Well, it finally happened. I've been in this house on this mountain for just over a year, and I've finally seen my first bear. Live and in the flesh. Thanks to the dogs Moxie and Beau. Yes; the bears are back.
Moxie needs to learn that once the bear is a hundred yards off and still moving away, the alarm needs to stop. She also needs to learn to come down off of "High Alert" once the bears have passed; that now everything that moves in the dark is not a potential threat. We do need some sleep.
I know Twyla tends to write more about the animals than I do. But today is one of those times I'll give you a break from the theological and the political. And yes, I consider that last post in the political realm because ideas do have consequences. I thought a lot about posting a follow up piece on that post below of the young moonbat below because I think it's important for people to understand why that presentation is so outrageous. My, oh my, have I digressed from talking about bears.
If I remember right, it was between 02:00 and 03:00 that we were awakened to the sound of Moxie barking inside the house. Beau was, of course, outside the house and barking. This can not mean anything good. Beau almost never barks. Not at passing cars. Then again; what passing cars? One neighbor and a mailman. When the UPS driver or FEDEX delivers, Moxie goes nuts. Beau just hangs back and stays quiet, but looks intimidating. If Beau is barking that alarm type bark, something is worth investigating.
I grab my trusty flashlight and head for the back door. Out flies Moxie, that high pitched howling bark piercing the air. My eyes still mostly acclimated to the dark, before I can even turn on the beam, I see a large shadow on the slope behind the house, barely twenty feet off the corner where our bedroom is. He's going up the worn path that Moxie likes to run up into the tree line. When the beam of my flashlight hits him, he stops to look at where it's coming from and I see those big green eyes that God designed to give such mammals the most amazing night vision that we could only dream of having.
He quickly decides it's time to move on and reaches the trees up above and I can see by how many trees he covers with the length of his body that he's a biggun'. Gotta be 300 pounds at the least. Probably more, but I don't want to sound like I'm embellishing this story. Had I had my wits about me, I would have stepped into the office and grabbed my camera off my desk and maybe taken a picture. But who thinks that well when they've been awakened from a sound sleep at that hour?
And poor Twyla was so tired from the days hard work, she wasn't about to get out of bed, so she missed seeing her first bear.
I am quite glad that this North American black bear was more afraid of me than I was of him. I'm glad he was afraid of my two dogs. (Even though Beau is still in contract negotiations). A good dog is a great thing to have as a living burglar alarm, as long as you properly train them. Oh yeah, and I'm really glad trash collection happened earlier that afternoon.
Life in the mountains can have its exciting moments. I'll try to get a picture next time. Thanks for stopping by.
Shalom
Showing posts with label Moxie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Moxie. Show all posts
Friday, April 1, 2011
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Puppy Paradise
That's right! Time to take a break from the serious stuff and post about feel good moments. Much irony here, seeing as how I'm suffering from a broken rib and the moment in question resulted in some of the worst pain since the fall.
It's been many days since we took the time to lay on the floor in the office and stream a show from Netflix. But I stumbled across the whole series "Firefly," and figured Twyla would like it, given her very discriminating taste in entertainment. It's a shame the series only lasted for one season, but I can understand why it did. Die hard Trekkie types wouldn't be able to handle the fact that it's more about plot and character development than about Sci-Fi technogeekiness (did I just make up a word?). The plots and dialogue are witty and not meant for the American Idol crowd. There's no socialist utopia idiocy. Without you actually going to watch it for yourself, the only quick way I know to describe it is: The Old Western frontier set 500 years in our future. My favorite aspect of the show is the struggle to remain free and being willing to go without a lot of material comfort rather than be a slave to a totalitarian government and society. Funny, that wasn't the original purpose of this post.
Moxie is quite the energetic dog. She is as healthy and happy as she can be. She has the run of quite a few acres up here on our mountain. Depending on where we need to go and what we are doing, she gets to ride to town about half of the time, and she is a pleasure when it comes to riding. She sit's quietly; doesn't get anxious about anything.
Most of the surprises we get around here are pleasant ones. This spectacular fall on the back steps was not one of them, but most everything else is. Like discovering a new chick out of nowhere in the front yard. About three weeks or so ago, we discovered a new dog hanging around the area. He's a mutt, but a really nice looking one. Mostly boxer, and maybe some hound or short hair terrier. I wish I'd have had a good photo of him by now, but he's still very skittish. Moxie has really taken to him. I didn't want another dog, but Twyla convinced me that he belongs here. He started nesting under the front porch in what was left of one of the straw bales I used for chicken bedding. Twyla has started feeding him. He gradually came closer and closer each time Twyla was outside over the past few days, and he finally licked her hand. I can only suppose that he was treated roughly before somebody either dropped him in this neighborhood or he wandered here from somewhere. At first, he would run away at the mere sight of me, but he keeps getting closer to the door when I call to him. Twyla named him "Beau."
Last night, we spread out the blanket and I ever so carefully got down on the floor. Moxie was nearly beside herself with happiness. She would get to be laying between master and mistress. For Moxie, this is Nirvana. Seeing Moxie in that state just reduces Twyla to a fit of giggles, and I thought it would make for a good photo, although I wish I had a remote for the camera, so I could mount it on the tripod, and instead of depending on the timer feature, be able to hit the shutter at the right moment.
Once moxie gets into that position, she goes limp as a wet dish rag. Everything is perfect in her world. But if I get up, or even act like I'm getting up, she goes straight to a state of alert. I've had several dogs, but never one that was so keen on wanting to be so attentive of my every move when possible. So getting up to get the camera off of the desk was a major chore for two reasons. Even the tiniest movement that involves bending or twisting my torso can feel like someone is twisting a knife in my back. Secondly, Moxie has a hard time understanding that I'm not really going anywhere, I'm just trying to move a few feet.
After attempting to take seven or eight photos, I got the second one you see here. Sometime later, Twyla got up for some reason and Moxie followed her. When they came back, Twyla laid back down and then Moxie, wanting that exclusive spot between us, started over me, but then stepped on my abdomen. This sent me into breathless gasps, teeth and fist clenching, and tears forming. Now the poor dog hasn't got any clue as to what she just did, but at this point I just can't stand having the dog leaning in on my left side with a broken rib.
I get enough breath in my lungs to muster up a very forceful command to "MOVE!" and this would be my undoing. She was laying on her side facing me, and to reposition herself to get up, she pressed her back against Twyla and proceeded to shove her paws straight out against me to make room to stand. Her lower paw thrusting directly into my rib cage. I screamed. Er, actually I SCREAMED!! Every muscle I had originally strained on the fall felt like they were now tearing anew. After the reflex of expelling all the air out of my lungs and every muscle in my torso seeming to have locked up as if I had been tasered, I wondered if I would pass out from the pain and actually hoped I would. I had to concentrate on trying to make enough muscles relax in order to inhale.
Poor Moxie now lay in the doorway looking confused and frightened.
Later on, and it took a good while for the pain to subside, I thought about how much that dog loves me unconditionally, and could never conceive of trying to hurt me. She was actually trying to be obedient to me at the very moment she hurt me. I thought about how sometimes, in our relationships with other humans, we do things that end up hurting each other without even realizing it, because of things we aren't even aware of.
Every one of us walks around with a black box inside, and a special button outside somewhere that nobody sees. Every once in a while, somebody pushes that button by sheer accident and a reaction takes place where the bystanders and the poor button presser are left in a state of bewilderment, wondering, "What in the hell was all THAT about!?!?!"
Sometimes it's major and sometimes it's minor. Most of the time it's because we perceive an offense where none was intended. What if, when such a painful thing happens to us, instead of lashing out at the "button presser," we instead asked ourselves why we felt like reacting the way we did? What if we could muster up the incredible grace to assume that the "button pusher" was innocent of any malice of forethought? What if God allowed me that moment of incredible pain in order to prepare me for something similar down the road?
Just a thought.
It's been many days since we took the time to lay on the floor in the office and stream a show from Netflix. But I stumbled across the whole series "Firefly," and figured Twyla would like it, given her very discriminating taste in entertainment. It's a shame the series only lasted for one season, but I can understand why it did. Die hard Trekkie types wouldn't be able to handle the fact that it's more about plot and character development than about Sci-Fi technogeekiness (did I just make up a word?). The plots and dialogue are witty and not meant for the American Idol crowd. There's no socialist utopia idiocy. Without you actually going to watch it for yourself, the only quick way I know to describe it is: The Old Western frontier set 500 years in our future. My favorite aspect of the show is the struggle to remain free and being willing to go without a lot of material comfort rather than be a slave to a totalitarian government and society. Funny, that wasn't the original purpose of this post.
Moxie is quite the energetic dog. She is as healthy and happy as she can be. She has the run of quite a few acres up here on our mountain. Depending on where we need to go and what we are doing, she gets to ride to town about half of the time, and she is a pleasure when it comes to riding. She sit's quietly; doesn't get anxious about anything.
 |
| New "Chicken Little" on the right. |
Last night, we spread out the blanket and I ever so carefully got down on the floor. Moxie was nearly beside herself with happiness. She would get to be laying between master and mistress. For Moxie, this is Nirvana. Seeing Moxie in that state just reduces Twyla to a fit of giggles, and I thought it would make for a good photo, although I wish I had a remote for the camera, so I could mount it on the tripod, and instead of depending on the timer feature, be able to hit the shutter at the right moment.Once moxie gets into that position, she goes limp as a wet dish rag. Everything is perfect in her world. But if I get up, or even act like I'm getting up, she goes straight to a state of alert. I've had several dogs, but never one that was so keen on wanting to be so attentive of my every move when possible. So getting up to get the camera off of the desk was a major chore for two reasons. Even the tiniest movement that involves bending or twisting my torso can feel like someone is twisting a knife in my back. Secondly, Moxie has a hard time understanding that I'm not really going anywhere, I'm just trying to move a few feet.
 |
| Three Amigos in Moxie heaven |
After attempting to take seven or eight photos, I got the second one you see here. Sometime later, Twyla got up for some reason and Moxie followed her. When they came back, Twyla laid back down and then Moxie, wanting that exclusive spot between us, started over me, but then stepped on my abdomen. This sent me into breathless gasps, teeth and fist clenching, and tears forming. Now the poor dog hasn't got any clue as to what she just did, but at this point I just can't stand having the dog leaning in on my left side with a broken rib.
I get enough breath in my lungs to muster up a very forceful command to "MOVE!" and this would be my undoing. She was laying on her side facing me, and to reposition herself to get up, she pressed her back against Twyla and proceeded to shove her paws straight out against me to make room to stand. Her lower paw thrusting directly into my rib cage. I screamed. Er, actually I SCREAMED!! Every muscle I had originally strained on the fall felt like they were now tearing anew. After the reflex of expelling all the air out of my lungs and every muscle in my torso seeming to have locked up as if I had been tasered, I wondered if I would pass out from the pain and actually hoped I would. I had to concentrate on trying to make enough muscles relax in order to inhale.
Poor Moxie now lay in the doorway looking confused and frightened.
Later on, and it took a good while for the pain to subside, I thought about how much that dog loves me unconditionally, and could never conceive of trying to hurt me. She was actually trying to be obedient to me at the very moment she hurt me. I thought about how sometimes, in our relationships with other humans, we do things that end up hurting each other without even realizing it, because of things we aren't even aware of.
Every one of us walks around with a black box inside, and a special button outside somewhere that nobody sees. Every once in a while, somebody pushes that button by sheer accident and a reaction takes place where the bystanders and the poor button presser are left in a state of bewilderment, wondering, "What in the hell was all THAT about!?!?!"
 |
| Me love you. I can has scurd now? |
Sometimes it's major and sometimes it's minor. Most of the time it's because we perceive an offense where none was intended. What if, when such a painful thing happens to us, instead of lashing out at the "button presser," we instead asked ourselves why we felt like reacting the way we did? What if we could muster up the incredible grace to assume that the "button pusher" was innocent of any malice of forethought? What if God allowed me that moment of incredible pain in order to prepare me for something similar down the road?
Just a thought.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Snug At Home
I want to hit on several things. There is no single theme to this post. It's kind of a "what-I've-been-up-to-the-past-twenty-four-hours-and-I-need-practice-hitting-the-hyphen-key-with-my-ring-finger" post.
Had to brave it down the mountain yesterday in spite of all the ice, because Twyla's prescriptions were in and she was out of one of them. Yes, we slid a couple of times and it was scary. But the positive side was the fact that we got a couple of great shots. To wit:
Near the road on the way in to our part of the mountain they built a little decorative water wheel.
It left no doubt that it was cold.
We do have to venture outside to feed and water the chickens, and I have to spend a bit of time out there collecting more wood for the stove.
This is a great time to be experimenting with cooking exclusively with the wood stove. The other morning we baked potatoes inside it. Wrapped in aluminum foil and nestled just above the coals. They were done to perfection in about 45 minutes.
Twyla got a craving for corn bread, so she mixed up a batch and poured it into the cast iron skillet and set it atop the stove. There's a cast iron lid that fits both the skillet and the dutch oven that she put on top. It cooked through well enough, but the top didn't get very brown. That's just fine. I suppose had we pre-heated the lid on top of the stove first, it might have been different, but the cornbread came out with a fluffy, cake-like texture that was awesome, with darker brown crispier bottom. It was delicious.
If you are a follower of Twyla's blog, you may remember her writing about our great frugality and regular visits to the various thrift stores around here. You just never know what you might find. About a week or two ago, I spotted an ice cream maker for $6 at the Humane Society thrift store. Had to get it. There's just something about homemade ice cream. Besides that, I just love experimenting with recipes. So, I made a batch, but it was more like ice milk, even though I did add some whipping cream to it. We went through that pretty quick with both cranberry relish and blackberry cordial.
This morning, I woke up at 02:00. The fire had gone out and so I had to rebuild it. Of course, by the time I did all that, I was wide awake. What to do. What to do. Make more ice cream. I bought more heavy whipping cream yesterday, so why not? Let's improve the recipe. Less milk and more cream in the ratio. Two extra tablespoons of sugar compared to the first batch. Three fresh egg yolks. The high lecithin content is a fantastically smooth emulsifier. I thoroughly pureed all the ingredients with the stick blender (that is one of my all time favorite kitchen tools!) put it in the maker and put it outside to run. Hey, it was 14° F out there at 02:45, so I figure I can just put the inner container in the bucket and let it run. No ice, no salt. Makes sense, right?
Meanwhile, I decided to take some store bought, whole wheat flour that somebody gave us for the dog, and make up some dog treats. Old leftover chicken bouillon cubes, left over saved chicken fat (yes, we really don't waste anything) little salt, enough sugar to feed some yeast and I've got my basic dough.
Time to check the ice cream. All that had happened was the liquid mixture had gotten pretty cold, but it was still very much liquid after 40 minutes. Fail. You apparently do need the ice and salt slush to supercool the ingredients while the paddle scrapes the sides. I go grab the spatula and the rock salt and fill the bucket. Back to the biscuits. What's a quick easy way to cut or shape them? Hmmm.
By the time I had the first batch of dog treats ready to come out of the oven, Twyla is up and had come out to the fire to have her first cup of coffee. She opens the oven to see what I'm cooking and starts laughing.
"They look like little turds!"
"I thought that it was quite appropriate for Moxie. After all, she likes chicken poop."
More laughter. Yep. Doesn't matter how many times I scold her, when I move the chicken arks, Moxie is right there looking for a choice morsel. This is why I think people who are lured into spending incredible amounts of money on "gourmet" or special blends of dog food have more money than sense. How discriminating of taste can one be when one licks its own butt?
These little gems for the dog have a texture kind of like a scone. Maybe we could call them "scurds?"
I only made one tray like that out of three, because it's much easier to roll out a flat ball of dough and then cut it into strips and then cross cut into little rectangles. I didn't want to spend all morning on this project.
From looking at the weather forecast, we have most of this day's light to secure lots of firewood to a covered location, but then after dark we are due to get a lot of snow. I just hope that the temperature stays well below freezing so that it does fall as snow and not as rain to then become a glaze of ice.
If we get snowed in again tonight, I'll have to come up with something else really clever to do. Maybe it's time that I tried baking a loaf of bread on top of the wood stove with a makeshift aluminum foil tent.
I really am hoping for that six inches of snow so I can slide down the driveway.
Before I go, Twyla has created a new page on her blog to showcase her beautiful watercolors. So make sure you head over to Green Acres and check them out. It's in the sidebar titled Twyla's Watercolor Gallery. In addition, Twyla has decided to create a second blog that has to do with her little fun experiment in Bible study. Go check out My 316 Notes. You might find it interesting.
Thank you for stopping by my blog, especially the persons in Moscow, Russia, and Stuttgart, Germany; whoever you are.
Had to brave it down the mountain yesterday in spite of all the ice, because Twyla's prescriptions were in and she was out of one of them. Yes, we slid a couple of times and it was scary. But the positive side was the fact that we got a couple of great shots. To wit:
Near the road on the way in to our part of the mountain they built a little decorative water wheel.
It left no doubt that it was cold.
We do have to venture outside to feed and water the chickens, and I have to spend a bit of time out there collecting more wood for the stove.
This is a great time to be experimenting with cooking exclusively with the wood stove. The other morning we baked potatoes inside it. Wrapped in aluminum foil and nestled just above the coals. They were done to perfection in about 45 minutes.
If you are a follower of Twyla's blog, you may remember her writing about our great frugality and regular visits to the various thrift stores around here. You just never know what you might find. About a week or two ago, I spotted an ice cream maker for $6 at the Humane Society thrift store. Had to get it. There's just something about homemade ice cream. Besides that, I just love experimenting with recipes. So, I made a batch, but it was more like ice milk, even though I did add some whipping cream to it. We went through that pretty quick with both cranberry relish and blackberry cordial.
This morning, I woke up at 02:00. The fire had gone out and so I had to rebuild it. Of course, by the time I did all that, I was wide awake. What to do. What to do. Make more ice cream. I bought more heavy whipping cream yesterday, so why not? Let's improve the recipe. Less milk and more cream in the ratio. Two extra tablespoons of sugar compared to the first batch. Three fresh egg yolks. The high lecithin content is a fantastically smooth emulsifier. I thoroughly pureed all the ingredients with the stick blender (that is one of my all time favorite kitchen tools!) put it in the maker and put it outside to run. Hey, it was 14° F out there at 02:45, so I figure I can just put the inner container in the bucket and let it run. No ice, no salt. Makes sense, right?
 |
| Moxie tries to herd Brewster |
Meanwhile, I decided to take some store bought, whole wheat flour that somebody gave us for the dog, and make up some dog treats. Old leftover chicken bouillon cubes, left over saved chicken fat (yes, we really don't waste anything) little salt, enough sugar to feed some yeast and I've got my basic dough.
Time to check the ice cream. All that had happened was the liquid mixture had gotten pretty cold, but it was still very much liquid after 40 minutes. Fail. You apparently do need the ice and salt slush to supercool the ingredients while the paddle scrapes the sides. I go grab the spatula and the rock salt and fill the bucket. Back to the biscuits. What's a quick easy way to cut or shape them? Hmmm.
By the time I had the first batch of dog treats ready to come out of the oven, Twyla is up and had come out to the fire to have her first cup of coffee. She opens the oven to see what I'm cooking and starts laughing.
 |
| Yum, yum. Moxie treats. |
"I thought that it was quite appropriate for Moxie. After all, she likes chicken poop."
More laughter. Yep. Doesn't matter how many times I scold her, when I move the chicken arks, Moxie is right there looking for a choice morsel. This is why I think people who are lured into spending incredible amounts of money on "gourmet" or special blends of dog food have more money than sense. How discriminating of taste can one be when one licks its own butt?
These little gems for the dog have a texture kind of like a scone. Maybe we could call them "scurds?"
I only made one tray like that out of three, because it's much easier to roll out a flat ball of dough and then cut it into strips and then cross cut into little rectangles. I didn't want to spend all morning on this project.
 |
| "I know how to be a lady! Psst! Got any scurds?" |
If we get snowed in again tonight, I'll have to come up with something else really clever to do. Maybe it's time that I tried baking a loaf of bread on top of the wood stove with a makeshift aluminum foil tent.
I really am hoping for that six inches of snow so I can slide down the driveway.
Before I go, Twyla has created a new page on her blog to showcase her beautiful watercolors. So make sure you head over to Green Acres and check them out. It's in the sidebar titled Twyla's Watercolor Gallery. In addition, Twyla has decided to create a second blog that has to do with her little fun experiment in Bible study. Go check out My 316 Notes. You might find it interesting.
Thank you for stopping by my blog, especially the persons in Moscow, Russia, and Stuttgart, Germany; whoever you are.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Ebony and Ivory and Golden Comets
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| "Did I say you could lay down there?" |
On Sunday evening, I experimented with letting the chickens from Ark I out. Grass and other greenery is getting scarcer by the day, and the places where it is still growing are not places you would want to try to roll one of the arks.
Anyway, yesterday afternoon, I took a bigger step in letting both arks open. While the golden comets didn't seem shy at all about getting out and seeing the world, the black sexlinks seemed completely baffled or unsure about my offer of some freedom. I had to lure them out with some dandelion leaves and even then only two of them got out immediately. Even Brewster wouldn't come out until I had walked about 50 yards away.
At first, the situation drove Moxie nuts. "Who do I herd first?" seemed to be the question as she paced back and forth between them. Brewster was ready to fight. All the hens seemed to care not at all. Moxie would walk up behind a hen and sniff it's butt and the chicken would act like she wasn't there. Because the chickens have been separated for so long, they see the other flock as competition to be driven off if they get too close. That is, among the hens. Brewster on the other hand, sees the five hens from Ark I as potential additions to his harem in Ark II. So I had to intervene a couple of times to drive them to their respective sides of the yard. Brewster tried to herd one of the goldens over to his side, but a hen from Ark II immediately attacked the golden and a fight ensued that I had to break up. It was only one little incident in a 90 minute period. I would alternate between cutting wood and looking out every few minutes to see where they were. For the most part, they stayed in their respective areas of the yard.
 |
| "Do these feathers make me look fat?" |
Twyla helped me herd the chickens back into their arks. That was some fun. Because we were trying to get them in before dark was settling in, I knew I would have to lure them back in with food. They probably would have made their way back to their roosts naturally, but I was impatient. I got Twyla to bring out a can of pellets, and as soon as they saw her walking down the hill with the can, they all came running from both directions. Territorial rivalries were forgotten at that moment, and as we got all of the Ark I team inside, we now had to get Ark II away from there and moving toward home. During the confusion around Ark I with both groups of hens, Twyla asked how I knew which ones to shove away. "Look at their backs." The ones from Brewster's brood have bare spots on the rearward part of their backs where he mounts them.
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| "Hyaahhh! Get along little dohggies!" |
Maybe by next year I'll have enough experience to drive the herd across the range to the south and down to the market in Atlanta. Maybe not.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Silent but Deadly
I had to post this after reading Twyla's blog.
We were exhausted last night, laying in the bed after a long day driving from visiting family down near Atlanta. We were watching Aladdin and waiting for sleep. Yes, the food was tremendous and way too much of it. The dog was stealthily taking advantage of the two young children in attendance during most of the day.
So, there we are laying in bed and I find myself sniffing the air with revulsion.
Me: "Can you smell that?"
Her: "No."
--- Okay, it's a queen size bed and she keeps a fan blowing from the night stand in my direction. Something about "white noise" and needing to keep the face cool. Moxie has to lay down on the floor on the side of the pack leader, me, so everything is well downwind of Twyla.. ---
A while later.
Me: "Can't you smell that?"
Her: "No. What is it?"
Me: "It's pretty nasty, and I've had enough experience with dogs to know that's a dog fart."
Maybe a half hour later.
Me: "I'm telling you, that is really nasty and it can't be coming from outside, the windows are all closed. It's gotta be coming from the dog."
So, here it is the following day and Twyla reveals that she did catch the kids several times feeding Moxie all kinds of things from the table. The joys of being the Alpha dog. They will bring you dead animals and share their gaseous emissions with you as if they are gifts.
We were exhausted last night, laying in the bed after a long day driving from visiting family down near Atlanta. We were watching Aladdin and waiting for sleep. Yes, the food was tremendous and way too much of it. The dog was stealthily taking advantage of the two young children in attendance during most of the day.
So, there we are laying in bed and I find myself sniffing the air with revulsion.
Me: "Can you smell that?"
Her: "No."
--- Okay, it's a queen size bed and she keeps a fan blowing from the night stand in my direction. Something about "white noise" and needing to keep the face cool. Moxie has to lay down on the floor on the side of the pack leader, me, so everything is well downwind of Twyla.. ---
A while later.
Me: "Can't you smell that?"Her: "No. What is it?"
Me: "It's pretty nasty, and I've had enough experience with dogs to know that's a dog fart."
Maybe a half hour later.
Me: "I'm telling you, that is really nasty and it can't be coming from outside, the windows are all closed. It's gotta be coming from the dog."
So, here it is the following day and Twyla reveals that she did catch the kids several times feeding Moxie all kinds of things from the table. The joys of being the Alpha dog. They will bring you dead animals and share their gaseous emissions with you as if they are gifts.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Straight to Cold
Here in the mountains of Northern Georgia, there is no "Indian Summer." That magical period that occurs in many parts of the country where after a brief cold spell comes through with the approach of fall, a week or two of warm up occurs.
Not here. I'm looking at my electronic thermometer on the wall next to me at the desk here. It's a $10 rig from Wally World, but I've calibrated it and it is accurate. It has a remote sensor out on the deck to tell me the outside temperature on the right and it tells me the inside temperature on the left. As I write this, it is 05:40 EDT.
To be precise, the sensor is located just below the top rail on the deck baluster which sits at least 16 feet above the sloping ground level below. That can mean a couple of degrees difference, which is why I really need to build a little vented box that will protect the sensor, but allow me to place it down where my veggies are growing and give me a more accurate read at ground level.
Last night, I picked the last of the green tomatoes because there is no chance that they are going to turn red now. The high yesterday was about 61° F. I also picked all the remaining bell peppers; about 9 or so.
That reminds me; we went to Blairsville on Wednesday, to the Union County farmer's market and did some trading. We took three dozen eggs and traded one of them for a huge butternut squash. We traded two dozen and paid the difference for a quart jar of local sourwood honey with the beekeeper himself. This is the good stuff. Local, not pasteurized or factory processed. Good RAW honey. Which reminds me that I need to do a post someday on why pasteurization has it's place, but it's a bad idea to pasteurize everything; including milk. That's right, I said it and I mean it. Anyway, we also got some great red bell peppers for just .33¢ each. We also got some of the finest, fresh apples from right across the border in North Carolina. Fresh sweet potatoes that had been dug up that morning. We had a couple of them that same night, and there is just no comparing them to the crap you buy in the supermarket. We came home with about 60 pounds of food and only spent about $20. We can't wait to go back.
Baruch HaShem ("blessed is The Name") for how He spreads out the growing and blooming of the various plants. The yard is full of various species of dandelion and the chickens are loving it. Even though I move the arks over fresh ground every day, I still take some time when I can, to pick handfuls of dandelion leaves and feed them by hand. Moxie is absolutely puzzled about why the chickens would like this green stuff. The hens have gotten used to Moxie's presence now. This was made very clear the other day, when, after it had rained, I needed to go out and clean out the chicken feeders that hang on the wire cage. You see, the dry food turns to mush, but the chickens seem to like it even better that way, but it doesn't work in those gravity feeders. So I scoop it all out and put it in a ceramic dish and set it just outside the ark so the chickens can stretch their necks out and eat it out of the dish. Well, while I was tending the other ark, I looked over to find Moxie eating out of the same dish with four of the chickens eating with her, nose to beak. Wish I could have gotten a picture of that!
Also last night, as I was pulling up the last of the tomato vines, Brewster the rooster decided to "take care of business" with one of the hens, which always involves some commotion and noise, to which Moxie runs over as if she needs to play the protector, and I have to yell at her to mind her own business. It is nice to know that she sees the chickens as part of the pack and seems protective of them. A couple of days before that, when I was collecting eggs, she stood up and put her paws on the threshold of the door to Ark I and three of the golden comets were up there to get petted. She stuck her nose in to sniff and one of the hens pecked her on the nose and she backed off. Moxie has turned out to be a wonderful adoptee. I've had six dogs so far. My favorites were the beagles (mother and daughter) that were so different in personality you wouldn't have believed they were related. But Moxie has been so quick to learn and is so appreciative of her new home. When we took her to town in the Jeep ("Elvis" Don't ask me; it's a Twyla thing.) It only took three times for her to understand, "Get in the back." She walks almost perfectly on the leash. She will lay quietly on the floor near the table while we eat and never begs. She scratches a little to be let inside and knows not to bark at us.
When we are working at the computers in the office, she just wants to lay on her little blanket that Twyla put down for her in the corner. When I am working out in the yard, she just wants to be my shadow. We bought a 20 foot chain to restrain her in the yard, but so far, haven't had to use it. She might wander a hundred yards out of the yard, but only briefly and doesn't get into any mischief. We live almost to the end of a dead end road up here in the mountain so it's not likely she could get hit by a car.
We had a blast yesterday, going to take the photos to create the new header for Twyla's blog. Here is the first picture I took to test the perspective and decide on the positioning of the camera. It's an unoccupied house on the road up to our mountain. We'd been thinking about using it as a background for weeks now.
In the next few days I will need to intensify my efforts at getting the wood stove in place and then putting up plastic sheeting over the screen of the front porch to turn it into a green house for the winter. The cold weather crops are doing well and we've had some delicious salad with swiss chard, spinach, romaine, buttercrunch lettuce and sheep sorrel. Life is good.
Not here. I'm looking at my electronic thermometer on the wall next to me at the desk here. It's a $10 rig from Wally World, but I've calibrated it and it is accurate. It has a remote sensor out on the deck to tell me the outside temperature on the right and it tells me the inside temperature on the left. As I write this, it is 05:40 EDT.
To be precise, the sensor is located just below the top rail on the deck baluster which sits at least 16 feet above the sloping ground level below. That can mean a couple of degrees difference, which is why I really need to build a little vented box that will protect the sensor, but allow me to place it down where my veggies are growing and give me a more accurate read at ground level.
Last night, I picked the last of the green tomatoes because there is no chance that they are going to turn red now. The high yesterday was about 61° F. I also picked all the remaining bell peppers; about 9 or so.
That reminds me; we went to Blairsville on Wednesday, to the Union County farmer's market and did some trading. We took three dozen eggs and traded one of them for a huge butternut squash. We traded two dozen and paid the difference for a quart jar of local sourwood honey with the beekeeper himself. This is the good stuff. Local, not pasteurized or factory processed. Good RAW honey. Which reminds me that I need to do a post someday on why pasteurization has it's place, but it's a bad idea to pasteurize everything; including milk. That's right, I said it and I mean it. Anyway, we also got some great red bell peppers for just .33¢ each. We also got some of the finest, fresh apples from right across the border in North Carolina. Fresh sweet potatoes that had been dug up that morning. We had a couple of them that same night, and there is just no comparing them to the crap you buy in the supermarket. We came home with about 60 pounds of food and only spent about $20. We can't wait to go back.
Also last night, as I was pulling up the last of the tomato vines, Brewster the rooster decided to "take care of business" with one of the hens, which always involves some commotion and noise, to which Moxie runs over as if she needs to play the protector, and I have to yell at her to mind her own business. It is nice to know that she sees the chickens as part of the pack and seems protective of them. A couple of days before that, when I was collecting eggs, she stood up and put her paws on the threshold of the door to Ark I and three of the golden comets were up there to get petted. She stuck her nose in to sniff and one of the hens pecked her on the nose and she backed off. Moxie has turned out to be a wonderful adoptee. I've had six dogs so far. My favorites were the beagles (mother and daughter) that were so different in personality you wouldn't have believed they were related. But Moxie has been so quick to learn and is so appreciative of her new home. When we took her to town in the Jeep ("Elvis" Don't ask me; it's a Twyla thing.) It only took three times for her to understand, "Get in the back." She walks almost perfectly on the leash. She will lay quietly on the floor near the table while we eat and never begs. She scratches a little to be let inside and knows not to bark at us.
When we are working at the computers in the office, she just wants to lay on her little blanket that Twyla put down for her in the corner. When I am working out in the yard, she just wants to be my shadow. We bought a 20 foot chain to restrain her in the yard, but so far, haven't had to use it. She might wander a hundred yards out of the yard, but only briefly and doesn't get into any mischief. We live almost to the end of a dead end road up here in the mountain so it's not likely she could get hit by a car.
We had a blast yesterday, going to take the photos to create the new header for Twyla's blog. Here is the first picture I took to test the perspective and decide on the positioning of the camera. It's an unoccupied house on the road up to our mountain. We'd been thinking about using it as a background for weeks now.
In the next few days I will need to intensify my efforts at getting the wood stove in place and then putting up plastic sheeting over the screen of the front porch to turn it into a green house for the winter. The cold weather crops are doing well and we've had some delicious salad with swiss chard, spinach, romaine, buttercrunch lettuce and sheep sorrel. Life is good.
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