Random Shots

To all those of you still working, 

I hope you have a peaceful and safe Labor Day. 

My sister and I always enjoyed the parades that were still held in downtown Kansas City, Kansas, when we were children.  It was very much a blue-collar town, mostly Democrats, made 

up of immigrants, first and second generation, who worked at the stockyards, 

the packing plants, and the railroads, among other industries. 

Most of that has gone away, now. 

I'm going to use up some pictures from the last few days that didn't get used. 

(translation) 

Out of things to say this morning. 

I posted this picture on Facebook this morning, it's Abs on her way to help me do chores last night.  She has not been outside much this past week, the humidity is death to pugs, literally. 

Speaking of that, I am getting so irritated at the pictures on Pinterest of pugs dressed in cute outfits. 

I drew the line yesterday when there was a picture of just the head of a pug, buried in the sand at the beach. Number one, pugs are beaten up by the heat in as little as five minutes, so what person in their right mind would take a pug to a beach?  And to deliberately bury your dog in the sand.... for the sake of a "cute" picture????   I tried to unsubscribe from that board, but it would not let me.  I'm trying again, today. 

Is it just me or are there some seriously nutty people loose in this world? 

Here's our good neighbor Troy cutting up the humongous branch that fell from the maple.  Keith took a drive down into Tongie yesterday, and there were trees and branches down everywhere, so the winds must have been a lot stronger than we realized.  Troy also had lots of branches down at his house, but none as large as this one. 

We still have the cleanup to do this morning. 

This innocent looking sweet little bantam, Snow White... is the EGG EATER.  I have caught her in the act now twice. 

Normally, this would mean a sure death if I were a very serious chicken-keeper.  I guess I'm not so serious, but the loss of an egg a day when I am only getting 8 or so eggs daily is sore. 

I am trying to gather eggs off and on all day, going out every two hours or so.  That way, no one, snakes or chickens, is tempted to eat them. 

And, in the category of Bizarre Chicken Stuff: 

Last night, I saw one of my little silkies, Bluey, standing very still and fluffed up outside while everyone around her was fighting for bread I throw out.  I grew worried and went down the steps to check on her.  As I reached down to pick her up, she shuddered... and a yolk dropped from her vent and splatted on the ground, and she ran away quickly.  The other hens, of course, became vultures on the yolk. 

I checked her this morning, and she is fine.  

No picture, my hands were full, though the camera was in my pocket. 

This beautiful dragonfly watched me do the duck's water on Saturday night.  Aren't his eyes wonderful? 

What the heck is THIS, Mary Ann, you ask? 

It's a cicada going down a hole!  I was so nonplussed I could not get the camera into my hands fast enough. 

You can just see the tip of his white tail as he disappears underground.  

My goodness!  I had never seen anything like that before. 

Here's a hot Folly in the henspa, but lo and behold, miracles never cease... I found her down from her beloved top of the nest box yesterday!  Next thing I know, she'll be outside! 

and here's the Old Gentleman, enjoying a few minutes outside.  The heat has bothered him, too. 

Today, Monday, I'm going to do an assessment of the garden.  The beans are coming out, and quite possibly, most of the tomatoes. The chickens in the henspa yard are going to have a feast.  I'll make some notes about what I planted this year, and share them with you tomorrow. 

I have another giveaway in mind... and hope to announce it this week. 

As always, thank you all so much for your comments on our blog.  I hope to get caught up in the next few days on reading yours... it seems the last week flew away before I even knew it.  

Everyone have a safe, peaceful day for your holiday. 

Dragonfly Dance

This is the time of the Dragonfly Dance. The time when the cicadas sing at sunset, as the suns rays fall below the western horizon, when the grasshoppers flap their wings in the warm sun, and the chickens begin to come in at 6, knowing the days are growing shorter and looking for their roosts to settle for the night. It's the time when grasscutting goes from being a pleasure to being a chore, and the constant trought filling and pool watering is a pain. As I mow, the dragonflies flit in the air before me, drawing close to the mower and my arms, and then buzzing away at speed, dancing and zooming, off into the pasture and back again. The walnut trees are dropping their leaves, first to fall and last to come out in the spring, their lives short each year... and their bounty littering the yard so that the mower zings the walnuts as I drive over them. Weeds grow tall, and the tomato plants begin to wither and lean, while peppers are still pumping out. The llamas, fat and happy, stand in the shade of their mulberry tree, or graze in the late afternoon shade, growing strong and healthy. Even Uncle Beau has gained a little weight, and moseys around in the yard, unaware that he will have a new companion to bring a spring to his step in a few days.

For us, it's autumn too, a couple of momentous birthdays and another chapter growing closer in our lives. It's the Dragonfly Dance.