Not Warm...

The exterior thermometer read 24 Degrees F as i headed out for chores phase 1.

It's very dark at 6 am. The flashlight beam lights up the ice crystals that cover the grass, dog feet crunching on top of them. The scene, with clouds of exhaled C02 in the air, strikes me a something out of the "X Files"- only we're on a farm, there are no UFOs and no FBI agents. Otherwise, it is exactly the same.

Funny how quickly one loses feeling in their hands at that temperature.

In Memory of

Usually, the blog posts are light fare. Snarky or sarcastic- thin attempts at humor or maybe brief foray into the philosophical. i won't be doing any of that today.

The BKODs had for a month or so, allowed another feral cat into their domain. He enjoyed his time so much here he was given a name, Ainmire. It is Gaelic for "Great Lord"

Thus Ainmire was welcomed into the FOB:YF family, he would gleefully charge after the dogs at full speed, attempting to leap onto the dogs backs, or perhaps hang from their necks. Ainmire earned his keep as well; hunting to protect the barn from rodents.

Feeding time is always at the same time twice a day. One saturday, last saturday, he failed to come to feeding. On sunday, our worse fears were confirmed by a neighbor down the road.

He had died.

How ? i don't know. Some things, i think, we just aren't allowed to know the why or how.

It just is.

It saddens me that we lost him. The dogs know, the BKODs seem to know as well. Our little family is diminished.

Goodbye Ainmire, you came home after all.

11/14/09

Ainmire.

In Flanders Field

In Flanders Fields

Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Happy Halloween!

Wait. Yes, i noticed the date is wrong as well. Here at F.O.B:Y.F, things have been slightly askew, hence the posting schedule. Treading water is a good thing, as this is an indication you are not drowning. Barely.

Chew on that, dear readers.

High, Lonesome, Imhotep.

Fog

The ground clouds have made their appearance again at F.O.B:Y.F. With them comes tidings of much toiling; the fallen leaves, the many branches. Vexed are we at lack of the machinery, the workings of which were unknown to the peoples of the islands.


Yeah. i mean a leaf blower.