kids problem solving

The kids' problem:

The wild kitten Blackie went under the front porch.

He won't come out.

Their solution: a trap with bait

Like the boots will stop it...

in memory of

Patches.

We adopted this kitten two years ago. The ugly truth is... my sister had too many cats, many with ringworm. She dropped Patches off at our house. See the ringworm on her nose?

Now, let me tell you the truth about cats. There are cats and then there are CATS. Patches was a cat; her grandmother was a house-cat. Barn CATS don't typically get along with house-cats, at least around here. Barn CATS hunt for their food if they're hungry. Cats with "house" in their blood wail at the back door hoping for some scraps from the table.

I used to like Patches, but she was a dumb, dumb cat. She didn't know the basic methods of survival; she actually thought Lucy wanted to play with her. Lucy really wanted to eat her. It's a wonder she lived to be full-grown.

She passed ringworm on to our kids. Her yeeeoowwwwing by the back door didn't bother us for a while, but pretty soon it got annoying. After she had her first litter of kittens, she developed a severe case of diarrhea and vomiting. And since then, she has walked with a hump back because she poops so often. Seriously, it's every 4 steps.

The barn cats shunned her. We started shunning her too; it stinks to be pooped on by Patches. Our deck got pooped on too.

Patches had three litters of kittens, all as clueless as she. Her kittens had a 12% survival rate.

This past Sunday, Patches went missing. Her kitten, Marmalade, has been bawling. Marmalade is also shunned by the barn cats. Marmalade was covered in dog slobber today. She's still alive and able to feed herself, but she's caked with dirt.

We aren't too upset about the absence of Patches and the whole situation, but a thought popped into my head this afternoon as the once-wild kitten came running, all crusty and smelly. This is what an orphan must feel like. The whole situation seemed painfully similar to what some people must go through. And I swallowed a hard lump.

farming with grandpa

awesome red socks

I got sprayed with dust taking this picture.

apples galore

Family fun with the cider press...

Everything in moderation...and that goes for apples and cider, too.

I warned Isaac to stop eating apples.

I guess he had to figure that out for himself.

Hours later.....Mommyyyy!!!!! Come wipe meeeeee!!!!

talkin' trash

There are some things in life you must experience before you fully understand. One of those things is the reason why anyone might want to talk trash to an animal.

I did it.

I even jabbed my fingers down at him.

And if I didn't kick the trailer he was in, I sure wanted to.

Billy is a rented ram. He bleats in a higher pitch than the ewes, yet he has a horrible domineering attitude. If we come close to the pen, he starts butting his head around like he's-da-ram. He even struts around the ewes with an I'm-yo-daddy kind of ego. So, when Billy peed in front of the stock trailer yesterday and lifted his front lip, baring his teeth with his head held high, we cringed and our anger boiled.

Sheep are typically dumb animals. Billy is no exception...except that he wasn't dumb enough to buy into our luring. Before we started, it seemed a simple task to move him from the pen to the trailer. Oats and corn would surely do the trick. They didn't. Sheep are also vulnerable animals. Sheep are easy to disable if you grab their far rear flank with one hand and extend your other hand under their neck. Uh...I guess this is easy with lambs. We had a little trouble with this 175-pound ram. He protested by going limp.

Sixty minutes into this 95-degree endeavor, our patience ran out. Jared mustered up all his strength and pulled the ram into the trailer. Problem #54: How does one shut the trailer door with four fat ewes in the way? Despite Jared's kicking and shoving the ram while I squished the ewes trying to get the trailer door shut, Billy jumped out. You can imagine our frustration and the fury.

Ninety minutes in...beginning the whole process again, we finally succeeded, slamming that trailer door shut so hard it would've broken a leg had one been stuck in the door. I made a fist and yelled, "YESSSS!!!!!!!!!" Jared leaned his arm on the trailer, shook his head and smiled. And I talked trash to that ram.

(No pictures today.) :)

P.S. I didn't cuss. I promise.

sowing seed

A farmer went out to sow his seed...
Some fell on the path;

the birds ate them.

Some fell on rocky places;

it quickly sprang up but was scorched

and withered from having no roots.

Some fell among thorns;

these grew and choked the plants

Some fell on good soil;

it produced a crop.

Jesus explains this parable in Matthew 13:18-23. In Crazy Love, Francis Chan writes, "My caution to you is this: Do not assume you are good soil."

As I finished up making mounds of cucumbers and zucchini and squash and melons, I thought to myself, Okay, these seeds better grow now. We've planted about 15 packets of "premium" seeds in this garden of good soil. What if it's all for nothing?! What if they don't come up? What if the seeds don't grow? What a WASTE that would be. Not just a waste of money, but a waste of time. We planted 1,800 tiny pink corn seeds all by hand. How frustrated we would be if they don't produce a crop.

What does God think when seed does not produce fruit? What does He think when it is choked out?

I cannot assume that I am good soil.

tromping on my sister's ground

On a beautiful spring day, letting 10 kids loose on a farm is a recipe for fun...

...or perhaps disaster!

I am addicted to photographing this beautiful boy!

It is such a blessing to hang out with sisters and kids. The day was filled with good conversation, occasional concerns, and random phrases from the kids like "You're all a bunch of wimps!" and "Help! Help!" Good times.