Who Dunnit?

Country-style living magazines always impress me with photos of covered porches casually decorated with rocking chairs and pots of flowers. Though limited in time, I try to put out a few flowers here and there in unusual pots. Lately, I've noticed disturbances in my flower pots. Someone has be flattening my petunias. I was even more distressed to find the dirt from my impatiens scattered all around. (see photo to left)

Who was to blame? Daisy shows little interest usually, though I asked her to smell the pot to see if she could find the culprit.

I was inclined to blame the cats, though not Jack (pictured) but Lazarus who likes to mess with things. It never dawned on me to blame the chickens, who are usually penned up, but I had let them out to hunt cicadas! They were the criminals. They have been successfully penned up again, and the flowers are now staying put in their pots.

Helmets

"There are things worse than death," said our neighbor as he trimmed our horses' hooves. He was thinking of his son, "Nick" After a safe tour of duty in Iraq, Nick was in an ATV accident while out riding with his buddies late at night. He wasn't wearing a helmet. The blow to his head changed him forever. His mom sits by his side every day, measuring a good day by a twitch in his eyes or a movement of a finger in response to a question. It could have been so different.

A young motorcyclist once told me that he chose not to wear a helmet. It was his life, he said, and if he died, he was the one to pay. If that was true, I'd call that "natural selection". Don't let the dumb ones reproduce. But, the victim doesn't always die. Sometimes, the victim's family has to watch the injured lay there and hang onto a shred of hope that he'll recover, knowing as the days pass so passes that chance.

Lauren called me in a shaky voice last Wednesday. Anna had been bucked from her horse and had hit her head. She was physically okay, but she was developing memory loss. After a long day at the hospital, it was confirmed that she had suffered a concussion but with no bleeding. The lining of her helmet was cracked right up the backside. Dh wondered if it had a warranty on it. I told him yes, that we'd just cashed it in: it saved her life. (The photo shows the crack on the inside shell of the helmet.) Today, she is fine with a few scrapes to show for her ordeal.

I don't understand, really I don't, why I still see adults ride ATVs, bicycles and horses without helmets. Aside from the poor example you set for children, you risk everything you are and your child's mom or dad. I myself would be dead or worse had I not been wearing a helmet 10 years back when my head hit the road when I fell from my horse. And for children, it should be a non-negotiable set-in-stone rule of riding anything, including casual sitting on the horse or vehicle in the yard.

And for all you folks that want to send me (again) the email about how when you were a child in the "good ol' days", you didn't wear a seatbelt or carseat, jumped off roofs, ate lead paint and generally took no safety precautions, you were the lucky ones. Some people aren't here to forward those emails because they didn't survive. Wear your helmets!

Lost in Translation

"Boys have a way of humiliating a parent," said my friend. To illustrate, she wrote the following guest blog. She felt she could not post it on her own blog, wanting to protect her son (and possibly herself?) from further embarrassment. I consented to share her story anonymously. Luckily, she and the characters in the story have a great sense of humor.

This past weekend, my parents offered to watch my son,"Joe." Since my parents were working at the local church yard sale, Joe joined them. Making himself very useful during the unseasonably HOT day, Joe went from around the yard sale pouring cold water for the various workers.

After pouring numerous cold cups of water for one group of older ladies, my son politely inquired, "Is there anything else I can do for you all?" One of the ladies answered, "Yes, it is so hot! Please, pour that cold water on my head."

Well, my 10 year old son is VERY literal. He is also a pleaser. Have I told you that my innocent out-of-the-box son is VERY, VERY literal? Combining these traits, when he was asked to "pour the water on the woman's head" -- he complied -- by "POURING THE WATER ON THE WOMAN'S HEAD!"

As the water dripped down the front of her head onto her pants, and she squealed in surprise, I can only imagine Joe's response. As surprised as the nice little old lady was -- Joe was just as confused. She DID ask for him to "pour the water" on her head after all. Thankfully, she had a great attitude about it. It makes me wonder if she too raised a very literal son.

The moral of the story is BEWARE of what you say around 10 year old boys!

To protect the innocent from embarrassment, the name in this blog has been changed.

Italian Concerto

My daughter's recital on June 6, 2008 at Comstock Hall at the University of Louisville. She's playing the Italian Concerto: Allegro by Bach.

Encouragement

I placed my hand on the shoulder of HC's mom, and told her that she must be doing a wonderful job with her daughter, as I saw a tremendous improvement in her attention span and behavior from last year. After she picked her jaw back up off the ground, she said, "Really??" I assured her that though I know that she continued to have challenges with HC, that not having seen her in a year, I could see the difference. I told her to hang in there, that her hard work and love would continue to pay off. I could see that the woman had tears in her eyes.

I wonder how often this woman receives a bit of encouragment from other parents. It is more likely that other parents look at this beautiful, bi-racial child adopted by older parents with disapproval of her interactions with the class and other kids. Even without training in early childhood behavior, one can see that HC marches to her own drum. Yet, how often does our society judge rather than encourage and support? God has great plans for HC.

Note:

Look in the right margin, and you'll see a new button that says RSSFWD and invites you to enter your email address. If you do so, you'll receive this blog by email. This replaces the Blogarithm service that did the same thing. Blogarithm was bought out by RSSFWD. If you prefer to have it sent to your email address rather than checking the actual website, you have this option.

Dalcroze

In one week, William went from not wanting to play the piano to deciding that he would become a piano teacher so that he could have "Mr. Jeremy" as his boss. Mr. Jeremy is Dr. Jeremy Dittus who taught Dalcroze Eurhythmics at the Suzuki Piano Institute. And William loved the class. The fancy name is a method of teaching, literally, good rhythm, using experiential knowledge.

Using only his piano and singing voice, Jeremy had the younger class moving the whole hour, listening for when the music stopped and when it began again. The melody when up and then down again. He taught the idea of a musical phrase. William loved the movement and activity of the class. You can read more about it at http://www.dalcrozeusa.org/

The older kids took Eurhythmics at a higher level. The concepts presented in Lauren's class were well above my ability to understand. Who knew that there was a 9/16th time signature or a 12/16th? Not me. My music education didn't go much beyond 3/4 or 4/4 time. Particularly interesting to me was watching a bunch of (predominantly) white kids used to sitting still at a piano trying to use their bodies to find the rhythm of the music and feel the music.

One down side to this class is that I will have to do a week of listening to my own music to get the "Elevator" song out of my head. "Elevator, why don't you take me up, up, up, up, up....."

Farm Notes

Roxie and Chiron are getting along famously.

My new chickies are growing fast and I need to fix up a yard and some kind of roosting box for them. I still don't know what kind they are, and need to call the neighbor who gave them to me for that information.

Last year, I had some gourd or squash plants that never did turn out any produce. That's because they weren't gourd or squash at all, but hollyhocks. My sister identified them and said that it took them two years to bloom - this being that year. Sure enough, two days later, I have pink blooms.

I bought two bales of hay at $7 a bale to get us by until I can get some early next week. It has to "cure" before I can put new hay in my barn, or I run the risk of burning down the barn.

Really, I don't mostly mind the sound of cicadas nor am I freaked out when they land on me - except I really don't like them crawling up my neck. I feel for the people in the Bible plagued by locusts. I'm letting the big chickens free-range this week to go cicada hunting. All you can eat buffet!

Cicada Ringtones?

Okay, what brilliant person thought that one up? My adsense ad (see to the right) is currently advertising cicada ringtones. First of all, I refuse to pay for another ringtone even were my current ringtone to play the Beverly Hillbillies theme song. Sorry, I'm not adding yet another feature for a small fee. And why I ask, would I want to hear even more cicadas?

Today, we were stopped in town by the slowest moving train. We turned off the car to save gas, rolled down the windows, and had to throw out cicadas that kept flying in the window. At least they were the lucky ones. Moments earlier, several had smashed themselves on the windshield leaving white smears as I hurtled down the highway . That reminds me of a cicada joke: What is the last thing that goes through a cicada's mind as it hits your windshield? Its butt.

P.S. Arg! And so I publish this post and the adsense ad is now something else. Well, it did advertise cicada ringtones. Really.

Wordless Wednesday - Quarter Pounder (Really!) with Cheese

Barely a Whisper

My sister, Diane, turned and looked at me with an expression that silently said, "Is this guy nuts or what?" We were in a "Master Class" for Pre-Twinkles, kids that were going to begin piano lessons but have not yet played, and the teacher, Bruce Anderson, was whispering. The whole hour.

His whispering was intended to illustrate a very Suzuki idea - that modeling behavior and setting the correct environment was critical in getting the behaviors and learning outcomes we adults desire to achieve. For example, he said, you don't yell at your children to get them to be quiet. By the end of the class, not only were all adults whispering our responses, but the children had sat quietly for an hour.

Outside the room, Diane asked if he was planning to do that all week. Agitated, she remarked that she had adult ADD and didn't think she could take a whole week of whispering. I agreed it was a bit unusual, and aggravating. Surprisingly, by the end of the week, it didn't seem to bother either one of us as much. Still, it was difficult for two people who are multitaskers in motion to just want someone to tell them a lot of information quickly so that we can move on. Yet, on the last day, Bruce raised his voice slightly above a whisper to talk to observing teachers and parents. Little Allie, a four year old, tapped Bruce on the arm and whispered, "You're supposed to whisper!"

So we did it, my sister and I. We tolerated one hour a day of whispering, and saw clearly the illustration that setting the environment (quietly playing the Suzuki music, turning off background noise, taking softly) all resulted in behavioral changes in the children.

My purpose in bringing William to the Suzuki Piano Institute was to see if by being around other children playing piano, he would finally consent to even approaching the piano. He's been resistant in the past, I think due in part to the embarrassment of having attention focused on himself. By the end of the week, as you see in the photo, William not only played notes but asked to do it. For a more traditional approach, this may seem insignificant, but for us, it was big. He wanted to do it. We are hoping that by starting lessons this week in a group with two boys of similar age, he will continue to be motivated to play.

Hottern' Blue Blazes

Whoo, is it hot! And I went out in it! Had to go to StuffMart to restock after a week of being on the go. Dh says he doesn't know why they even bother to print him a paycheck. We ought to just have it direct deposited to StuffMart and we can just go over there and have our purchases deducted from our account.

We are about out of hay, but luckily, the middle pasture has some grass. We are slowly letting the horses onto it and will let them eat that until next week when my hay guy promises that he'll have the first cutting. Likely, I'll have to take a number to get some.

My writing time is short today, for even though it is late, I promised William that he could run through the sprinkler before bedtime. Maybe more writing time later?

I'm Back!

...and you didn't even know I was gone! The week went by in a blur as we attended the Suzuki Piano Institute in Louisville. In addition, I happily hosted my sister and two nieces who attended with us. For homeschoolers, getting out the door at an early hour on a daily basis was a challenge. Planning wardrobes, packing lunches, getting animal chores done, and eating breakfast was challenging enough. Being on a full-day schedule, talking all day to people (!) and attending classes was both rewarding and exhausting. (We are so spoiled!) Both William and Lauren gained many wonderful learning experiences.

I have many little tidbits and thoughts to share from the week, but it is late, and I just wanted to check in.

Quick Farm Notes:
I imagine that the audience who congratulated Lauren on her recital performance didn't realize that to attend the institute, the girl had to get up very early to care for dogs, horses, chickens and cats. Anna was kind enough to help and to attend a few days to share it with Lauren and William.

Maggie, the miniature horse that foaled Roxie a year ago, has been sold along with her "husband" to a family in Indiana. You might remember that although Roxie was given to us, Maggie remained the property of our neighbor. She wanted Maggie to stay with her husband, Easy, as they'd been together since they were very young.

It will be very sad to see her go, but Mags is a broodmare, and will be happiest being with Easy and raising babies. However, this week, of all weeks, we had to wean Roxie so that Mags could leave tomorrow for her new home. We've let them be together at night, and Roxie, at nearly a year old will be fine. Chiron and Roxie could keep each other much wanted company, but Chi tries a little too hard and hasn't learned yet that chasing a girl without stopping around the paddock does not endear her to you.

We are about out of last year's hay. I hope our hay guy has some more.

The humidity has arrived along with the cicadas. Speaking of which, I hear Jorgen (Gotland pony) ate one today. Yuck!

More tomorrow.

Science Friday

As a homeschooler, I am often asked about what curricula I use. For example, how do I teach science? For this subject, I am amazed that anyone can think that science can be found in a book exclusively, particularly a textbook. We use "real" books from the library and things we find in our environment mostly. I decided to make Science Friday a regular feature of my blog, inspired by one of my favorite radio shows Talk of the Nation: Science Friday and post something we've studied that week. This week: Cicadas.

Brood XIV of the seventeen year cicada is here, and while feeding chickens, William discovered them crawling out of a stump of a tree.

Once we started looking, we found they were everywhere.

Here is one shedding its brown nymph shell to become
an adult cidada with wings.

As it emerges, the cidada is white at first, with very red eyes.

William would like to comment that with the black spots, it looks very much like General Grievious (Grievous, actually but he insists it is Grievious) of Star Wars.

We found them in various stages of emergence. Here Daisy is investigating a nymph that has just come up out of the ground and is rock wall climbing to find a good place to begin its transformation. Next to it, is one that has begun splitting it's shell.

When they first come out, they are very white. An unnamed teen in our house said they were gross and they looked naked.

Having successfully gotten out of its shell, the cicada now sits and dries its wings. I wonder what process occurs to change it from the white cicada above, to the finished black cicada below.

This cicada we took back to the house to watch it "hatch". It is a very slow process. The cicadas seem to be very vunerable at this stage, as they can't really move once they start the final process. We found that the chickens loved eating them. In fact, did you know that cicadas are eaten by humans? In case you are inspired to cook up a batch, I found many recipes on the web. I can just see it now. Mom, what's for dinner? Cicada tacos. Right. Perhaps if I were starving and it was like, oh, 1100 A.D. and Kroger wasn't down the road with perfectly good chicken breasts all cleaned and ready to cook.

From the recipe: "Before you start your cooking you need to remove all the hard parts: "Before you start your cooking you need to remove all the hard parts: wings, legs and head. These parts don’t contain much of the meat either but may be very sharp, so its best to get rid of them. Right. Now, I don't eat things I have to coax out, like oysters, crab legs, etc. Call me spoiled, but I just don't visualize myself pulling the wings off of live insects and popping them in the oven on a cookie sheet for a tasty treat or frying them up in a pan. Gag. I did find a recipe for chocolate covered cicadas, which maybe would be a possibility. Nah, why spoil a good thing?

Back to science lessons, we downloaded some good diagrams and information from EnchantedLearning.com and spent the day hearing from William, "MOM. COME LOOK!" He determined that he could not climb his favorite tree without squishing cicadas, or really even walk in the grass. The most amazing thing to think about for me is that this variety of cicada laid the eggs for this brood before my kids were born, before we moved here, and when I was newly married. All done seventeen years ago on days when I was busy in my life, unknowing that 20 miles from where I lived, insects were busy preparing a science lesson for me and a little boy not yet born.

In a Dead Faint

William frantically called me away from my desk work. Something was wrong with one of the chickies. We had tried picking them up for him to hold, and though William is gentle beyond his years, the chickies are not very socialized yet and were very hard to hold, flapping and carrying on. So, I had put their crate on the floor for him to pet them rather than hold.

"This chickie is dying, " he said. I thought there was no way, as I'd just put the crate on the ground. But sure enough, one of the chickies was limp in my hand, its neck lolling around, eyes closed, and it had the "pant" that I've seen many times on injured baby fledgling birds. It was dying. William claimed no injury from him and I could see no visible trauma.

I held it, wondering what to do. Did it inhale some sawdust? Something in its throat? I massaged its neck, held it up. Nothing. I blew on it. Nothing. I tried mouth-to-mouth to Lauren's disgust. No really, I just blew in its beak. Still nothing. So, I returned to my desk, holding it against me thinking at least I could hold it until it died. It then began to jerk every now and again, and suddenly, it was okay though shaky. I put it in a box under my desk lamp for warmth, and short story, after awhile, it was fine and returned to its mates. Today, I cannot tell which of them it was.

This story is perplexing because last week, my sister Diane and my nieces were visiting and reported the same exact thing had happened with one of the black chickies outside up by the barn. Reanna had picked one up and it had virtually "died" in her hands. She put it down, thinking she must have done something, and it popped back to life. Can chickens play "possum"? I've googled and googled and can find nothing on it. I will continue to search for the answer. Perhaps like fainting goats, I have fainting chickens. I can only think they were "chicken" and were frightened literally to death.

Farm Notes
Daisy proved last night she's as worthy of a scavenger as Kiara by stealing half of a turkey breast (about two pounds) from the counter last night and eating the whole thing.

The big chickens are on strike, though Chickin' Lickin' continues to lay steadily.

Wordless Wednesday - Cicada Casings

My Week in Review

Please excuse my lack of blogging lately. I've been busy with pet shitting. No wait, make that pet sitting, although this particular time, it actually has been both. A dear friend and I exchange pet sitting with each other, and I love their animals like my own. It is even (normally) a nice little get away a few times a day to a quiet, clean house.

Scratch clean this time. Lauren best described it as a crime scene. If you are reading this at breakfast, you might want to navigate away from this page and come back later. Really. Or maybe I should temper what I say, as I've been told by known sources that I can be crude. (Excuuuuuuuuse me!) So I'll be a bit more circumspect.

This beautiful dog to the left, Kiara, is a lot like my Daisy. Both are imposters, masquarading as one breed all the while they are really Beagles inside. Both having abandonment issues, they need a lot of love and reassurance, and love their food, eating everything quickly and totally. Given that I know this way of thinking, I should have predicted ...well.

As I've done myself, the owners left a treat for the dog, something to assuage the dog's sadness over their departure. In typical Kiara (and Daisy) fashion, she finished the footlong rawhide bone in one day. This resulted in days of digestive upset (which is putting it mildly). To top it off, Kiara also somehow managed to get an entire canister of soft dog treats off the counter and eat the entire can. The results of that - you don't want to know. As I said, think crime scene. After a few days of boiled hamburger, rice and cottage cheese, she is all better. Thank goodness.

During this time, we also were trying to increase Chiron's (minature horse) training and exercise. One day, Anna and I walked him around "the loop", a two mile walk. Because it started raining, we walked quickly. Later that night, Wm came running from the barn. Chi wasn't doing so well, laying down and rolling, which is a typical sign of colic. He seemed, however, in no pain, had gut sounds, had manure even. He was also doing a strange stretching out with his back legs.

Lauren suggested that he was "tying-up", a condition sometimes seen in horses that have over exercised due to release of lactic acid from exercising into the muscle. He seemed to be having muscle spasms. I'd worked the poor little guy too much. I called the vet and he didn't agree - said it was colic. The prescription for both was the same, however, a bit of banamine (pain killer). After twenty minutes, he was doing well. I, however, got no sleep that night as I had to get up every two hours to make sure he was making manure (I told you this week was crappy) and on his feet. He's fine now, and on a more gradual exercise schedule.

Wordless Wednesday

Lessons for William

On the way to StuffMart, I outlined our errands for William. They included voting. He asked what that was and after a brief explanation, he asked if I was running for President (bless his little heart). No, I replied, it would require me to be away from him for much of the day and that would not be what we wanted. So, he asked if Daddy was running for President then. No, Daddy is not running for President, as he isn't a politician. What is a politician? Well, it's someone who helps to run the government. What is the government? Well, it is the structure that makes the laws and such that help run our country. A lot of lawyers are polititians for that reason. What is a lawyer? Well, .....and so on. He can exhaust me in under a minute.

We proceeded to StuffMart where he perused the Star Wars aisle in need of spending his allowance. Allowance is the best thing ever invented for a little kid. I am often now asked, "I want this, but am I paying or you?" which often determines whether the item is really all that desirable after all. He's been saving weekly for some time to buy a costly Lego Star Wars ship. It bothered him, however, that he would have to use all of his money to purchase it. He settled for a ship that cost half of the desired ship, as he can't stand the idea of using all of his money.

Allowance also allows for the idea of trading smaller bills for larger, counting the available cash and subtracting the cost of the purchase. We came back to the subject of the government when I explained that he not only had to pay for the ship, but also pay tax on it. What is tax? Well, taxes are what the government collects to build roads, schools...."Well, I'm not going to school. I'm going to homeschool." I guess that settles that!

Farm Notes
A retired neighbor took four loads of manure from us, which was a favor really. Yet, he thought we'd done him a favor and wanted to give something of himself back. He brought five newborn chickies to us. I don't know the breed, and will have to ask him. Pray for hens.

Dh cut some of the taller grass this past weekend, including an area where our ailing septic system has left a "slick". We laughed that we'd had the same thought - of boys using the black slime as a "slip-n-slide".

Today, I noticed policemen all over town pulling over cars, though I could see no violation myself. At my volunteer job, I found out that two separate cases of an escaped prisoner were being worked this morning. In one case, it was 40 miles away, yet the guy used to live here. No details on the other case. I hope they got them.

Can I Have Your Breakfast?

Full House

My days are very full, often of music coming from the piano, boy sounds of blasting rockets coming from ingeniously constructed plastic toys, and spaces taken by painting easels set up in front of my windows, books spilling out all over the tables. My kitchen is my one refuge, my one space I try to keep cleared and clean, yet even there, activity hums and no sooner is it clean, but another meal is needed.

Yet, I've heard moms rejoicing in their pending empty nests. Though I'm certain that I'll fill my time with just as much activity when the days come that scissors stay where they are put and clutter doesn't grow in corners, I'm just as certain that I'll wish for those days of seeing Anna painting next to the piano where Lauren plays. I'm certain that I'll wish for a little boy that still admires me and doesn't yet struggle for independence.

There are times, pet sitting for people with newer houses with nice furniture that I wonder if I ever will get to the point of having a neat, tidy home. And then again, I hope not.

Lauren in Japan

Here is a link to an article in today's paper about Lauren's trip to Japan.

My Margin: Hanging from the Cliff with One Finger

God has a wry sense of humor. Over the next few days, I have activities and responsibilities back to back. Just as I was contemplating this, a friend brought over the book Margin: Restoring Emotional, Physical, Financial, and Time Reserves to Overloaded Lives. Hah! I won't have time to read it until at least Monday. I also got the book Organizing Plain and Simple: A Ready Reference Guide with Hundreds of Solutions to Your Everyday Clutter Challenges from the library which I will read as soon as I remember which pile I threw it in. My daughter is telling me "do you really need to be doing this now?" which is my clue to get moving and get to work. It should be an interesting day.

Wordless Wednesday - A Spring Crop of Babies

C'est Vrai?

In our French lesson today, Anna and I came across the following quote from journalist and writer Françoise Giroud:

La femme sera vraiment l'égale de l'homme le jour où, à un poste important, on désignera une femme incompétente.

(Women will really be men's equals on the day when an incompetent woman is appointed to an important position.)

In light of our current political races, what do you think of this quote?

Bad Horse Month

It is definitely not the year of the horse, at least for me. This has been a bad horse month. First, losing Bay. Attended Rolex next, a competition involving cross-country jumping where two horses were euthanized that day. Then, miniature horse "Maggie" who resides on our land as a favor to a former neighbor, escaped and hit a car. She survived unscathed - the car racked up $1100 in damages. We heard a friend's beloved favorite horse is gravely ill. And then the Derby and the loss of Eight Belles.

And I wonder - will I feel that same connection again with a horse? Oh, yes, I have Roxie, but as a mini, she's really more like a dog. Horses do not sit in your lap as Roxie does. Still, as I watched the Derby and saw Big Brown run, and even despite the tragedy, I marvelled at his strength, his power, and the beauty of a horse at his prime. Someday....but not just yet.

A Load of .....Well, You Know

Lauren and I are pet sitting this week for a young couple and their baby who are in Paris and then London. Another job starts in two days for a woman traveling to Israel. And of course, my own dear daughter just returned from Japan. Myself? I am moving manure.

Over the winter, we've accumulated a good amount of, shall we say, fertilizer? An elderly neighbor loves all that we can give her, and so her husband dutifully brings a trailer over for me to load with our tractor.

It is good timing. The house next to ours, built behind our barn and near the manure pile for what reason I'll never comprehend, was sold and a "middle-aged woman and her mother" (according to the selling couple) are moving in. I've not had to deal with neighbors much at all, but each time I do, I wonder if they'll complain about our rooster crowing, my kids in the yard all hours of the day, or horses that churn up the dry paddock that is next to the intensely manicured lawn.

The house and yard in question are beautiful. Lauren described the cleanliness of Japan. Yet, how could I live without the animals? What could be more satisfying than a good tractor and a pile of manure to move. Okay, I dream of a Caribbean vacation with dh and my girls before they grow up and fly the nest. And yes, I'd like to travel. And yes, a new house with a working septic system and new roof would be lovely. But right now, in this place, we've worked together as a family, felt joy and loss, learned to appreciate small things - like how little chickies love to fight over and rip apart a worm, or how foals make a funny face to older horses that says "I'm a baby - please don't hurt me". I wouldn't change our lifestyle for the world.

As for the photo, William continues his paternal family's farming tradition by learning to drive a tractor from an early age. Dh claims to have driven a tractor standing up, well before he could reach the pedals. (Warning: Do not try this at home!) You can see that Wm has the same photosensitivity that runs in our family. I offered sunglasses, and he claimed he did not need them.
"But, you are squinting," I protested.
"It's only because my eyelashes are sweaty," he replied.
Okaaaaay.

Lauren's Home!

Adolescent Brains are Works in Progress

Giedd hypothesizes that the growth in gray matter followed by the pruning of connections is a particularly important stage of brain development in which what teens do or do not do can affect them for the rest of their lives. He calls this the "use it or lose it principle," and tells FRONTLINE, "If a teen is doing music or sports or academics, those are the cells and connections that will be hardwired. If they're lying on the couch or playing video games or MTV, those are the cells and connections that are going to survive."

Ohayou

Good morning!

My daughter, who is in Japan, and I were talking over the internet. She made the statement that returning home will be such an "adjustment". Why so? Because "everything here is so neat and clean". Was I just insulted?

I offered to help her apply Japanese principles to her bedroom. I also offered to get rid of all the animals and move to a house with no yard, both of which are our major source of dirt and time-consuming work. We could implement a "no shoes" rule, and I'm sure that it would help, but I'm just not very disciplined at following through with rules like that.

In Japan, one takes off ones shoes at the doorway, replacing them with your own indoor-only slippers. Guest slippers are provided for visitors. This seems okay, but I am astounded by the requirement that when entering the bathroom, one must exchange one's slippers for the community slippers for the toilet only. I can just imagine, wanting to go to the bathroom and the toilet slippers are missing. "Okay," I yell out loud. "Who forgot to take off the toilet slippers?" I investigate the house slippers left behind for signs of the perpetrator. Likely, it would not work here.

Notes:
For those of you that have inquired about "poor" Chiron, he is doing quite well. As the doc told me, he was a bit humble for the first day or two, and gave up rearing in favor of just plain biting.
He and I need to have a talk.

It is sunny! I've dug the garden and need to get to work.

Today is my busy day - getting Anna to her work at a stable with her horse, my volunteer job for a couple of hours, back to get Anna and her horse, fix dinner and then Anna to art class and back. Very full, but oddly satisfying.

Commenting: My own blog seems to think I am a spammer, and though I'm trying to turn off word verification for comments, a real person (is there such a thing in the blogosphere?) must look at my blog and verify me. I wonder which post made them think I'm not real? I wonder how many years it will take for a real person to get around to me?

How You Know It's Spring

You find a sprite on your doorstep wearing an

ivy wreath and a dandelion necklace.

Chiron is Now a Gelding

Today's science lesson is in horse anatomy and removal of said anatomy. It may be that I saw more winces today from human males than I've ever seen.

WARNING: This video is very graphic in nature and bloody. Do not watch it if you are bothered by footage of surgical procedures or blood. It is not appropriate for young children or older ones unless you've have the birds and bees discussion! (Or unless you want to have it today!)

A Clean Start

As I sat at the computer, I heard the washer start up and inquired as to who was doing laundry. It turned out to be Anna. When I exclaimed my disbelief, she stated that she had also cleaned her room.

"Wow, the world must be coming to an end!" I exclaimed.
"I hope not," she said quickly. "Because if it is, I just wasted a whole lot of my time."

Wordless Wednesday

Lessons from a Cat

If you don't run, they can't chase you.

Chiron

The vet had an emergency today, and Lil' Boy was spared becoming a gelding until Friday.

It seems some males think that I should have some sympathy for the colt. He tried to bite me in the chest, okay? He tried to bite the family jewels when dh was in the paddock. He thinks he's God's gift to the stallion world. I have no sympathy.

Rearing and screaming his way into our barn, he declares that it's him or me. And I say - it's him.

He does now have a name: Chiron. Optimistically named, pronounced kye'-rən. From D'Aulaire's Greek Myths:
There was one centaur who was kind and wise and was fond of children. His name was Chiron. Though he looked like the other centaurs, he wasn't related to them at all. He was the son of Cronus the Titan and was immortal. Chiron was famous as the greatest teacher in Greece. Kings brought their small sons to him so he could raise them in the true spirit of heroes.

In his quiet cave on Mount Pelion, he taught them manly sports and how to use the healing herbs of the earth and how to read the stars in the sky. All his pupils returned to their homes exceeding their fathers in courage and knowledge.

Best In Show

Congratulations, Anna!

Best in Show for Self-Portrait

First Place, Oil Painting

Second Place, Still Life

My Major Project

Well, perhaps I'll reveal my major project a little early - since the subject matter is already on another public blog. My daughter, Lauren, is now in Japan. She and fifteen other American piano students were chosen to play in the Suzuki Talent Institute's 10 Piano Concert. (For each song, 10 students will play the same song on 10 grand pianos at the same time.) She will be there much of April, staying with a Japanese family there. She was happy to find that they have a grand piano! You can read about her adventures on her blog.

My part in the project was getting her ready. "Are you sure you need all those shoes" (upon finding that her suitcase was four pounds over). I was sewing to get her recital dress a bit shorter. At the last recital, she tripped a bit on it going on-stage, and also found people stepped on the back. so I hemmed all seven layers yet again. We also were making a scrapbook for her to take showing the characters in her life and photos of our animals and house. I kept telling her that it was a measure of my love that I was willling to both sew and scrapbook at all, much less in the same week.

We were very happy to hear her lovely voice this morning, and a few details of life in Japan. She described the toilet as having many buttons she was afraid to use. When I asked what they did, she said one sprayed water on you, one was to dry (huh, a blow dryer for your bottom, who'd have thought?), and that the seat raised and lowered itself as you walk towards and away. I could see William, saying "Watch this!" and walking forward and backwards, making the lid go up and down and up and down. No, that wouldn't work here! I will leave Lauren to blog other details of her trip, but that one was too good to wait.

And speaking of her blog, the girl can WRITE!!! Over the years, I've been asked many times how to get a child to write. My answer was usually that I didn't. Lauren didn't like to write, didn't unless she had to, and I didn't try to make her. There is no curriculum that can make a child want to write, and writing, to be good, must come from a desire to do so. She has other talents, I thought. She read and does read continuously, which was enough. And then one day, she had to learn to write an essay for a college class. And she did. In one day. And then, a desire to share her trip with us. I was impressed with her word choice and imagery. And she can write.

Notes of all sorts:
I make wine from kits. I bottled the Sauvingon Blanc and started the Cabernet.

It is cold and overcast.

I am reading the Thirteenth Tale.

Dh is sharpening the blades on the lawnmower, optimistic that we might be able to get a break in the weather to cut the fluorescent grass.

Today is the airshow and Thunder over Louisville (fireworks) to celebrate the coming Kentucky Derby. Big jets are flying over my house as we are on the show's flight pattern.

Of Things to Come

I have completed my second major project. You will have to wait about a month to read about it, but to give you a clue as to the depths I was willing to go to complete it, you could have found me both sewing and scrapbooking this past week. Gasp! Such a turnover! Things I often vocally deny I will ever do again, and here I was, scrapping away.

Now, I must pick up the threads and get my life back in order, though I know not where to start. So I blog! I have taken over possession of "Lil' Boy", the miniature colt we helped birth last year. He is very studly, which is about to be rectified next Monday. I am wondering if my friend, Becky, wants me to save anything for her dinner? He is very unmannerly, likes to rear and charge, and sometimes bites. If he wasn't so small, I'd be very afraid. I am making good progress with him, but doubt he'll listen much until he is gelded. That should get his attention.

Ginny and Jorgen are back home, both ponies, while Quid remains out for training at a local farm. The grass here is fluorescent green, and we must be careful to keep them off of it most of the time.

Spanglish

While driving to Lexington for this past weekend's mounted games competition, I heard loud crunching sounds coming from the rear of the van.

"What is that sound?" I asked. Lauren said that she and Matthias were eating tostados.

I wondered aloud if they could be good, for they had no salt.
"Yes," replied Lauren, "but they are very jalo-peño-ey."

Before I could ponder the correctness of this word, Matthias piped in that it should be "jalo-penish".

Anna, sitting next to me in the front turned her head, with "Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww!"

We all busted out laughing.
"He said jalopen-ISH" I clarified.
We continued to laugh so hard I was in danger of wrecking the car.
Matthias turned quite red and is probably wondering what he's gotten himself into, living with us.

So now, I can tell you that one big project was this trip to Lexington where Anna rode her horse Ginny in the USMGA's Bluegrass Open competiton. She was very happy with the weekend. Getting ready for it was a challenge, for not only packing and getting the kids ready, but I was the show secretary which was complicated by many last minute changes and entries. Saturday was cold and misty, but Sunday was a beautiful day in the sun with horses at the Kentucky Horse Park. It doesn't get any better than that.

Farm Notes

I am beginning training with Roxie the miniature horse. She is learning to lay down when I say "down". She is such a treasure.

Two bigger horses will come home tomorrow: Jorgen and Ginny. Ginny has been gone for training, Jorgen was being borrowed for the competition. Quid (Lauren's horse) is going into training for a month. She was ridden this past weekend by the trainer and it was amazing to see her gallop at full speed. Just amazing.

Daisy (Lauren's dog) communicated her displeasure at being left at home by leaving a "present" on Lauren's open suitcase. I'm not sure how to train out separation anxiety.

Note to self: do not allow a six year old boy TWO Fiber One bars (with 35% of adult daily fiber needs) at 2 p.m. even if they do taste good to him and have chocolate in them unless you want to get up with said boy at 1 a.m.

Now - it is time to work on my second major project, to be disclosed at a later date.

Picky Eater

It's not my mom's fault I'm a little less than adventurous when it comes to food. I remember rejecting foods I now eat - asparagus, broccoli, spinach (I still will not eat brussel sprouts). I have expanded my horizons, but still am a bit squeamish when it comes to sea food and things that are, shall we say, unusual?

I enjoy learning new things and experimenting with the intent to continue to learn throughout my life, but I consider food adventure switching from white to brown eggs. I most certainly could not eat this. I think my friend Becky beats me hands down in the "willling to try anything to learn" category. Becky, all I can say is "why?"

As for seafood, I have biblical backing. I am listening to Deuteronomy on e-book, and it says to one can eat any fish that has fins and a tale. Lots of creatures live in the sea, but only eat fish with fins and a tale. Sounds good to me.

Farm Notes:
I believe all our topsoil is now effectively washed away.

The chickens are out this morning. They evidently survived a night of not being locked up - and are enjoying a little free-ranging. Should be fun to round them up in the rain.

I have two major projects going on right now, consuming every minute of my days. I'll blog about them soon.

Wordless Wednesday

Spring Murder Mystery

As I've blogged, I'm not a winter person and have been
looking forward to warmer weather and spring.
Daffodils are the first indication that warmer weather is coming.
I was so excited! Until I saw my daffodils:

It seems that someone else likes daffodils - to roll in.
Great detective that I am, I was soon hot on the trail of the culprit:

But the flower behind her ear was a dead giveaway:

Easter Experiments

For some reason, I've always loved the sugary "Peeps" available only at Easter. I've always called them "chickies". My kids don't seem as enamored of them. Yesterday at Lauren's piano lesson, we mentioned to her teacher that William had discovered that if you put a "chickie" in the microwave, it blows up. He got a horrified look on his face until I realized he thought we meant a live chickie, as he knows we recently hatched some. We soon clarified. Because I knew of what I was thinking, it didn't occur to me that he might think something else.

Here is what happens when you put a candy chickie in the microwave.

Before: Poor innocent peep

Getting gooey

Chickie blob

Dead chickie

Disclaimer: We didn't continue to cook the peep, as we were worried it might catch on fire and ruin my microwave. I've heard of this happening to someone but I won't name names.

Inquiring Minds Want to Know

The overwhelming loss of Bay will be with me for some time, and it is still hard to talk about. Interestingly, it is as hard for me as the loss of Juno, my constant companion. I was reflecting today that those animals were part of me, just as humans become part of you, and letting go is saying goodbye not only to them, but a phase or part of your life. I have nothing really to keep of Bay, save his blanket, to remember him by. I was so hoping he'd respond to IV treatement, that I didn't take a lock of his tail. I guess I do have his bridle, likely not to be used again. I was thinking today, however, if I reach down inside myself, I can feel him. He's part of me now, and I don't need anything physical. I am that.

Many people don't know about horses and what happens when horses die. It isn't something pleasant to discuss, yet, it is part of life and perhaps it is my task in life to connect people to things that aren't known anymore in our suburban lives. My horse, Smokey, when he died, weighted 800 pounds, and died at home. We were blessed with a neighbor that is an excavator and felt bad for my girls' loss. He brought over a bulldozer and buried Smokes in the back pasture after we dragged him there with the tractor. (You should have seen the looks on the faces of the horses in the pasture!)

Bay, on the other hand, died at the hospital, and weighed in at 1200 pounds. He could not be brought back without considerable expense and effort. So, the question I keep getting is what happened to his body? Well, there is a service here in our horsey state, and whether at the hospital or home, they'll come get the horse. They arrive with a big truck, which likely already contains the remains of other horses from prior stops. Most likely, they take these horses all to a processing plant, and the sad reality of it, is that they use the meat for feed (dog food, etc) and hooves for making glue. I don't know what all they do, but that's as far as I'm willing to educate you. Google it if you must.

I comfort myself knowing he's not there, and best that his body goes to good use. I am going to get a small plaque for my flower garden for him, and remember him strong.

A Homeschool Scene

During a recent visit, my five year old niece was in the car with me and my sister. "My mommy said that when she was a little girl, her sisters didn't like her." I looked over at my sister, whose smile didn't reach her eyes. She did think that.

As an older sister, I remember being fond of my sister, reading to her and pushing her on the swing. Yet, our six year age difference in a culture that had never heard of homeschooling and thus, separated us for most of the day, it is easy to see that her younger memories wouldn't have included the sister that was always at school or doing homework.

My kids, together all day, must learn to find ways to deal with each other. There is often no escape. The piano is loud, the little brother is full of pent-up energy, the sister is having a bad day. I say that this is a good thing. They are learning to live with one another and learn how to deal with variances in personality. They are learning to appreciate each other.

Not too long ago, William went for a hair cut. The, shall we say "country-bred", woman cutting his hair asked him what kind of music he liked. He quickly answered, "Classical." She was speechless. But that is what he hears all day from his sister's piano. That is what he hears her play on her computer. That is what he hears her say she likes. She is more than someone who has a life elsewhere. She's part of his life.

A Winner

Lauren and I were at the teller's window at the bank yesterday. A dark black man was to the left of us at another teller, and we could not help but overhear the conversation about a contest he had won. "Yeah, I won, but it was for sessions at a tanning salon, and I don't need no tan. I gave it away to a woman, who said it was a good deal and was happy to get it, but I couldn't use it." We all chuckled.

Pretty Is as Pretty Does

Americans often give lip service to the notion that advertising promotes unhealthy images and attitudes in our young teens, particularly girls. Little is done to counteract the overwhelming number of messages that promote attractiveness and sexuality as the most important attribute one could achieve. I was thinking about this while reading an article about a local contest for hand models Aspiring models: Fame is at your fingertips. A jeweler is running a contest for hand models, used often (I would guess) in jewelry advertisement. To their credit, they want the contest to be "fun and creative". I am wondering what they have in mind.

I apply a rule to both horses and teens (sorry, girls!): Pretty is as pretty does. What is beauty, after all? Is beauty just the appearance of beauty or the true appreciation of the creation of God? Hands are one of the features of humans that helps set us apart from the animal kingdom. I find both my girls beautiful beyond words. I find what they do with that beauty inspiring and breathtaking. Are beautiful hands those that have perfect red fingernails or are hands beautiful that can do this?

Anna laughed when I told her about the contest, because of her bitten fingernails. "I'd never win with my hands," she said. Her hands can do this:

They should, in my opinion, win hands down.

Tell It Like It Is

Upon waking, William's first question yesterday was how Bay was. Was he better now? Breaking the news to children can be difficult, and I tried to soften the blow. "No, I'm sorry, he's not. He didn't get better."
"You mean he's DEAD?"
I flinched. I hadn't yet told Anna, sleeping in the next room, although she likely now knew, and the blunt reality of it was hard. "Yes," I said, "he's dead."
William wiped away tears as I explained that he couldn't get better and was now out of pain.
"But, what will you ride?" he asked, concerned immediately with the practical matters. More than likely, he was remembering the rides Wm and I often took in the summers, double. I said I didn't know, and wasn't ready to worry about it yet.

Later that day when visiting friends and re-telling details, William piped in, "Bay's DEAD."
In some weird way, his matter-of-fact words helped me.

Today brought sunshine, warmer weather, and I sat on the porch. I looked out over our overused pasture, now horseless. Our other three horses have gone for training and we have only the two miniature horses left. I realized how much my identity is tied to the way we live, devoting money we could have used for a bigger, fancier house and instead having animals and land to care for.

I sat down on the grass, and Roxie, the filly from this past summer, remembered that she used to sit in my lap and somehow, managed to roll her 250 pounds onto my outstretched legs. She then rolled over, splaying her legs in the air like a dog while I rubbed her belly. My heart still hurts for loss of Bay, but other animals are ready to be loved and I must move on. It will not be easy though.

I thank all of you that wrote with your condolences. They meant a lot to me. One friend's words were particularly comforting to me:

The connection that we have with our animals can be so deep that it is a type of spiritual communion. And that spiritual communion means that God is present as well. Read Isaiah 11:1-10 for a description of what it will be like when God’s kingdom is here- it is going to be full of animals.

Notes:
My loss of Bay and Easter overshadowed Chickin Lickin's happiness in the birth of five chickies. They are 1/4 Aracauna, 1/4 Cochin and 1/2 Black Silkie. Should be an interesting mix.