The Good, The Bad, and the Really, Really Scary!

The Good

Name it and Win it!

I love this picture of Darling in the rain. Well, of her boots, at least. And her spurs. So, give it a name, and a matted 8x10 will be yours!

The Bad

Darling and I made a quick trip to Brigget's this afternoon for hay. Brigget couldn't wait to tell me that she'd found some owl eggs up in the loft. Of course, she pointed this stuff out after I'd climbed that oh-so-high ladder without my camera. Which left me with one of two choices: Climb back down the long, rickety ladder to get it. Or: Hang halfway out of the loft, risking life and limb and try to reach for it as Brigget teased and taunted me about not wanting to climb the ladder while she waved the camera around just out of my grasp, despite the fact that I kept hollering at her "I'm blogging this! You know I'm blogging this!" To which she replied that I didn't have a camera to document it, there-by there was no proof of it ever having happened. I'm wishing I'd chosen the ladder.

Brigget has created what she is now calling the Creepiness Corner. This is where the Creepiness to end all Creepiness appears to be stashed. Not only are those horrifying spider legs still kicking around, but they have been joined by owl eggs. And not just any owl eggs. No...your average, normal, non-stomach turning owl egg wouldn't do for Brigget's creepy corner of the hay loft. Instead we've got partially developed, embryonic and mummified owl eggs.

The Creepiness Corner.

And because I knew you'd hound me to the depths of my grave if I didn't get pictures for you (you sick puppies, you!), I found myself hanging out a barn loft risking life and limb trying to get my hand on the camera just so you could have a cheap blog thrill! (Have I mentioned yet that I risked life and limb for you?)

The first egg in Brigget's collection looks normal. They're small, like bantam chicken size. You'd think a bird that big would have big eggs, wouldn't you?

Uh, huh...getting creepier! Partially formed baby owl. Were you eating breakfast? So sorry (ha!)

And, last but certainly not least, the mummified baby barn owl.

Of course, we're still waiting to see if there will be babies this year. There's been quite a bit of activity in the barn, with both parents flying in and out, so we're hopeful. Me, especially, because then when I risk life and limb climbing that ladder into the loft, it will be for something far less creepy.

The Really, Really Scary

I'm not much of an entertainer. My grandmother, even my mother, enjoys a good party and having a house full of guests. Me? I didn't inherit that gene. Or so I thought. I've found that blogging is rather like entertaining, only you're visiting my cyber living room and I don't need to vacuum first. Or dust, for that matter. And typically, I'm not a game player, either, so I was surprised when I found myself signing up for Vicki's Fun Monday. But then I realized that seeing the cyberview from my cyber living room was the hospitable thing to do. After all, Grandma wouldn't close up the drapes to prevent her guests from looking outside, so why should I?

And do you know...people I've never met before came to visit! And I felt all tickled pink, and thought to myself, "This must be what it feels like to be Grandma!" Lots of guests stopping by to tell you that you've got a lovely view, or that the head of a dead horse hanging not far from your door isn't so weird.

Well, today I was visiting a few of those new people, and imagine my surprise when one of them tagged me for a new game! I have to tell you, my stomach did a double back somersault when my brain notified it of my name being there on the list. A game? A new game? My mind began running in circles just like those headless chickens do. Would I have to think for this game? You know how I avoid that...

Thinking did not appear to be involved (sigh of relief!) However, posting a photo of yourself...a fresh from bed, no make-up and no-coffee-morning face is what is being asked for. Well...that's a lot to ask of someone, don't you think? Especially when you've only just met them? And now I'm left wondering if this ever happens to Grandma when she entertains... Grandma, do your guests request seeing you as you roll out of bed in the mornings? I'll venture to guess not.

But this is exactly what Robin over at Pensieve has asked of me, and since I don't want to appear rude...well, I said I'd play...and I really, really apologize to my regulars. I know you like creepy things, but this is beyond all that. It's just really, really scary!

I'm afraid my arms aren't long enough to get my whole face. Lucky you!

Okay, I'll manage a pre-hot chocolate smile for you. Almost. Be thankful you can't smell the breath.

Now, go give that photo a name and get out of here!

Coop and Breakfast

And now, for your listening pleasure...or is it viewing pleasure? I'm not really sure. Fact is, you may just be bored to tears and find no pleasure at all! Be that as it may, here's the latest film from Carpenter Creek!

Okay, you pesky varmints! Ever since I started this blog I've had to listen to you whine about wanting to live my life. Everything from just coming for a visit, to pleading with me to clear out a corner of the barn where you can spend the rest of your days. Even Paul's gotten into the act, wondering what the view from the guest house looks like!

And yet, I've not got a guest house. And the horses would be mighty put out if they had to give up a corner of their stall space. And sleep with the sheep? Perish the thought! Trust me, I wouldn't send my worst enemy out to sleep amongst the sheep burps. However, your enthusiasm for doing barn chores and mending fences does sound tempting...

...which is why Brigget and I have hatched a plan. Yes, a plan.

You do recall Brigget, don't you? My friend with the barn? The barn with a loft full of wise old barn owls? And didn't someone ask if we could have sleep over in that loft? The loft full of the creepiness to end all creepiness? I do believe someone did. ( I do believe it was Ms. Phyllis.)

WELL... Here's the view from your new guest room!

Yes, it's a room with a view! Isn't it lovely? You'll enjoy your stay in this peaceful, romantic little get away that was once an old chicken barn. The view is spectacular; the gentle summer breeze will fill your room with fresh air and fragrant farm scents. Nothing says country like chicken manure!

Rooms are decorated in a rustic, early 60's commercial chicken farm motif. Lining the aisles on the north side of the building, creating a charming little storage area for your personal belongings are the old chicken cages. Cages still have their clasps that held chickens securely inside, making them the perfect place for any valuables you may bring along.

The cabin is full of 'creature' comforts, such as open air conditioning.

The southern side of your cabin is open, allowing the early morning sun full access to your room. This is something you'll appreciate as the farm chores begin at 6:30 am. The sun rises shortly before 6, giving you plenty of time to wake up and fully enjoy the serene farmland around you. The new chicken coop is just feet away, giving you the freshest eggs you've ever had! Not to mention, you'll be up when the rooster crows (at 2 am, 3 am, 4 am...)

Plenty of natural light flows through the open wall of your quaint cabin.

We hope you don't mind rooming with John...

Rounding out the country feel is the old John Deere tractor that resides in the west end of your cabin. Go ahead, hop into the driver's seat! I'll even snap a photo of you to post here on the blog. For a few extra bucks, I can be convinced to photoshop the barn cabin out of the picture and place you and the tractor out in the fields where it will look as though you're tilling up the land!

Your days will be filled with the simple, laid back life of a farmer. You'll gather eggs, feed the sheep and clean the chicken coop. Then, after breakfast, a jaunt over to my place where you'll get to rototill the garden, weed the flower beds, and wash the sheep wool. I think City Boy would like his car washed as long as you're here. Fence mending, hay baling and lamb castration round out your visit. And at the end of the day, perhaps we'll be able to talk Brigget into playing her fiddle, just like Pa Ingalls!

Of course, we'll be needing a name for our little adventure. Perhaps Mrs. Tweedy's Coop and Breakfast? Or how about Horrors of the Hen House? Well, put on your thinking caps and see what you can come up with. It'll be good practice for tomorrow, which is Winsday. I've got a new photo for you, and the winner gets an 8x10!

Until then, have a terrific day, and don't do anything I wouldn't do! (Rather a wide open door, eh?)

Creepiness to end all Creepiness

To those of you who wanted this, I hate you. I don't do creepy things. This thing is creepy. But you wanted it, so here it is. I did it for you. Because I loved you. Note the past tense of the verb, love. Loved. I don't love you anymore. At least not today. I'm just too totally creeped out to love anyone right now.

Going up is bad enough; looking down gives me the heebie jeebies!

The ladder into Brigget's hay loft is long and narrow. It’s also old and wooden. When Brigget is home, she climbs the ladder. She's a good friend. She knows I whine and obsess over climbing up there. But since Brigget is not always home, I've found myself climbing it anyway. Not gracefully. My knuckles are white and my knees are shaking. But I do get up there. I was just beginning to relax about climbing that ladder when Brigget pointed out a crack in it, and wondered outloud when it would snap. Snap??? Great. Not only do I have to worry about falling out of the hay loft as I'm trying to climb the blasted thing, but I have to worry about the ladder snapping in two as well.

But for you...you lovers of creepiness...for you I climbed this rickety old ladder.

Barn owl is not happy that I've invaded the nesting area. Again.

The owls scooted on out their little exit door when they saw me. Although I had my camera with me, it wasn't the big lens, so pictures weren't great. We're still waiting for baby owls to hatch.

There are plenty of strange things in Brigget's barn.
Some may be considered creepy.

I walked around the loft, wondering where Brigget had left the creepy thing. I heard crunching beneath my feet. It was just layers of hay, I'm sure, but it wasn't a comforting sound when you're in the dark looking for spider filled creepiness. The hair on the back of my neck was standing straight up as my imagination covered all the possible reasons I’d hear crunching. I found plenty of owl poop and pellets. Even found a couple of discarded egg shells. After a full pass around the loft, I was beginning to think I wouldn’t find it, which quite honestly left me a bit relieved.

That’s when I spotted it, in all it's creepy glory. An icy cold shiver ran down my back. I looked for something to poke it with, and found a small stick. Carefully, I removed the lens cover from the camera, then squatted down alongside the thing. It looked like something a mud wasp would make, but it was split in half and was all smooth at the break. Had it been brown, and not full of creepiness, you’d think it may be a walnut.

Creepiness lurks...

But full of creepiness it was. And I could barely look through the lens to focus.

Are you happy now? Are you?

I hope you’re happy. I hope this is everything you dreamed of. Not only did I have to prod this thing apart so you could gaze upon the creepiness of it, but I had try to focus the camera on it, upload them to my computer, then resize them. That was just too much creepiness. But on top of that, I’ve now got dead spider creepiness on my blog! You’d better appreciate it, that’s all I have to say.

Sheepish

It's been a busy couple of days. Yesterday I had to run get some hay from Brigget. She went up into the loft and found this rather odd sort of thing. It was hard, roundish and split in half. Looked like the inside of a honey comb. I'd seen it up there last week, but had left it behind as it was kinda...I dunno...creepy.

Anyway, there sat Brigget up there in the doorway showing me this thing, pointing out that she thought there were spider legs coming out of it. And if anything is creepy beyond all creepiness, it's spiders. Their legs coming out of some sort of unknown object just makes them all the more creepy. She asked if I'd like it, no doubt thinking I'd take pictures for the blog.

"No, thank you," was my reply. Somethings are just too creepy even for me, I told her. She gave me a puzzled look. "You brought home the head of a dead horse in your trunk, and you don't think that's just a little bit creepy?" Okay, she had me there.

Anyway, most of Brigget's ewes have lambed now. Take a look at these adorable Icelandic babies!

Three weeks old, and look at those horn buds!

These are Sunday's babies; remember the caption contest with the kissing ewe and lamb?

Astrid lambed last week; her boy has lovely silver flecks, and check out those horns already!

Lovely spotted ram lamb. His mamma has a name I can barely pronounce, let alone spell. It means Pancake, so that's what I call her.

This morning I got up and was amazed at how many people had already visited this blog. Blown away, really. I get all sucked up by the statistics and comments. It's like my little cyberspace living room, and you all are my visitors throughout the day. And it amazes me how many of you pop in to see my decorating!

So here I sat, utterly enthralled, when I ought to have looked out the window. Why? Licorice was giving birth! By the time I finally yawned, stretched, and dawned my rubber boots, she'd licked the boy clean and he'd had his first visit to the milk bar. Like last year's lamb, and the lambs before that, he's a curly little black baby. His papa was an icelandic, and I'm hoping someone who'd like a pet wether will come along. He's bound to have a beautiful fleece with his genetics.

Still wet, and with a dangly umbelical cord.

Of course, I can't let you go without an updated pic of Ohren and Baron!

Ohren's ears are still just a little tippy!

Don't forget, tomorrow is Winsday and there'll be a new contest!

As promised, a surprise contest for today!

But first, check out the nominees for the 'coveted' Booger Blog Award! Either click, or scroll down to below the duckies and my whining about not getting breakfast. Clicking may be quicker.

Now...guess what happened out at Brigget's house last night? Lambs!

Brigget's ewe, Sunday, delivered healthy twins, a ewe and a ram. Both are black, and the ram lamb already has little horn buds! A bit too dark to get a good picture of them, but rest assured that by next week I'll have some good shots for you. You won't believe how quickly the horns on an icelandic ram can grow! The photo above is of Brigget and the little ewe lamb. Go ahead, everybody say "Aaaaahhhhh"! (Of course, they're not as cute as my lambs, right? But pretty darned close.)

Caption Contest!

Sunday is such a good mamma! This is her first time lambing, and twins were not expected as she was pretty tiny around the tummy, unlike the older, wiser girls pictured below.

Here are, from left to right, Fiola, Hulda, Cinnamon and Brekka. Can you believe how wide Brekka is? Last year she lost her twins and was so unhappy. Hopefully she'll have a successful delivery this year. Brigget is hoping all that weight is from the babies and not the taxes Brekka has been collecting.

Did you notice that Hulda has horns? Both ewes and rams can grow horns in the icelandic breed.

Meanwhile, back on the farm... The Baron and Orhen are a full week old today. Taffy has relaxed and they trot about without her becoming terribly anxious. Today they were practicing being rams. Head down, rock your weight back over your hindquarters and...

Charge!

Boys will be boys, eh?

Now, you've got two things to do. Vote for your favorite Booger Blog, and give me a caption!

Taxes

Dolly wanna cracker

Back when we first got sheep, Darling had a little black lamb by the name of Freedom. We'd put a collar and leash on Freedom, toss her into the back of our SUV (sheep utility vehicle, aka Volvo station wagon) and bring her with us to the feed store and other places, such as the McDonald's drive thru, where people would fall in love with our little curly haired puppy. And we'd be forced to explain that this was not a puppy, but a lamb. They were, however, not convinced until the lamb let out a baaaa and a burp in their faces. At which point they didn't really care any longer if it was a puppy or a lamb because the fumes from the burp had knocked them out cold. Eventually we just began telling people she was a sheep dog, they'd pat her on the head and walk away, thus saving us the embarrassment of having people passed out at our feet.

Most people think sheep are not very smart, one of those being my nephew, Trouble. Trouble is not his real name, but it ought to be. He lives on a cul de sack with his brothers and sisters, his father and Little Hitler. He owns and shows a corgi, doing quite well in 4-H at both the local and state level. He looked at Darling as she led her lamb across their grandparents yard one day and asked what good that lamb was? Darling let Trouble know that she'd get that lambed trained and be competing against him in obedience classes before long. Trouble just laughed, telling her sheep weren't that smart.

Darling and Freedom's daughter, Honey

Training sheep is not an easy task. It takes time, patience, and a lot of peanut butter filled crackers. The first thing we taught our sheep to do was Baaaa. They caught on right quick, noticing the parallel between us carrying a box of crackers and getting a treat. Soon they were baaing each time they saw us with extreme exuberance! In fact, we could not get them to shut up. You could hear them all up and down the valley, and it was soon obvious that our sheep had trained us to carry treats each time we left the house or risk having some very annoyed neighbors.

The sheep also recognized that when a car pulled into the driveway, it often had treats inside of it. Hence, the driveway tax was imposed by my sheep. Should you ever come to visit, I highly advice having a box of peanut butter filled crackers with you. They're also fond of fruit loops. If nothing else, you should at least have a few old french fries. This is not on their list of approved snack foods, however it shuts them up long enough for you to get out of sight.

Do you have a cookie?

Our sheep don't allow for second chances. No, you get it right the first time or you find yourself face down in the mud with an entire flock doing Irish step dancing on your back. This is why our pockets are always full of cracker crumbs, which can be a bit embarrassing if you've actually gone out into public, reached into your pocket for your keys and pull them out covered in peanut butter. The best thing to do in this situation is to just lick it off casually as though it's a peanut butter key pop. People will look at you strangely, but it's easier than explaining the driveway tax to them.

Briget and her sheep

Feed us. Feed us NOW!

Our sheep have us well trained. They've taught us to duck as we walk past the window. If they see us through the window, we're required to pay the window tax. They stand and baaa until we go outside and feed them their crackers (or fruit loops), which isn't entirely a bad thing unless it's 6 am. The neighbors aren't terribly fond of the window tax our sheep have imposed on us. Oh, it's not so bad during the week, but they get rather cranky on weekends. Our sheep don't care about our neighborly relationships, however, so we walk around like a house full of hunchbacks.

Needless to say, the thoughts of having a prize obedience sheep has long since flown the coop. Instead, we're thinking perhaps there ought to be a class for well trained humans. How many times can your sheep get you to jump up onto that grooming stand with a cookie and coo like a baby at him? How many humans does it take to tip a sheep onto it's butt so it's feet can be trimmed...and how many of them can be layed flat in the mud in the process? Things like that.

Cuteness today, tax collector tomorrow

Yes, our sheep have done an excellent job with us. I'll bet Trouble isn't nearly so well trained! Dogs aren't nearly as smart as sheep.

A Day in the Country

Another trip to Brigget's this weekend, and guess what I saw? The barn owl! She'd been in her nest box when Brigget went up the ladder to get my hay. I spotted her flying out of the barn over to this tree. She was rocking back and forth, as though breathing heavily; probably why that first photo is just a wee out of focus there. Hasn't she got the loveliest face?

A few years ago Darling and I went to Northwest Trek and saw these Snowy Owls. Very different looking than the Barn Owls. (What do you suppose Barn Owls were called before they began inhabiting barns?)

As long as I was at Brigget's, and as long as my camera had come along with me, I thought I'd get a few more pictures of the farm. Below are seedheads from last summer's sunflowers.

Okay, I'm not a huge data base of flower names...are these snowdrops? Or perhaps their name is Lovely White Flowers in Winter? I think that's what I shall call them.

The signs below were painted by Brigget's daugther, Rosie, before she left for college last summer. I think I need signs like that, only different. Mine would say Nasty Rooster, Wild Horses, and All That's Left of Walter.

After picking up hay, I decided to take the long way home and get a few pictures of the country side. I hope you enjoy them!

Okay, if you got this far, and you're still reading...here's a sneak peek at what's coming up! I'll be holding a contest on "Winsday" to name a new blog! The theme is barns...barns...and more barns! Pictures not just by me of my soggy, northwet barns, but you can submit your barn photos, too!

So put on your thinking caps and come up with the perfect name...Barn Again? Barn to be Wild? Hey...you're a clever group! Just give it a couple days and come back on Winsday to share your ideas! In the meantime, a bit of inspiration...