tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10140966110681316862024-03-19T06:50:58.070-04:00Okie in the BluegrassMy roots are in the Oklahoma red dirt but life has taken me to the Bluegrass. I am enjoying exploring the wonders of Kentucky.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-75786254540274822662013-08-21T19:21:00.001-04:002013-08-21T19:21:32.037-04:00Mally Quack Quack - The Story of an Orphan Duck What do you do with a duckling that has hatched but it's mama was eaten by a fox two days prior? Why you bring it into the fold.<br />
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That is what I did about 5 weeks ago, when the wild mallard that was sitting on her nest outside my office was killed by what we think is a fox, leaving her nest unprotected. No one thought her eggs would hatch without help but it is against the law to move the eggs. So they set there in one of our potted plants.<br />
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Luckily, they were close to their full gestation period, and two days after Mama Mallard was killed a duckling hatched. Turns out she would be the only one that hatched. Being that is was Friday at 4:45 and no one wanted to leave her to fiend for herself, I was called upon. Because I have "sucker" written across my forehead and I live on a farm. :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjllFxir9BS1wGXBMZxIXUxLO-PUM7wFfpFpd7iFwSg5xGez93do3x4lIo7Jhrr83wrLNB5RzjhzJZTnKF-2B3_YjUgnD7jt5vXBQwN8X__qX0UPxZQBWuDdztrwhdQpQhYA4h6amkZKM/s1600/20130719_171729%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjllFxir9BS1wGXBMZxIXUxLO-PUM7wFfpFpd7iFwSg5xGez93do3x4lIo7Jhrr83wrLNB5RzjhzJZTnKF-2B3_YjUgnD7jt5vXBQwN8X__qX0UPxZQBWuDdztrwhdQpQhYA4h6amkZKM/s320/20130719_171729%5B1%5D.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MQQ only an hour old.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGJWBlTxz8dl-SI2CYHx7TMvSw0PfX3K0gdmXbB9GkBI_7Fhf-l1O9XPJiwVbahthw_Sr2etWbFVzDmpozwrCdHfHrKmWNuZxHMJnqvQTukgkU0tMUMOeK_bHBhyR0xQ-jHFDrlUuuhO4/s1600/20130727_093958%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGJWBlTxz8dl-SI2CYHx7TMvSw0PfX3K0gdmXbB9GkBI_7Fhf-l1O9XPJiwVbahthw_Sr2etWbFVzDmpozwrCdHfHrKmWNuZxHMJnqvQTukgkU0tMUMOeK_bHBhyR0xQ-jHFDrlUuuhO4/s320/20130727_093958%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MQQ only a couple of days old.</td></tr>
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The only room in my house that I can close off is the bathroom, so Mally Quack Quack is now residing in my bathtub. I remember from previous ducklings how messy they get and the tub cleans up quickly. This is how Mally Quack Quack came to live in my bathroom.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJyAPZueWblsCWrIpsXB8hU-HwnK2YL_xV4HMZc_4W-0IUYLbaBurayanHFDZHEKJXYIjDh7G-oTVmVc5hnm89fkarJjXN0sTInPY_MCmh-bN7DeLpBDoNU68gc8g3Xl4z-Gm1hutTQko/s320/20130803_100819%255B1%255D.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MQQ 2 weeks old.</td></tr>
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MQQ started out swimming in my sink and she has since progressed to a galvanized tub and a swimming pool. Because she is living in my tub, each day when I take a shower she gets to swim in the sink. In the beginning she couldn't touch the bottom and was able to swim about, now her feet touch and she really can't go anywhere. It is hard to believe that she has gotten so big so fast.<br />
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She will soon move outside to her own pen with access to a baby pool. It is almost complete so she will be able to spend her days enjoying the outside world. But for now she is still living in my tub and splashing in my sink.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7feKFm0leiN1E5z59DGQmahq6aswScS3WnmfCCvArpIVKCBBKD4RnH1oW6X8jVv7G1XUWNEqBdqwjM0EIPqm_YKaKKeo1XVUpk5B60lAjohSiHWd03MWx7bYkDTD2uFy6Ol6uQsAw2s/s1600/20130814_212641%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI7feKFm0leiN1E5z59DGQmahq6aswScS3WnmfCCvArpIVKCBBKD4RnH1oW6X8jVv7G1XUWNEqBdqwjM0EIPqm_YKaKKeo1XVUpk5B60lAjohSiHWd03MWx7bYkDTD2uFy6Ol6uQsAw2s/s320/20130814_212641%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MQQ loves sitting on my shoulder at 3 1/2 weeks old.</td></tr>
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I hope to release her back to the wild where she can join a flock. For now I am enjoying her sweet company. I will keep posting as her story and adventure continues.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9NXWyQyXTY76SJfkFtXg71kxPJA3vs2RCGEyIAQXJoa1MWmq1vI4KzGNgh__jyi3LQDEED4i8k9ytRGmxspwyZ4xMdKu7Brw-lqqukwImE0Ndr6uDflYAZuHL4XYTgxKbBNKanJCUZc/s1600/20130817_103509%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil9NXWyQyXTY76SJfkFtXg71kxPJA3vs2RCGEyIAQXJoa1MWmq1vI4KzGNgh__jyi3LQDEED4i8k9ytRGmxspwyZ4xMdKu7Brw-lqqukwImE0Ndr6uDflYAZuHL4XYTgxKbBNKanJCUZc/s320/20130817_103509%5B1%5D.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MQQ splashing in the sink at 4 wks old.</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-68517601755533493892013-07-04T21:08:00.001-04:002013-07-04T21:08:47.401-04:00Happy Fourth of July<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5eo-fVYDRp33MgLpM2C3BUYDa4YhSM9iugek7VIe90jW4Xg8u1U9W5Cb0Dj937g-50WguN0PY25RqNbktKYn4HJKNCyKzRU4miu4Mat7n1UfwrDP46Qr1uYbjhruIz1s9AlC7lhN_LY/s1600/picsay-1372984941517.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5eo-fVYDRp33MgLpM2C3BUYDa4YhSM9iugek7VIe90jW4Xg8u1U9W5Cb0Dj937g-50WguN0PY25RqNbktKYn4HJKNCyKzRU4miu4Mat7n1UfwrDP46Qr1uYbjhruIz1s9AlC7lhN_LY/s640/picsay-1372984941517.jpg"> </a> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-79325428183691336072013-07-02T17:18:00.001-04:002013-07-02T17:18:31.176-04:00All This Rain Has Made the Flowers Grow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
With all of the rain we have been getting in Lexington our grass has been growing wildly out of control. Even though our grass becomes jungle-like within days of mowing, I'm still happy to see rain falling from the sky. This is because of all of the other plants that are happy when the rain comes. </div>
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Our flowers have had a banner year in the garden. Everything is growing and blooming; roses, lilies, hollyhocks, begonias, larkspur, geraniums, inpatients, petunias, cone flowers, and the list goes on and on... My strawberries have even been giving me big, beautiful red fruit in adundance.</div>
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The riot of color with a lush green background has this wonderful calming effect on me, especially when a small breeze makes the tall stalks gently sway as if conducting the garden orchestra. </div>
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So when my life seems to be constantly on "GO", I am able to "stop and smell the roses" I appreciate that my view is one like this and that the rain has brought me so many flowers.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVgR0fUMWhrI3qGHONex3KGwwjOzXpYPowwJtAnX-DaSfk2sYMlMs7ZOjywmOmqYXGyIq1o_bmBgwn4HsUXPgLnd4sE902E_7TZpz3STW-urD1eafwLj5SQeDINAG1VgNXReAsHORvPU/s1600/p20130701-144501%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIVgR0fUMWhrI3qGHONex3KGwwjOzXpYPowwJtAnX-DaSfk2sYMlMs7ZOjywmOmqYXGyIq1o_bmBgwn4HsUXPgLnd4sE902E_7TZpz3STW-urD1eafwLj5SQeDINAG1VgNXReAsHORvPU/s640/p20130701-144501%5B1%5D.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-38278356527947228912013-06-27T18:14:00.000-04:002013-06-27T18:14:36.357-04:00Not So Patiently Waiting for Breakfast<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"> Breakfast couldn't come soon enough for these three mischievous amigos. You can tell that they are starving by their round bellies. :)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1bPeHBRoa_VgOIEA9kmsQfq9o5OaFLwF8ywkmuEj9mP3FOmGcL6Xk_kJvf2EmlrG_5bGu54jEBDCCg6F4_4MVjTfQicJ9yYNn5qnS-bRpVincUFo4i7djAH_05GLW55pH1J3qZ-rpA4/s1600/IMG_20130623_085950%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1bPeHBRoa_VgOIEA9kmsQfq9o5OaFLwF8ywkmuEj9mP3FOmGcL6Xk_kJvf2EmlrG_5bGu54jEBDCCg6F4_4MVjTfQicJ9yYNn5qnS-bRpVincUFo4i7djAH_05GLW55pH1J3qZ-rpA4/s640/IMG_20130623_085950%5B1%5D.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Lexington, KY, USA38.0405837 -84.5037164000000337.640337699999996 -85.149163400000035 38.4408297 -83.858269400000026tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-66272704364670942282013-04-25T20:24:00.001-04:002013-04-25T20:24:37.419-04:00Blooming<div><p>Spring jumped out of nowhere and came on full force this past week. It smells heavenly on the farm; the lilacs and cherry blossoms are in full bloom. The tulips are up. My bleeding hearts and lilies of the valley all have flowers on them. </p>
<p>Expectant mothers are around every corner. The birds have built their nests and are sitting on their eggs. The geese at the pond have an egg they are eagerly waiting to see hatch. Baby bunnies and baby mice have been seen scampering around.</p>
<p>Even the young snakes have been seen.</p>
<p>Yep, spring is here...now I'd just wish the weather would realize it! I have another frost alert tonight, so I'm covering plants and wearing a sweater! </p>
<p>But I'm trying to appreciate this cooler weather because before too long its going to be hot and I'll be longing for the cool temps of April.</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgkKx0KskVXbRScivAds208_K8P8Yd0FWFcffLtndUDc6Pvz7b0o0MMu2bz2y_asudRwCap7Ilb4l_KiifZUyM-flVr61YENV3-NmM1UbB4-NNyvilGfYsdIOY-zF8MbTgSZnJzgk5PgY/' /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-43474242400458820352013-04-07T15:42:00.000-04:002013-04-07T15:51:32.525-04:00Beauty<div class="c_ic_blueframe c_ic_bar" dir="ltr" id="rmic1_bar" style="text-align: left; visibility: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I've decided I want to showcase how wonderful my sister is with words. She paints a picture with her words. And when I ran across another one of her poems I had to post it. I can't help but be proud of her!</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Her inspiration for Beauty was a single pink rose.</span></div>
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<u><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><strong>Beauty</strong></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">Pretty is a small word</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">Describing how I look.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">It’s something like a photo</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">A picture in a book.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">There’s so much more to me</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">Than what the eyes perceive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">It’s not about my face,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">But more what I believe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">So when the wind begins to whip</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">And the freeze comes with the rain</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">When the temperatures all drop</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">And cold sings its refrain</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">You’ll find me standing tall</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">An inner strength will show.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">I don’t easily wilt</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt;">I will always grow.</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;">By: Casey Barnett</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-19175066834385613102013-04-01T20:25:00.001-04:002013-04-03T11:24:40.756-04:00A Misty Road<div style="text-align: center;">
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<strong><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A Misty Road<o:p></o:p></span></span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My stride pounded the road,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Never breaking pace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Tiny clouds of dust I never saw<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Created patterns of intricate lace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The flora and the fauna<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I know were in my sight,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But I hardly notice them<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Along my daily flight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then one day the trees<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Screamed from up above,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Don’t forget to say hello<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As you walk along our cove.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We strive each day to keep you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Safe from sun and rain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We always give you music,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A rustling refrain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Please don’t forget to say hello,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We love to hear your voice,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And don’t forget to smell the roses,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And each and every day rejoice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Now many think I didn’t <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hear the trees that day,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But they’ve forgotten what it’s like<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">To watch the flowers play.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Dancing along the wind,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Resting on the breeze,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As the mist weaves through the leaves<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Of those wise old trees.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I’ll not forget the lesson learned<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Along that familiar road.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The fog had cleared and I can see<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">More of my own abode.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: blue;">-Casey M. Barnett</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
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<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="384" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/22277_322779673799_3722250_n.jpg" style="height: 370px; width: 582px;" width="604" /> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: blue;"></span></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: blue;">This poem is written by my sister from a photo that I took one misty morning driving to work in Kentucky. <strike>(I tried to upload the photo but the computer and I are having a disagreement. I will upload once we have worked it out.)</strike></span></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-20813892001705319842013-03-31T09:43:00.001-04:002013-03-31T09:43:46.354-04:00Happy Easter<div><br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghf3HWUa7E0fGOfNtJfycUtuq8jKmYn0NelsLK0OGWjz8ukiHCdU9CzSSe_wTk4qzcj607BkkaOJPgZJXA32L_qTL83DYlYhWTpLZqvb9PTSuVdQPF0hmyJxA-ys7S_vb3EMArMhAZy9Y/' /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-79715239067407250332013-03-27T22:16:00.001-04:002013-03-27T22:16:30.386-04:00Flowers in March<div><p>Daffodils aren't the only flower popping up around here. These purple beauties also come in a white variety and both are springing up everywhere here on the farm. They are a gentle reminder that spring is on its way, no matter how many times it snows!<br>
</p>
<br/><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTHWTDELJhjsfVxANOnWy1tiNqjK-rxj4SY-Pk4juT5SrY3cjWvwxzgCKdY8MkT0gqiFLJ8DWpn6-CTK5r7FznOaPcUzD9c6U2GmVYltiva8_yPpNeidivbpmbb2SGvGy36gDjyndWrXs/' /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-86127343767125866822012-06-25T17:13:00.000-04:002012-06-25T17:13:01.722-04:00Blackberries & Snakes - Every Girls Dream Morning<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT8q7O_FTJCO4GLlMKjYZzyvFz-vrGw91iizSdxzXiQwIBFEfhbzLZa12qWrx4bPcRmP6pjVOHkIkq6SZGmq2sOgVFFsbzio_S0Rh-DoiJoJrnUycPrCbz6vTHKdVBu0OwL62dj5WIhb0/s1600/blackberry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT8q7O_FTJCO4GLlMKjYZzyvFz-vrGw91iizSdxzXiQwIBFEfhbzLZa12qWrx4bPcRmP6pjVOHkIkq6SZGmq2sOgVFFsbzio_S0Rh-DoiJoJrnUycPrCbz6vTHKdVBu0OwL62dj5WIhb0/s320/blackberry.jpg" width="320" /></a>Saturday morning after my chores were done I decided to head to the pasture and pick some wild blackberries. I have plans for those blackberries and, by golly, the birds aren't going to get all of them before I can get my fair share.</h3>
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So me and the dogs got to picking before it got too hot. And yes the dogs picked blackberries, unfortuanelty they didn't put them into my bucket but kept them for themselves. Selfish little beasts. :) At one point there was a row of dogs next to me with their heads buried into the bushes. </div>
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Thank goodness they could only reach 2 feet off the ground!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPjYRZY6-cO9QxT1m1zv-e1rE9LjHGTKWEb8XELJ6MknDkkla4PwffFga5sqkS_XDhlJhnCmHxDS2mcIxzvvbmNpGSRi9thQVfhRFnDS7T0F7OnbKUCkTAWfLcOgYYbCUcUKfRFNcbl0/s1600/barnett+pack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaPjYRZY6-cO9QxT1m1zv-e1rE9LjHGTKWEb8XELJ6MknDkkla4PwffFga5sqkS_XDhlJhnCmHxDS2mcIxzvvbmNpGSRi9thQVfhRFnDS7T0F7OnbKUCkTAWfLcOgYYbCUcUKfRFNcbl0/s320/barnett+pack.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Puppies still picking blackberries, whereas, the dogs are headed to the other side for fresh berries.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-sYGEACHW9Wisp3-iDpy8lyq1TfL3PEFPkrBsqJpX0Q1bhdBcQIKL3IvlaBtMVz1g5d-057H7y80_4_MTg6FnbE6vC2cTkDNtx4sslj-gQ5R9xspAnpwueIASZMcFNQWbZWBgFruMugg/s1600/Scooby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-sYGEACHW9Wisp3-iDpy8lyq1TfL3PEFPkrBsqJpX0Q1bhdBcQIKL3IvlaBtMVz1g5d-057H7y80_4_MTg6FnbE6vC2cTkDNtx4sslj-gQ5R9xspAnpwueIASZMcFNQWbZWBgFruMugg/s320/Scooby.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scooby Snack</td></tr>
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At one point while I was picking I got a strong sent of cucumbers. My cucumber vine was 100 yards away and it is barely surviving, so it wasn't my plant making this scent. I had heard an old wives tale about copperheads secreting the scent of cucumbers when they feel threatened, and I know there has to be snakes in the blackberry vines, so not wanting to get tangled with a snake I backed away quickly and moved to some other bushes.</div>
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Now the cumcumber smell might be an old wives tale, but I can't figure out what would have suddenly made that smell where I was. And I didn't want to take any chances.</div>
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Snakes have their place in this world, I would just prefer we didn't travel in the same circles.</div>
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A small tangent - this spring when searching for something in the attic I came across a snake skin in one of my boxes. I dropped that box and beat it downstairs...<strong>QUICKLY</strong>! When I got downstairs that overwhelming feeling of "You are going to have to deal with this because there is no one nearby that will move that snake skin for you" came over me. Hand to forehead...sometimes I really hate being an indepentant woman. </div>
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And...this was one of those times I chose to ignore the problem. I made sure I got what I needed, but I waited for my Dad to visit and dispose of the snake skin. There are just some things I would rather not have to do. I can dispose of animal caracasses everyday but one snake skin creeps me out. </div>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBC7rcaB1hqtkDQhgCugrOm9X0CUeuVGTPt_8kBzvE2fVkz20rcv-nYJkG5-0Iv2dBN4Qitmm5maSV8Y2NCs4yiLvBFQZqxdLGDqCgup7DU_eBVXIKCMAHSUce1YETwxrU7DixSRIEGs/s1600/close+up+of+blackberries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBC7rcaB1hqtkDQhgCugrOm9X0CUeuVGTPt_8kBzvE2fVkz20rcv-nYJkG5-0Iv2dBN4Qitmm5maSV8Y2NCs4yiLvBFQZqxdLGDqCgup7DU_eBVXIKCMAHSUce1YETwxrU7DixSRIEGs/s320/close+up+of+blackberries.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Where the cucumber sent was coming from. I didn't want to explore any further.</td></tr>
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After changing locations I proceeded to fill my bowl with juicy, wild blackberries and I only had to give up a few to the mooches with puppy breath. I can't wait to make cobbler, cake and jams. Yum! Now the temperatures need to cool down so that I can get back into the kitchen without sweltering. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2S9JsRXqlTVv0LRZJ5luGMpsz5JfTVPgPSikl_kG7uZSLsmJOfGBAysACKtw6FbGyhRhWNC93ZAUgB5zK21BgEulCbs5EkIrYaq0GuZ9DRtvDi2UfAERu7R8_ZwE49aME6RisgM2ZYU/s1600/Denny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2S9JsRXqlTVv0LRZJ5luGMpsz5JfTVPgPSikl_kG7uZSLsmJOfGBAysACKtw6FbGyhRhWNC93ZAUgB5zK21BgEulCbs5EkIrYaq0GuZ9DRtvDi2UfAERu7R8_ZwE49aME6RisgM2ZYU/s320/Denny.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please keep an eye out for the others.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9tOh2JK1qYiaXI_ar8An_S6OSYYC83XhQIaYFaQGXNftEP-EsKuYiutPqtNwYTHXO48xhALn_Okl-AvdHhiYZJog4c2pUwA-Pt_W7Ri9L9FHM5_2Nkl6lOiyAAI9KKPp7KlFC3xtviKs/s1600/denny+and+bowl+of+blackberries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9tOh2JK1qYiaXI_ar8An_S6OSYYC83XhQIaYFaQGXNftEP-EsKuYiutPqtNwYTHXO48xhALn_Okl-AvdHhiYZJog4c2pUwA-Pt_W7Ri9L9FHM5_2Nkl6lOiyAAI9KKPp7KlFC3xtviKs/s320/denny+and+bowl+of+blackberries.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Can I have those?"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57IzqFMU5JxIYx-Ji_NdCBIT3L00LHBNIYKS2OY6_OK_6j9yTdXrY0aB22o-f3jOaXH8JNkd53auiKDZCN8LS4ULGJphLHwxb07fe7SpTWFGS-HzvLhvS6uR2OnJd9fn1T-F933hKtX0/s1600/bowl+of+blackberries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg57IzqFMU5JxIYx-Ji_NdCBIT3L00LHBNIYKS2OY6_OK_6j9yTdXrY0aB22o-f3jOaXH8JNkd53auiKDZCN8LS4ULGJphLHwxb07fe7SpTWFGS-HzvLhvS6uR2OnJd9fn1T-F933hKtX0/s320/bowl+of+blackberries.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A full bowl's worth even with a "snake" encounter.</td></tr>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-60991528916589007162012-06-22T17:40:00.003-04:002012-06-22T17:40:43.545-04:00Farm Animal Friday - Lulu<h3 style="text-align: center;">
When you step outside of my house around 4pm you are likely to here a couple of things - chickens clucking, birds chirping and <span style="color: blue;">Lulu</span>, the mule, braying. </h3>
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She is not necessarily braying because she is hungry, though she will happily take any feed you give her, but around 4pm is when Brady, my thoroughbred horse, comes back from the front pasture with the cows - otherwise known as "work." It's like she calling her husband in for dinner.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lulu</td></tr>
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Lulu is a sweet mule who at one time had a mischievous streak. I was told that in her younger years she would cause havoc for her hitch partner and for anyone wanting to handle her. She could leap tall buildings in a single bound and fight off monsters. I have heard her referred to as "a fiery pistol," (that might have been an understatement). </div>
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She is older now and has subdued quite a bit, and then last year I brought Brady to live with her. Those large ears perked up and she was immediately enamored. She now had someone to "talk" to and share meals with. So when he isn't home on time she let's the world know the only way a mule can...braying. It's just one more wonderful sound of a farm. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brady greeting Lulu after a long day at "work."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-91391104884877772322012-06-21T17:13:00.001-04:002012-06-22T10:07:38.906-04:00Strawberry Nibbles<div style="text-align: center;">
Finally, after years of growing and tending to strawberry plants I have strawberries that actually take two bites to eat!!!! Yippeee!! Usually I get the tiny, misshaped nibbles before the bugs…or sometimes, the dogs, get them. All it is a taste sensation – a good taste sensation. But now I actually have real big strawberries.</div>
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I have been guarding them from everything…including myself. I want these suckers to ripen perfectly and then enjoy them as they were meant to be enjoyed…straight from the plant. Yum!</div>
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It all started when I bought a couple of strawberry plants at the store because the picture offered me possibilities of harvesting my own strawberries, and the bounty could be used to make jams, cakes, pies, etc. Yeah right…it takes more than two plants and at least a couple of years. So I kept purchasing plants and buying the offered strawberry hanging baskets, all in hopes of having a bountiful strawberry harvest.</div>
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My plants have been through a lot; me knocking them over, the dogs chewing on the leaves, squirrels trying to hide their nuts in the pots and the weather. But they have hung on through it all. Starting this spring I got quite a few little nibbles, where I could get the sweet taste of the strawberry while I was outside. But that is all. Then about a week ago I noticed one of my later bloomers had a huge strawberry growing on it. At first I thought it was an optical illusion. On closer inspection it was a real strawberry that was at last 4 times bigger than anything else I’ve harvested. </div>
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While keeping a close eye on it I noticed that another large strawberry was developing…JACKPOT!!!! I might get to make strawberry jam. Or not, I don’t think two strawberries will make me a lot of jam.</div>
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Hopefully the rest of the plants in this container will bless me with big strawberries, if not though, I will appreciate their sweetness in a small nibble. For now I get to look forward to two big juicy strawberries. I can’t wait!!!</div>
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UPDATE: I ate the large strawberry this morning, and it was...wait for it...Perfectly Sweet. Everything I imagined. Yum!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-76885945350149435382012-06-20T17:26:00.000-04:002012-06-20T17:26:44.290-04:00Dog Days of Summer<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>The heat is here!</em></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>Denny and Nana have the right idea...</em></span></div>
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<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>Where's the nearest Pool?</em></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-75800189583613923772012-05-22T17:13:00.000-04:002012-05-22T17:13:13.717-04:00Adventures in Puppies<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Roughly seven weeks ago one mama dog and her seven puppies got a reprieve from death and came to my house. A friend had seen a beautiful red heeler posted in an email imploring everyone who red it to adopt or foster her and her seven puppies immediately because she was due to be put to sleep in two days time. This friend knows that I'm a sucker for sob stories and cute puppies, so she forwarded the information onto me and two days later she was delivering said mama and pups to my doorstep.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maggie nursing her puppies</td></tr>
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Maggie, as the heeler is named, came with seven wildly different puppies. None of them looked like her. It was almost as if someone had switched litters. There were three black puppies with white chins, chest and toes; 1 butterscotch/brown puppy; a black and tan puppy, a white and black spotted puppy; and a mostly white tri-colored puppy. They were three weeks old and already trying to walk around. And, oh, so adorable!</div>
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They all got names from characters that Paul Newman played: Luke - Cool Hand Luke, Hudson - Cars (Doc Hudson), Cassidy - Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid, Dodge - Message in a Bottle, Murphy - Fort Apache the Bronx and Maddox - The Helen Morgan Story. One of the girls is named Charlotte after a Pride & Prejudice character (this was when we only thought there was one girl. Turns out I was too hasty in trying to sex Cassidy who previously was known as Butch).<br />
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Maggie and pups settled right in. My two dogs, Willow and Denny, enjoyed having visitors. Willow was immensely curious about the little squirming beings. Denny just wanted to play with Maggie, and she was more than willing. My cats weren't thrilled about the new additions, so they decided they would stay outside until the puppies departed.<br />
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The weeks were filled with cuddling, feeding, cleaning, playing, teaching and loving. Luckily I live on an acreage so the puppies could go outside and see interesting things like cows and chickens. They cows thought the puppies were a little strange and didn't want to get too close. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlotte - 11 wks old</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scooby - 11 wks old</td></tr>
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Mama would sometimes supply them with fresh meat, not one of my favorite things. I don't know how many times I would find them chewing on a animal she had just caught. I don't know much about Maggie's life before the shelter, so I'm guessing she had to fend for herself for awhile. Though I appreciate the rodent and groundhog control, the puppies (and Maggie) were getting fed a really good diet so Maggie didn't really need to supplement. Plus, I don't enjoy disposing of animal bodies. Unfortunately it comes with living in the country.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luke - 11 wks old</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinm_D2Zy5t6W2BgfGCkgpPvez365oH2MgQ7cmnxUweme48ZXYIZkDEW4JvU9Cp1t3RTvFmDfm5YjTLYP300RZAqlDV7BbV-Nj_CSceja9ebIRPxD_CgYcFfQetTUdUBAScbW5jiXoOBe0/s1600/Maddox+11+wk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinm_D2Zy5t6W2BgfGCkgpPvez365oH2MgQ7cmnxUweme48ZXYIZkDEW4JvU9Cp1t3RTvFmDfm5YjTLYP300RZAqlDV7BbV-Nj_CSceja9ebIRPxD_CgYcFfQetTUdUBAScbW5jiXoOBe0/s200/Maddox+11+wk.JPG" width="188" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maddox - 11 wks old</td></tr>
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A couple of weeks ago four of the puppies; Dodge, Luke, Murphy and Cassidy found homes. Unfortunately Luke had to come back because the older dog at the house didn't want to have a sibling. So four puppies are still looking for homes; Scooby, Luke, Maddox and Charlotte. All of them are smart, sometimes too smart, sweet, loyal, playful, gentle and want to be loved. If you know of anyone who might be interested in a heeler/hound or a heeler/lab mix please feel free to leave a comment.</div>
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<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0Lexington, KY, USA38.0405837 -84.503716437.8404992 -84.8195734 38.2406682 -84.187859400000008tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-24424963237479264332012-03-22T17:11:00.000-04:002012-03-22T17:11:19.681-04:00A Feathered Visitor<div style="text-align: justify;">
Last night while doing the evening farm chores, the dogs and I came across a pigeon that didn't fly away. My first thought was that Denny was going to devour it, being dinner time and all, but he didn't. Denny put his new herding training into practice and pushed the pigeon into a corner. The bird tried to fly but it couldn't seem to take off.</div>
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Since I can't leave a wounded animal to be attacked, I picked it up; cradled it and took it to the house. Years ago I found a raccoon in the woods behind my house. He had fallen from a tree. I wrapped him up and put him in the dog pen [dogs were inside] to recuperate. <em><span style="color: #0b5394;"><strong>Not the smartest thing I've ever done, unfortunately not the dumbest either.</strong></span></em></div>
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Before I made up the carriers for it and all of the animals were in the house,I put the pigeon down and tried to see if it call fly. I thought it might have just been stunned earlier. Unfortunately, it still couldn't take off but man, could it walk fast. So inside it came. (<em>Wish I could tell if it is a he or a she.</em>)</div>
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I bedded one of my cat carriers down with straw, gave it water and seed then put it in the bathroom where I could shut the door. Willow's retriever instincts kicked in and I knew she would be been staring at it all night long. Not the best way for a visitor to feel welcome.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRReghamlJU6ayOskAoCxSV3jv9Q5FLI8MBL7hrbgFj07GH_za9UT0LMjzs2ZmfWUGLqzm-0xz9pqTCZO8Xl_o3nFAiPICjIuWZGC27GpIblJcJspTVFdNxm5JwJzG5NkH5qwsOfy3jF8/s1600/2012-03-21+20.12.35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRReghamlJU6ayOskAoCxSV3jv9Q5FLI8MBL7hrbgFj07GH_za9UT0LMjzs2ZmfWUGLqzm-0xz9pqTCZO8Xl_o3nFAiPICjIuWZGC27GpIblJcJspTVFdNxm5JwJzG5NkH5qwsOfy3jF8/s320/2012-03-21+20.12.35.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pidge not wanting to pose for the camera. She might be a wanted Pigeon!</td></tr>
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This morning I checked on Pidge (I'm taking a leap of faith and assuming she is female and Pidge sounded right) and she had eaten and drank. This evening I'm going to see if after 24 hours recuperation she will be able to fly. If not, I'll have a sweet bird around the farm for a bit.</div>
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I've been doing quite a bit of research on Pigeons since Pidge dropped in for a visit. I didn't realize that there is a big community of people who have pigeons. I'm so used to them just being a part of the landscape when you go downtown that I didn't realize that people bred them and even race them. It is a whole other world. </div>
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Hopefully Pidge will be flying off soon to find her mate. It is Spring after all.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-66830912723051161972012-02-01T16:09:00.000-05:002012-02-01T16:09:32.194-05:00Wordless Wednesday ~ Serenity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X9NU_zsNsVQ/TympW3OuBeI/AAAAAAAAAts/Tr5faFlVQfk/s1600/Serenity.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" sda="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X9NU_zsNsVQ/TympW3OuBeI/AAAAAAAAAts/Tr5faFlVQfk/s400/Serenity.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-4322160029543479912012-01-25T18:42:00.000-05:002012-01-25T18:42:51.939-05:00Horseless in Horse Country<div>
For the past two years I have been a horseless horse-person who lives in horse country. As you could probably guess it can be quite difficult to see these beautiful creatures frolic in the pastures and not be able to touch, groom or ride one. (<em>I also notice the longer I'm away from horses the more idyllic I picture them. When in reality they cause almost just as much frustration as happiness</em>.) <br />
<br />
After this two year self-imposed exile I decided I needed to bring them back into my life. I am now living on a farm with some acreage, a barn and multiple other animals - mostly cows...so why not? I could afford a nice pleasure horse. And Kentucky has its share of horses looking for good homes. And I really wanted to explore Kentucky by horseback.<br />
<br />
The process began, I don't ever remember it being so exhausting when I had looked for my past horses. I wasn't looking for a competition animal, just something that I could have fun with on trail rides and maybe do a little eventing. I couldn't spend a fortune and I needed something a little steadier than my past high-energy horses. I'd find one and try it out...and it wouldn't be quite right...or it was little too energetic...or not broke...or they thought their 15 yr pasture horse was worth the 5 grand they were asking. <br />
<br />
I almost gave up. It was October; Fall had settled in...I told myself that I didn't need a horse. Then it happened...as it always seems to do. I inquired about one last horse. A blood bay thoroughbred on the <a href="http://www.canterusa.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=1494&Itemid=337" target="_blank">CANTER KY</a> website named <a href="http://www.canterusa.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=2195:outlaw-song&catid=258:ky-trainer-listings" target="_blank">Outlaw's Song</a>. I looked at him before on the website and really liked him but I didn't think a recently retired racehorse was for me. I needed steady. I needed quiet. Not high strung and temperamental. But one statement on his listing grabbed me and wouldn't let go... "They even take him home (from the track) on the weekends for some time off and trail riding." TRAIL RIDING! What!?! This doesn't sound like the racehorses I am used to seeing.<br />
<br />
Something clicked in my brain, because my fingers immediately typed an email to the CANTER KY contact for more information. I thought the least I could do is check him out.<br />
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After a couple emails, I received a phone call from Outlaw's then owner. He told me more about him...basically he was the family pet who at times would run a race. I told him more about me and what I had done and what I wanted to do with a new horse. Fifteen minutes into the conversation he said, here's what I'm going to do...I'll bring him to you this weekend and you can try him for a week. If you like him, I'll take $500 off his price.<br />
<br />
That happened fast.<br />
<br />
My first response was stunned silence, then after finding my voice and letting my mind look for any potential potholes I said "Okay." I was getting a horse...at least to try. After months of looking did it really just happen that quickly? My mind was whirling, my adrenaline was pumping...<em>I had to clean the house just to keep busy because my adrenaline was pumping so hard!</em> What really kept me from going into hyper-drive was that I had a week to try him out and make sure we were a fit.<br />
<br />
Two days later, Outlaw arrived. <br />
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A little back story, where I live has a few jersey cows (with horns) for milking and one donkey...a very curious donkey...or as I like to call them the Purple Horned Monsters (PHM). During the day they are in the front pasture...this is where we had to unload Outlaw. The PHM's were curious when they saw the trailer but when they saw Outlaw come out of it they came running! And the donkey started braying!<br />
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Can you imagine unloading into a new place and the first thing you see are five overweight, oddly-shaped horned beasts running at you and then hearing the loud noise that sounded like a dying crow? I think I would crap my pants and run. Luckily, Outlaw didn't do either. He just jumped back and willingly followed his owner to the nearest exit.<br />
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I did my best to keep everyone back as we got him to the gate away from the chaos. And Outlaw did a good job of staying out of their way. As soon as we got him through the gate and away from those oddly shaped creatures he put his head down and started grazing. He would look up every once in a while but overall he was content...like he hadn't just been greeted by fire breathing dragons.<br />
<br />
I think this just might work....<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BezsZ6CYOw8/TyCSLZTFdVI/AAAAAAAAAsk/ljhJYpit_KI/s1600/2011-12-02+07.51.50+web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" gda="true" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BezsZ6CYOw8/TyCSLZTFdVI/AAAAAAAAAsk/ljhJYpit_KI/s320/2011-12-02+07.51.50+web.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outlaw meeting the PHM's</td></tr>
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<em>(To Be Continued)</em></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-68172234038068252452011-11-18T12:34:00.001-05:002011-11-18T13:01:31.215-05:00Can't wait to get this book!One of my favorite authors, Lisa Kleypas, has a new book coming out...<em><span style="color: purple;"><strong>Rainshadow Road</strong></span></em>. It is a contemporary novel due out January 2012. <br />
<br />
I love Lisa's historical novels but my favorite are her contemporary novels like <em>Blue-Eyed Devil</em> and <em>Smooth Talking Stranger</em>. Rainshadow Road is her second novel set in San Juan Island, the first <em>Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor</em> was such an enjoyable read that made readers feel right at home, and gave them a cup of cocoa, that I can't wait to get my hands on this book.<br />
<br />
Here is an excerpt of Rainshadow Road from <a href="http://www.lisakleypas.com/bookRainshadowRoad.asp" target="_blank">Lisa Kleypas's</a> website: <br />
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<em>Lucy Marinn, a glass artist who lives on San Juan Island, has just been dumped by her boyfriend Kevin. Needing some privacy and time to think, she goes to a nearby beach and meets a dark-haired stranger . .</em> . <br />
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In the periphery of her vision, Lucy saw a dog making his way along the edge of the water. He was followed by a dark-haired stranger, whose alert gaze was fastened on her. </div>
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The sight of him kindled instant unease. He had the strapping build of a man who earned his living outdoors. And something about him conveyed a sense of having been acquainted with life's rougher edges. In other circumstances Lucy might have reacted differently, but she didn't care to find herself alone on a beach with him.</div>
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She headed to the trail that led back up to the roadside turnout. A glance over her shoulder revealed that he was following her. That jolted her nerves into high gear. As she quickened her pace, the toe of her sneaker caught on the wind-scuffed basalt. Her weight pitched forward and she hit the ground, taking the impact on her hands. </div>
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Stunned, Lucy tried to collect herself. By the time she had struggled to her feet, the man had reached her. She spun to face him with a gasp, her disheveled brown hair partially obscuring her vision.</div>
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"Take it easy, will you?" he said curtly. </div>
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Lucy pushed the hair out of her eyes and regarded him warily. His eyes were a vivid shade of blue-green in his tanned face. He was striking, sexy, with a quality of rough-and-tumble attractiveness. Although he looked no more than thirty, his face was seasoned with the maturity of a man who'd done his share of living.</div>
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"You were following me," Lucy said.</div>
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"I was not following you. This happens to be the only path back to the road, and I'd like to get back to my truck before the storm hits. So if you wouldn't mind, either step it up or get out of the way."</div>
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Lucy stood to the side. "Don't let me hold you back."</div>
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The stranger's gaze went to her hand, where smears of blood had collected in the creases of her fingers. An edge of rock had cut into the top of her palm when she had fallen. He frowned. "I've got a first aid kit in my truck."</div>
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"It's nothing," Lucy said, although the cut was throbbing heavily. She blotted the welling blood on her jeans. "I'm fine."</div>
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"Put pressure on it with your other hand," the man said. His mouth tightened as he surveyed her. "I'll walk up the trail with you."</div>
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"Why?"</div>
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"In case you fall again."</div>
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"I'm not going to fall."</div>
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"It's steep ground. And from what I've seen so far, you're not exactly sure-footed."</div>
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Lucy let out an incredulous laugh. "You are the most . . . I . . . I don’t even know you."</div>
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"Sam Nolan. I live at False Bay." He paused as an ominous peal of thunder rent the sky. "Let's get moving."</div>
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"Your people skills could use some work," Lucy said. But she offered no objection as he accompanied her along the rough terrain.</div>
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"Keep up, Renfield," Sam said to the bulldog, who followed with apoplectic snorts and wheezes.</div>
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"Do you live on the island full-time?" Lucy asked.</div>
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"Yes. Born and raised here. You?"</div>
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"I've been here a couple of years." Darkly she added, "But I may be moving soon."</div>
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"Changing jobs?"</div>
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"No." Although Lucy was usually circumspect about her private life, some reckless impulse caused her to add, "My boyfriend just broke up with me."</div>
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Sam gave her a quick sideways glance. "Today?"</div>
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"About an hour ago."</div>
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"Sure it's over? Maybe it was just an argument."</div>
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"I'm sure," Lucy said. "He's been cheating on me."</div>
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"Then good riddance."</div>
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"You're not going to defend him?" Lucy asked cynically.</div>
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"Why would I defend a guy like that?"</div>
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"Because he's a man, and apparently men can't help cheating. It's the way you're built. A biological imperative."</div>
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"Like hell it is. A man doesn't cheat. If you want to go after someone else, you break up first. No exceptions." They continued along the path. Heavy raindrops tapped the ground with increasing profusion. "Almost there," Sam said. "Is your hand still bleeding?"</div>
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Cautiously Lucy released the pressure she had been applying with her fingers, and glanced at the oozing cut. "It's slowed."</div>
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"If it doesn't stop soon, you may need a stitch or two." That caused her to stumble, and he reached for her elbow to steady her. Seeing that she had blanched, he asked, "You've never had stitches?"</div>
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"No, and I'd rather not start now. I have trypanophobia."</div>
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"What's that? Fear of needles?</div>
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"Uh-huh. You think that's silly, don't you?"</div>
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He shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips. "I have a worse phobia."</div>
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"What is it?"</div>
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"It's strictly need-to-know."</div>
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"Spiders?" she guessed. "Fear of heights? Fear of clowns?"</div>
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His smile widened to a brief, dazzling flash. "Not even close."</div>
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They reached the turnout, and his hand dropped from her elbow. He went to the battered blue pickup, opened the door, and began to rummage inside. The bulldog lumbered to the side of the truck and sat, watching the proceedings through a mass of folds and furrows on his face.</div>
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Lucy waited nearby, watching Sam discreetly. His body was strong and lean beneath the worn bleached cotton of his tee shirt, jeans hanging slightly loose from his hips. There was a particular look about men from this region, a kind of bone-deep toughness. The Pacific Northwest had been populated by explorers, pioneers and soldiers who had never known when a supply ship was coming. They had survived on what they could get from the ocean and mountains. Only a particular amalgam of hardness and humor could enable a man to survive starvation, cold, disease, enemy attacks, and periods of near-fatal boredom. You could still see it in their descendants, men who lived by nature's rules first and society's rules second.</div>
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"You have to tell me," Lucy said. "You can't just say you have a worse phobia than mine and then leave me hanging."</div>
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He pulled out a white plastic kit with a red cross on it. Taking an antiseptic wipe from the kit, he used his teeth to tear the packet open. "Give me your hand," he said. She hesitated before complying. The gentle grip of his hand was electrifying, eliciting a sharp awareness of the heat and strength of the male body so close to hers. Lucy's breath caught as she stared into those intense blue eyes. Some men just had it, that something-extra that could knock you flat if you let it.</div>
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"This is going to sting," he said as he began to clean the cut with gentle strokes. </div>
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The breath hissed between her teeth as the antiseptic burned.</div>
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Lucy waited quietly, wondering why a stranger would go to this amount of trouble for her. As his head bent over her hand, she stared at the thick locks of his hair, a shade of brown so rich and dark that it appeared almost black. </div>
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"You're not in bad shape, considering," she heard him murmur.</div>
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"Are you talking about my hand or my breakup?"</div>
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"Breakup. Most women would be crying right now."</div>
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"I'm still in shock. The next stage is crying and sending angry text messages to everyone I know. After that is the stage when I'll want to rehash the relationship until all my friends start avoiding me." Lucy knew she was chattering, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. "In the final stage, I'll get a short haircut that doesn't flatter me, and buy a lot of expensive shoes I'll never wear."</div>
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"It's a lot simpler for guys," Sam said. "We just drink a lot of beer, go a few days without shaving, and buy an appliance."</div>
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"You mean . . . like a toaster?"</div>
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"No, something that makes noise. Like a leaf-blower or chainsaw. It's very healing."</div>
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That drew a brief, reluctant smile from her.</div>
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She needed to go home and think about the fact that her life was entirely different than it had been when she woke up that morning. How could she go back to the home that she and Kevin had created together? She couldn't sit at the kitchen table with the wobbly leg that both of them had tried to fix countless times, and listen to the ticking of the vintage black cat clock with the pendulum tail that Kevin had given her for her twenty-fifth birthday. Their flatware was a jumble of mismatched knives, forks and spoons from antique stores. Flatware with wonderful names. They had delighted in finding new treasures—a King Edward fork, a Waltz of Spring spoon. Now every object in that house had just become evidence of another failed relationship. How was she going to face that damning accumulation? </div>
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Sam applied an adhesive bandage to her hand. "I don't think you'll have to worry about stitches," he said. "The bleeding's almost stopped." He held her hand just a fraction of a second longer than necessary before letting go. "What's your name?</div>
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Lucy shook her head, the shadow of a smile still lingering. "Not unless you tell me your phobia."</div>
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He looked down at her. The rain was falling faster now, a fabric of droplets glittering on his skin, weighting his hair until the thick locks darkened and separated. "Peanut butter," he said.</div>
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"Why?" she asked, bemused. "Do you have an allergy?"</div>
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Sam shook his head. "It's the feeling of having it stick to the roof of my mouth."</div>
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She gave him a skeptical smile. "Is that a real phobia?" </div>
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"Absolutely." He tilted his head, studying her with those striking eyes. Waiting for her name, she realized.</div>
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"Lucy," she said.</div>
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"Lucy." A new softness edged his voice as he asked, "You want to go somewhere and talk? Maybe have coffee?"</div>
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Lucy was amazed by the strength of the temptation to say yes. But she knew that if she went anywhere with this big, good-looking stranger, she was going to end up weeping and complaining about her pathetic love life. In response to his kindness, she was going to spare him that. "Thanks, but I really have to go," she said, feeling desperate and defeated.</div>
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"Can I drive you home? I could put your bike in the back of the truck." </div>
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Her throat closed. She shook her head and turned away. </div>
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"I live at the end of Rainshadow Road," Sam said from behind her. "At the vineyard on False Bay. Come for a visit, and I'll open a bottle of wine. We'll talk about anything you want." He paused. "Any time."</div>
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Lucy cast a bleak smile over her shoulder. "Thank you. But I can't take you up on that." She went to her bike, raised the kickstand, and swung her leg over.</div>
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"Why not?" </div>
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"The guy who just broke up with me . . . he was exactly like you, in the beginning. Charming, and nice. They're all like you in the beginning. But I always end up like this. And I can't do it anymore."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She rode away through the rain, the tires digging ruts into the softening ground. And even though she knew he was watching, she didn't let herself look back.</div>
<br />
Pre-Order from:<br />
<br />
Borders <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rainshadow-Road-Lisa-Kleypas/dp/0312605889/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1321639002&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Amazon</a> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rainshadow-road-lisa-kleypas/1104154987?ean=9780312605889&itm=1&usri=rainshadow+road+by+lisa+kleypas" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a><br />
<br />
**I am lucky enough to be one of Lisa's Divas - a group of select fans who share into & content related to Lisa's novels and get sneak peeks & swag in return.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-28862273193619151682011-07-27T10:19:00.000-04:002011-07-27T10:19:03.752-04:00Wordless Wednesdays ~ Morning Walk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MzbrZiJWYwlzVMt-L461pwrGts07hj43whGbua4b2rpvDFHxdduc6IrRuHUvhcMcL1xDVU19h47Gqoh02BaZcc2-1hgmx2lyNYpWS9ghnDX6ug2AouoInjcN_9S5fLiviUiDx-dX1V0/s1600/Morning+walk+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3MzbrZiJWYwlzVMt-L461pwrGts07hj43whGbua4b2rpvDFHxdduc6IrRuHUvhcMcL1xDVU19h47Gqoh02BaZcc2-1hgmx2lyNYpWS9ghnDX6ug2AouoInjcN_9S5fLiviUiDx-dX1V0/s400/Morning+walk+2.JPG" t$="true" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizq7azbg0tc3o8CPoi2U6epRyiiQA7KO1zqKDH8xHwghyLUdvqU-GSHI5fLWROr9B9GpLdBhWlnmRP5o7HABNTMuzSfZy-AV-mXXQCrTSUZFvdBOiKDlggUpQ2lSbMqC9XSh4h3R3mlac/s1600/Morning+walk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizq7azbg0tc3o8CPoi2U6epRyiiQA7KO1zqKDH8xHwghyLUdvqU-GSHI5fLWROr9B9GpLdBhWlnmRP5o7HABNTMuzSfZy-AV-mXXQCrTSUZFvdBOiKDlggUpQ2lSbMqC9XSh4h3R3mlac/s400/Morning+walk.JPG" t$="true" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-32331284197486427642011-07-13T11:33:00.000-04:002011-07-13T11:33:02.522-04:00Wordless Wednesdays ~ Patience<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-lkty0r_MeVIXOK60unqEWHTqq6di2Ds1s1rbHoiymNMLk7WDOZlPU1vwZRadT-Ch8VhQZ7UaL3fy3n0ME41cuaMN0rqKQ5wHnw9anJU4Z2tZmqkXxhFwaFFsUSFgQWss4S-pT2Fzo0/s1600/Willow+Denny+patience.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-lkty0r_MeVIXOK60unqEWHTqq6di2Ds1s1rbHoiymNMLk7WDOZlPU1vwZRadT-Ch8VhQZ7UaL3fy3n0ME41cuaMN0rqKQ5wHnw9anJU4Z2tZmqkXxhFwaFFsUSFgQWss4S-pT2Fzo0/s400/Willow+Denny+patience.JPG" width="298" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-8961370456382688892011-06-29T08:00:00.002-04:002011-06-29T10:42:05.643-04:00Wordless Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsTkE0vmgjuLDt_u18vYQXft3P9Zsr5kQcS3wbzmtlwRQ47xUBSTqmsUMOfGfd8zNIk7MUA-DvUFul2XJvkB-J5FfJdhxVjcoXsnFQ3BXx_dXes79q4oTvsSn_O28C7OMOD7UPJyZwHQ/s1600/WW+Willow.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsTkE0vmgjuLDt_u18vYQXft3P9Zsr5kQcS3wbzmtlwRQ47xUBSTqmsUMOfGfd8zNIk7MUA-DvUFul2XJvkB-J5FfJdhxVjcoXsnFQ3BXx_dXes79q4oTvsSn_O28C7OMOD7UPJyZwHQ/s400/WW+Willow.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-45616782996643962712011-06-22T08:00:00.000-04:002011-06-22T08:00:04.775-04:00Wordless Wednesdays<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXEVpckJp98dLPKKOs6qKqRFG6OzqgctGbmWcqw4oa_GcxXaxzMqkcScSIP8l-9d0TW6k3Teq3K85noKnrf94JwfpH62aaYnXN4P1M8IjT-7sNIHI1g1goae6bdawAqmShXXC8p8okFKQ/s1600/tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXEVpckJp98dLPKKOs6qKqRFG6OzqgctGbmWcqw4oa_GcxXaxzMqkcScSIP8l-9d0TW6k3Teq3K85noKnrf94JwfpH62aaYnXN4P1M8IjT-7sNIHI1g1goae6bdawAqmShXXC8p8okFKQ/s640/tree.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-26482700083934397122011-06-19T15:10:00.000-04:002011-06-19T15:10:59.536-04:00Happy Father's Day<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><strong>Happy Father's Day</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">...to all of the Dad's out there, especially my <em><span style="color: #073763;">Dad</span></em>! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">You have been an inspiration to me. You have always encouraged me to follow my dreams and helped pick me up with I fell. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>Thank you!</em></span></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_pt_clti2bm4M57NBvhW3dkvREKtWF2KhIDgCEKTkXqzc6HDRXtNGJZTFcDVGhm2Qyrg3sPZV9RHcDAVpS7JSBUBIXzb5AGOfUiKmkZjBnKKdR_F-6DGgigrc2il6fuZIqaWn32aKkw/s1600/Picture+086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_pt_clti2bm4M57NBvhW3dkvREKtWF2KhIDgCEKTkXqzc6HDRXtNGJZTFcDVGhm2Qyrg3sPZV9RHcDAVpS7JSBUBIXzb5AGOfUiKmkZjBnKKdR_F-6DGgigrc2il6fuZIqaWn32aKkw/s400/Picture+086.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doing what he loves best, sailing.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-2839993142335727402011-06-18T11:15:00.000-04:002011-06-18T11:15:00.271-04:00Happiness<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">Someone loves rolling in the grass</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">...and cow poop</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">....and dead animals.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">Lucky for me, today she only rolled in the grass.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37ohUANHGYtviFVv_vbF1Mv5c_wO4w7gnmJrDlluIlN3O-CdYZSrBAXvZdV3Ma88zKYLmjhwQBjabNXO3DvAz30Ur6HBystgNYKpJSht_JamRUmoOmFWMH4Z1r9qSVAfDF5f8K-j_Gdg/s1600/June+23+2009+052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37ohUANHGYtviFVv_vbF1Mv5c_wO4w7gnmJrDlluIlN3O-CdYZSrBAXvZdV3Ma88zKYLmjhwQBjabNXO3DvAz30Ur6HBystgNYKpJSht_JamRUmoOmFWMH4Z1r9qSVAfDF5f8K-j_Gdg/s400/June+23+2009+052.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1014096611068131686.post-83180074485621790782011-06-17T17:45:00.007-04:002011-06-17T17:45:00.374-04:00I'm Ready for the Weekend<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;">It's the weekend! And I feel exactly how Copelan is acting...ready to shed my work clothes have some fun. Sporting shorts and t-shirts, not heels and slacks. I get to work in the garden and play with the animals, <em><span style="font-size: small;">(I'm conviently forgetting the chores I need to do...shhh)</span></em>. It's great way to relax and prepare for another week at work. Ahhhhh.....</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;">Tonight calls for good friends, good food and possibly a nice bottle of wine. </span></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB0VF_v9bhVxT2BzVT0-uCsmDK3MBLf7o0edegwNE44oyu15g-zeJeOyfi9nrqcrXtcj3WjmBPIjbkosxoALzE5qsjPMr87K3tnN3mq99re_8-lA8xV2g-42PIt_WObNZ4BH2fDQSDXgY/s1600/IMG_0273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB0VF_v9bhVxT2BzVT0-uCsmDK3MBLf7o0edegwNE44oyu15g-zeJeOyfi9nrqcrXtcj3WjmBPIjbkosxoALzE5qsjPMr87K3tnN3mq99re_8-lA8xV2g-42PIt_WObNZ4BH2fDQSDXgY/s400/IMG_0273.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Get that itch!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;">Have a great weekend!!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;">~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #134f5c; font-size: large;">This blog is linked to <span style="color: #bf9000;"><em>Farmgirl Friday</em></span> at <a href="http://www.deborahjeansdandelionhouse.com/">Deborah Jean's Dandelion House</a>. Check out the other great farming blogs!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.deborahjeansdandelionhouse.com/2011/06/farmgirl-friday-blog-hop-12.html"><img border="0" height="200" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZiyFIzgL6MdAZEDynxms72wdPEtYUR6X8KrJXRPpZLJQI_b2EiSUn-P2CTci7Q7s4LLh2JkKQtIKcW5iww8yrHABmh48Zwk3jpypK1D1otsuqYKeFYhZNLQwihnzPA7eKkyFa6z7R1CQ/s200/reversiblecookingapronyellow+2+farmgirl+friday+copy+copy.jpg" width="177" /></a></div><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1