All Racoons Go to Heaven

This afternoon my boys called me to the front door and told me to check out the coon that decided to visit Taffy's dinner bowl.  You guessed it!  I had another Missouri moment.  This sort of thing would have never happened if we still lived in California!

It is very rare to see anything like this at my front door and of course a picture was warranted.

However, there is a reason that you don't see this happening in the middle of the afternoon.  Coons that come out during the day are sick, and this little fella was surely sick.  He could hardly walk straight.  I knew  what I was going to have to do and I wasn't very excited about it.  It isn't good to risk our farm animals to whatever illness this little critter is carrying (distemper?  Rabid?).  The bigger concern is my cat-hugging-dog-loving-chicken-snuggling toddler who might happen upon this fuzzy wuzzy coon and try to pack him home so she can force feed him twizzlers. 

So I did what all good Apple Farmer Wives would do and drug out the shot gun.  The Apple Farmer's advice to me over the phone was to make sure I was standing outside when I shot because he didn't want me to blow out all of the windows in the house.  I guess I over estimated my aim because I only loaded up two shells and didn't take any extra with me. 

I did get him the first time!  The last two shots were for eating my dog food and trespassing my property!!

  JUST KIDDING!! 

I did get him the first time though, but I was a tad too low.  He got up again but dropped just as I fired the second shot.  The third shot put him out of his misery and gave him his ticket to get to racoon heaven.  He is now happy as he can be up in God's corn patch (not mine!!!) eating all the sweet corn he could ever want!

New Hair-do

We had some errands to run, so I start to put her Royal Highness' hair in a quick pony tail, and No way Jose is she having anything to do with it.  She wants a pony tail at her forehead.  No way Jose am I having anything to do with it so I rubberband it in the back and tell her to get her shoes on.  She pitches a dramatic temper tantrum.  Her Daddy walks in on it and sees that she is willing to pull the pony tail off of her head than to wear it where I put it.  He pulls out the rubberband and sticks it on her forhead.

This is how she looked as we left to run our errands.

We are so proud!

Fishing- Kitty Style

No little birds were harmed in the making of this post. 

This bird house happens to be vacant at the moment!

Christmas Break of 1989

During my senior year in high school I had the opportunity to help Pat in her flower shop.  We worked very long hours, drove home after midnight and got up a few hours later to make our way to the flower shop and do it all over again.  Pat taught me how to put the FTD arrangements together and after a while they became very simple to arrange.  I remember arranging greenery and red carnations while some of Pat's very talented designers put together the most beautiful arrangements of flowers I had ever seen.  I loved every minute of assembling and watching what next was to emerge from each new vase that was placed upon the work space.

I haven't had the opportunity to work in another flower shop, but to this day, I still know how to tie bows exactly how Pat taught me!  This skill has been so handy in so many ways!  And although I will never be able to work the magic that her amazing designers did, I do have a lot of fun putting together little arrangements with the pretties that I like to grow in my garden.  Out of a simple opportunity to earn a little money over Christmas break, I never imagined that two weeks could have ever had such an influence!

Dolly Again!

It's Dolly again!

She still is not dead - she's just waiting to see how she's gonna be loved on next!

The Little Things

They say that its the little things in life that matter.

Well, if that statement is true, what do you make of this?

....And this?

Hello Dolly!

I promise it isn't dead!

Which usually is the case for critters around this farm that get named!

And this one has been named...

...She is aptly named Dolly.

And if she really hated being packed around like a rag doll,

I would think she would take the first opportunity she had to run away from her overbearing, smothering little mommy!