I am so sad to say, our donkey experiment did not go so well.
Unfortunately, we had to give Abner away to a new owner.
I love Abner.
(Even a very muddy Abner.)
I mean, really, look at those EARS!!
Only, Abner’s sweet face did not translate to his behavior.
Let me back up.
Donkeys are known watchdogs…they protect the herd they are with.
Abner was a great watchdog for our three cows and life was good. In fact, it was fascinating to watch Abner interact with the cows. He was especially protective and fond of Freddie (Ethel’s calf), I think, because they were newbies, the youngest.
(How’s that for cow and donkey psychology?)
Anyway, we decided to add another Lowline Black Angus to our small cow family.
Lovey (as in Thurston Howell, the III’s wife from Gilligan’s Island) joined Lucy and Ethel (and Freddie) a couple of weeks ago.
Immediately, Abner would have nothing of it.
Apparently, he did not like Lovey breaking up their happy home, so he prevented her from joining the other three.
Lovey came to us impregnated, so naturally, we did not want her to be running, and Abner was determined to run her.
After watching him being so ugly toward her, we really had to reconsider keeping him around when she and Lucy and Ethel had calves.
While donkeys are known for protecting, they can also be so protective they can kill a newborn calf, simply because it’s a new and unknown creature entering the picture.
We couldn’t take that chance.
We found a lovely new home for Abner.
I asked the sweet man who took Abner to give us an update on how he’s doing, but I have yet to hear from him.
Who knows? We may try owning a donkey again in the near future, but ThrillCam and I have agreed that we want a baby donkey to begin with.
Either way, we’re always learning.
We have had a TON of rain over the last week or so, making my new herbs and vegetables quite happy.
(I’ve been checking my toes, daily, to make sure they are not webbing!)
Apparently, our part of Texas is predicted to have an unusually wet April and May.
Not a bad thing, as we are still recovering from a drought.
(I’ll try to remember, fondly, the rain, come June, July and August…)
As you can see, above, the rain has compacted the dirt and allowed the, uh, numerous rocks to be revealed.
(We used some extra dirt we had out at the ranch (apparently rocky dirt), but made sure to amend it with plenty of mushroom compost.)
The plants don’t seem bothered by the little rocks, so I guess I’ll quit worrying about it.
(It’s just not as pretty as clean dirt.)
Above: purple pole beans–can’t remember their name!–watermelon (or cantaloupe, maybe), and bush beans.
(If I find that I have super, great success with any particular veggie, I’ll be sure to list the names and varieties in a later post.)
Both vegetables and herbs appear to be sprouting and growing well.
Oh, goodness, you have no idea how happy that makes my heart.
I am always so hopeful and excited at this stage of the game.
Over in the large garden plot, the corn and Kentucky Wonder pole beans are also beginning to stretch upward.
(I used the little orange flags to help me keep track of where I planted seeds–they’re a cheap and convenient way to warn me not to walk on the baby seeds and seedlings.)
I have watermelons, cantaloupe, squash, and some tomato plants in this big garden plot.
Oh, and if my watermelons produce as I hope they will, I will be able to provide the world with watermelons all summer long!
(I may have overdone it with the watermelons…once they start growing and spreading, I’ll take pictures…I’m scared they may take over our backyard and pasture…)
(We’ll be in trouble if the cows and Abner, our donkey, eat watermelons!)
Marigolds are supposed to be excellent companion plants for all veggies.
They’re heat tolerant, once established, which we need here in Texas.
Plus, they add color and attract pollinators.
Who knew having a garden could bring such joy?
It’s not too late to plant a few seeds in some dirt, y’all!
I promise you, you will not regret it.
This is not an unusual scene in my backyard:
You might get the idea that we are big campers.
Not that we aren’t, but we aren’t.
(I can’t tell you the last time we went camping, which is actually sort of sad.)
We aren’t opposed to camping, it just hasn’t happened recently. Life is busy, y’all.
If you have teenagers, especially teenagers who have older siblings who go to college or teenagers who have attended summer camps where college students work, you may look out your back door and see the very same thing.
(Actually, if you have college students, you are more likely to see this around their college campus. I see hammocks, occasionally, on the Baylor campus, and I know it’s happening on college campuses all over the nation.)
(I would have LOVED to have a hammock, at college, to lie in while studying!)
(That statement assumes I actually studied.)
(Admittedly, I DID have a hammock in my apartment bedroom during my Junior year at Baylor. It was just for looks, though; it held my stuffed animals and Beenie Babies.)
(Remember Beenie Babies?!)
The hammock is called an Eno, short for Eagles Nest Outfitters. They are fantastically light-weight, small and quite comfy. Both of our sons love theirs.
Obviously, our youngest loves his enough to use his around the house, during non-camping days and weeks.
Sometimes, it’s even strung up directly on the back porch…so he can see the tv.
(I wish I had a picture of it; pure laziness and comfort at its best.)
iPhone pic of our son and a couple of his good friends, last Spring:
The kids are even prone to stacking the hammocks, so they hang directly above and below each other!
My youngest and I recently had a conversation concerning Prom: he said he thinks it would be WAY more fun for his group of friends to get all dressed up, take pictures, go eat at a fancy restaurant, then, instead of going to the actual Prom, they should come back to our house, change clothes, go build a fire down by the river and spend the night in Enos.
(with adult chaperones, of course!)
Enos and S’mores! How fun is that?!
Doesn’t his “non-Prom” idea sound fantastic?!
So, if you are in need of an unusual and uber cool gift for your teenaged (or college-aged) son or daughter (yes, many of our sons’ girl friends own and love them!), you might look into getting them a hammock.
(I’m all for a gift that moves them outside and up into the trees!)
Happy Hammock-ing, y’all!
This is the house my parents built.
It’s where I grew up.
The above picture was taken in the early 70’s, before any landscaping, or tanks (ponds), or fences, etc.
This one, above, was taken in the 80’s, back when we had a white van that was perfect for driving lots of family members to away Baylor football games.
Do you see all the cracks on the outer surface of the stucco? Shifting ground and a poor foundation made for many cracks and repairs over the years…something my parents never were able to properly remedy.
Many wonderful memories are held in the walls of that house. It was my home from 2nd grade through high school.
It was where I brought my boys to see their grandparents, to breathe clean air and run with abandonment…to view a lot less concrete.
Fast forward past many years of shifting ground, lots of foundation repairs, and the deaths of both of my parents and what you get is a house that should no longer be standing.
Believe me when I say, it needed to come down.
So, this past Fall, my sister, husband and I had been working, feverishly, for 4-6 weeks, cleaning out 50-plus years of memories, of stuff.
Oh, the stuff.
My childhood bedroom had not changed in decades! Cheerleader uniforms, camp t-shirts, dried Homecoming mums, scrapbooks, music theory medals, old love letters, college notebooks and projects…all still in my bedroom…all in exactly the same place I had put them, so many years ago. I could walk into that room and be instantly thrown back in time…1970…1982…1989….Hours could pass as I reminisced, sorting through the wonderful memories.
Now, my stuff, along with all of my parents’ stuff and all of my sister’s stuff had to find a new home, whether that meant my house, my sister’s house, the dump, or Caritas (a local donation and distribution center).
(We tried to donate as much as we could, but some things just weren’t good enough to pass off as “gently used.”)
(People who are in need of your used stuff deserve good used stuff, not crappy used stuff, in my opinion.)
By the time we were done purging, we were utterly sick of the house.
We were worn out…emotionally and physically.
We had been making important decisions about where things should go, daily, for weeks on end, and our brains and bodies were exhausted.
So, as the day approached for the demolition to begin, we rejoiced. It was time, by golly!
Good riddance, old, dirty, falling apart house!
The day arrived.
It was a nice, cool morning. The sun was shining. I had my camera. Our friends brought kolaches and fried pies.
It was a house demolition PAR-TAY!
My sister and I even posed in front of the house for a picture to commemorate the day. We were smiling and laughing.
Just as the excavator revved its engine, my sister and I moved away from the house and took our appointed positions to get the best videos and photographs.
We were ready.
Surprisingly, though, for me, the first swing and crunch of the claw into the stucco, wood and glass was like a punch in the stomach.
I was not as prepared for this as I thought.
In less than five minutes, my parents’ bedroom was gone from the house.
Surreal is a good word.
While I know a house does not make a home and a building is only temporary, watching it being destroyed so seemingly carelessly, no, violently! was upsetting.
I wonder if this is how someone feels when they lose their house to a fire or a hurricane?
Even though we got all our stuff out of the house, it still hurt to watch it disappear before our eyes.
Isn’t that crazy? There was a whole house there!
And, the left-over pile consisted of small, relatively tiny parts when it was all said and done.
Eventually, the bulldozer, and skid-steer, began the process of removing the rubble.
It’s amazing to think that something that took months to design and build, years to make and hold memories, took mere minutes to destroy.
(There’s a life lesson in that, y’all…how precious the things and people we spend time building up, can so quickly and easily be torn down…and it doesn’t take a bulldozer…just an untamed tongue wielding words and anger…)
Now, the space is cleared and wide open.
As if nothing was ever there.
Yet, there was something there.
It was a home.
A home full of love, dysfunction, dinners around the table, arguments, important decision making, tears, laughter.
…imperfect people who called themselves family trying as hard as they could to do the very best they could.
…and many good, good memories.
Goodbye big house, with the red roof, on the hill.
You were well loved.
This Spring, I decided to go a different route and try my hand at raised beds.
My sweet, handyman of a husband built these awesome beds and I am already loving them!
I like the rustic look of these beds…rusty tin recycled from the ranch, and rough-hewn cedar lumber.
I’m hoping, by having smaller, raised beds, I’ll have larger output of vegetables.
The plan is to use these beds for herbs and more compact vegetable plants, while using the original garden plot for corn, beans, squash and watermelons.
You know, the plants that like to wonder and spread out.
Okay…I do plan to put a couple green and purple pole beans in these boxes to climb on the trellis.
I love having a pretty trellis in the garden, even in raised beds.
(See our sweet pet cows and donkey?!)
(Have I told you ThrillCam doesn’t really like it when I call them our pets?)
I’m sort of bummed I didn’t ask ThrillCam to take some “how-to” pictures for me.
Pictures would have shown how he put a floor about 18′ down, in each box, so we didn’t have to fill the entire box with dirt and compost.
And, believe you-me, we shoveled in plenty of dirt and compost!
I can’t imagine having to completely fill each box.
(Okay…HE shoveled the majority of the dirt…”and I helped!”)
(I really did shovel some! I have the very sore shoulders to prove it!!)
(Does it count that I’m the one who will tend to the garden, though?)
Actually, I think we make for a good team!
I’ll be sure to give updates on what veggies and herbs I’ve planted and how they do.
Happy Spring, y’all!
Every year, about this time, my husband diligently cleans off and puts up his Martin House.
Over our 25 years of marriage, occasionally, ThrillCam would recall his fond memories of his grandparents’ Martin house.
Somehow I actually remembered this, and a few years back, the boys and I gave him his very own Martin house.
He’s been dedicated to those little migratory birds ever since.
Every year, it seems we both equally get caught up in waiting for and watching, protecting and being entertained by the daredevil Purple Martins.
Needless to say, this year is no different.
ThrillCam cleaned and even re-positioned the Martin house, in anticipation for the arrival of the birds. His theory was, if we move the Martin house a little closer to our house, maybe the Sparrows won’t try to move in and take over.
So far, the Sparrows have stayed away.
But, not because he moved the house.
In fact, we have a way bigger dilemma than those house-squater-Sparrows.
You see, the very day the martin house went up, in moved two beautiful Bluebirds!
You can see the pretty female, above.
In this picture, you can see the male, below the female.
(My photograph does nothing to show you his brilliant electric blue color.)
As you can image, we have fallen in love with these two and we want them to stay!
What’s funny is, the Bluebirds have protected the house from the Sparrows, who always give the Purple Martins a hard time about nesting in there.
By allowing the Bluebirds to stay, the Sparrows are kept out!
That’s a good thing!
Getting to watch the Bluebirds up close and personal is also a treat for us.
But…we also enjoy watching the Martins, when they arrive each year. Besides, they depend on humans for their homes…Bluebirds do not.
But, by golly, those Bluebirds sure are pretty! And I don’t think I’ve ever been close enough to truly observe Bluebirds for any extended period of time.
Can see our problem, y’all?
Will it be Bluebirds?
Will it be Purple Martins?
Or, will the Sparrows push their way in and mess everything up?
Oh, the drama!!
Stay tuned, y’all.
He’s my “new” donkey!
He’s actually not all that new, just sort of new to me.
Abner is a precious two year old Sicilian donkey, who came to me as a gift.
A gift, you say? Who gives donkeys for a gift?
ThrillCam gave him to me for my birthday!!
I know, I know…most girls get blingy things or gift certificates to their favorite store, spa treatments…
I get donkeys.
Let me defend my husband, lest you think Abner is an awful gift.
My husband is an extremely good gift-giver. He always gives items that have a great amount of thought behind them, something I’ve said I wanted, something that has meaning attached to it.
(I, on the other hand, am an awful gift-giver…I try so hard, but it never comes off the way I want it to.)
(Except for this past Christmas! I done good, y’all!! Maybe I’ll talk about that in another post.)
Back to Abner.
Background: two and half years or so ago, before we moved to our little sliver of acreage, out in the country, I said, almost incessantly, that I wanted a donkey when we moved and had the space.
All three of the males in my family would roll their eyes and say how goofy that idea was and immediately break into, “And, in the mornin,’ I’m makin’ waffles!”
(Thank you, Donkey, from Shrek.)
I held my ground. I never let up on the dream to own a donkey.
I even posted pictures on my Pinterest boards, declaring my love for all things donkey. (That, y’all, is commitment.)
My donkey dream did not become a reality immediately.
In fact, it took two and half years to come to fruition.
On November 30, 2014, around dusk, I get a call from my husband who says, “Please come outside.”
I walk out, see the horse trailer, and think, “He needs help with a new cow, I guess.”
As the light dims outside, I see my husband wearing an unsure grin, as he points to the trailer and sheepishly says, “The day is almost over, but, Happy birthday!”
There inside the trailer, is the cutest, most precious, big-eyed and big-eared donkey you could ever imagine!
And, he’s all mine!
It was the most perfect birthday gift from an almost perfect husband.