Sights from around Crooked Acres.
Carrots. I think they’ve got about another month to go before they’ll be ready. I don’t know what we’ll end up with – they probably needed to be thinned. I was none too careful when I scattered the seeds.
Catnip! I transplanted these plants from pots. Hopefully they’ll spread like crazy. They certainly have the room now.
Cauliflower and brussels sprouts – and a couple of volunteer tomato plants. I don’t know that I’m going to get any cauliflower OR brussels sprouts, but the plants certainly look happy (if kind of chewed upon.)
Bale gardening with tomato plants.
Bale gardening with watermelon.
Blueberries! I ate one the other day and it was mighty good.
Grape vine.
Mimosa in bloom, near the garden. These sure are pretty trees.
Just about ready to pick and eat. One tiny cherry tomato isn’t all that filling, though. I wish the others would ripen already.
When it gets a bit bigger, we’ll have (oven) fried green tomato with dinner.
Tiny green beans!
Tomatoes on the left and right – and a nice thick layer of grass clippings in the middle to keep out the weeds.
Baby robins in the tree in the front yard. Fred peeks at them every day. Yesterday he decided they were dying because they hadn’t gotten any water (it’s been super dry around here), and so he syringe fed each of them water while their mother watched closely from a nearby branch. And then he went around with the shovel digging up worms. He fed a few worms to the babies, and then he tossed the rest to their mother, who snatched them up and fed them to her babies.
They came down our road last week and picked up the cut up trees that were knocked down by the tornado. They’ll be back through in a few weeks to get the rest, which Fred still needs to drag from the chicken yard.
This tree, clearly dead, is from the back of the back forty. I’m amazed the winds from the tornado didn’t knock it down.
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Gracie loves to be brushed.
I know this is George because I can see the dip in his back. He’s longer than Gracie and thus has a dip in his back whereas she doesn’t.
::Phblllt::
Laughing at his own joke.
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“He SAID that?!”
“Yeah, can you believe it?”
“He’s got some NERVE.”
“I know, right?”
“I can’t believe it. What a JERK.”
“I know!”
“I never liked the looks of him anyway. He looks like a sleazy jerk.”
“He said WHAT?!”
“I meant it as a COMPLIMENT!”
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Fergus Simon tried to flirt with Miz Poo, but she was having none of it.
“She’s purrrrty.”
Sleepy Macushla.
Cillian adores a good belly rub.
Fergus Simon on the cat tree in the front room.
FS in motion.
If you look carefully, you’ll note that all six McMao kids are in this picture.
Someone asked about this set of steps recently. I conceived of them (“We need steps or something so the little ones can get up on the bed!”) and after much harassment from me, Fred built them. They’re probably a little steep, but I wanted something that didn’t have a very big footprint. He put partial risers between each step so that the kittens can actually use them to get up to the next step if they’re very small kittens.
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Maggie’s been spending the nights with her own babies for the past three or four nights. She still goes in to visit with the Spice Girls for a few hours each day, but I haven’t actually witnessed any nursing lately. Which isn’t to say that it’s not happening, it very well might be. I just haven’t seen it, so I don’t know for sure.
“Hi. HI! Hi.”
Cilantro in mid-fall, I think. I do believe she grabbed for a toy I was dangling over her head, but missed. That or she’s high on catnip. Either is equally likely.
Clove, complaining.
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Spanky say, relax.
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Previously
2010: :NOMNOMNOM:
2009: No entry.
2008: “Bleh.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Porky and the laptop.