The ubiquitous bindweed — harmless and pretty along the edge of the road, a creeping, smothering, unstoppable terror in the garden. Photo by LauraP

Old-fashioned stocks in my perennial garden. Yes, that’s dog hair hanging from the stalks. Photo by LauraP

I suspect I don’t have much of a future as a professional sheep shearer. Tinkerbelle seems to have forgiven me. (Sweet feed is a great bribe!) I’ll trim around her face and even out her haircut in a few days. Right now, it’s enough that the heavy wool is gone. Photo by JenniferP

He’s always been a little strange. Photo by JenniferP

This gentle rooster hatched last year. He’s the only single-combed chicken on the place. The rest of my full-sized chickens are pure Wyandotte of one color pattern or another, all with pea combs. I suspect the mother hen sneaked across the road to cavort with that big strapping single-combed rooster from my neighbor’s flock. Mr.
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The stone terrace in front of the farmhouse we’re buying. Photo by LauraP

Lucie, our senior ewe. Photo by LauraP My son, who’s on mission in Brazil, has requested snow pictures. Everyone there wants to know what snow’s like, he says. So Jason, these are for you, and ‘everyone’ who wants to know. Not as cold, wet, slippery, fun, or annoying as the real stuff, but it’s the
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Ralphie, the English Shepherd, knee-deep and having a blast. Photo by LauraP

The view behind the barn during last winter’s first snow. Photo by LauraP

Nearly Wild rose blossoms – the blossoms last weekend covered the bush by the front porch so thickly the greenery barely showed. Photo by LauraP