The 2012 calendars are available! All the calendars are marked up by $1, and all profits go to Challenger’s House.
I’ll put this up at the top of the entries for the rest of the week for those who don’t read every day or who read via a reader, and after this week they’ll be in the sidebar to the right.
Sights from Around Crooked Acres.
The Begonias on the front porch are still holding strong.
I love Azaleas.
And Hydrangeas.
And… whatever these are. I don’t remember – starts with a “p”, I think. Or has a “p” in the name.
I love how Morning Glories pop up in random locations.
George and Gracie on the hill o’ dirt. I think this was about mid-way through the pond dig – the hill is much higher now.
Gracie racing around and making me nervous ’cause I didn’t want to fall off the dirt hill (though I would have had a soft landing, I guess).
I’m the motherfucking Queen of Dirt Hill, yo.
(Please note that I did not know, when I went out to the back forty, that I would be having a picture taken of me. Otherwise, I would have taken OFF the two-sizes-too-big sweatshirt and put on a cocktail dress and tiara. And waxed my eyebrows and put on makeup and gotten a bikini wax. The point of the picture was less “Look at ME!” than “Look how tall this pile of dirt must be if someone who is five feet, five inches tall can stand on top of it and look like a speck!” That is a lot of motherfucking dirt.)
The ducks are not quite completely grown yet, but they’re just about there.
We’re pretty sure we’ve got two boys and two girls. Why?
Girl. (That splash of blue is just gorgeous, isn’t it?)
Two girls on the left, one boy on the right.
See how his head is turning green from the beak back? These are Rouen ducks, which look just like Mallards.
Another shot of the green.
I think this means we’ll have baby ducks next year. Because what we need in the back forty is MORE birds.
This one is “The Featherhead.”
The Rock Star. She is so pretty, I just can’t stand it.
Young rooster.
Mama hen and her babies.
Another young rooster.
Yet another young rooster. There are about ten of them out there right now, and since you just can’t have that many roosters for the number of hens we have, most of them will shuffle off to freezer camp soon. We decided that this one is going to stick around – he’s really good with the hens and not aggressive toward us.
Angry Muppet (the Silkie) and her babies.
Happy, happy pup.
George, being brushed. That look on his face is one reason Fred calls him a big doofus.
“You has a treat for me?”
::thlurrrp::
Back when the pond was about a quarter of the way finished. I need to get some updated pictures of the pond itself!
Brushin’ time.
Gracie, watching.
George and Gracie, watching Maxi walk by. That tomato plant in front of Gracie is still hanging in there.
Harlan loves a good belly rub.
Patty’s all “Do you MIND?”
Harlan melted right out that bed!
Sally and Everett.
Harlan on the cat tree.
So, I got my new camera and finally took it out of the box earlier this week. Some of the pictures above (the chicken and duck pictures, some of the dog pictures) were taken with it. I really like it quite a lot, and not least because it has a function I didn’t realize it had when I bought it: it has a panoramic function and it is TOO COOL to play with. I used it to get this picture of all the big Peppers atop the bookcases and cat tree in the front room (please ignore what a mess those bookcases are; I seriously need to organize the shelves).
Much like Joe Bob does, if Maxi sees one of us outside she talks to us until we walk over and pet her.
And then she flops down in the dirt and rolls around.
Previously
2010: Have you met Rhyme?
2009: No entry.
2008: Poet! Knowit!
2007: Newt was a total teeny baby this time last year – he was clearly NOT fully grown at that point, as this picture can attest.
2006: Maddy’s new Mommy and Daddy came a-visitin’ yesterday.
2005: Huh. I was wondering why Tom Cullen was snooping around in the stamp drawer
2004: The spud and I stood patiently by while the man chattered at the school employees for several minutes and then my head exploded, scattering brain matter everywhere.
2003: “Jessica Lynch!” I said. “Isn’t she the only POW we’ve ever had in all of history?”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: She went in and treated the whole office to a very loud gagging sound (she gets that from her mother), and came out a few minutes later a little less green.