Grandfather was not a fan of machinery.  He said the problem with machines was that when you said "whoah" they just kept on going.

Hello Mayberry

Life is funny.  I’ve been a lot of places, met a lot of amazing people, seen a lot of really cool stuff, had a chance to be part of some brilliant work places.  Now here I am, livin’ the simple, quiet life (figuratively speaking of course as most of the time it’s anything but quiet around here). 

Our home in Italy was reminiscent of any Tuscan villa you would see in any movie with a Florentine setting, with sweeping vistas of sunflower fields, olive groves and vineyards falling and rising in all directions.  Yet these fields that surround me here have just as much intrigue and beauty as any Tuscan landscape.  And so much more.

Whenever people hear about where we’ve come from, and where we live now, they inevitably gasp and ask, “What brought you HERE?”  And I just smile, and get all sentimental inside, and a favorite song starts drumming away in my head.

I don’t have to “miss” Mayberry.  Cause I live there.  And I literally live on that old dirt road that isn’t listed on the map.  *grin*.  And I’m lovin’ it.

Mayberry - Rascal Flatts

“Sometimes it feels like this world is spinning faster
Than it did in the old days 
So naturally, we have more natural disasters 
From the strain of a fast pace

Sunday was a day of rest
Now, it’s one more day for progress
And we can’t slow down ‘cause more is best
It’s all an endless process

I miss Mayberry
Sitting on the porch drinking ice-cold cherry Coke
Where everything is black & white                       

Picking on a six string
Where people pass by & you call them by their first name
Watching the clouds roll by
Bye, bye

Sometimes I can hear this old earth shouting
Through the trees as the wind blows
That’s when I climb up here on this mountain
To look through God’s window
Now I can’t fly
But I got two feet that get me high up here
Above the noise and city streets
My worries disappear

I miss Mayberry
Sitting on the porch drinking ice-cold cherry Coke
Where everything is black & white                       

Picking on a six string
Where people pass by & you call them by their first name
Watching the clouds roll by
Bye, bye

Sometimes I dream I’m driving down an old dirt road
Not even listed on a map
I pass a dad and son carrying a fishing pole
But I always wake up every time I try to turn back

I miss Mayberry
Sitting on the porch drinking ice-cold cherry Coke
Where everything is black & white                       

Picking on a six string
Where people pass by & you call them by their first name
Watching the clouds roll by

Bye, bye.

Or in our case.  “Hello.”

If It’s Privacy You’re Seekin’

Carry on my wayward son.  There’ll be peace when you are… gone.

Look at the little rascal who came calling today

cute as a button and nigh giving our dog a heart attack from all the barking she did.

she must have barked for three hours straight

till she finally convinced this little rascal to come out from under the playhouse.

To say that Rascal was aloof would be an understatement.

He pretty much let Sophie give him an Eskimo kiss.

and just sat there scratching his chin, ho-hum… this dog is such a bore.

adorable doesn’t even begin to cut it.

I seriously wanted to pick him (her?) up and get give  some serious snuggles..

I came MIGHTY close I tell you

not close enough for any Eskimo kisses, though.

I think she was a little overwhelmed by all the attention. 

when all she was looking for was a peaceful place to unwind.

take a little afternoon dip

Play some water polo…

Sorry girl, you came to the WRONG place if what you were looking for was privacy.    

Celebrating May

May day found us up to our eyeballs in all kinds of dirty.  I haven’t had time to post since then, but here is a glimpse of the farmyard festivities and their repercussions.

Bed & Breakfast

You know the food and bedding has to be good when the clientele keep coming back… 

As for me,  I thoroughly relish  sharing my breakfast (yes, even my  garden strawberries) with such docile and graceful visitors.

All’s Right.

The (pigeon’s) on the wing;

The (lambs are in the barn):

God’s in His Heaven - All’s right with the world.

Robert Browning (adapted *grin*).

The Jury is In

The Verdict: Spring has sprung. 

Deliberations were not lengthy, the evidence was irrefutable.

Exhibit A.

Exhibit B. 

Exhibit C.

Just Another Day on the Prairies.

It froze friday night. the first icicles and ice sheets are always fun for the kids. This came out of the wheelbarrow.
I stayed inside and was toasty warm canning tomatoes

and sprucing up my fall window displays a little bit for thanksgivingwhile Prairie Guy and the boys "played around" outside (I swear it's just not work for a man when it involves a backhoe, dumptruck, tractor or heavy machinery of any type....) They brought in the hay;


babysat the tractor

does this face spell trouble or what?

While Prairie Guy prepared the foundation for.............

THIS!!! We finally got our tenth anniversary present (we chose this in lieu of an anniversary get-a-way). And for those of you who know us, yes we have been married TWELVE years, and man, do I know it, patience is definitely a virtue!! We moved to the farm on our tenth and have had a few priorities (Like a bathtub big enough to lay down in and a shower you can actually stand up in just for starters ) to take care of prior to actually making this baby a reality. I am SO excited.

I spent some time just enjoying the animals they love their snuggles and they didn't get much this week with all my running.
The "lambs" are undistinguishable from the "ewes" right now.

next week they will make very nice lambchops on my ceramic platter.

Bella is keeping them all in line.
She has one of those "Ewe *will* look me in the eye when I'm talking to "ewe".... attitudes. Just some randomness from a saturday in our neck of the woods..... What are you all up to??

After Apple Picking

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there's a barrel that I didn't fill Beside it, and there may be two or three Apples I didn't pick upon some bough. But I am done with apple-picking now.

Essence of winter sleep is on the night, The scent of apples: I am drowsing off. I cannot rub the strangeness from my sightI got from looking through a pane of glassI skimmed this morning from the drinking trough And held against the world of hoary grass.

It melted, and I let it fall and break. But I was well Upon my way to sleep before it fell,

And I could tell What form my dreaming was about to take.

Magnified apples appear and disappear, Stem end and blossom end, And every fleck of russet showing clear.

My instep arch not only keeps the ache, It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round. I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend. And I keep hearing from the cellar bin The rumbling sound Of load on load of apples coming in. For I have had too much Of apple-picking: I am overtired Of the great harvest I myself desired. There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch, Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.

For all That struck the earth, No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble, Went surely to the cider-apple heap As of no worth. One can see what will trouble This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is. Were he not gone, The woodchuck could say whether it's like his Long sleep, as I describe its coming on, Or just some human sleep.

Robert Frost

Sleep, sweet sleep, envelope me now...