The View

There's lots of talk about Rosie and the View, but that's not the view I'm talking about today. No, Vicki over at Catching Light has requested a view from the front door. And, just because she's nosy, from the back door as well. It is obviously not enough for Vicki to see breathtaking photos of slug weddings, dogs eating horse poop and super creepy things from Brigget's barn loft. She wants to know what's outside my doors.

Well, be prepared to be shocked...

...because everything here is normal. Peaceful. Tranquil. A place where one may come to relax and enjoy all of God's creation. It's spring, maple trees are full of new leaf, the apple trees heavy with blossoms. Fragrant spring bulbs have worked their way up (finally) after a long, winter's slumber.

Apple blossoms have a light, sweet fragrance.

Open the front door, and this is what you see. The porch, a small red maple, and my driveway.

Step out onto the porch and peek around the railing. There are my daylilies, not quite ready to bloom. City Boy has just mown the yard; doesn't it look good? Off in the distance is the pasture, and across the road one of the many small foot hills that separate us from Mount Baker.

Uh...this is Darling, wearing her pink poodle pajama bottoms and her mother's sweatshirt. Yes, the little shoe thief has taken to stealing my clothes these days. She also seems to think it funny to jump out in front of the camera lens unexpectedly. I shall count this as my cardio-vascular exercise for the day.

Let's step out back, shall we? My father built Little Hitler and I the loveliest arbors! Originally we'd hoped to have a small stream trickling underneath it, but that hasn't happened. I'd like to plant a climbing rose over it, but City Boy isn't fond of the thought of getting scratched up while mowing.

Carpenter Creek is just beyond those trees, and it is this direction that our Homeland Security team spends most of it's time patrolling. It's coyote season right now, so the dogs are constantly on guard.

Chief of Security, Rufus, sits on the patio. Like the rest of his team, he's always on guard. Beyond the patio, to the north, sits my pick up. You can see just a hint of the barn and paddock.

Er...speaking of Homeland Security...seems Tait has found a predator in the bottom of a plastic bag. No wonder Rufus appears so disgusted in the above photo!

Yes, things are pretty peaceful here at Carpenter Creek, as long as you don't mind the 2 am rooster crow...

Or The Screamer insisting that it's feeding time as soon as she sees you walk out of the house (I do believe she picked up the tax cries from the sheep!)...

Yes, tranquil, peaceful, relaxing...nothing odd or out of place around here. Nothing creepy...nothing weird. Bet you didn't expect that, did you?

What's that?

Oh, sure! Bring that up, why don't you! Yeah, yeah...there's a skull hanging outside my back door. But, hey, it's a good fifteen feet from the house. And you can only see it from the sliding door in the rec room. Vicki never said which back door the view had to be from...

That Never Happened...

Congratulations, Rachelle, on your winning entry in the photo contest! Winter Whiskers, it is!

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Darling cut her own hair!

I'm the queen of 'That Never Happened'. Really, I am. I never snorted boogers all over people while on a first date. I never dropped my cell phone in a public toilet and got caught fishing it out. And I certainly never go outside where truck drives can see me in my flannel pj's walking barefoot through muddy horse paddocks. No...these things never happened. Never.

Darling and Rufus

Today turned out to be quite lovely, despite the snow on the hill and chilly air. Darling and I decided to bring the dogs into town and walk along the old railroad tracks through Whatcom Falls Park. It's a lovely place; so picturesque and tranquil.

Now, I've not mentioned it before, but Darling has a habit of running into things. Little things, like walls, for instance. Fortunately for her, there were no walls out in the park. Unfortunately for her, there were trees. "That never happened," she said. That's Darling's second most favorite phrase. As I told her this afternoon, half of her life hasn't happened. She has no idea what I'm talking about, pleading complete ignorance. I really have no idea where she comes by such denial.

Someone is walking backwards...
Either the dogs are very talented, or perhaps it just never happened...


Hurry! She's old, we can outrun her!

While we're on the subject of Darling's favorite phrases...her most favoritist (is that a real word? The Grammar Nazi will come for me if it isn't) phrase is, "I was adopted, wasn't I. Please tell me I was adopted." I'm not really sure why she'd think that. We've always been very honest with Darling in terms of where she came from. Some years ago we sat her down and told her that, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much, they call the travelling pig gypsies who always have a supply of extra children. Pig Gypsies are always willing to barter a bit, so we traded a shiny bottle cap to them in exchange for a new daughter. To which Darling responded, "I was adopted."

Young Redwinged Blackbird pulls seeds from cattails growing in the pond.

Our walk this afternoon, as I mentioned, was along the old railroad tracks. Prior to entering the park, they travel past Scudders Pond, a gloriously swampy piece of water full of cattails, bullfrogs and mosquitoes. I told Darling how one early morning I'd decided to go for a stroll along this same trail. It was something like 6 am, probably not the safest time for a young woman to be out walking alone. That thought hadn't occurred to me until I'd been out there for half an hour and noticed that the only people I was meeting were a handful of male joggers. I was beginning to get just a bit nervous, imagining the worst each time I heard their crunching footsteps approaching me from behind. I'm sure they noticed my jumpiness, too, as I'd turn quickly around so as to get a good look at their faces just in case I lived through the attack.

My heart was racing by the time I was out of the woods and back alongside the pond. But I knew I was within sight of the apartments across the pond now; surely someone would be up and hear my screams should worse come to worse. Just as I was letting that thought slip through my head, my fears were realized. I was attacked from behind! I let out a scream; I'd been hit on the top of my head! I fell forward, the palms of my hands hitting the gravelled trail. I recall wondering briefly why I hadn't heard them come up behind me...

Quickly I attempted getting up to flee...or fight... Do you know how awkward it is to turn gracefully when you're on all fours and facing downward? Breathlessly I got up, but there was no one to be seen. I looked around. And then it happened again. Thwunk!!! On the top of my head!! What the heck??

That's when I heard the squawking and chiding from a tree above me... There sat a red winged blackbird, thoroughly ticked off at my hot pink headband!

Oh, sure, they look innocent enough...

I brushed the bits of embedded gravel from my hands, straightened my sweater and looked nervously around to see if there were any witnesses. Thankfully, there were no joggers at the moment. Hopefully, no one was awake over in those apartments to have seen what had just happened. Imagine, being attacked by a silly little bird and having it drive you right down to the ground.

But of course...That Never Happened!


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Now, a quick Taffy update! Here's what she's looking like from behind. Her udder is filling up, but we're not there yet.

Could this be considered Sheep Porn?
(Oh, never mind me...I'm up way past my bedtime!)

Fashion Diva

InSPURation!

Congratulations, Rachel, on your winning entry! There were many terrific entries, but this one caught my eye.

With such a fashionable boot for inspuration, I just couldn't resist a little fashion diva expose here. Take a look at Darling, all dolled up along with our head of Homeland Security, Rufus. Darling reminds me of Little Orphan Annie with her red wig.

Unfortunately, her fashion sense really hasn't changed much over the past few years. She still makes, er, interesting choices. Coloring is one of her favorite activities, and if she's not drawing on walls (no clue who she may have inherited that gene from) or her hands, she's coloring on her clothing. Note the skirt. Typically, she'll have a pair of jeans on beneath it. And then she'll wear the whole outfit out in public.I'm not sure how she comes by this sense of fashion. Surely it couldn't be from my side of the family. I mean...it's not like she's got them on backwards or anything. I'm the height of fashion, starting promptly when I fall out of bed in the morning. The sheep love seeing me coming out to feed in my flannel sheepie pj's with my knee high rubber boots. The horses don't appear to mind, either. And that trucker that slid into the ditch as he was driving past? Well, obviously he was quite awestruck by my early morning fashion choices.

But back to Darling... She informed me she wants to color her hair. Blue.

I don't think so, dearie. It looks much better purple! But you're right about blonde; it's not your color.

I was flipping through some blogs earlier and came across a whole slew of them dedicated to, of all things, fashion! What a silly topic to spend your day on, I thought. Then I looked at the photos. Good golly, those high end fashion divas are dressed just like Darling!

So the next time you see my kid out there and wonder where the heck she learned to dress like that, well, I don't mean to brag or anything, but she inherited that gene from me. And if you think she's dressed a bit odd? Just remind yourself she's on the cutting edge of fashion!

Homeland Security

Hello, my name is Rufus; code name Mr. Fluffy Pants. I'm head of security here at Carpenter Creek Farm (yes, it is a farm, City Boy!) It's my job to ensure the safety of all occupants, from those stinky sheep outside to the silly humans in the house.

My day begins with a good whining to get out the door in the mornings. I have two trusty deputies, Rocket and Tait. These two deputies are all business, never leaving their posts to goof around; I know I can trust them. Together, we secure the perimeter of the property, chasing off squirrels, crows and field mice. Occasionally the neighbor dogs across the creek will bark at us as we go about our duties. This issue must be addressed swiftly so that they do not upset the apple cart. I've never seen an apple cart here, but we wouldn't want to upset it if there was one. So we bark back at the neighbor dogs. Soon the entire valley is ablaze with barking, and we know we've done our job well as the Mrs. will then call us in.

Once we've ensured that the perimeter is secure, I allow my deputies to come inside for a bite to eat. But we are always on guard, watching through the window for any sign of disturbance, such as that man in the big brown truck that is always leaving suspicious packages at our door. We do not like that, not one little bit! It's a rough life, being head of security for a farm. One must always be on the lookout for potential danger. I just wish they'd give me a better haircut so I could actually see what's going on!