There's a monster outside my room, can I have a glass of water?

"All right, listen, we both go outside, move around the house in opposite directions. We act crazy, insane with anger, make them crap in their pants, force them around till we meet up on the other side."

You ever see that movie "Signs?"

It scared the piss out of me.

I do still, and always had an (as I like to call it)  "natural fear," of aliens

Go ahead laugh.

But they are flipping scary to me.

So back when the movie "Signs,' came out I of course, had to feed into this alien fear of mine by seeing the it.

Naturally my fear held strong, thru the entire movie, and ride home.  Maybe I cried.  Maybe I emotionally ate my popcorn.  Maybe I hid my face in the sticky movie theater seat.  Maybe did all three of these things at once. But as I left the theater I packed up the fear and carried it home. Driving back home was a good distraction from the scenes I had just witnessed BUT as I approached closer to my sweet comfort of home (which happened to be down the street from a couple of corn fields) I realized that the power had gone out throughout the street.   This meant I had to walk into my dark house, dark room, and try to sleep without darkly thinking about aliens running around on the roof above me.

I'll never forget the noise they made.

Like raccoons.

Chattering.


Or how bout their footsteps?
The aliens had these long clawed feet that made a slight scratching sound.  I remember seeing  the foot shadows slide out from the crack where the door meets the floor, as they walk past.  

You could hear them run across the roof.

So what did Mel do in this alien invasion?

Well he brought his family to the cellar of course!

And it was in those scenes as the alien feet above scratched the floorboards of their home, that my fear of "anything pertaining to outer space with a large oval head," was scratched into my being.  My human. being.



Skip to today.


I'm in our cellar.

The bulkhead is closed (don't know what that is?  http://callwalsh.com/images/doors_08.jpg  There ya go cityfolk.)

and then I hear it.

the scratching footsteps.

it runs across the metal bulkhead.

I freeze.

Turn my head.

gulp.

its aliens.

and I see the shadows.  The feet. The sunlight that's peaking thru the crack of the bulkhead door, getting interrupted by scratchy, claw-ee, chattering feet.



aliens?






I in my frozen, feared state, come too.

Nope just the chickens. (and ducks)

They knew I was where the food was so they were waiting outside for their handout.



no alien encounters today.  And I consider that good for two reasons.


One being that, and alien encounter would probably cause my arms to fall off or something dramatic like that because of the fear.  And having my arms fall off wouldn't be good.

and Two, being that I don't know if the beautiful state of Maryland would recognize aliens as livestock, nor would I have the slightest idea of what to feed the critters.  



I'll stick with feathered livestock that enjoy water;)

Last one in is a rotten egg!

Or twenty eight or so........

Since we free range all our hens we suspect to lose a couple eggs here or there.   Hens get creative when they feel the call of nature, when they are...well.. Out in the nature.  Maybe an egg under a bramble of brush.   Maybe two or three under the tractor.  Maybe an entire clutch of them rotting under our porch.

So I knew a couple gals would head under the porch to lay.  I caught on when two of the gals came out announcing they had just laid an egg. (Yes hens do that and sometimes mr. Roo joins in). So knowing that they were getting the call to lay under the porch I got creative myself.   The moment I would see them head under, I was prepared to get them out with a bucket of water.  You see the went under the porch. I'd throw water down threw the cracks until they came out.

But the hens won.

They managed  to lay this large clutch.  And then the heat, and humity managed to rot them.

So no longer able to take the smell as we walked out the door.  I crawled under the porch and pulled each egg out one by one trying my hardest not to even put the slightest crack in one for fear of it exploding in my face.

Luckily none exploded, but the ones that were so far gone, and full of maggots happened to disintegrate in my hands.

Yup.  Maggots.

The things you do, that you never could have imagined yourself doing.

What did I do with the rest of the rotten eggs? 

Well throw them at some trees in the woods to watch them burst! 

Come on......that was fun.

A lil ditty

So today was one of those wonderful pinoeerrific days.


The hot muggy weather.

The first time I heard the chickadads sing their song.

The quietness of the song birds as they wait for evening to come, when flying wont be such a chore.

My sweet baby in an oldtime jumper outfit... ( plaid and all)

Me in a sun dress (glorified patterned moo-moo)


I was going to hang laundry!





Let me begin by saying that I was raised to be outside.
On nice days if me and my brother were parked in front of the tv, my Mom would come, over, shut it off, and tell us to "get outside!"  Let me tell you that I appreciate that more than she will ever know and let me also say that it was rare for her to do so, because on nice days.......me and my brother----were always outside.


I was also raised in New England, this I have mentioned many, MANY times.  And in New England Yankee Ingenuity and hard labor, are character developers.  Things to give you grit.  Suches that keep you true to real life, and a step away from yuppydom.  Practices that were instilled in me, that I am most grateful for.



One of these practices is hanging the laundry out to dry.




Yes. Yes. People still do that.  Young (ish) people even.  And one of them is me.


You see,  it's seems ridiculous, almost irritating to set a dryer for sixty minutes to dry your towels, or blankets when outside it 290 Fahrenheit and you have countless trees and bright yellow rope hanging around.

I had a "clothesline, " hanging up before our big benefit party but that got taken down, to make our place a lil less redneck.  Total revamp of the redneck fengshui if you ask me..


Any how, on my pioneer fueled morning I decide to take that yellow rope and venture off to make a bigger, better, longer, and possibly higher clothesline, and put to use Gods good earth and its free drying abilities.



I go.  Strap a teething baby to my back (cause I need both hands free)and set forth into the back yard in glorified moo-moo, and feel the call of my lumberjack ancestors to intimidate some trees into becoming my dryers.

(Really folks.  Think about it.  It's friggen stupid to set an electric machine to "hot," on a day that is piping hot, to dry your clothes......it's like worrying about your food in the fridge going bad during a blizzard......just stick it in the snow genius.)



So I have two trees.  One a sumac.  Ugly and branchless but non poisonous, and completely pointless unless used for a clothesline.  The second a Sassafras.  With one perfect high up branch to wrap a rope around....

ah.


I make a makeshift one quickly.  Its my baby girls morning nap time and I have shit to do.  I use these two trees and just tie a rope around them.  The rope hangs low, but it was ok, -----for the moment.  My t-shirted laundry will have to just deal with sweeping the ground.  ( you see the weight of the wet laundry drags the rope lower. You need to have the rope taught and high in order for this not to happen.)

Undeterred in my thoughts I go back inside, and conjure up a plan as I rock our daughter to sleep.


The next load of clothes washes in the machine.....

Anticipating.  Possibly dreaming (if clothes do so) being hung, to blow in the breeze.


Well day to day things happen and it gets to be later in the day.  Our daughter wakes up.  Farm chores get done.  Lunch is had.  And driving is completed.


Time to hang the awaiting batch.......

I take down the makeshift line
Stare down the two trees I have in sight.
Puff up my chest.
Crack my arthritic knuckles.
I grab my rope.
Tie a rock to one end
Give it a good aim and swing.
And with crying teething baby on my back.
Moo moo dress creeping up a bit too high for comfort.
Sweat pouring off my face.
Patience non existent
Wet laundry waiting to be blowing in the breeze.



I swing.

Annnnnd.......I ...


Don't miss?!?!?!?!!


I scored a perfect hit!   Got the rope right were I wanted!


Feeling good about myself I go I for the second swing.  This one will help me to wrap the rope around the branch and tighten the line to bring it fully off the ground.  My laundry will blow in the breeze, and dry like it was 1876!

I swing again!
And as if in slow motion!
 I watch!!!



I.......


I miss.....
But not fully.

I somehow managed.
In my moomoo. With a crying teething baby strapped to my back.
And the ducks now laughing at me.  About twenty five chickens around watching me for the show.......managed to wrap the rope, and rock around the most minuscule, with the strength of Hercules little twig.....


It would not budge.


I pull.
I swear.

I give it dirty looks.

I cause more calluses to grow.

I pull some more.


Still no budge.


So here I have a rope laying on the ground.  A mighty twig laughing in my face.  A baby really frustrated at the growing she is doing. A moomoo creeping way to far up for any public to see.  And wet laundry staying.....wet.




it took about another half hour.  And the motivation of my husband coming home soon, and not wanting him to see, that I was finally able to pull the stuck rope down.  As well as a gigantic branch of the tree.


I tried again.  This time much more humbled.  I swing my rope with rock and score a pretty good branch.  I put all my weight ( and my sweet girls weight who is strapped to my back) into it.  I pull as hard as I can. I look back at my new and improved clothesline and the rope looks taught.   Pulled high.  And ready for personal items to be hung on it!
All humilty leaves me at this point and I'm beaming in my pioneer ways.



I grab those sopping wet towels laying on the ground.


I begin the hanging.


Slowly.
Mockingly.
The rope........sags.
Droops.
Lowers itself in a beautiful, yellow, laugh in my "pioneer," face bow.



All that work and for nothing.

My laundry hangs.
But half on the ground.

I apparently did not pull the rope tight enough..
My pioneer strength is that of a pioneers broken wagon wheel....




I walked away defeated.

And in my Yankee/Southern oriented mind, thought "That's good enough......let it droop onto the ground.....  And its too dang hot to care anymore."





The laundry is still hanging, and is still wet.

Catsup, or ketchup.

Yah.  Definetly need to catch up.




Ok so here goes.



We opened the farm stand.
Wow.

It's busy as crap out there every weekend.

Good thing.

Chicks hatched.

Bees here and pissy as can be.

Dogs, fat sassy and lazy.

Baby girl. Stunning.

The amount of interesting,people showing up at our house at all random times. Countless.

Country musis. All I listen to now.

Cowboy boots
Bought.


Encouragement for David to grow a beard....everyday.

Chicken yard.  To be expanded. Iiiimmmensly.

Chicken coop.  To be moved.

Goats and other such creatures.....wanted.

Romantic comedies.
Still disgust me.

Amish people.  Very humorous,  Who would have thought?

Fourth of July benefit for a good friend with a Nobel cause.
Awesome. (Yes been too busy to even blog about it so Im just slipping in this update and hoping you don't mind I do.)




Can I think of anything else? At the moment not really.  It's just been THAT busy around here.  Every minute has been used either working, tending, cooking, cleaning, sleeping, or driving.   And every one of those minutes has been blessed.  Thanks for checking back in ------