|Blue's nostalgic request for a cake|
|the 10th annual birthday pinata|
On Saturday, we were planting our new trees. They'd arrived on Friday, just before Blue's slumber party in the typical bad-timing fashion of this world. And I'd had to stow them away until we could find some time to dig them into the field where some day they will provide shade for our cattle. We also got in blueberries. Blue's guests helped plant those. They wanted to do farm chores in the morning so I set them to egg hunting and weeding and grooming the cows. Cows don't normally get groomed around here, but it was something to do with cows, so I said it was a chore. And so Blue's "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy slumber party," in which dinner conversation revolved around black holes and m-theory, ended up with a pact for all the girls to become farmers some day. Said one, "I used to just want to work at NASA and live in SF, but now I want to be a farmer when I grow up!"
After they were all gone, Huck and I (in my slip-on Keens) were slowly moving with our girls-slumber-party "hang over". I was headed out to the field to bring him some mint and lemon balm to "intercrop" with the trees and I opened the gate and stepped my right foot on solid ground and my left foot... well... not so much. My left foot fell into a deep, cold crevasse of watery cow crap. Down, down, down. The chilly slushy filled my shoes, seeped in to my socks and up my leg. The bottom of my overalls stayed on the crust of crap, while my bare leg sank and sank nearly up to my knee. I had met my "Ramona the Pest" moment. And there was no Henry Huggins to save me. Huck, maybe. And as I screamed and screamed, he looked up and saw me listing to one side and came to help. But he could not be quick enough.
My foot pulled up just fine. It was the shoe that was stuck. If I slipped my foot out, it would fill with crap and then I would have to go down with both hands to fish it out, my face would me millimeters from the slurry and my knees would sink in... No, this foot would not return to the surface without this shoe. And so I wiggled and pried and wiggled and pried and cranked up my non-prehensile toes to cling as best they could to that shoe. Huck arrived just in time to catch me as my shoe popped up out of the earth, tossing me off balance. Imagine if Huck hadn't been there; it would have been Sarajoy vs. the Cow Crap Tar Baby for hours on end. I stripped down at the spigot and hosed off that little adventure.
|this head is made out of cake, I promise|
And the final Farm Missive O'the Day: We have this resident bunny, the Widow D'lete, who turns out not to be much of a widow. We met her newest addition the other day. Too bad is was dangling from our cats mouth. Well, for the garden and the farm, that was a good thing. But for Coyote, it wasn't: "It's so cute! It was just too young, mama. Too young to die. It'd barely had any time to enjoy life. It's so sad it's making my eyes wet." And then there was Huck giving us reports: the cat has removed the heart from the bunny and the heart is still beating! I wonder how that's possible. You guys, the heart is still beating, even though the head got chewed off! Wow!