Friday, July 8, 2011
Beating the Heat
With our temperatures hitting triple digits -- day after day -- everyone seems content to snooze away the hot afternoons......
Monday, July 4, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Fresh Figs in Pea Ridge
One of my favorite things is fresh figs -- Alice helps me pick figs every evening!
These are from the Brown Turkey tree -- we are waiting on the Celeste and the Italian Cream varieties to ripen!
These are from the Brown Turkey tree -- we are waiting on the Celeste and the Italian Cream varieties to ripen!
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Can You Spot The Coon?
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
A new horse!
We got a new horse! Unfortunately we had to sell my first horse Whiskey River. But W.R is still at our stables and now belongs to the new barn manager! He is gonna be a roper. I'm so happy that he has such a great home, where I can still see him and ride him!
The new horse is names No Shadow of Doubt (registered) Beaujolais (barn name) Beau (for short). He is a fully trained western pleasure horse and he's ONLY FIVE! He is a beautiful full bred quarter horse. I am so happy to have him and now I can start to show competitively. He is so funny! He loves to play. I am so happy to have him. Sorry I didn't post this a while ago. I have had him for three months but have been down with him a lot and do a lot of 4H.
Even though I miss Whiskey I love Beau!
Monday, February 28, 2011
A Really Bad Game
One of Sammy' s favorite games used to be pushing a tennis ball under "the bridge" and digging it out. Those were the days.......
Here is the back of the bridge, and as you can see, it is accessible from both sides and it doesn't require outside help to get the ball out. In other words, Sammy can play this game by himself.
Last week, the yard men, not aware of the importance of this placement, moved "the bridge" to a more logical spot in the yard. Naturally, Sammy had to look for a new place to hide his ball. Now, the most exciting place to push a tennis ball is underneath the shed:
Unfortunately, this game requires outside assistance to retrieve the ball --
It turns out this wasn't the right ball, so we had to go digging some more:
Here we go -- right ball!
Rejects from under the shed:
Once we had the right ball, here comes Sammy to return it to its hidey-hole under the shed (Notice Alice by the fence -- Alice does not partake of this bad game):
No, no, no, must redirect. We move from the side yard to the back yard to throw the ball -- Sammy action shots!
And yes those are wood chips in the yard! Sammy's ball games have been a bit hard on the grass, so we spread mulch to deal with the mud problem. Now it looks like a dog park, which it pretty much is.
We moved "the bridge" back to its rightful place, but Sam still thinks hiding his balls under the shed is a superior game. We don't!
Here is the back of the bridge, and as you can see, it is accessible from both sides and it doesn't require outside help to get the ball out. In other words, Sammy can play this game by himself.
Last week, the yard men, not aware of the importance of this placement, moved "the bridge" to a more logical spot in the yard. Naturally, Sammy had to look for a new place to hide his ball. Now, the most exciting place to push a tennis ball is underneath the shed:
Unfortunately, this game requires outside assistance to retrieve the ball --
It turns out this wasn't the right ball, so we had to go digging some more:
Here we go -- right ball!
Rejects from under the shed:
Once we had the right ball, here comes Sammy to return it to its hidey-hole under the shed (Notice Alice by the fence -- Alice does not partake of this bad game):
No, no, no, must redirect. We move from the side yard to the back yard to throw the ball -- Sammy action shots!
And yes those are wood chips in the yard! Sammy's ball games have been a bit hard on the grass, so we spread mulch to deal with the mud problem. Now it looks like a dog park, which it pretty much is.We moved "the bridge" back to its rightful place, but Sam still thinks hiding his balls under the shed is a superior game. We don't!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Happy Valentines Day!
This poem was written by Alexander Pope, a famous 18th century poet. Some of the people I study ran in the same circles as Pope, tho he was a bit older than most of my people. I love his depiction of the country squire's manners towards a lady! The poem is copied from Mark Girouard's Country House Companion.
To A Young Lady, On Her Leaving The Town After the Coronation (1714)
She went to plain work, and to purling brooks,
Old fashion'd halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks:
She went from opera, park, assembly, play,
To morning walks, and prayers three times a day;
To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea,
To muse, and spill her solitary tea,
Or o'er cold coffee trifle with a spoon,
Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon;
Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,
Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire;
Up to her godly garret after seven,
There starve and pray, for that's the way to heaven.
Some squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack,
Whose game is whisk, whose treat a toast in sack;
Who visits with a gun, presents you birds,
Then gives a smacking buss, no words;
Or with his hounds comes hallooing from the stable,
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;
Whose laughs are hearty, though his jests are coarse,
And loves you best of all things --but his horse.
Notes: "Buss" means "kiss." Eating dinner at noon was unfashionable. "Bohea" refers to black tea from China.
To A Young Lady, On Her Leaving The Town After the Coronation (1714)
She went to plain work, and to purling brooks,
Old fashion'd halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks:
She went from opera, park, assembly, play,
To morning walks, and prayers three times a day;
To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea,
To muse, and spill her solitary tea,
Or o'er cold coffee trifle with a spoon,
Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon;
Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,
Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire;
Up to her godly garret after seven,
There starve and pray, for that's the way to heaven.
Some squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack,
Whose game is whisk, whose treat a toast in sack;
Who visits with a gun, presents you birds,
Then gives a smacking buss, no words;
Or with his hounds comes hallooing from the stable,
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;
Whose laughs are hearty, though his jests are coarse,
And loves you best of all things --but his horse.
Notes: "Buss" means "kiss." Eating dinner at noon was unfashionable. "Bohea" refers to black tea from China.
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