Turkeys

If I hadn't stopped working on my new book today to answer the phone, I never would have been looking out the window and would have missed this group of turkeys crossing my pasture.  It was eight hens, all walking in a row.  I grabbed the camera and raced outside, through the barn, and stepped quietly out the back barn door.  I got there in time to see the leader stop, let the others bunch up while she consulted Mapquest, then lead them in a U-turn into the tree line, back the way they'd come.  I don't see them often - they seem to prefer heavy brush and trees to open pasture.  Someone should tell them that a week before Thanksgiving isn't the time to take a stroll out in the open.

This is the lady in charge, looking back to see what's taking the others so long to cross the pasture:

These are her friends, milling aimlessly while the leader re-thinks her decision to head across another field.

Characters and What Lies Beneath

I'm just beginning to write a new book now, and letting the characters take shape in my mind.  It's a process of layering - outward actions are driven by inner motivatons and conflicts.  What lies beneath the surface is what determines the real character.

So this was timely:  Hauling manure past a large bush in the pasture, I saw what the outer leaves had hidden all summer - a baldfaced hornet nest.

 The hornets are gone now, or dead.  But it might explain a couple hard lumps Remi had on his neck earlier this year.

What's hidden under the surface in not always nice - in people and shrubbery!

Romance...of a Sort

I recently finished writing a romance novel, the first in a two-book contract.  I've just started writing the second romance novel in that series.  And in between I've been reading.  Yes, romance novels.  So I'll admit it's on my brain a lot.  But I'm not the only one.

Yesterday I spotted a big doe in our side yard between the barn and the house.  Does and fawns walk through there all year long, cutting between one field and the next, so it wasn't unusal to see a deer there.  But this one was alone, and didn't seem interested in nibbling the grass or checking out the apple trees.  She stood still as if listening, very alert.  Then she trotted quickly toward the house and cut into the field next door.  She wasn't gone fifteen seconds when I looked up and saw another deer standing exactly where she had been.  This one was a buck.  Despite all the deer around, we rarely see bucks except for brief sightings in the fall.  And never near the house.  Although I'm not sure he really cared where he was; that wasn't what he had on his mind.  He stood as still as she had, sniffed the air, then started forward at a slow trot, looking around as he did and showing off his perfect, if modest, three point antlers.  As he neared the field where the doe had gone he must have spotted her because he suddenly broke into a run and was gone.

Obviously, the doe knew he was following her.  And although she was coyly leading him on, she wasn't trying to get away.  I wouldn't even call it playing hard to get.  Just making him work for it a little.  It's not like the heroines I write about, but it's still the same game.  Romance.

Firewood!

My new passion is splitting firewood.  No, really, I love it!  There's nothing more satisfying than the thunk of an ax digging into a log, making it fly apart into neat sections.

I should probably emphasize that my husband doesn't make me do it.  In fact, I'm pretty sure he's grinding the enamel right off his molars at the thought of me alone in the barn, swinging an ax.  That's where I split wood, usually while I'm waiting for pokey old Fritz to finish his grain.  It's just as relaxing as petting the barn cats, and more productive.  We need it - our wood stove helps reduce the amount of propane we use to heat the house all winter.

My work area, with a stack of last year's wood behind it and kindling-size pieces on the oak-plank block:

We keep seasoned wood in the barn so it's always dry when we want it.  The rest of it is stacked outside to dry in the air and sun all year.  In the winter, it's covered by tarps to keep the snow off, because we'll use at least half of this stack this coming winter.  I'm working on filling that front center section between the trees next:

Fourteen Years of Spiders

This is not creepy-crawly, I promise.

There's an old cabinet in our barn that was there when we bought this farm.  It was once a decent piece of furniture, with its wide shelves and sliding glass doors.  Probably sat in someone's dining room.  But somewhere along the way it absorbed a spill that give it a vague odor of insecticide when the doors are left closed.  That must have been it for the dining room.  We let it stay in the barn, but only use it to store metal things like chicken water cans and water heaters.  With the doors open.  It stands near the wall, with some old stall doors we stuck behind it 14 years ago.

This morning, for some reason, I looked behind the cabinet while the morning sun was shining in the open barn doors at just the right angle to hit behind the cabinet.  And for a moment fourteen years of spider webs were touched by brilliance, turning dusty old webs to spun silver.

Smells Like Fall

I know, I know, it's air pollution.  But there are too many leaves to mulch around here.  Besides, it's like burning a pine-scented candle at christmas; THIS is what fall smells like.

Nap Time

It's a rough life down on the farm.  That ground can be hard.

Fritz, standing.  Code Red and Remi down for the count.

Bittersweet

...or rather, it's evil cousin.  This bittersweet came from Asia about 150 years ago and is invading the territory of our native bittersweet, and worse, killing our trees.  It's a pretty death - the vines are loaded with orange berries this time of year.  Last month they looked like this as the outer shell was just beginning to peel back from the berries:

Now the leaves have fallen off and the shells have peeled off the berries, leaving a gorgeous tangle of orange:

It's beautiful, and before next spring I'll rip out this vine and begin the endless battle to keep it from returning and choking out another tree.

Deadfall

The high winds earlier this week brought down a few small trees onto our neighbor's hay field.  Since they let us use the field to exercise our horses, we do them the favor of cleaning up deadfall.  There's more than enough to keep us in firewood, which I suppose is good.  The reason why isn't so good - these are nearly all ash trees, which are being killed by the ash borer beetle, native to China.  We've lost dozens of trees, and I expect them all to go eventually.  The only winners are the woodpeckers who drill all over the bark for the yummy (one assumes) beetle larvae - the tree killers.

The two prematurely dead ash trees we cut up today:

Blowing in the Wind

It happens every year - a fall day when the wind blows so hard all your leaves end up in the neighbor's yard.  Works fine if you're not surrounded by trees, like I am.  Today nature traded my leaves for someone else's.  But fences helped catch them, making the eventual raking job a bit easier.