Paint and birds

Paint day 3

goats

I forgot to mention the two baby doe goats we got.  Autumn and Snow.  I hope to breed them this fall and get babies and milk from them.

The yearling horse, Moose, will be going to Chicago.  I am really pleased with how well he has matured here in just two months and I think the lady buying him will do really well with him.

At the moment I am trying to get my kindle to talk to my computer to upload some videos.

Lazy

I have been awful about posting.  I admit that I have been cheating and using my personal Facebook for updates.
I bought a yearling and got him halter broke, and got a lot of his ABCs of training in place. I am hoping to find him a new home soon.
Varg busted his leg but after fears of surgery he managed to heal up on his own.
I think we are the last leg of the journey to get rid of the St. Louis house.
We have two new chicks that a hen hatched out for us.  I would love to get another batch hatched out since we lost a couple of hens to predators.

Meanwhile, back on the farm....

I have been lazy and not posted for several months.

But in the meantime - My friend had her baby : healthy girl!
I butchered two goats - Camo had the bum leg and Miss had something go wrong where she collapsed and couldn't get up.  So we are stocked for meat.
Godiva we just took to the animal swap today and although I didn't get the price I wanted out of her, we did get a new tom turkey (bronze breasted) that will be able to breed the two hen turkeys I have, and also got two chickens that should start laying soon.
The other chickens have picked up production and I am getting about 10 eggs a day.
I started mixing together some compost and soil to get my plants started indoors, mostly tomatoes and peppers, but we'll see what other seeds I have stashed.

And I finished rewriting my first book (for the fifth time) and working on getting it beta read and will be proofreading it soon (I hope).  I started work on the second one but it is going slower now that the sun is shinning longer.  I feel like once the daylight starts getting longer I lose interest in some of my indoor activities (which is good I guess).

Hopefully once they weather stays a little warmer more consistently I will start stringing the wire for the fence.  And then I want to get a horse or two and see if I can't get them trained to be a good beginner horse for someone and resell them.

Big Plans.

winter

HA! Winter!

I could get used to 70 degrees in December.  Although you are confusing things Mother Nature, I do enjoy not having to keep a fire going day and night.

So, thank you.

That is all.

Holidays

Thanksgiving went well.  Parents came up and we visited with the family and friends.

The weather has been changing.  And thanks to Allie's snow dance we've had our first snow flurry (shakes fist).  But the temperatures haven't been terrible for the end of November and beginning of December.  However the heavy frost on the ground this morning was not a pleasant sight.  Please winter, hurry through for two months and then leave.  I want it above 50 again in February.

All the critters are doing well.  Dad helped me cover the chicken tractor to winterize it a little more.  A windstorm had done some serious damage to the plastic that had been over it.  I think (hope) Miss is pregnant, but I'm not sure about Godiva.  This will be Camo's last winter here, either I get up the gumption to butcher him or I need to take him to a sale.

Varg is growing, I think he is fifty pounds now, if not more.  Khain's back legs are getting weaker, but he still gets up and down the deck stairs without much complaint.

I've been diving back into crochet and writing again.  It keeps me from doing foolish things, like going outside in the cold.

I guess I'll give a snippet of what I have been writing (really rewriting).

Quick, nimble, grey skinned fingers loosened the snare from the dead rabbit’s throat; pulling the limp animal free.  The kill had been long enough ago that the rigor mortis had released, but the cool fall air had kept the insects away.  With a sureness of practice the young giantess reset the willow snare and brushed some leaves back over her trail.  She pushed her grey hair back behind her ear, the afternoon sun catching the blue highlights, and tucked the rabbit into her leather satchel.

            Madger wasn’t supposed to gather the meat from the snares for the clan; no woman was supposed to hunt or know how to set snares.  She wanted a more substantial lunch than the scraps of stale bread the other women in her clan had given her.  Most of the leftovers from the morning meal and traveling foods were reserved for the men when they went out on their hunts or checking the traps.

            The snares were checked daily but so far her male cousins hadn’t come by to handle the chore.  If she was quick and quiet about it she doubted they would notice.  More often than not snares were empty.  She knew this season though the snares would be set in her prime berry picking area as the small animals fed on them.  Soon the season would turn and the mountain would be covered in snow, and all sound would be muffled by the white blanket

Her sharp features creased as she shielded her eyes from the sun; she bore the high cheekbones and deeply set eyes indicative of her race.  Her body was thin; just beginning to bud into womanhood.  Fully clothed in soft leathers, from her wrists to her neck and down to her ankles; no skin was allowed to show other than her face and hands, according to the Traditions, the laws that ruled all Stone Giants.  She wore no ornamentation unlike most of the other women in the clan, not wanting any extra noise to give herself away while out gathering berries or collecting firewood.  Often the charms were designed so the small rocks would click together rhythmically while they walked.  Even some of the younger girls tied bright pebbles around their wrists, or to their necks, pretending to be married while out playing.

            The side of the mountain she traversed was covered in rough brush, small scrubby trees and a few hardy pines.  Most of the ground consisted of rocks that constantly threatened to slip out from under foot.  The mountain range wasn’t tall enough to keep a continual snow cap, but at the distant peak the vegetation wouldn’t grow in the thin air.  The sky was clear blue, except for the occasional white puffy cloud.

            She hurried through the lighter brush of the rocky mountain side toward a tall pine, the thin bush branches slapping back from her passage and the leaves and rocks barely sliding under her thinning shoes.  It was far enough from the trap line that no one would easily see her, unless they purposefully went off the trail.  She swiftly bent several branches of the pine back and settled under its branches.  Inside her satchel she pulled out a small bundle of dry tinder she always carried.  More than once she had been caught in the wet and cold but it had taught her a valuable lesson.  She would have to bring back some more of the dry twigs for her larger stashes in the cave where she lived with her family.

            A few strikes of her flint got the fire started, and she scooted out from the shelter to gather some more deadfall to roast the rabbit.  After the fire caught the extra wood to her satisfaction she went about gutting and cleaning the rabbit with her stone knife.  This was a skill her mother and the other women of the clan had taught her as none of them wanted the job.  It wasn’t a pleasant chore, but it proved useful for her, especially on the rare occasions that she dared to harvest her own meat.

Most of the dirtier and harder jobs were relegated to her, which was why she was out gathering berries.  Women weren’t supposed to roam from the home according to the Traditions.  The other women looked down on her so sent her out on the jobs that bordered on the edge of being proper for them.  Even being the clan chief’s daughter didn’t save her from the spite of the other women of the clan.  She was too small, a mere eight feet, compared to the usual ten of her family, too curious, too eager to adventure, and finally when the magic came to her, too strange.

She had a nearly 50 years of experience working outside and knew how to keep from making herself less noticeable.  Years of skirting the Traditions, and at the same time trying to follow them as best she could.  Doing her best not to react to the spiteful interactions with some in her clan because of how different she was.  But her race was long lived and she had just begun to be considered an adult.  Her mother and father well into their 200s, and her brother had just broached his 75th year.

            The fire was nearly smokeless and the pine boughs helped break up any telltale sign that a casual observer might see from up the mountain, where her family’s cave was located.  The wind was mild and barely offered enough force to rustle the leaves on the ground; the soft crackle of the fire was the loudest noise.

            Madger propped the prepared and skewered rabbit up against some rocks so the heat of the fire could begin cooking it, the exposed skin of her hands almost blended with the grey stones.  After burying the remains under several other rocks, so one of the men wouldn’t find the obvious gutting, she washed her hands with the water she carried with her.

            A sudden hard rustle of leaves and several rocks sliding down the mountain near enough to be heard clearly made her stop all movement, her heart hammered in her chest, fear of one of the men discovering her and her meal made her clench her jaw.  Madger’s storm cloud grey eyes scanned the area the sound had come from, trying to pick something out in the bushes and settling leaves.  Whatever had caused it, she hadn’t caught any sight of it when the rocks had shifted.  She held her breath, waiting for some other motion, some sound, to give away what had broken the stillness of the afternoon.

            Shadows shifted and she took a shallow breath, the sound of her blood pounding in her ears threatened to block out any other noise.  After several tense moments a small flock of birds flew skyward from nearby trees, just beyond where she had heard the rocks slide.  More than anything that told Madger that whatever had been near her was moving away and she let herself take a deep breath.  Perhaps it had just been an animal, following the scent of her cooking; it was too far from the trail for it to be her cousin checking snares.

            The thought of the cooking meat brought her back from the panic that had seized her gut and she turned it over to keep it from burning.  She had yet to be caught taking meat or trying to practice her magic while out in the woods but she never wanted it to happen, or the consequences that would follow.  The Traditions of her people were very strict regarding women, and she didn’t want to have to put her father in the position of having to discipline her.  He hadn’t yet had to strike her for any improper actions, but most in the clan thought he was too soft on her and her brother.  More than once one of the other men slapped her, or some of the younger boys threw rocks at her as she passed because she had made an infraction while her father was away.

            More confident that no one was nearby she took the time to practice using her magic, lifting small stones with the power that collected in her gut and pounded in her blood.  Concentrating and forcing her will to shape the magic that coursed through her to solidify around the rock, no bigger than her hand, had her wincing with a headache.

She had heard from listening to her clan gossip that there were magic words, maybe symbols to draw, motions with her hands that would assist with the concentration, even make a spell, but she didn’t know how or what to do, so she simply concentrated.  She wasn’t even sure how to weave a spell; at least that was what she had heard it called.  Madger assumed it would be like weaving a basket or tapestry but she didn’t know how to shape the magic like that, and so simply let it move fluidly in the manor she wanted.

The clan had begun their gossip about magic when she first started developing her ability to wield it.  It also coincided when her body was beginning the transition to adulthood, though she was still thin and hadn’t developed the curves of a more mature giantess.  At first she had wanted to listen to the little knowledge she could glean from the clan’s gossip but she soon discovered there was no real knowledge there, just guesses and hearsay. Sometimes she thought some of them purposefully mislead her in how to work the magic.

No one else in her clan could wield magic, and few wanted to be near her because she had not yet learned to fully control it.  The neighboring clan had a mage that could teach her though, but there was a dispute over their territories and her father was in the midst of trying to work a treaty with them.

Her father was gentle though, often with good humor.  He could have struck her whenever she misbehaved like the other men in the clan did with the other women.  Instead he would talk with her, and listen to why she misbehaved.  Often he still punished her with more chores, but he never allowed anyone to strike her while he was within sight.

Her mother tried to teach her to ignore the teasing, suggesting she try and get along with the other girls and join them in their silly games.  But her brother, Merion, was her real respite in the clan.  He understood her willfulness, her need to explore.  Some saw him as odd too.

He didn’t train with the other men often, didn’t hunt often, but rather tended to the small herd of goats.  It was a job he should had relinquished to younger boy a long time ago.  He should be married now, or at least searching outside the clan for a woman to find one to his liking, as none of the ones in the clan had drawn his attention.  His taste was for a woman who could keep up with him while walking with the goats; one he could discuss the books with, and challenge him with her wits.  He had a keen mind and a sharp tongue that favored jokes, and he longed for a companion with the same.

No woman was allowed to read though, so he taught Madger in secret.  No woman could keep up with him and the herd of goats on the rocky mountainside, so Madger visited with him while on her hunt for forage.  And although she didn’t speak much, even with him, she laughed at his jokes.

The scent of the cooked rabbit made Madger finish her practice with the rock.  She rubbed at the bridge of her nose for a moment to ease the headache from her practice.  Then she devoured the meat, nibbling the bones clean and sucking the grease from her fingers.  It was a small meal, but substantial enough to keep her stomach from grumbling until supper.  The bones she placed with the guts and left the shallow grave with rocks over it for scavengers to find and make look natural.  As she left the pine she bent the branches back, covering the remaining charred rocks from the fire she had stomped out.