This girl loves the chickens. Especially Fluffy—those girls have a special thing going.
The first thing she does in the morning is let the chickens out of the coop, and she puts them to bed last thing at night.
This afternoon I spied them on the patio, hanging out together in the sunshine, and my heart lept. I had this sudden notion that this is exactly where she’s supposed to be. Doing exactly what she’s supposed to do. There’s so much right about her in this little slice of time.
Really, do egg puns ever get old?
I couldn’t have been any more excited to find this ceramic egg holder for the fridge from Anthropologie. Hat tip to Soulemama for the find!
(Did anyone notice how a chicken muscled her way into the photo?)
The other night we watched Life with the kids. Neko sat, eyes glued to the screen, absorbing every moment. She carefully explained some parts to Shep, helping him understand the trickier concepts.
At one point, they talked about a snake that lives in a sea. The snake has a bit of a problem, as it lives in the ocean, but the eggs require oxygen to survive. The snake resolves this by finding an air pocket below an island, and lays her eggs there. When the baby snake finally emerges, it instinctively makes its way back to the ocean. A bit confused, Shep asked what instinct was.
“It’s like you have a map in your head,” Neko explained. “And an animal knows that in order to survive, it has to follow that map.”
“That’s kind of like my memory,” Shep added. “My mind takes these pictures, and then when I need them, my brain projects those pictures back out through my eyes so I can see them.”
And then they went back to watching the program.
Tom and I sat very quietly, staring at one another. Because, really, there’s not much to say when your own children are having more complex thoughts than you are.
A few days before Farm Day, Otto’s ACL went out. After weighing the options (none of which were particularly appealing), we decided to go ahead with the surgery. They operated on Friday, and we brought him home on Saturday morning.
He might be one of the most sad and pathetic things I’ve seen in a long time. He has the e-cone, which I have since been informed stands for “Elizabethan” for obvious reasons. Neko decided he looks like a flower, which we narrowed down to a morning glory. He’s been shaved in three different parts of his body for surgery, the IV, and his morphine patch. And when he needs to move around on slippery surfaces or stairs, we have to follow him around with a ridiculous dog sling.
Did I mention these shenanigans go on for the next eight weeks? (Although he will no longer be Elizabethan in seven to ten days.)
Another Farm Day has come and gone, and despite the fact that I carried my camera around for several hours, I took maybe ten photos. REALLY, one of these years I’m going to have an amazing photo set the day after.
A big thank you to everyone for coming out for another fantastic day. I’m always amazed that people carve time out of their busy schedules to come our way. The weather was downright perfect, and the food was spectacular.
This day has come to be my annual reminder that we are so very lucky to be surrounded by such good people. Our families come from near and far. I see our oldest friends deep in conversation with our newest ones. Kids run and chase and romp until well after dark, when they crack out flashlights and glow necklaces. And the most inspiring musicians always close out the night.
I might be a bit biased, but I think there’s something a little magic in these here parts.
Mark your calendars for Farm Day 9: October 8, 2011.
We bought this typewriter for work a while back.
Yesterday Tom brought it over to the house, and since then the kids have been a bit obsessed. There’s nothing quite like the clickety clack of the keys. Now if I can just get everyone to embrace the concept of hitting only one key at a time, we’ll be in business.
We’ve been having a cold spell. Every now and then a warm day peeks through and I feel like we have to enjoy every instant of it because the winter will be here before we know it.
I needed this moment at the end of a long day.
Well, clearly, there was too much talk about weekend getaways and Martha Stewart-esque eggs.
At about 5pm, when Tom and I were desperately trying to make it until bedtime on our (maybe) five hours of sleep from the night before, Shep came running out of the back of the house screaming, “Ellery is cutting off all her hair!”
I was really hoping he was joking.
As I entered the bathroom, the first thing I saw was all her long, baby fine hair gathered around her feet. And the scissors. And my heart sinking into my shoes.
I suppose we’ve really beaten the odds so far, having three children and not one hair-cutting incident. And, of course, the one person who I trust to attempt to fix this mess will not be in until Wednesday. Until then, Ellery will be channeling her inner Billy Ray Cyrus, circa 1992. (We could change her name to Ella Ray Cyrus, perhaps?)
I completely cop to being a bit sad myself, as I never got a photo of her in pigtails, and now it will be months before that’s even possible.
Tom, however, is delighted that he can now audition for the boy band of his choice.
