Z Always Likes To Help

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Kevin is building something, but it doesn’t matter what.

Zelie is right there helping in anyway possible.  

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I wasn’t there, so I imagine she is asking a lot of questions ” What’s that? ” … ” What are you doing, Kevin? ”  …. ” Why are you doing that, Kevin? ” … “Kevin, look at me!  Look what I can do!”

I went down to tell them lunch was ready.  Thankfully Kevin is patient with the four-year-olds.

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Z loves Kevin.  She’s always following him and waking him up and waiting for him to entertain her.

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Kevin is leaving soon, but I’m not sure he fully understands the power of Z.  We’ll do our best to get you to the airport on time :).

A Visit From Blitza

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A friend, we’ll call him Jonathan, came to visit today.  He arrived on Blitza.  A moped he designed and built.  He made it from “bitza” this and “bitza” that.  I’m not sure how it came to be Blitza, but I can imagine that once he got that puppy to a top speed of 70 ( kilometers per hour ), a cool name was born.

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Blitza has a great exhaust note.  A bit moped-y in sound, but makes up for it in style.

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Great to see old friends on the farm.  Brent had a little run on Blitza.  The gumboots were a nice touch.  Thankfully he had handbrakes.

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The Kettle Calling The Pot Cassis

[ This event occurred while the interwebs were down.  As you can infer from my posting this now, my shock has subsided. Brent did a great job with this photo. ]

I have pink-eye and yes, I said that out loud.  After Brent read  “les mots” from school saying that conjunctivitis is going around, I felt a tear form in my right eye, yet I was not sad.   While Brent observed Ireland lose to England, my tear developed. I’m a wait-and-watch kinda girl, but pink-eye most definitely needs treatment. So I went to come-as-ye-may doctor office hours on Monday. I dropped my carte vital in the queue and sat in the waiting room with the many others with their various ailments.  Bored yet attentive, we listened for our name to be called while simultaneously keeping track of who arrived in exactly what order. It was a Beetlejuice moment.

I was out quicker than I got in.  The doc believed my story.  I was validated  and prescribed with the good drugs to make it all go away. So quick was I that I stood outside the shop, in the cold, windy rain ( wait, is that snow? ) waiting for France to open up again so I can buy some milk. Then this happened:

 
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A photo sent to me on my shattered iPhone.  That’s right, two MansieOnsies™ with matching Le Creuset pots. If only the colorist at Le Creuset knew the impact they have on the lives of others. I screamed and the shop door opened.  These are the moments that you see, but cannot un-see. I will miss these lads as they run away to their next adventure. Thankfully, I’ve cached the most excellent Gifi and Carrefour ads to remind them of the life they will leave behind.

Our Whacky Sit-Com Neighbor Has Found His Wings

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… And he ( and hims ) shall take flight. Off to Australia. Back home, though this time, he brings a Swede. The malamute follows as well. A new adventure. Let’s just say this out loud to remind him: Dude, where’s the book? I’ve been waiting and waiting for CrappyBook Number 1. “Knitting In France” or “Farmer Spotting, How To Update Facebook and Increase Your Likes.” or his children’s book beginnings, “Cows Moo, Children Bother, Munson Poo, Ha Ha Ha” and “Willy Nilly Jennifer Tilly.” Or perhaps his self help series, “Help, Some Lady Just Handed Me Her Baby and Doesn’t Know The Cellphone Number of the Phone Her Husband is Carrying That Needs To Be Called Because The Cows Are Out and Other Ways To Empower The Power Within. ”

Off they go and we will miss them. This farm, like any farm, is not our
venture absolutely. It is a life unto itself and as such, it takes in life and grows stronger. It takes the life and love that goes in and produces food for the people, the wild ducks, the worms, the cows, the cats, the mice, the fungus that links the grass, the clover and so on and so forth. These boys have done their bit. The farm marches on. Farewell friends.

Lordy Lordy

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Our friend, Sid, turned forty and on the spur of the moment while cleaning up after some serious onion cooking for the big party, posed appropriately for a photo. It’s the squiggle that really makes me giggle. We have a straight line version, but it doesn’t capture the essence of pretending to urinate with a hose. Truly boy. Truly hilarious. Truly refreshing that we can still laugh at potty humor … even at forty.

Friends and Mr. Still

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We love visitors.  We love visitors who come ’round and fuck off.  The farm can be so different from life in the city.  I love it when they can’t understand why there’s no cell phone coverage.  I love it that they think they need a cell phone.  I love to see people get taken away by the quiet or the cows or the pasture.  Some people help build fences.  Others seed pasture.  Some paint. Some entertain our little peanut gallery.  Others help Brent move the cows.  It makes me happy to share with others the calm chaos of starting a new farm set out to feed people healthy beef.

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Some good friends came by not so long ago.  The kids miss them terribly.  Otto is in a “frog phase” at the moment.  His big toad managed to creep into a group shot.  Little Frog (“mom, incredible news, I found a tiny frog”) was stashed comfortably in his own Bonne Maman holding pen.  Mr. Still, the little tadpole that wouldn’t move (and coincidently was missing most vital appendages), sadly couldn’t join the party.
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But don’t think you can come visit without working.  There is a lot that needs to get done.  I don’t care how hot it is or how jet lagged you might be.