It’s a day to celebrate mothers and grandmothers and those who’ve simply mothered us even though they weren’t the ones who brought us into this world.  I think, too, that it’s a good day to recall the joys that come to those of us who play that role in one way or another. Here at the
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I stepped onto the front porch late Tuesday morning and was greeted by five very hopeful doggy faces.  Four of the dogs stared at me, then looked pointedly at the empty food dishes scattered around the porch and front sidewalk.  The fifth dog . . . well, Blue’s old and so near-sighted that I can’t
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They’re hunting rabbits.  Actually, it’s just Dinah, the farmcollie, hunting rabbits.  Tiny Lamb’s following close because that’s just what she does.  She follows Dinah everywhere unless one of the other dogs distracts her and takes over lamb-sitting duty. Dinah’s our best small pest hunter.  She particular excels at hunting down moles, mice, voles, and rabbits
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Here’s what a spoiled rotten house lamb wears for playtime in the barnyard on a cold morning.  Tiny likes the red flannel ‘coat’ with its black trim and faux fleece lining.   It has velcro closures at the chest and belly, and the two sleeves fit her front legs perfectly.  Tiny likes the chickens’ cracked corn, too. 
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The roses began to leaf out on the north side of the house, and the wild ones in the woods did the same.  Daylilies and irises sent forth new shoots.  The chickens rejoiced . . . and ate the shoots.  The air felt warm.   It felt like spring.  And then came the snow, as predicted,
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Tiny, the bottle lamb, took her first stroll outdoors late yesterday.  At first, she stayed close to Dinah, the black farmcollie who’s adopted her.  Dinah watched her like a nervous mama, too, and gently nudged her out the front door when I called them both from the porch.  They explored the porch, then followed me
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About those dogs . . . see the farmcollie on the far right sneaking in for a playful nip?  That’s Bebe.  She tugged hard on a tuft of old Blue’s fur.  Blue curled his teeth back in a snarl.  It’s a very careful snarl, not too much growl to it, not too much teeth, maybe
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Even the chickens huddle up close to the fireplace when the temperature drops and the snow flies. Really, there’s a fireplace in this picture with the chickens — the back of one, at least.    The wide base of the chimney is the barely visible section of concrete wall jutting out behind the pile of straw
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It’s morning.  It’s time to eat.  They’ve been waiting for hours.  HOURS!  They don’t get much, just a can of sweet feed to share between the four of them.  There’s plenty of grass for them out in the pasture.  I feed them that bit of grain to keep them tame and cooperative, always willing to
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I really had intended to sell the entire litter of pups.  I’d have kept every one of them if I listened to my heart instead of my head.  But that would be way more dogs than any farm needs.  Besides, they were great pups who each deserved their own farms and families to take care
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