Wow What A Weekend!

So we really gave our new gal a workout this weekend. And a borrowed chainsaw…(super nice to have one of those around) We’ve got about a third of the property brush hogged, today we chainsawed our way back through the woods access road and cleared the access road of fallen trees and logs to rescue our old disc. A sizeable tree had even grown up between the bars and discs and had to be dealt with.
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But, we got it out and brought it back. It will need a little TLC, but for the first time in six years, I won’t have to try and till with a walk behind machine or bribe and barter with a neighbor to come and till our vegetable plot. I think we may even expand the garden this year, as I have the storefront in town that I can push some excess produce through. And, I have learned my lesson and will not be planting the corn nearest to the woods, as the deer got all but about a half dozen ears last year, and deer fence is simply not in this year’s budget.

 
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There was apparently some drama over in the chicken’s winter quarters last night…everyone was very stirred up this morning, and I found a large hole dug in the rear corner of the Marans coop from the other side. I was thinking something a bit larger, but T insists it’s probably Rat related. So the rodent boxes have been restocked with bait blocks, and some were thrown down the holes for good measure on the non-chicken side.
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However, then the borrowed chainsaw went to lumberjacking the teenaged trees out of the new coop runs. Weather permitting tomorrow, I’ll put up the top netting and a new gate, and then the birds should be able to be moved to their warm weather digs even as I finish replacing the center floor inside.
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A couple more days until I can candle the incubator eggs…I will try and post some pics when I do!

I hope everyone had a marvelous weekend!
 

 

 

 

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Take a kid fishing.

Take a kid fishing. Any kid, any age, (just ask the parents first, or it’s kidnapping) any time. Just do it. Nothing compares to the look on a child’s face when they just caught a fish for the first time. It’s joy and amazement and pride and awe all rolled into one big bowl of awesome.

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My Grandaughter Teagan

 

Over the years, I have seen my honey take countless wee ones fishing and make sure they catch at least one fish. I’ve seen him cast sidelong glances at lurking little ones watching furtively from a safe distance at one of the local parks.  I’ve watched him set poles, pick up a soda and sandwich, or a tangled mess of tackle just as a rod tip started to jiggle. And then it’s always the same.

“Hey! You there…young man (or young lady)…I need a hand. Grab that pole there! Quickly! I think there might be something on there. Help me out…I’m tied up with this here.”

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Ryan, my youngest

He always thinks he’s so sneaky about it. That I don’t notice that he’s just a big bowl of gruffness coated jello when it comes to kids and fishing. If there’s a dutifully watching parent or grandparent near who doesn’t make a move to take a photo,  he will do it himself.  He’ll patiently instruct the child on the best way to hold the fish so it looks the biggest, memorialize the moment and ask the adult for a number or email to send the photo to. Because that photo isn’t for him.  If it’s a monstrous pig of a fish, he’ll ask the adult if it’s ok to submit the child’s photo and name to the local tack shop’s site. More often than I can remember, it’s ended up there, and occasionally even in the paper. He’s never, ever in them…he’s the machine that hums away quietly in the background. Here’s a rare one of him with one of my own boys at 12. Meet Justin, and his first bass.

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What he doesn’t think I notice is the light in his own eyes. How he looks just like a big kid himself. How he chuckles quietly to himself later as he updates his Facebook status with his favorite words. “Another first fishy today! Take a kid fishing!”

I could quite literally take this man out on the priciest charter boat anywhere, drop him smack in the middle of a school of prize sportfish. He could battle and bail them all day long and I would never, ever, come close to seeing the light in his eyes when he watches a child pull their very first sunny out of a tiny pond.  In fact, he mated his way through his late teens on local charter boats. There isn’t a money fish alive that can draw him away from a kid with a bass on the line.  Here’s a photo off of our wall…apologies for the flashback, but it’s old and stuck to the glass inside the frame.

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I’ve lost count of the “first fishys”. I’ve lost count of the “Let’s stop here for just a second and see what’s shaking here at the spillway. I hear the perch might be running’s.” The poles come out of the truck, the bag of bloodworms or hidden jug of minnows appears seemingly from thin air, and I know we’re going to be late to whatever destination we were headed for. And I can’t even be mad. I love him all over again.

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Spring’s coming on. Take a kid fishing.

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