It takes so little to make an old goat happy — a few cups of cracked corn in a pan each morning, the occasional scratch along the jawline, clover hay… Francesca, on the left, is 10 years old and still frisky and playful. Katrinka, right, isn’t as sprightly, though she’ll perk up and run through
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Every few days Bebe brings a new treasure to the yard. This one, at least, doesn’t reek, and whatever rotting occurred was finished years ago. I think it’s a tailbone from one of the weathered cow skeletons in the woods. I could be wrong.

When I took this photo a few weeks ago, I felt a little sad because it seemed the end of the season for my beloved hammock. We’ve had a couple of frosts and one quite cold night since. There’s no green left in the trees. Yet all this week the air was warm, the breezes
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It really looks like a greenhouse now that the plastic covering is on. We used a special 6 mil greenhouse plastic that’s UV treated to
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I grew up reading tales of pioneers, trappers, and Indians (we weren’t into the whole politically correct terminology thing back then). I loved tales of woodsmen who could track game — and people — by the evidence left on the trail. Broken twigs, a few turned leaves, and of course, footprints. I studied animal footprints
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