Things Aren't Always What They Seem...

A couple days ago I "felt like it was the end of the world".  Things just weren't going well... Family problems, house problems, health problems... you know the drill... "when it rains it pours."  (And, by the way, it DID rain - lots and lots - all weekend and all day Monday.) But the last straw was when Moxie went missing.  I got up Sunday morning,  fed all the animals, then the people, as usual.  After I fed Moxie, she went outside like she always does.

On any given day, Moxie would go in and out of the house all day like an eight year-old boy with spring fever.  Ohhhh, but not Sunday.  Moxie went out to play that morning and didn't come back.  I kept looking for her all day, busy with whatever all I did that day, but often realizing that I did not have that usual dog underfoot.  Most days, except when she's outside, Moxie is in the same room with me.  I've often joked by singing "Me and My Shadow" as I enter a room, dog in tow.

So, by about three o'clock in the afternoon, I was quite distressed about Moxie.  I feared the worst, imagining her injured somehow and lying alone in the woods... Or, hit by a car... Or taken away by some stranger... We got in the Jeep and road all around the neighborhood looking for her to no avail.  Periodically I would go outside and call her;  I would walk the perimeter of the house,  peering into the woods, hoping to see or hear her.  But, nothing.





Monday was the pits.  I cried a lot.  I've lost pets in the past, but I have never had a dog before, so this was a new type of loss.  I remember my mother called that day to chat;  I wanted to tell her about Moxie, but I was afraid I would burst into tears.  I cut the conversation short.  I wasn't ready to talk about the dog. And the dismal rain.  And...etc., etc., etc.  Monday was pretty much a wasted day - dark, dismal and rainy all day.  I did the bare minimum...  and went to bed early, sad and longing for the escape of sleep.

Tuesday is errand day, so off I went to town.  On the way home I prayed, "Lord,  please give me a sign that everything is gonna' be alright.  A sign.  Any sign."  A moment later, still talking with God, I said, "Y'know how I asked for a sign, any sign.  Well, I have a specific request.  I will 'know it in my knower' that You are listening to me and that everything will be okay if You send Moxie home. I'm not trying to be presumptuous, but You are God  and with God nothing is impossible."

Me, watching a movie with Moxie and Pickles

Ten minutes later I pulled into the driveway.  Moshe came up to the Jeep to help me carry groceries in. And, he said, "I have a surprise for you in the house."  The surprise was Moxie!  Moshe explained, "About ten minutes ago, she simply walked down the hill and into our yard.  She was real dirty and real hungry, but she's okay."

And so we have our little household back in its rightful order.  And, once again God has proven that He will never leave me or forsake me.  Is life perfect?  No.  Is my health perfect?  No.  Is the house perfect?  No.  But God is!
SHALOM  Y'ALL - TWYLA

Beau

Beau, walking up the driveway

We have 2 cats, 17 chickens, 3 roosters, and 1 and 1/2 dogs.   The 1/2 dog is "Beau", or at least that's what I've named him.  Beau showed up on our property several months ago, every rib showing through his fur, skittish and shy. He slept under the front porch all winter.  He and our Moxie immediately became best buddies, and they eagerly look forward to runs in the woods, walks down the road, wading in the ice-cold nearby stream.  When it snowed, they were like excited children, running through the drifts, "laughing" and eating the snow... then, coming back to our yard,  soaking wet and out-of-breath, but happy.

He's a pretty boy, isn't he?

We have been feeding Beau twice daily all these months. He has learned to trust me enough that he shows up just before mealtime, and knows that  I will be filling his bowl without fail.  He knows my routine and always joins in on feeding the chickens.  Over these many months Beau and I have ever-so-slowly developed a friendship.  Small steps; very small steps.  At first he would follow me in the yard, keeping a distance of six feet or so.  Then, he would follow me closely, but never touching.  Then, he started coming up alongside of me and just barely touching my hand with his nose.  One day I spontaneously offered him a bite of cornbread - and he took it!  Then, another and another until the cornbread was gone.  Moshe and I both had tears in our eyes after that episode; it had to have taken a lot of gumption  for Beau to decide to trust me.  A few days ago, he allowed me to pet him.  He has taken to sleeping on the back porch, right up against the sliding glass door, as if to say, "I belong here... And I'm gonna'  be just as close to my new people as possible."

Best Buddies...

Meanwhile, Moxie-the-wonder-dog is so generous of our attention.  She shares the talking, the petting, and the food with her buddy, Beau.  When I call them, they come bounding up to me.  Beau still holds back, but I can tell that Moxie is telling him, "Go ahead.. Let her pet you... It feels good... She's nice."  Beau stands back and looks longingly at Moxie and me.

He looks longingly inside the house, too.  I suspect he's been inside a house before.  Will he ever be comfortable enough to come inside ours?  Who did he belong to?  And, why is he so scared of people - especially men?  We suspect that someone abused this precious dog... he has been abandoned at best... more than likely beaten as well.  I am thankful that Beau showed up at our house.  I am glad to be gaining his trust and his friendship.

Y'know, God wants to be our friend, much like I have wanted to befriend Beau.  We come to Him broken in spirit, perhaps broken in body as well... And He patiently waits for us to trust Him.  He stands at the doorway to heaven, bidding us enter.  And, the only thing holding us back is ourselves.

Shalom  Y'all - Twyla

Hello From the Dog...

A friend sent me this email today.  It's so reflective of how  a dog must feel. I'm adding photos, etc. Again, as is with so many emails, I wish I knew who originally wrote it so that I could give them credit.

 Dear God: It's me, the Dog 

Dear God:  Is it on purpose that our names are the same, only reversed? 

Dear God:  Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another? 

Dear God:  When we get to Heaven, can we sit on your couch?  Or will it be the same old story? 

Dear God:  Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a Dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around? We love a nice car ride! Would it be so hard to rename the 'Chrysler Eagle' the 'Chrysler Beagle'? 

Dear God:  If a Dog barks his head off in the forest and no human hears him, is he still a bad Dog? 

Dear God: We Dogs can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent IDs, electromagnetic energy fields, and Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand? 

Dear God:  More meatballs, less spaghetti, please. 

Dear God:  Are there mailmen in Heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize? 

Dear God:  Here is a list of just some of the things I must remember to be a good Dog: 

1. I will not eat the cat's food before he eats it or after he throws it up. 

2. I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just because I like the way they smell. 

3. The Litter Box is not a cookie jar. 

4. The sofa is not a 'face towel'. 

5. The garbage collector is not stealing our stuff. 

6. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet. 

7.  Sticking my nose into someones crotch is an unacceptable way of saying 'hello'. 

8. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table. 

9. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house - not after. 

10. I will not come in from outside, and immediately drag my butt across the carpet. 

11. I will not sit in the middle of the living room, and lick my crotch. 

12. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy', so when I play with him and he makes that noise, 

it's usually not a good thing. 

P.S.  Dear God: When I get to Heaven, may I have my testicles back?
SHALOM  Y'ALL - Twyla

  

Do Animals Have Feelings?

     My hubby and I have different opinions on this one... He prefers the scientific explanation that animals have instincts, not feelings.  But, I think they have feelings very similar to our human ones. Fortunately, this isn't a terribly pressing matter in our household, and we can agree to disagree without much discussion.

"I'd do anything to please you... even wear this tiara..."

 Maybe because I am sensitive - both to my own feelings and those of others - I am also sensitive to the animals' feelings...  I love it when Moxie literally jumps for joy at the sight of my Jeep coming around the bend towards home... She runs to meet me, knowing that I'll open the door and let her "drive" up the curving driveway, both of us grinning all the way.   I love it when CassPurr comes into the office, quietly sits next to me, and bats at my arm - pulling it downward, as if to say, "Pet me -I'm lonely."  And I love it that without fail all the chickens start talking like crazy when they hear my voice.  The Peeps literally jump straight up and down at the sight of me.  Am I projecting my feelings onto them?  No, I don't think so... Believe me, I don't run down the driveway or bat anyone's arm.  And I certainly don't jump up and down! (Okay... on the last one I'd be willing to make an exception if someone sent me a check for a million dollars... or even a thousand.)



Cassie always walks toward the camera,resulting in photos like this!

      The animals have personalities, too.  When I was a little girl, we had a cat who would stand in the corner and pout if we laughed at her - it clearly embarrassed her and hurt her feelings.  On the other hand, CassPurr loves to be a clown and acts crazier and crazier the more we laugh at him.  I must admit Cassie is the only cat I've ever seen with this personality trait.  I had an old tom cat years ago who was so social,  he not only had to be a part of every occasion, he had to be the center of it!  And he grinned like a Chesshire cat - I kid you not.  Cats have a way, too, of sensing humans' feelings.  They know when you're sad or sick, and they are cuddly and comforting... Back when I had four cats, they were a pretty good family, but they had bouts of jealousy.  They could frown and shoot each other a dirty look...especially over attention from me. They played "king of the hill" on the ladder, and it cracked me up so much that sometimes I left the ladder up for days just so I could watch the competition. It warmed my heart when I'd come home from work to find those four little faces looking out the glass-paned front door, eager to say hello to their person.  They also would gather in a litle semi-circle all around the piano bench when I played music each morning.   They especially liked the slower music, and would settle down with a dreamy look in their eyes...Occasionally one would try to play along, resulting in frowns from the rest of the "audience".

"I'm worried..."

      I'm not an expert on dogs, but I know our Moxie.  She has got to be the most affectionate critter I've ever met.  (Thankfully, she doesn't lick - I can't stand that!)  But, she shows her affection by being our constant shadow... Moshe and I are together a lot, but when we are in separate rooms, she parks herself midway between the two of us.  If he is in the office and I am in the kitchen, she stays in the adjoining hallway until one of us moves.  Apparently she doesn't want to give either of us preferential treatment. Yesterday  Moshe and I cleaned house.  I scrubbed the kitchen while he vacuumed.  In order to vacuum, Moshe picked up Moxie's dog beds - one in the office and one in the bedroom - and moved them.  Meanwhile, I was cleaning everything in the kitchen, so I put her bowl and the pet waterer in the sink to wash 'em.   Moxie sat in the doorway entering the kitchen,  looking dejected and worried.  I told Moshe I thought she was afraid that we were sending her away to live somewhere alse.  No amount of talking or petting would console her, but once the beds and the bowl were back in place, she went back to her usual happy self.

  Beau is another example.  Beau is the stray dog we have adopted... sort of.  He sleeps under the front porch in a nest of hay.  He is great friends with Moxie; they run and leap and play together in an expression of pure joy.  We feed him morning and evening.  He will follow me out to the chicken coops and almost touch my hand, but if Moshe is with me, he follows further away.  Twice he came up and licked my hand when I called him, but mostly he won't get closer than a few feet away.  Somebody must have really mistreated Beau, and I can only hope that someday he will realize that we won't.  I've known people like that, too.. People who have been so hurt that they cannot and will not allow anyone to get too close to them.  Whether you're a person or an animal, it's a sad way to deal with emotional pain, isn't it?
    

My daughter was always a really good kid... Easy to live with, easy to bring up, and a good student.  I can only remember her getting in trouble at school a couple times.  Once for having a pea-shooting contest with her straw in the cafeteria. (That  STILL cracks me up! My sweet little Melody participating in a pea-shooting contest!!!)  The other time it was for arguing with her teacher... She had written an essay in which she described her cat, "Ozzie", as a person.  The teacher corrected her, saying, "Cats aren't people; they're animals." Melody said something like, "Well, maybe YOUR cats are animals, but OUR cats are people."
 


My crazy pre-computer cut and paste wedding photo; Ozzie is thegrey cat with the sweatshirt on; I am the bride...


    I  really couldn't scold her much for arguing with her teacher about that, now could I?  And, by the way, by the time Ozzie passed away, Melody was in highschool,  and Ozzie was so well-known in out little town that the entire tenth grade mourned his loss.  Seems to me that if an animal can invoke that much feeling in us, then we must be invoking feelings in them, too.
     Not a scientific study, I must admit.  But even so I maintain that animals have emotions.

Shalom  Y'all -
          Twyla

I Don't Know How She Did It!

     Last night I went to bed cold and hungry.  I could have found something to eat that fits my current dietary restrictions  (no sugar, no corn, no gluten), but chose to be disciplined instead.  The cold is another matter... We have the wood stove, but it simply will not heat the entire house; we knew that when we got it.  We keep the central heat on automatic, with the thermostat set at 60 degrees.  Now, sixty degrees is a might chilly...  We also have an electric blanket, so I usually pre-warm the bed.  But, last night I just couldn't get warm, couldn't get comfortable, couldn't sleep.  CassPurr tried to comfort me with his wonderful purring in my ear, but I still couldn't sleep. Moshe was snoring like a freight train, so I knew he wasn't going to participate in  any conversations any time soon...  So, I thought and prayed.  Prayed and thought.  Tried to think of everybody I know... what does he or she need from God.  I prayed for our country.  I prayed for our finances;  we, like so many people nowadays, are struggling to make ends meet... What will become of us?

...an accident from the 1930's...

     But, before the above-mentioned  "freight train" arrived, I mentioned to Moshe that I'd been thinking about my grandmother, and I just don't know how she did it. She lived on a farm in Michigan.  She was widowed at an early age; had several children to take care of.  Lost two children in an auto accident in the 1930's. (That must have been one of the earliest auto accident fatalities, no?)   She brought up those children during the Great Depression. She must have done a wonderful job, because my Mom says that their childhood was "just like The Waltons" - they even all had red hair!  Mom would've been the equivalent of "Elizabeth" - the youngest Walton girl...

The Waltons

 I never knew my grandmother all that well.  I saw her once a year at most until she died when I was sixteen. Whenever I saw her, she was cheerful enough.  Not overly talkative, but pleasant.  She ALWAYS wore a dark, printed dress with a full apron over it. Her hair was kept up in a rather untidy bun; but, a couple times I saw her brushing her hair out in the morning... It seemed like it was a mile long to a little girl - especially a little girl with short hair.  Her hair had been red when she was younger;  by the time I knew her, it was white like mine is now... with some dark hair in the back... just like mine.
      Minnie Harper.  A good country name.  With children's names such as Elva, Luella, Milo and Louie - to name only a few out the ten she bore.  They are all in heaven now, except my Mom.
  

corn crib,barn, and a few of the "aimless chickens"...

     But, how did she do it?  She lived in a big hand-built, fieldstone house. She never did get that indoor plumbing.  She had a pump, which, when properly primed, would supply one end of the kitchen with cold water. In her later years, different sons and daughters offered to build her a bathroom, but she declined their offers every time.  They got her a TV, but the only time it was  on was when company turned it on. When it was on, she would leave the room.  I remember her saying, "Those people on there can look right up my dress."  The family insisted that she have a phone, and someone got it installed for her.  She would answer it, but never once placed a call. She cooked, baked bread, and heated the house with two wood stoves. (Actually, I think one of them was a coal stove, come to think of it.)  She had dozens of chickens, which wandered aimlessly throughout her property... Hence, there wasn't a blade of grass to speak of in her "yard".

Grama's quilted pillow, alongside my Mom's doll, Tracy

   I remember when she had milking cows in the barn, and a mean-looking bull, which we kids were told to stay far away from. (Steer clear of the steer, dear?)  There were cats, but not the friendly kind like I had back home.  And she always had a dog.  I don't know how many dogs she had over the years, but it was always one at a time, they were always big brown dogs, and they were all named "Pat". The first "Pat" I remember was really smart and he knew how to turn the doorknobs and open the doors;  we kids thought that was just super-neato!

     In her "spare time" she quilted.  I have a couple pieces of her work, and they are treasures to me.  Completely hand-stitched; she didn't own a sewing machine.  I think she embroidered some, too, although I don't have any mementos of that.
     Amazing. I'm sure she read quite a bit. I never heard a radio playing in her house, although she may have had one.  She had a piano, but I never heard her play it. (Usually, it was locked when we visited... I was always insulted by that, because I actually played well. But, I guess when you're expecting a passel of kids, you'd be wise to lock the thing up before they all thought they should pound on it!)

     Of course, we always visited in the Summertime. I can't imagine how cold it must have been in January or February.  The closest house was a couple miles away, and the closest relative was about ten miles away.  She didn't have a car, but family took her to town "to trade eggs" every week or two.  There was an apple orchard, and fields of corn, wheat, etc, which my Uncle Louie cared for when I was growing up.  But, before that,  I can only guess that my Grama had to do it... Her and her children.  Wow.  How  DID  she do it?
  

some of my teacup collection

     It was a treat to be allowed to play upstairs at Grama's house.  There were two or three bedrooms up there, plus a little alcove where I loved to play.  I played with miniature china - real china - that had been my mother's when she was a little girl.   I still have one cup and saucer from that set!  Can you imagine?  In my later years, I started collecting cups and saucers.  I used to have two or three times as many as I do now... gave a bunch away, and sold a few as well.  Some are very ornate, some are probably valuable; but, the most-treasured one is that simple white miniature cup and saucer that somehow survived all these years...
  

the little teacup, alongside a "fancy" one

     When Grama died, the family put out the word that anyone who wanted anything should lay claim to it.  I told my Mom that I would LOVE to have one of Grama's old black rocking chairs.  I remember there were a few of them, all lined up in one room, alongside a couple of sofas, a daybed, the piano - it was a BIG room!

the old rocker, near our pot-belly stove...

      Mom got me that rocking chair and I still have it.  Decades ago, I stripped off the blackened varnish, to discover gorgeous golden oak.  Mom said she found out later that nobody took any of the other rockers... I can't imagine why.  It seems a shame, but when the property sold, the house was full of old rockers, china cabinets,  beautiful chiming clocks, probably the huge upright piano...with its' key.
  







 So, how did she do it?  I can only surmise that she had faith in God.  And, that God saw her through those many years, provided for her, cared for her, loved her, cheered her.
     And He will do the same for me - even when it's cold and I am hungry.



         Shalom  Y'all - Twyla

Funny Stories

    I remember when I was in sixth grade, our teacher told us about the word "funny".  He said there are lots of different meanings to "funny".  There is funny-comical, funny-sad, funny-facetious, funny-suspicious, even funny-stinky.  There's funny-insolent,  funny-peculiar,  funny-ill, and funny- ludicrous.  So, I thought I'd try to tell some stories from my life to illustrate the facets of funny..


       Funny-Comical:  One Saturday morning, many years ago,  I was cleaning house and my little girl was watching television.   Because the living room - and, thus the TV- were in the center of the house, I had to walk past her to get from room to room as I cleaned.  Every time I wanted to walk past her, she would stick out her legs and say, "You have to pay the fee for the toll bridge."  I would dutifully drop an imaginary coin into the imaginary toll booth, and she would lower her legs.  Then, her game escalated to her saying, "You have to guess the magic word, and then I'll lower the bridge and you can get by."  I cooperated with this several times.  Of course, "the magic word" was different with each passage through the room, and the task grew more and more difficult and complicated with each trip. Mind you, on various trips, I was lugging around a load of laundry, a mop pail and mop, or a vacuum cleaner. On the final trip, she said, "You'll have to guess the magic word to pay the toll for the toll bridge to be lowered. (Giggle, giggle. giggle; smirk, smirk, smirk)".  So, I turned my backside toward the "toll bridge" and farted! You never saw a pair of little legs jerk down so fast!  The days of paying for the toll bridge were over!


  Funny-Sad: One day, when I was in my early twenties, I drove my grandmother to the post office.  As she was getting in the car, there was an advertisement on the radio for "Publisher's Clearing House"... You know the drill... "You can win One Million Dollars!  Just imagine Ed McMahon and the Publisher's Clearing House van arriving at you doorstep with YOUR check for One Million Dollars!!!"  So, like most people, I started into a discussion of what I would do if I won a million dollars.  I listed the typical things a young person would list: buy a house, a new car, travel...  Then, I asked Grama what she would do if she won a million dollars.  Her reply: "Oh, I couldn't accept it.  If I took the million dollars, they'd take away my Social Security checks." (Honest - this is a TRUE story... Her answer is permanently seared in my brain.  And, by the way, her check was about one-hundred dollars a month.) Sad-funny.


  Funny-facetious:  I've told this story before, but it's the best example I can think of.  While I was in the shower, my husband stuck his head in the bathroom and asked, "Oh, are you taking a shower?"  My reply, "No, I'm just checking to see if the hot and cold faucets are working."
     Funny-suspicious:  Last month we got an electric bill with an extra fee for fifteen dollars - no explanation, no nothing.  I said, " Y'know, there's something funny about this bill."  Neither of us laughed.
     Funny-stinky:  One evening after we went out to eat with another couple, they came in and visited for a while at our house.  We were all sitting in the living room, when our friend picked up the newspaper, folded it, and started waving it over the dog.  It took a moment, but then we surmised that something "smelled funny" in the general dog vicinity...


      Funny-insolent:  When I was in ninth grade, we had a math teacher who was...well...not very nice.  She was very picky about everything.  I remember the first day of class she told us (among other things), "If you ever think you need to "upchuck", just get up and leave the room!  Don't ask for permission... just leave the room... quickly."  Fast forward to near the end of the school year, and one of the more colorful characters in the classroom suddenly got up and started to leave the room.  The teacher shouted, "Stop! What do think you are doing?  And, don't get funny with me, young man!!!"  (funny-insolent).  He turned, and puked all over her shoes.  Miraculously, we all stifled our laughter until after the class was dismissed.
  

 Funny-peculiar:  Once I was at an art show where a few of my watercolor paintings were on display.  I ran into an ex-coworker with a speech impediment, who said, " Wow!  I didn't wealize you wah so AUTISTIC!"  I replied, "Oh, that's okay.  Most people don't know that about me."  (Oooh!  A double-"funnyism" ...  his comment was funny-peculiar, and my reply was funny-facetious!!!)
     Funny-ill:  I was in a very serious car accident.  It had snowed and iced, but the roads had been plowed and salted, and I was on my way home from work..  A semi truck ran into the passenger side of my car in the middle of an intersection.  My car slid on the ice and was caught by a guardrail on the driver's side.  The fire department had to pry the car open with "the jaws of life".  I was unconscious during the "prying", but I awakened as they were starting to move me, and I said, "I feel funny."
     Funny-ludicrous:  There was this guy I dated for a while.  He belched.  Loud. And a lot.  I tried to tease with him and "make light of it" by saying things like, "Wow!  I  REALLY like that!"  Or, "Gosh, I don't know what I'd ever do if you stopped that..."  One day we had a big argument, and the guy, always one for one-upmanship,  hollered, "Oh yeah, well, I don't think you really meant it when you said you liked my burps!"  (Gee, ya' think?)
     So, those are my definition-of-funny stories.  Hope you got a laugh or two out of them.

Shalom  Y'all - Twyla

  
 

More Chicken Talk

     Yes, I talk to the chickens... and to the dogs, and the cat, and the squirrels, and the birds,  even the lady bugs...  But, chicken talk is really special;  I understand their lingo. And they know my voice, too. (I think they secretly tell each other, "Oh, boy!  Here she comes... the soft-hearted one... She'll give us extra food!!! Hooray!")


      Friday afternoon, Moshe let the chickens out again "to graze" in the yard. And, just like the day before, they seemed to have a wonderful time, clucking, and chirping, and crowing, and eating, and digging, and strolling.  A couple times Moshe and Moxie had to herd them out of the neighbors' yards and back into ours, but, for the most part, they were content and well-behaved...
     Well, come sundown, all the chickens entered the arks, as they had the evening before. All seemed well with the world...  After supper, Moshe went out to pull up the ramps on the arks. (This is done to keep it warmer and dryer "upstairs" for the night.)  He looked upset when he came back in, and he promptly announced that one of the black chickens was missing.  "Oh, no!" I said,  " It's going to be sub-freezing temperatures tonight, and if she's alive now , she'll never survive the night."  To which Moshe replied, "I really don't think she's alive.  If she'd been alive, she would've made it back to the ark like all the others."  We talked for half an hour or so, and decided that we are very blessed.  Everybody we know  that has chickens has lost several - or even ALL - of their chickens.  For us to lose only one is amazing.  Plus, God has given us several chickens - all the "peeps" from our neighbor, and "Chicken Little" who just showed up in out yard several weeks ago.  Yes, we are, indeed blessed. Still, it's hard to lose an animal when you've known her since she was only two or three days old...
  

A little Peep - only a few days old...

     Saturday morning I half-expected to see a dead black chicken feet-upward next to the ark. (Oh, I know... What an imagination!)  I had somehow during the night decided that she was alive and that she would try to get back in the ark.  This was not the case. No sign of the black chicken.  No sign of a struggle, either, like one would find if a chicken met up with a mean dog, or a fox, or a mountain lion.  We decided a hawk must have swooped down and got her.  We've seen several red-tailed hawks less than a mile away, so this seemed like the most plausible explanation.
     Around lunchtime, I told Moshe I thought I heard a chicken under the house. I have extremely excellent hearing, and I could've sworn I heard a chicken "cluck, cluck, cluck"  coming up through the air vent.  I heard it once in the bathroom, again in the office. It wasn't a "normal" cluck, either.  I told Moshe it was a distress call.  Patient man that he is, he went outside and crawled up under the house to look for the chicken.  Of course, he didn't find one... Plus, Beau (the stray dog we are trying to befriend) sleeps under there.  And, of course, a chicken and a dog aren't going to share quarters for the night! So, I gave up.  Said I must've heard one of the chickens out front and somehow it sounded like it was coming from under the house.  Sometimes, especially when it's rainy or snowy, sound travels in very strange patterns up here in these mountains.
  

   Last night it snowed about an inch or so.  When I got up this morning the temperature was 7 degrees.
Moshe's broken ribs were hurting real bad this morning, so I went out and fed and watered the chickens.  I couldn't help but look for the missing black chicken, even though I knew it was ridiculous.  As if on cue, a big hawk flew overhead, and I thought, " Yup.  That's gotta' be what happened."
  

About an hour later, I heard the sound again.  The  distressed "cluck, cluck, cluck" coming up the bathroom air vent.  Coincidentally, Moshe was outside at that very moment and heard it from the front yard.  Problem is, he was facing the chicken arks, but he heard the chicken talking behind him.  On further inspection, there was the "missing" black chicken up under the house.  Moshe fetched her out of there and put her in one of the arks.  Two hours later, she was STILL eating!  Poor baby.
  

Pretty Face peeking thru the snow

     Meanwhile Pretty Face has decided her babies are grown.  Or, at least, grown enough... She doesn't coddle her three peeps any more;  treats all the peeps as equals now, although the original three are still more likely to sleep with her than the others... Pretty Face is a talker!!! I mean, she talks a lot! She bosses all those peeps around like crazy. "Bud-up-up-up-up-up-up."  And, "Burrr-yee-awk!"  And, then there's the occasionally  true cackle.  One day last week, I thought, "That sounded like an egg cackle; I should check her house and see if she's laying eggs yet."  But, I was busy and didn't do it.  The next day, Moshe came in with four eggs from Pretty Face's house!  I  KNEW  it!  The true cackle is invariably an announcement of an egg.  This morning there were two of them in there.  Pretty Face  is back in the egg-laying business.
     So, I talk to chickens and chickens talk to me. I wonder what will happen if we get goats...

     P.S. Apparently a stray dog and a lost chicken  DO  make good roommates!

SHALOM  Y'ALL  -  TWYLA

Miscellany from Green Acres

Icicles at the window of our "Cozy"

Umm . . . I like your belt.

So, it is Monday morning once again.  We had a quiet weekend... lots of movies and popcorn, eating leftovers,  not doing much other than the necessities... which, actually, is quite a bit when you think of it!  Regardless of weather and regardless of our health,  the animals need to be fed and watered,  eggs need to be gathered,  wood needs to be collected and the fire in the wood stove  kept alive.  I spent nearly every moment hugging the heating pad yesterday;  I either had it on my feet or my knees most of the day.  I just could not get warm.  Then, last night, I remembered a giant furry grey poncho that a friend gave me several years ago... it is now my newest "uniform" - to be worn every day until.....???  I never had to wear school uniforms, but I did have to wear white nurses uniforms... ever the optimist, I would hear other nurses complaining about the boredom of having to wear white, and I would always answer, "Yes, but it makes it so easy to decide what to wear!"   The big grey poncho is making it easy now.


      This morning, after getting the basic chores done, we went out with our cameras to capture some more of the snow scenes... especially now that the sun is shining and the snow is melting a bit.  Just look at the icicles hanging off the eaves above the "Cozy Room" window!  And, IF you can take your eyes off my hubby's outfit, take a gander at the size of that icicle from the eaves on the front of the house!!!


   Moxie and Beau are having a ball playing in the snow.  Beau is still skittish, but did cooperate a little bit better for picture-taking today.  Most of the time when I try to snap his picture, all I get is his hind end.  Today he was a lot more comfortable.  I've been feeding him for about two weeks now.  It makes me really sad, realizing that someone must have been really mean to him for him to be so wary of people.  And, that someone purposely abandoned him in the dead of winter.  He came up to me two or three times and licked my hand, but I have yet to pet him.  He sees Moxie loving all over Moshe and me, but, I guess he's just not ready to trust us.  If nothing else, I am glad that Moxie has this great friend to roam the woods with. The two of them take off running together and it's as if they have wings.   Still, I hope the day will come when Beau will want to be our friend.

Beau and Moxie in the woods

      One day late last week I went to the next town over and went grocery shopping;  they were having a big sale, and I wanted to take advantage of it.  I bought a couple turkeys, several pot roasts, several pounds of hamburger;  also, several packages of pasta,  multiple bottles of cooking oil,  multiple cans of coffee, mega- sized packages of paper towels and bathroom tissue.  Everything I bought was on sale.   Of course, then I had to come home and put all the stuff away... A turkey in the cooler to thaw and cook,  another turkey in the big freezer,  one pot roast in the refrigerator to fix over the weekend,  the others in the freezers,  the cans of coffee under one of the beds until I can find a better spot... etc.  So, today I went into the art room for some reason, and there was the cooler!  We had both forgotten about the turkey!  Sheesh!  It was still okay, and Moshe has it soaking in brine and we will bake it overnight tonight.  (Wow!  Will the house ever smell good tomorrow morning!)  Of course, ever the comedienne, I couldn't help but say that it's a good thing we are too old to have children... 'cause we would forget
where we put them!

Pretty Face and the snow

     I have to wonder what the chickens think about the snow.  (DO chickens think??? Well,  you know what I mean...)  The weather plays such nasty tricks on them!  For the most part, they have all stayed "upstairs" in their roosts all weekend.  I'm sure it's warmer up there.  And drier.  Poor Pretty Face is in her little broody coop still.  She will have with her anywhere from three to six of the Peeps, which are now nearly half-grown chickens.  The others all huddle together in the peep house at the other end of the screened "courtyard".  They come out to eat and drink, but that's about it.  Pretty Face starts talking to me the second she sees me standing at the sliding glass door.  And, I don't think she is exactly saying, "I love you.".  I wonder if they think we can somehow control the snow??? Or the temperature???  Who knows.

     Okay,  just in case anybody is wondering about Moshe's big wide white belt,  it is an abdominal brace.  We bought it last week to help support his broken rib.  (And it really helps, too!) Yesterday afternoon, when he came in from the snow, I called him the "Abdominal Snowman."  Nice, huh?

...the grim reaper meets the abdominal snowman...    ;D

                                                              

Shalom Y'all


     Twyla

cold and cold

Brrr...

    WOW. Thanksgiving Day the high temperature was (a very abnormal) 75 degrees; last night the low was 32.  It has turned cold.  Much later than last year, but, nevertheless, it has turned cold.  Not as cold as "they" predicted (prediction per weather.com was 24), but, cold.  I got up twice during the night - both times just in time to revive the woodstove.  Both times there was one little burning ember from which to catch fire to paper and twigs, then kindling, then logs.  This morning I moved the chairs in "the Cozy" closer to the stove; yep, it's now officially cold!

Meanwhile, I HAVE a cold.  Ugh; the kind with the sore throat and dry cough.  The kind where you have the energy and vision of a new-born kitten. Moshe is being very kind; made me coffee, brought me the heating pad for my feet while I'm sitting at the computer, is currently making breakfast and some soothing herbal tea...
     Despite working in the medical field for nearly three decades, I find myself wishing there was some magic pill to make me feel better... Well, I guess there is... it's called time.  This too shall pass.  So, I'll put on another layer of clothes, surround myself with Kleenex and the Vicks bottle. Keep the heating pad nearby.  Relax with a movie, read, or nap.  Maybe a dog  will cuddle up with me?  Time will pass and the cold will be gone.  Thank you, Lord. Amen.
             Shalom y'all - Twyla

Ahh, The Peaceable Kingdom

Pretty Face

     Life is a learning experience.  And life on the farm is certainly a learning experience!  We never cease to be amazed at the occurrences here on our little homestead.
     Last weekend we moved all the baby chicks together -  3 that Pretty Face recognized as the ones she'd hatched, and the 6 that she rejected having been brought in as newcomers when a week or so old. We put all the Peeps together, thinking it would be best to combine them before they got to an age where they'd fight. (Admittedly, we don't know what that age would be, but we were basing it on the fact that the girls are acting like hens and the boys are acting like roosters.)
      So, together they went, and they did very well as one big family.  But, poor Pretty Face.  She remained in her little broody coop.  Alone.  She could see and hear her babies, but couldn't get to them.  It made me sad from the first moment. She cried and paced in her courtyard.  I was certain that she wanted to be with her babies!  Moshe kept saying, "Oh, she'll be alright."  But I just didn't think so...  More out of concern for me than Pretty Face, Moshe agreed to try putting her in with all the chicks.  It didn't work at all!  She pecked ferociously at the 6 "intruders", while happy to see her 3 chicks.  She went back to her solitary life.
     It bothered me all week.  It bothered me every time I looked out the back door, every time I went out to get in the Jeep, every time I went to get firewood, etc.  Ohhh, it bothered me.  I knew that Mamma chicken was mourning.  She paced nervously and talked incessantly.  I knew - like only another mother could - that she was missing her babies terribly. But, neither Moshe nor I could figure out what to do about it.

Peeps and the Peep hole

 

 Then, last night insomnia stuck.  I solved 2 or 3 problems during my middle-of-the-night-sleeplessness.
One of the solutions was the Pretty Face situation.  My idea was confirmed later in the morning when I spoke to my parents on the phone.  Mom grew up on a big farm with lots & lots of chickens.  When I described my idea, she said it was exactly what they used to do with the broody hens.  So, here it is:  We moved Pretty Face's broody coop adjacent to the Peeps coop, cutting a "Peep-sized" hole in the chicken wire so that the Peeps can go from cage to cage but Pretty Face has to stay in her territory. We figured Pretty Face's 3 Peeps could visit her, yet still interact with the other Peeps.  And, if the other Peeps came into hostile territory they could escape through the Peep hole. (No pun intended.)  My hope was that they could ALL learn to get along...
    

the combined coops

When the deed was done, sure enough several chicks went through into the broody coop.  Pretty Face immediately took her babies under her wing.  She started out scolding and pecking at the other Peeps, but in less than ten minutes she was accepting them all!  At one point I looked out the back door and Pretty Face had 6 chicks with her - and, only 2 were her original chicks.  Another time she was drinking simultaneously with 4 chicks, only one of which was "hers". 
     Moxie was really helpful during the transition.  While Moshe was cutting the chicken wire and moving the broody coop, he let Pretty Face walk in the back yard.  We knew she wouldn't go far... not with her babies so close by.  Moxie the Wonder Dog walked alongside Pretty Face, keeping track of her like a shepherdess with her sheep.
     And CassPurr?  He slept on the dining room chair that he has claimed as "his", totally oblivious to any and all the world's problems.  A total success story.

                 Shalom Y'all - Twyla