My Guideposts -- Week88

 

Well done is better than well said.  

~Anonymous

That being said, I'm off to concoct some peach salsa as part of my mission to use as much of our harvest as humanly possible.  I may have to re-word this..."well eaten is better than well said"? 

Have a peach of a week,

The Replacements

Guess what we have at the Cottage? 

 Here's a hint:

 

Long-time bloggity friends may recognize the alien spaceship-look of my fancy-dancy, Rube Goldberg-inspired incubator from the Bombshells tenure there two and a half years ago.  Take one rabbit cage, surround with a metallic sunshield from the car, heat it with a light bulb and a foil pin tin reflector.  Finally put some easily-removed foil over the gate. Dig out the old chick feeder and water dish.  Add two little peeps.

Let me introduce you to the new girls:

 

"Chick One and Chick Two, meet the Readers.

Readers, this is Chick One and Chick Two."

The Bombshells' egg production has dropped dramatically and their days (weeks? months?) are numbered.  Sad but true.  And we're pretty spoiled by fresh eggs, a use for all the kitchen scraps and chickens that do the composting for us so a change was in the works.

My feed store has been stocking baby chicks for the past month and I finally caved after buying fre$h egg$ at the Farmer$ Market. 

This time around we are going with Buff Orpingtons--they should grow up to be attractive matronly hens with golden feathers.  

I'm open to suggestions on better names than Chick One and Chick Two!  You had some great suggestion for my first flock:  The Bombshells were named for movie stars:  Rita (Hayworth), Sophia (Loren), Carole (Lombard) and Norma Jean.  My feeling is that our new girls will be more down-to-earth, girl-next-door types.

Peep, peep,
 

Party time at:

Sweet

There are garden chores...and then there's harvesting lavender. 

Oh, the aroma!  The fragrance! Can't you just practically smell it through your monitor?

 

The old galvanized bucket I stumbled upon at a yard sale early in the summer (fifty cents!) has been holding bundles of drying lavender.  Now I'm rubbing the lavender buds into it instead of the paper grocery bags I've used for the past couple years. Style points!

Just look! 
 

See all the lovely buds that are piling up in the bottom of the bucket?  As I rub off the buds, I dream about making sachets from some of the old, slightly holey linens I've acquired.  I won't feel bad about cutting into the vintage table runners since they will just be re-purposed!  Maybe with a bit of embroidery or ribbon work? Wouldn't they be nice Christmas gifts?!

Sweetly,

 

My Guideposts -- Week87

Love is a fruit in season at all times, and within reach of every hand. 

~Mother Teresa 

Delectably,

Autumn?

Officially, yes.

My summer was so satisfying and I accomplished so much

(not one thing of which I've blogged about) 

that I'm happy with my memories and ready to move on to a new season of fun-filled projects.  Yep, summer ended without any kicking and screaming this year which is pretty amazeballs.

No, I haven't been abducted by aliens, tinkered with and returned to the Cottage as a new and improved version, thankyouforasking.

It's just that my flowering dogwood has tinges of red, the fruit is coming faster than we can use it (thank heavens for neighbors), the waterlilies have ceased blooming.  The cooler nights and more moderate temps have deepened the colors of the late roses.  I'm buying mums not petunias.  The mantel is asking politely for some fall decor and the ruffly pink cushions on the porch wicker just don't look right.  The garden is already slowing down so I've found myself sitting and sewing instead of digging and pruning.

Pretty soon I'll be haunting my Goodwill instead of cruising yard sales with my sidekick.  Soup will sound good.  Oatmeal for breakfast.  And a cup of Sleepytime after dinner. 

It's gotten me in the mood for a homey change of seasons.

Welcome, Autumn.  Bring on the lamplight and down comforters.  I'm ready for swirling leaves, pumpkins, treat-or-treaters, and acorns.  I'm ready to fluff and settle into my nest.

 

Random Thoughts For a Monday

I finally found something that chickens won't eat--tomato worms. We tossed three in the run and the girls decided that these were alien bugs were to be avoided at all costs. They huddled in the back corner until I took pity on them and removed the offending hornworms. This from hens that regard a live mouse as an opportunity for an all-out rugby scrum where the lucky victor gets to swallow the mouse whole and strut around with the tail handing out of her beak.

You can hear autumn approaching.  No, it's true.  I can lie in bed on a cool, slightly nippy morning (nippy is the technical term for thinking about putting on a light hoodie for my morning walk but deciding not to) and I can hear the whoosh of cars on the not-so-close roads and the trains sound much clearer as they clack and rattle through town.  But songbird chatter?  Far and few between.  I'll know it's fall for sure when I hear the Canada geese honking as they fly over.

I use Blogger Drafts as a convenient Note To Myself.  Today I started composing a post that will never be published (is that why they call it a draft?) with photos of garden plants to be moved, comments on what I want to change next year, and photos of new mums and recent delphinium acquisitions that I know I'll forget by next spring.

I have eighty-nine other drafts on Blogger that are not Notes to Myself.  Someday I'll either publish when I have the photos done (The Truth About Chickens) or delete (cryptically entitled Photo C) or save to finish writing (The Guest Room).  Am I the only one with a gazillion unfinished posts?

I sang or hummed songs from movies all day.  If I Only Had a Brain from The Wizard of Oz...I Have a Dream from Mamma Mia...This Land is Mine from Exodus. 

Election season = Too many signs cluttering up the neighborhood and negative, name-calling, finger-pointing ads on TV.  Sigh.

I love Pinterest.  It gives purpose to my blog-hopping, Google Reading, internet-surfing existence.

The metal dog tag from PetSmart turned Kharma's white neck ruff to gray.  I could seal the tag with a nice spray of Clear Coat.  Or wash her daily.  Or I could just stew about it for months every time I notice my gray-necked, unwashed dog.  Now that I think of it, I really should make another Note To Myself in Blogger.

Life has plenty of challenges lately, but I never have trouble falling asleep now that I end my day thinking of everything I'm thankful for.  I'll be adding Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep from White Christmas to the songs I hum tomorrow.

Final thought:  Why did I think I knew how to embed YouTube videos so you could hear the songs if you wanted?  Just because I've done it before.  I'm getting error messages when I try to click on the link--I guess I'll just figure that you all are capable of finding them for yourselves.  Problem solved!

Gratefully,

My Guideposts - Week86

For Pooh and the Professor

There is no controlling life.

Try corralling a lightning bolt, containing a tornado.  Dam a stream and it will create a new channel.  Resist, and the tide will sweep you off your feet.  Allow, and grace will carry you to higher ground.  

The only safety lies in letting it all in--the wild and the weak; fear, fantasies, failure and success.  When loss rips off the doors of the heart, or sadness veils your vision with despair, practice becomes simply bearing the truth.  In the choice to let go of your known way of being, the whole world is revealed to your new eyes.

   ~Dana Faulds

God grant them as many moments together as possible. 

 

My Guideposts - Week85

The moment you act as if something is so, the universe of infinite possibilities collapses into one inevitable happenstance. 

Quantum physicists assert that in any given moment, infinite possibilities are present.  Some go as far as to say that there are infinite universes coexisting.

When you look at something and say, 'This is what it is,' you are pouring your creative energy (attention and awareness) into that specific perception. The moment your awareness locks on to one possibility, all other universes collapse. 

~Gary Simmons 

The I of the Storm 

For my dear sister and brother-in-law