside to get my big, heavy Mag flashlight,  (What I was going to do with it, I have no idea. I'm not that brave.) And called up to Dan, who was snuggling the girls, in my most "calm, but I need you right away" voice.

He jumped into boots and tore off across the yard. I jumped in the car and raced into the second driveway so I could shine my headlights on the coop. We were too late.

We scared the fox off, but she'd left a battle field in the grass around the coop. It was devastating.

I honestly can't get over this one so easily. I try not to think that this is all my fault. That there they were, nestled in their coop, just waiting for me to lock them in safely for the night. That if I hadn't done this or that, dilly-dallying before I went out to lock them in, I would have gotten there in time. I feel like I'm failing as a "farmer", with all this loss we've been experiencing lately.

I try not to think that these are the hens that my grandmother gave to my girls.

Dan comforts me saying that if it wasn't Saturday night, it would have been Sunday, or Monday, or....that this kind of thing happens to all farmers. That it's not a reflection of what kind of caretaker I am. But still. It's hard. And sad. I loved those stupid chickens.

I don't know where I'll go from here. I don't think I'm up for another round of chicks in my downstairs bathroom right now. Dan wants to buy some grown hens from my uncle, to keep our last two girls company. One of our hens hasn't even come out of the coop since this all happened. I feel like I want things to settle down before we bring more chickens into our apparent "take out diner" for foxes.

We'll see. I'm sure more hens will be here someday soon.

Meanwhile, if you want to ignore the above post and move on, I busied my mind over the weekend with some blog remodeling--a new banner, new sidebar stuff, and I brought back the short list of good things. So, if you feel like moving on, why not click over and let me know what you think of the new look.

And I promise, less depressing posts the rest of the week.

As always, thanks for listening and following along on this journey.

{photo coutesy of katie pertiet}

progress reports + inspiration

++Eyes are open. They are tumbling and tackling all over my mudroom floor, constantly underfoot. But so cute.

++We checked off exactly, um, let's see ZERO!! days since we started the chart! Out of sight, out of mind....

++As of today, we've collected, (though I think we've forgotten to count a few) 257 eggs. Wow. I gave four dozen away today, just to make room in my refrigerator. And I've officially burned my family out on quiche. Time to move on to the frittata.

++A hello and thank you, to those of you who are wandering over here from National Wildlife's Green Hour blog. I was honored to be included in their round up of "blogs that inspire" I've mentioned it before, there are some great activities on their blog worth checking out. They even have a weekly podcast.

++I also wanted to let you know that Gina of LetterGirl, one of my May sponsors is having an anniversary celebration on her blog, with giveaways all week. I hesitate to tell you, because I don't want more competition in the giveaways!! but her work is too good not to share.

++Last but not least, I remember catching the tail end of a commercial about this company Toms shoes. Here's a video that shares the founder/owner, Blake Mycoskie's story and is definitely worth watching. It is these kinds of stories and passion that inspires me.

water logged

So apparently, the chickens need a little more calcium in their diet. I guess I haven't been putting out enough yogurt on the back picnic table.

Tonight, when I went out to put the chickens in for the night, I was confronted by this odd-looking egg sitting in the grass outside their coop. I gave it a little tap with the toe of my boot, thinking it was cracked and not worth picking up, and it bounced and rolled across the grass, unharmed.

As my kids would say, it gave me the "heebie-jeebies" but I picked it up and brought it inside to my little chicken farmers to see what they thought of it.

It has been raining all day, and their first thought was that maybe it was water-logged. After bouncing it across the kitchen table a few times and playing all kinds of games with it, they decided to take one of the good eggs out of the fridge and "water-log" it overnight. To see if we could get the same results.

Meanwhile, I jumped on my computer and after a little googling, discovered that the hens need more calcium in their diets--some grit or some oyster shells. So tomorrow we'll head to the feed store.

Wish you had your own rubber egg? Here are some directions for making a rubbery egg, or even a folding egg! (but make sure you have that last ingredient on hand). Or try getting the egg in the bottle, without breaking or these other fun egg experiments. Now I know what to do with the four dozen eggs in my refrigerator!

loss, love and miracles

As if we didn't have enough sadness to deal with last week, the girls and I were faced with the strange disappearance of one of our beloved cats, Rosie. Most of you will probably recognize Rosie as the "upside down cat". She was a total sweetheart. The kind of cat you're constantly tripping over as she flops her body down in your path hoping for a rub of the belly or a scratch behind the ears. And she put up with all kinds of loving "abuse" from the girls.

At first, we thought she'd disappeared to have her babies. But I still remained suspicious, knowing it was about two weeks too soon for her to be due. Emma wandered the yard every morning and every evening calling for her. It was heartbreaking. She didn't understand why Rosie would disappear for so long because she always showed up when it was time to eat.

After being gone for two days, I decided it was time for me to check along the roadside and this time when I did, I found the grass littered with clumps of her fur. I can only imagine that she must have gotten carried away by something in the night.

I've been gently trying to warm Emma up to the idea that Rosie might be gone for good. And she's finally embraced the fact that she's not coming back.

Though the heartbreak is difficult, I believe these times of loss teach my children a lot. I truly believe they've been able to process and talk with me freely about the death of their great-grandmother because they've experienced death in other forms, since we've lived on the farm. Though no animal is as dear to their heart as my grandmother, I still believe these times have been used for their growth and understanding.

Meanwhile, by the sweet grace of God, there was a kitten in this newest litter of Black Walnut's that is the spitting image of Rosie. It really is miraculous because Black Walnut is, well...black. And the father was a solid, dark grey cat. But somehow in a litter of all black kittens and one grey kitten, there emerged a striped cat, just like Rosie.

I told Emma she could keep her. And Emma's pouring all her energy and love for Rosie, into the new little Rosie.

chicken picnic

Note to self:

Don't feed the cats (and consequently the chickens) your kitchen scraps on the deck picnic table, all winter long. Because come Spring, when the weather is nice and you want to have your own picnic on that same picnic table, the cats (and consequently the chickens) won't make the connection that now this is YOUR picnic table and this food is not THEIR scraps, but YOUR lunch.

Either that, or resign yourself to having a chicken at your picnic.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Last Week's Giveaway Winners:

STENCIL 101 Book (2 Winners)

Stephanie B:

That looks like a great book! Stenciling is great for those people that can't draw like me.

Lindsey:

Oh I would love to have this book. How very cute!

Pair of Birkenstock Sandals, your style, color choice: (wow! there were a lot of you!!)

Kari:

Those are sooooo cute!

Congratulations to all the winners! I always have a love/hate relationship with giveaway posts because I wish I had something for everyone!

Winners, please send me an email with your contact info so I can pass it on!

black walnut's home birth

I arrived home yesterday morning in the pouring down rain, hands tangled and pinched in loads of grocery bags I was carrying from the car as quickly as I could, to find "Black Walnut" standing in front of the mudroom door, mewing incessantly. She was soaked from the rain and obviously distressed.

Black Walnut is our cat who is about the size of a walnut. She's tiny. It seems she's never grown much bigger than her teenaged-kitten size, but lately she's gotten quite broad and hippy, if you know what I mean. I hate to admit that I didn't get her spayed in time and she "got married" before I had the chance to get her in to the veterinarian.

We knew her time was close as she was getting as wide as she was long, waddling around the farm and eating enough food for an army of cats.

So when I saw her waiting for me at the mudroom door yesterday morning, I knew something was up. And when she turned and I got a glance at her hind end (sparing you the details here) I really knew something was up (or down. or out, maybe).

The girls and I quickly scooped her up from the rain and made her a nest of towels inside a laundry basket on the mudroom. And stood back like a bunch of nervous old ladies, cringing and fussing with her every cry and contraction.

By late afternoon, dear little Black Walnut gave birth to five kittens and I now have a pretty good idea which lurking tom she "married".

The girls were amazed, glued to the action, soothing her and telling her what a good mama cat she is. And now I hear new words in their vocabulary like "after birth" and "nursers" which makes me laugh.

So our mudroom is now maternity ward and gets checked regularly. Often.

My girls will be selling the kittens, to good homes only, for two dollars. Any takers??

little mysteries

I'm just popping in tonight to say thank you for your thoughts and comments you shared on yesterday's post. Once again, I woke up with that urge to hit the delete button and keep that post to myself, but your words and understanding made me glad that I didn't. Thank you for taking a moment to read my thoughts and my frustrations, for understanding my perspective and sharing in my joys and trials.

My gratitude is swelling up and over flowing.

I was listening to a song tonight by Josh Garrels*. And the first lines seemed to sum it all up well:

Learn this lesson well, my friend.
There's a time to rejoice and lament.
Every season will find an end.
All will fade and be made new again.

Meanwhile, Emma brought this bird nest in to me on Saturday when high winds were doing things like pulling down branches and knocking out internet connections.

How can I look at this and not be amazed? The shape. The weaving of horse hairs, no doubt collected from the neighbor's fields. Pieces of orange twine that wrap the round bales in our other neighbor's pasture.

How do they do it?

These tiny little birds. With no pattern, no frame, no extra set of hands. It is beautiful. And amazing. And breathtaking. And awe-inspiring.

* I cannot say how much this latest CD from Josh Garrels is getting to me lately. The music is poetic and has such depth. He paints pictures with the sounds and the words. It is so good. So true. So pure.
I especially like Jacaranda Tree :: The Original Spacefan :: Don't Wait for Me ::

152

It must be all the kitchen scraps........or the cat food......or the love.

I'm so glad we're keeping count. 152 eggs since 2. 13. 09

creative juices

Sometimes, when I disappear from my blog, it's because something is sucking all the creative juices out of my body, leaving me feeling empty; like I have nothing to say, nothing worth sharing, nothing worth noting. Other times, when I disappear, it's because I'm up to my elbows in life--schooling, gardening, children, cleaning, laundry, knitting.

Thankfully, this time I can say my short absence is due to the later. I've actually been sitting in front a sewing machine--something I haven't done in a really long time. I've been stitching little things, by hand. I've been reading, lingering outside when the sun shows its face from behind the clouds, attacking a closet full of smelly laundry, exercising, taking pictures, cooking*....all good things.

Yesterday, I took a big bowl of scraps out to the chickens. I have to confess not everything in the bowl was completely spent. But I went to the grocery store yesterday and needed some fridge space. And these were the leftovers from last week's meals. It has been interesting to see which things disappear first--the rice I threw in after the picture was taken, the moldy pancakes (which I suspect disappeared into the mouth of a four-legged beast), the tomatoes and pepper seeds.

Dan is building me a compost bin this weekend, finally, and I have a feeling I'll have a lot of clucking and scratching and pecking going on around it.

I also defrosted the last batch of summer berries. I didn't freeze very many, and I'm regretting that now. I'll have to remind myself of this come hot, sticky, summertime, when I don't really feel like being in the kitchen. But there's nothing better than summer berries in the freezer.

Dan left me an online shopping cart full of seeds he wants to order for the garden. I've added the flowers I want for a cutting garden and the neighbor is going to plow our plot with his tractor this weekend, if things dry out.

Spring is definitely showing its face around here.

*I made this Everyday Food recipe last night, swapped out the shells with orzo pasta. It was killer good.*

how we do things

This is how we keep her pants on during naps. Onesie snapped on the outside, superhero-style.

This is how she carries a v e r y patient cat.

This is how she apologizes to that v e r y patient cat.

Hope you all had a lovely spring weekend.  Here are a few things I'm enjoying right now:

How Do You Start Your Day? :: The Small Notebook

New music :: Josh Garrels

20 Tips for Finding Your Routine With Kids :: Simple Mom

Spring Trees :: Stitched Leaves :: Ocean Kit (it's about as addicting as fabric shopping)

Green Hour Activities :: National Wildlife Federation

Felted Easter Eggs :: Waldorf Mama