Hey, faithful Followers, both public and secret...(And yes, I know there are secret followers....brings a much needed air of mystery to the Chronicles! Ghost readers....ooooooo!).
I'm going off-line until after Easter.
For those who cling to the Chronicles, checking daily for posts, (umm, I don't actually think THOSE people actually exist, but just in case...) you can scroll back through the older posts, some of which are real groan-ers. (Sara H., I typed a big old long email that's sitting in the "drafts" box....thanks for writing, and don't quit the Chronicles because of the break! I'll try to get the email out right after this....Alice-with-a-little-a, same to you.)
Happy Easter; hope you have a beautiful, blessed weekend!
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Rancher Terminology, cont.
Sorting Stick- What ranchers throw after getting "help" from their wives.
Gate- A seemingly simple apparatus used to cover a hole in the fence that is always open when it should be closed and vice versa. Some gates are traps, set up by mean-hearted ranchers, to baffle wives who are trying to "help". Closing them involves a complicated series of actions and facial contortions. Generally the trap is complicated by the need for speedy closure.
Pairs- Def. 1.- What gloves are bought as but never, ever are observed as after the tag is ripped off.
Def. 2- Cows with their calves. Or with another cow's calf.
Count- A random number that will always be right when the neighbor does it, but forever wrong when the wife does it. It is procurred by moving your eyes over the backs of the black cows clumped together going through a gate, but without lifting your finger to keep track. (Some neighbors move their lips when counting, and if you figure this out, it's easier to watch the neighbor than the cows.....no matter what, you'll be wrong.)
Cow number- The identifying digits written in black paint on a rubbery, plastic-y tag that's attached to the cow's ear. (It's written in secret code that I'm about to reveal here on the Chronicles. The first digit is the year the cow was born. Ooooo.) One must always, always, always look at the cow number on every cow while simultaneously looking at her bag to see if the new calf sucked. If one encounters a dead cow, cut the tag off as evidence. Otherwise the men will not believe that you saw a dead cow; they will insist it's an old potbellied stove...
Pen- Def. 1.- A stick with an ink insert that won't scratch out any sort of legible writing, especially if there's a need to write down an important cow number.
Def. 2.-An enclosure for cows, that they are opposed to entering, because there are scary shadows or the atmospheric pressure that day is not auspicious for penning.
To be continued...
Monday, March 29, 2010
Nesting
My daughter nests.
She's driven by some terrible maternal force deep inside to create little living spaces in any nook or cranny she finds vacant.
In our house, she creates places like "Fairy World" or "Horse Land" with old check boxes, found string, broken toys, and books for her little dolls to live in. I've seen her make a waterfall that puddled on the floor from two old blue play dresses, where her horse toys would frolic and play. She swipes things from around the house to use and it's generally very ingenious, so I have a hard time getting after her for using something like the ice cream scoop as a catapult for fairies.
This spring, we've found evidence of nests built around the yard before the snow covered them....little piles of what look like trash and junk to mere mortal eyes, but in actuality are treasures and castles to anyone 5 years old and younger observing the same thing.
"Oh! There's "Mermaid World"!", she'll exclaim, falling on her knees next to a couple of empty water bottles and my garden trowel. And she'll proceed to explain every little nuance of the place and invite me to join her in that mystical place, long covered by the blanket of winter.
She always invites adults to kneel down and enter her worlds, even though we are short-sighted and practical. As she describes the functions and reasons for the placement of each little piece of flotsam and jetsam, it's entirely possible (if one lets go of thier horrible urge to clean or file) to see through her eyes and slip into that place for a while.
Last night, she was a dinosaur and built a nest with eggs up in our tree row. (It was tricky, trying to decide what sort of dinosaur to be, incidentally, because she adores steak, so a carnivore was what she wanted to be. However, carnivores are not very well behaved, as a rule, and she was trying to be a good, kind dinosaur.) We had to go look at it and coo over how well made it was and what beautiful eggs she had. There was great distress when sleeping in the nest overnight was ruled out as an option.
Her little brother is the anti-nester.
His job is to come in and demand his toys back; toys that have not been seen nor heard from since he was 1 1/2 years old. Or he crashes through the nests and worlds with all the determination and flair of a D6 Cat, evoking wails and pounding of fists upon his back. He's contrary. If she tells him that the cardboard leaned up against the brick is a slide for dinosaurs, he'll insist that no, it's a pirate house. (Or vise versa) Brothers are seldom asked to attend functions in "Dragon World", for obvious reasons.
We've gotten used to living with a magpie.
But when you come for a visit and see little piles of assorted nonsense in funny corners of our yard and house, now you know about the nests. And I can assure you that within 15 minutes of arriving, you'll be invited with great excitement to come to see a castle or hideout or stable....
You'll need to put on your magic spectacles and slow down for a little bit....
Wondrous little worlds await you in those odd nests....
She's driven by some terrible maternal force deep inside to create little living spaces in any nook or cranny she finds vacant.
In our house, she creates places like "Fairy World" or "Horse Land" with old check boxes, found string, broken toys, and books for her little dolls to live in. I've seen her make a waterfall that puddled on the floor from two old blue play dresses, where her horse toys would frolic and play. She swipes things from around the house to use and it's generally very ingenious, so I have a hard time getting after her for using something like the ice cream scoop as a catapult for fairies.
This spring, we've found evidence of nests built around the yard before the snow covered them....little piles of what look like trash and junk to mere mortal eyes, but in actuality are treasures and castles to anyone 5 years old and younger observing the same thing.
"Oh! There's "Mermaid World"!", she'll exclaim, falling on her knees next to a couple of empty water bottles and my garden trowel. And she'll proceed to explain every little nuance of the place and invite me to join her in that mystical place, long covered by the blanket of winter.
She always invites adults to kneel down and enter her worlds, even though we are short-sighted and practical. As she describes the functions and reasons for the placement of each little piece of flotsam and jetsam, it's entirely possible (if one lets go of thier horrible urge to clean or file) to see through her eyes and slip into that place for a while.
Last night, she was a dinosaur and built a nest with eggs up in our tree row. (It was tricky, trying to decide what sort of dinosaur to be, incidentally, because she adores steak, so a carnivore was what she wanted to be. However, carnivores are not very well behaved, as a rule, and she was trying to be a good, kind dinosaur.) We had to go look at it and coo over how well made it was and what beautiful eggs she had. There was great distress when sleeping in the nest overnight was ruled out as an option.
Her little brother is the anti-nester.
His job is to come in and demand his toys back; toys that have not been seen nor heard from since he was 1 1/2 years old. Or he crashes through the nests and worlds with all the determination and flair of a D6 Cat, evoking wails and pounding of fists upon his back. He's contrary. If she tells him that the cardboard leaned up against the brick is a slide for dinosaurs, he'll insist that no, it's a pirate house. (Or vise versa) Brothers are seldom asked to attend functions in "Dragon World", for obvious reasons.
We've gotten used to living with a magpie.
But when you come for a visit and see little piles of assorted nonsense in funny corners of our yard and house, now you know about the nests. And I can assure you that within 15 minutes of arriving, you'll be invited with great excitement to come to see a castle or hideout or stable....
You'll need to put on your magic spectacles and slow down for a little bit....
Wondrous little worlds await you in those odd nests....
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