I hope everyone has a nice day, whether you are celebrating the U.S.A. Thanksgiving or not!
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,
The weather people say we will have snow this evening and tomorrow. If you are traveling, please take care no matter where you are —
As always your friend on a western Colorado farm,
After years and years of wanting a Pizzelle Iron I finally broke down and bought one.
Then it was time to make the sweet Italian cookies. Searching the net I saw there were lots and lots of gluten-free recipes for these wonderful cookies. (I cook totally gluten-free, since Terry, our youngest daughter, and our oldest granddaughter all have Celiac’s Disease.)
Then I tried making the cookies into a roll so I could fill them.
Your friend ,
Ruth fluttered off the big rock landing right alongside me. “Lay down dog, put you head on your paws and stay there until I tell you sit back up.” Placing a wing at the tip of my nose she started walking down the farm road…”ten, eleven, twelve” we heard her count. “Come stand here Stanley,” Ruth called to Stanley. Stanley turned stunned eyes toward her and started shivering and shaking all over.
“Go ahead, Stanley” I nudged Stanley gently with my nose—“DON’T MOVE, BOOMER!” Ruth squawked at me. “Go!” I said… “Let’s see what she is up to…we might get this cased solved quickly and can head back home.”
Stanley drug himself slowly toward Ruth, when he got there, Ruth took both her wings and pushed Stanley onto the spot where she was standing. Then she took off walking again, counting under her breath until she got to twelve once more. “Now you, Stewart, shuffle your little feet over here and stand right in this spot.”
I gave Stewart the signal to go, which he did; head hanging down just sure he was heading toward his doom.
“Okay”, Ruth started walking until she got 12 more steps under her. “Here is where we are…”See this big rock is one spot, Boomer you are another spot, Stewart and Stanley, you each have a spot. If we were to draw a line from each of you to around to the rock we would have a circle.”
“Yes! That’s right!” we three chorused!
“Okay, now that we have a circle we are protected from the monster. I’m going to stand in the circle, turn around three times, then stand still and see if I can see just what is the black hairy monster, or if not that, if it is still on the farm and where to find him.”
“W-w-will it come get us”? Stanley voiced quivered as he asked the question, which was on all our minds.
“No, we are protected by the magic circle, I just told you so “Ruth turned disgusted eyes upon each one of us in turn.
“No shhhhhhhhhhh, I have work to do.”
Ruth slowly closed her eyes, lifted her wings to full span, and started turning slowly, slowly, slowly—muttering under her breath…something we couldn’t hear. Even, I with my very sharp beagle ears.
Once, twice, three times. Ruth gradually stopped, first at Stanley, then turned a little more and stopped at Stewart, then turned the last time stopping at me. Then she raised her wings high up in the air and slashed them down, folding them to her side —- whereby she promptly fell over.
I jumped to my feet and ran to Ruth, nudging her with my nose I tried to see if she was okay. Stanley and Stewart right to me and climbed onto my back. “WHAT HAPPENED?” What Happened, Boomer?”
“I don’t know”, I pushed my nose into Ruth’s body and gave a little shove, that’s when we could hear Ruth snore. “Oh, I guess, she got tired. It is day time and she is a night owl…Ruth is sleeping.”
“Sleeping! YAY! The squirrel brother jumped off me and scampered onto the big rock, running here and there, through the grass up on the old logs rotting close by they played and laughed and ran with great glee!
I sat there a very long time, just watching Ruth sleep and the squirrel brothers dashing from rock to log, through the grass, up on a stump and thought to myself: Shish! I’m bored!
Just about that time Ruth rose up from her very dusty bed on the road, gave her bird body some rather vigorous shakes (Which flung feather every which way), then shook out here massive wings, flapped them several times, then blinked her gigantic, big, huge yellow eyes at me and said: “You have a couple of feathers stuck to your nose, Boomer?”
“Well, of course I do, Ruth…you just got through throwing feathers and dust all over the place!” I gave a big sneeze, causing the feather to fly up into the air, then gently float back down.
“Well, enough of that, Boomer. I know just what we are supposed to do now. I saw the big black hairy thing and it/he/she is over on the Sage Brush hill hiding next to an old Coyote Den. “Come on follow me” Ruth lifted herself straight up in the air and took off over the Upper End, then over the small swamp, up to the little creek and right onto a Russian Oliver tree way, way, over there on the Sage Brush Hill.
Geez, I thought to myself. Sure it’s easy if you have wings, but the squirrel brothers and I have to WALK over there. We will have to either go around the swamp or we have to go THROUGH the swamp, neither idea sounded like something I wanted to do. Of course Stanley and Stewart will want to ride so all the work will be up to me.
What to do, I pondered to myself. What to do.
Oh! I know I’ll go the way I’m going, passed the little corn field, over to the Back Forty Road then I’ll take the land bridge up over the pond….from there it’s just a matter of back tracking…through COYOTE COUNTRY!!
Coyote Country! What a quandary!
Uncles Spike said it best again: “We will not be separated or forced to cease our friendships.
We will not change our ways – we are happy as we are.
We are all different, and proudly so, and stand together as one.
We respect each other’s right to life.
We want to live in peace.”
Thanks, Uncle Spike!
Originally posted on Uncle Spike's Adventures:
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About 7:30 or so last night Mom and Dad got a phone call. I didn’t pay much attention to them getting a phone call—it happens all the time.
Mom picked up the phone: “Hello” then she didn’t say anything for a very long time. Since Mom was sitting next to me, and I was lying next to the fire place toasting the pads on my feet, I did hear the phone say—to repeat this message press any button now.
Suddenly Mom was jumping up, sort of stumbling over me…shish! I got up and moved out of the way. By the time I got up, Mom was over at Dad’s chair, handing him the phone. I saw her push a button and then put the phone to Dad’s ear.
Dad listened awhile and said. “This is serious!” as he hung up the phone.
He told Mom to call my oldest Sister to let her know about the reverse 911 (a 119) call.
Here is what I heard as Mom talked to Shannon—
“We just got a call from the Sherriff’s department. There are two armed and dangerous fugitives on the loose. They are two men wearing dark hoody type coats, each man has a dark backpack and is wearing camouflage shorts. If you see them call 911 immediately. Do NOT approach them, do Not try to detain them in any manner. The armed fugitives have been spotted in our vicinity. We are advised to lock all out buildings, all vehicles, the doors and windows to our house, and stay inside.”
Then Mom and Dad turned on all the outside lights, got flashlights and headed out to do as instructed. Of course I went with them. I AM the protector of the property, and of Mom and Dad.
As we were doing all this we could see down our country lane and way across the fields of our neighbor’s there were lots and lots of car lights and activity on the roads surrounding us. Later on a helicopter flew by. It was all very….unusual for our little part of the world that is for sure.
Mom made me come inside and locked the doors. “You can go out only if I am with you, Boomer. No since in you getting in harm’s way.” She said, as I bedded down for the night.
This morning everything seems to be back to normal. I checked out the lane, nothing there but the usual.
Sure was a watchful night.
I think Uncle Spike has said this the best of anything I’ve read. Thanks Uncle Spike! May you and yours remain safe!
Originally posted on Uncle Spike's Adventures:
The level of response generated by my previous post, Perspective & Humanity, was reassuring, pretty much supportive and mostly from my usual clan of faithful blogging correspondents. My follower numbers did drop a bit (15 or so I think), which was as to be expected, but let’s just say that I’m getting to the point where I know what matters to me.
Anyway, suffice it to say, I think you know where I’m coming from regarding these recent, or shall we say ongoing, atrocities at the hands of these numbnuts with the black flag and their mandatory brain cell count of <12. In actuality, they are probably not that thick at all; in fact they seem highly organised, so therefore I guess just plain evil, rather than stupidly misguided then.
One of my mutual followers, Suzanne, is a French Canadian who also lived in Paris, and so her commentary…
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Well, here we sit, the corn is still standing, albeit growing shorter and shorter as the days go by. The weather and the wind has started breaking the tops off the stalks, the moisture is keep the corn kernels wet, and the ground is muddy.
Still we wait. There isn’t anything else to do.
Corn harvest…not yet!
Your friend on a western Colorado Farm,
I have been reading Marianne’s Blog…Northview Diary ever since I started blogging many years ago. I love reading about she and Ralph’s life in upstate New York, I’ve cried with them when they decided to sell out of the dairy business, and I’ve rejoiced at the birth and each mile stone of Sweet Little granddaughter!
But the one post that stays with me is this one:
After all the winter storms we’ve been having I think it is a fitting post for this Tuesday.
Spare me from the hunter’s moon
And coyotes howling on the hill
I don’t like it in the dark,
I’m sure I never will.
The sun and color have my heart,
The rising tide of daybreak
Morning is my favorite hour
I can’t abide the evening.
Wrap me in robins,
Sing me some sparrows,
Charm me with blue jays outspoken.
I’ll sleep when the sun goes down
And thank you for daybreak each morning.
After huge winds last night (and still going strong today) we finally have some sunlight. Although, it is rather cold outside…with the sun I can handle the cold.
With love and friendship,
Almost Murder on the Farm!
The squirrel brothers, Stewart and Stanley, Ruth the Owl, and myself, Boomer the Beagle, a.k.a. Sherlock Boomer— soon found ourselves at the Upper End.
I trotted along with the squirrel brothers perched on my back and Ruth flying on silent wings above us. Once there I stopped at the fork-in-the road…straight ahead, way down the way, was the fence and the gate to our neighbor’s farm and Dad’s head gate for the irrigation water.
On our left was the road THROUGH the Upper End, toward the Back Forty and between those two areas was the Drinking Pond, Sage Brush Hill, Red-Winged Black Bird Sanctuary and Cactus Point.
As I was sitting in the fork-of the-road Ruth flew down on silent wings and perched on a corn stalk in the corn field next to road leading through the Upper End.
“Ruth,” I said very seriously. “Before we begin, you need to settle down here on this big rock and give me all the details of the almost murder to Porky the porcupine. I need to know just where it is we need to be heading and just What the monster looked like.”
Ruth lifted herself off the corn stalk and floated down upon the rock. “Okay, here is what happened, as far as I was told: It was getting along toward sunset, Porky was just between the Sage Brush Hills…right about where the spring runs between the two hills and fills up the Drinking Pond. He was just moseying along, thinking of nothing much, eating some herbs and grass now and then. When suddenly something HUGE! BIG AND BLACK! AND VERY HAIRY loomed over him and gave him a swipe that sent him flying head over heels and into the Chico brush and the rabbit brush.
Porky scrabble up and quickly crawled into a hole under the roots of the biggest Chico bush close by. The big hairy black monster hung around for a while sorta acting like it had a bunch of quills in its paws. It growled and whined and whimpered…when in the distance the sound of four-wheelers coming closer and closer was heard.
The big, black, hairy monster stopped, stood still for a spell, and then crashed off toward the bottom of the Sage Brush hill toward the Red-Winged Black Bird Sanctuary. Pork could hear the Red-winged Black Birds giving the alarm of danger and at least three of the Rooster Pheasants squawking as the monster lumbered pasted them.
“Big, black, hair, with paws…” I mused. I lay down and put my head on my paws and stared into my mind, trying to come up with something that matched that description. Sitting back up I asked the squirrel brothers if they knew what type of monster this might be. Sitting very still, one eye on Ruth and one eye on me, their little tails curled into question marks they solemnly shook their heads No.
“Ruth, do you know?”
“Actually, no I don’t, Boomer. But I think I can find out.”
“You are going to fly up high and far away and search high and low,” Stanley timidly asked Ruth.
“Well, actually no…I have a better idea.” Stanley visibly wilted, “oh,” he responded in a tiny, tiny voice.