I took a break and stumbled across this under the sub-head: Ladies and Gentlemen, Our Betters I swear, at first I didn’t get it. Duh. Kyle Kulinski has no idea what an aerial view of farmland looks like. [Smiles. Shakes head. Returns to cleaning toilets and vacuuming up Missy fur.]
Came as a complete surprise this morning! Male. Four or five years old. Very gentle– can pet him and lead him around on a leash. So we’re in the donkey business!
Got a call that there is an abundance of baby donkeys about! Will Bonnie & Clyde have a protector soon?
Oh. It’s become silly alright! Well beyond silly if you ask me.
I posted last evening, and then deleted the post (SueK– thanks for your concern), about Tiger being in the hospital. He’s back on the Farm now, confined– cone & all– to the Workshop. Apparently, Tiger got into fight defending the joint from an intruder. His cheek was punctured in two places, and while the superficial
Good morning, Dear Readers (with a special shout out to fellow dog lover, Steve)! It’s shaping up to be a beautiful day here on Farther Along Farm. This morning Missy, Rocky & I did something different– we trucked down to the Pond Pasture. And when I say “trucked,” I mean that the dogs and I
I myself am not seeing it yet, but what do I know?
I don’t know where they went but Missy sure does… have quite the aroma about her!
[A delightful book, by the way. Filled with all sorts of crappy old poems and songs. Highly recommended to those interested in escaping 2019 for a few minutes.] I received a call from The J-Man last Monday. Did I know where the other sheep was? I, too, had noticed earlier that the small one was
Followed The J-man as he was coming up the drive– and you’ll recall the driveway is about 2/10th of a mile long. Followed him up to the porch of the apartment where he (The J-man, not the dog) dried him off. Everyone gathered ’round the wet, shivering, blind in one eyed dog who was very
Well– part stroll, part drive First, to the summit, elevation 515′ above sea level. You can see the Village water tower from the summit. It’s also a great place to watch meteor showers. A little walk down the North Road through the Piney Woods. I’m listening to the birds and Rocky & Missy are chasing
What were you up to at 7:17am? Me? I was headed to the hidden pasture.
via Powerline’s The Week in Pictures, which is always good for a chuckle as you are having your first fourth cup of joe on Saturday morning before you head to the hardware store to see if the folks there have any thoughts on who might come out and do some Electrical work.
A response to “The Virtues of Book Ownership“– and essay that really doesn’t speak all that much to virtues as you and I and Aristotle know them– at Acculturated.com Dear Stephanie, I enjoyed your essay, especially the part about letting your daughter skip school to go with you to the mega-book sale. Right on. I thought
The pressure’s dropping like crazy. The wind is picking up. Clouds are rolling in. My special powers of weather prediction tell me it’s going to rain soon. Fortunately… Mr. Clack & Son finished getting the tin on the Big House this afternoon. It’s an interesting process. Lots of ladders and air compressors and Electrical tools
Yes, indeed! I am still putting books away. This is the frontispiece art in Joe the Book Farmer (1913), a book I picked up yesterday. It’s funny because Mr. Big Food’s Mom was just the other day recalling one of Mr. Big Food’s teacher’s sayings, “We don’t guess, we look it up.” Good advice but be
If you buy a Farm and move to the Country you can take your vicious pit bull on an off-leash walk whenever you’d like. On your walk you can see all sorts of nature-type stuff. If you buy a Farm and move to the Country, after you and your vicious pit bull return home, you
Mr. Cotton Farmer started picking cotton the day before yesterday. He’s making good progress. Seems a bit early to me, but what do I know? I’m not a cotton farmer. Well, I’ll be danged. Having searched for “cotton” posts, and viewed the results, seems cotton pickin’ is right on schedule. Go figure that the Mr.
The Tree-Toad James Whitcomb Riley “‘S cur’ous-like,” said the tree-toad, “I’ve twittered fer rain all day; And I got up soon, And hollered tel noon– But the sun, hit blazed away, Tell I jest clumb down in a crawfish-hole, Weary at hart, and sick at soul! “Dozed away fer an hour, And I tackled the
Daughter C and Miss M enjoy each other’s company on the front “lawn.”