Our Birds

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Our birds live life with the sun, the rain, the cold and the “what’s the weather like today?”  They eat bugs, worms, alfalfa leaves and grass.

Today, we moved some birds to the pasture.  Our thespian children helped.  After taking a photo or two, I felt confident that Brent and I could make this whole operation go quicker without them … but not as many laughs.  So, I went back to my tasks and left Brent and the kiddies to it.

 

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The pups want so much to be a part, but they waited patiently for us to return.

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Lucy, who is not short … no really … okay, I think she is short, but not by French standards … shows us our chook tower.

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Otto and Lucy pop the chicks in their new home.  One lot at a time.  Brent moved two to their one.  You see, the taunting and trash talking between these two slows down the operation.

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… leading artwork by Otto Curtis, age five ( at the time ).  We both said it was a duck, but now think he painted a chick.

When You Don’t Have The Internet, You’re Left With Your Thoughts

I’m on an internet diet.  Sure, it seems I’m busy momming and wifing and farming, beefing people and all that, but you’d be surprised how many minutes you can find looking at the interwebs.  So, I stopped.  I put myself on a diet. I do mail for beef and chicken sales.  I can blog.  And I also found, I can make videos.  Totally on the diet!  My cheats are watching video recaps of The Late Show with Steven Colbert and stand-up comedy.

When someone sends me a link, I’ll follow it.  Totally on the diet.  I’ve been so excited watching the development of Modern Dance in the mainstream media.  Videos, ads, comedy… all of it.  My husband sent me a great ad recently.  Great music.  Great film.  Great moves.  I can remember making those moves in real time with real dancers for real audiences a long time ago.  No video back then.  All I have is my memory of that experience performing or enjoying a dance performance.  And my poor husband sitting through all those performances.  Brother Teresa!

Dances were about the body and the lines of the body.  Not much choreography involved the face as part of the movement.  The face was neutral.  A friend of mine LOVED using the face.  I remember dancing for her and hating all this face stuff.  I did it, but I felt like I was dancing and doing a Haka for New Zealand Rugby at the same time.

Butoh ( Japanese dance theatre ) uses face, space and time to dance.  I’ve been to one Butoh concert in my life.  Here’s some advice: don’t have two glasses of Chardonnay before a Butoh concert.  … but the moments I enjoyed before I fell asleep were INCREDIBLE!  They take their time.  Your time is of no interest to them.  You can watch a scene for many, many minutes and then you’ll realize that it opened up to another scene before you realized it opened up.  … picture a time-lapse, slow motion video of a flower blossoming.

With my thoughts and inspiration we put together a farm video after Zelie got her new onesie.  Hope you enjoy …

 

 

Fair To Middlin’

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Mom:  Hey John, How are you John?

John: Hi Gladys, Fair to middlin’

Mom: Me too, John, I’m fair to middlin’

Mom ( to me ): He’s always fair to middin’.  I am too.  I Don’t know what that means.

I asked the ladies who helped my mom what “fair to middlin'” meant … they didn’t know.  John is an old boy, so I assumed this must be a phrase along with “bee’s knees” and “when hector was a pup.”  Fair to middling means ” ok. average. meh.”  My brief googlpedia research rounded up a lovely piece on livestock or crop grade that goes in this order:  fine, through good, fair, middling, ordinary and least good.  So John and my mom were doing O.K.  Affirmed each day along with others at the residence at meal times.  A new expression for me while I visited my mom in America.

When I walked into my mom’s room for the first time, I was taken with all the photos and art she brought with her.  Most specifically the painting of some daisies in a pot.  When that painting was purchased, I was a teen off haggling with the vendors of Tijuana trying  to knock off a few pesos for some huaraches. My mom and dad were after something for our home.  We split up shopping in the Tijuana shopping maze.  My mom told my dad that she found something she loved.  My dad told my mom that he also found something perfect.  I can’t remember who went first, but when the first led the other to the painting they loved, they both smiled because it was the same painting.  A bunch of daisies in a pot.  So they bought it and it was in our home.  And there it was in my mom’s room.  I took a photo of it, but it came out a bit crooked.  Well, fair to middlin’.

 

Grassfed And Beefier Than Ever

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“What a great year!” says the grass farmer raising cattle.  “When will summer begin?!”  says the lovely residents of Country France.  Wow.  We’ve been here over five years on the farm and I’ve not seen this combination of sun/rain/sun/rain/no freeze deal.

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The grass is so tall ( how tall is it? ) so tall that a photo at tit level, you can’t see the top of the seed heads.  … and I am a tall lady.

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The chickens seem to be establishing camp well.  Though, for the next lot, we’ll mow it down.  Every good chicken loves freshly mowed grass.

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And I cooked up the last sample from our BBQ box.  We’re trying out another type of steak box to see how it scores on flavor and tenderness.  We have tried every piece of meat that we raise.  Scrutinising it.  Adjusting our farming methods.  Then, sampling again.  It’s a slow process.

Parental Paparazzi

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Preemptive shots of my dragon.  She’s melting down because I took a photo of her on Daddy’s tractor.  I saw her having fun, thought I’d grab a moment.  and this is what I got.

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Sure, she looks cute here and there, but the absolute howl at those horrible parents , okay mamaparazzi … ferget about it.  I say, ” look, lady you go be cute and we’ll have nothing to do with it.”

peer review of this blog post:

z: uuuuuh.  don’t put a photo when I’m angry … put a photo when I’m happy