Sunday: It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas... The tune lilts through my head as I look around the house, but while there is probably a tree in the grand hotel, and while friends have been
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I sat down last weekend and made my Christmas lists. Christmas shopping. Christmas goals. Taking some inspiration from a blogger I follow--Karen at The Art of Doing Stuff--I decided
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8:15: Coffee It's after 8:00; I'm still in bed, under covers, and I've only REALLY been awake for about 15 minutes. Over and over, I have to explain this. I don't do early mornings unless I
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Kniggett stood perfectly for shearing. He always had; every shearing since his first, Kniggett stood rooted more than tied. He seemed to enjoy having his hot wool stripped off row by row,
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"Ok," I said, "tell me why this wouldn't work." John, God bless the man, was standing in my chicken coop with an ice breaker, chipping away at the mass of chicken shit and ice that was preventing
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There needs to be a setting on my Fitbit for "walking through the snow in coveralls." Regular steps seem wholly inadequate for the trudge that takes me between the house and the barns each morning
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This is me. This is me on an almost 90 degree day, after shearing nine of my llamas over the course of about two hours. This is me sweaty and exhausted. Covered in tiny bits of wool.
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"There is no creature whose inward being is so strong that it is not greatly determined by what lies outside of it." - George Elliot, Middlemarch. February It isn't as warm as yesterday, but I
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I know. I know. That phrase usually belongs to Christmas, and I love Christmas, but whoever first coined that phrase and applied it to Christmastime obviously didn't know the joys of springtime
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It's almost like there's a script, a list of exact lines shared with the rest of the world, but not with me. Every. Single. Time. I say I have llamas. "Oh...Aren't they mean?"