All Creatures Great and Small.

For all that Bambi was beautiful, I have to be perfectly honest....

these fearful fowl fall short of invoking those same weak kneed, dopey eyed, warm fuzzies.

rather than thinking "run, turkey, run!" I'm just thinkin' "RUN" in the first person.

I'm pretty good at finding the beauty in most anything....

Jenni (ugly beautiful)... Tonia (oh befriender and redeemer of turkeys- and I have to admit, yours was stinking cute... I never got to see these ones from little, maybe that would have helped?)....

you're gonna have to help me out on this one.

Thankful 311 & Counting

Ordinary, beautiful things for which I give thanks.

311. the cloud of softness that envelopes me as I crawl into our "winter" bed. The light and airy warmth of a feather duvet above and the downy softness of fleece sheets below. Mmmmm.

312. last remnants of the garden in, cold room brimming with crates of potatoes and carrots, freezers overflowing with all manners of fruits and veggies.

313. quiet read aloud moments after dinner with Daddy laying on the couch and kidlets sprawled around the room, eyes wide during the action, crinkled during the humor and teary eyed during the drama.

314. fall, sweet, beautiful, lingering, tingling, sparkling, intoxifying fall. "

"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." - George Eliot

"The Indian Summer, the dead Summer's soul."- Mary Clemmer

315. babes that find their "groove" and sleep blissfully, long naps and longer nights.

316. yard put in order and ready for snow.

317. 2 year old boys that say things like "Dinosword"

318. 4 year old boys that say things like "inside outside"

319. sunday night birthday parties and wednesday morning brunches that celebrate friendship

320. a functioning septic. wow the things we take for granted on a daily basis.

William Wilberforce

I was moved by the following excerpt taken from "William Wilberforce, God's Politician";

"Now when he attended the parties and dinners he had enjoyed so much in the past, his pleasure was gone. "How vain and foolish all the conversation of great dinners: nothing worth remembering," he wrote. "Dined at Lord Chatham's. All the "greats" present. How ill suited is all this to me! How unnatural for one who professes himself a stranger and a pilgrim!" By contrast, he could write with pleasure: 'Dined at home. Milner and I had some serious talk.'

Despite his misgivings and discomfort, Wilberforce forced himself to maintain relationships with those with whom he had always spent so much time. he did not seek to be the center of attention anymore, but he did seek to participate as a friend. He remained faithful to those practices which he believed were appropriate to a dedicated Christian. he bowed his head to say grace before every meal, whether the friends with whom he ate joined in or not. He also tried, on every occasion to "do good" for his friends by turning their conversations to spiritual matters. Yet he would join in their gaiety-despite some misgivings- as much as he felt he could. We sense some of his inner turmoil when he writes in his diary, 'Dined at E's. The dinner turned into a rout. What extreme folly is all this! yet much entertained.' And in a letter to a friend: 'How difficult it is to be merry and wise.'"

Oh the constant tug of war between being here in body and "elsewhere" in spirit. Between being true to ourselves and being true to our friends. Between going mad or appearing mad because our realism doesn't fit with that of the worlds. Wilberforce's mother apparently had grave regrets over the "evangelical madness" that had gripped her son. A friend of hers responded to her concern with; "If he is mad may he bite us all." Wow. Oh to be able to pull that off. To possess and reflect something utterly foreign and contrary to this worldly paradigm, yet utterly inviting and desirable.

Bambi Scouts Us Out.

So one morning this summer... I'm curled up on the couch having my quiet time when I get this strange sensation that causes me to turn my head and look out the window. I kid you not. The last time I had that same sensation I was sitting in the schoolroom shortly after we had moved in and the meter guy came for the first time to read the gas meter. I happened to be sitting there BREASTFEEDING quite secure in the privacy of my wonderful farmhouse in the middle of a secluded yard situated on a quasi private road smack dab in the middle of the wide open prairie when all of a sudden the top half of a big burly MAN steps directly in front of my schoolroom window (well technically his whole body stepped but only his top half was visible to me). I now know that the gas meter is directly below said window and will NEVER be caught unawares again. That said, *this* little jigger was a much more welcome window guest....
It must have been the double panes (living room/sun porch) that allowed me to move around unnoticed but I was able to sneak for the camera and get one shot in before he turned and started walking nonchalantly away. Just scoutin' things out. He's watching the horses and sheep in the coral here.
huh. those are some curious creatures. Wonder if they've got food? now he's wandering over to the old tool shed. Do you want to know something horrifyingly ironic? Do you see that flap of carpet hanging on the sliding door of the shed? That's a big square of folded carpet that dh uses for target practice with his bow. You know... target practice, so that he is good and limbered up when deer hunting season opens....
If you ask me he is looking at those grain bins and thinking.... "breakfast!" if only he could brave the sheep and horses, but bravery does not appear to be this fellow's forte.
Now he's wandered over to the north side of the house and is angling in on my garden. Only here there are not double panes to hide me now and he *definitely* sees me.
not only that. He also *hears* me. Seriously, he starts to lower his head, and everytime the camera shutter clicks he pulls up sharp again. The windows are CLOSED. Our house is INSULATED (well, sorta). he's seen me. he hears me. now he tries to get a whiff of me.no can do. So he wanders nonchalantly into my garden.I'm wondering where the dog is. I think he is too.
Truly the grass is always greener.... he can't seem to just pick a spot and eat. Always lookin' for greener pastures. He makes his way down the length of my garden, around the corner through the untilled future berry patchthrough my raspberriesbypasses my potatoes.
and slowly wanders off.

It brings me great angst to think that this same little buck is out there tonight, with a little rack that has doubled in size and a tag with his name on it. Maybe I'm not such a redneck after all.... Or maybe I am. Just a redneck who's contemplating putting up some heavy signage (cardboard duct taped to two by four of course) that reads "Don't mess with Bambi".

Notes to Self

photo credit Steve Woods.

Next time you make a cheesecake, don't leave it out on the counter within reach of an unsupervised two year old. That is unless you want to return to find plenty of Oreo crumbs all over the floor, a sticky faced boy and a rather empty cake plate.

Next time you pull the flat of eggs out from the top shelf of the refrigerator, ensure that it is not going to catch on the light module and smash half a row of eggs in the process.

Don't leave your two year old unsupervised while said eggs are on the counter if you don't want to come into the kitchen to find him playing soccer and slip n' slide with eggs on the lino.

Keep buying those double flats of eggs from Costco... it will ensure you still have eggs to spare on days like this.

Avoid putting your compost into an ice cream pail without a handle. Avoid attempting to pick up said (full) ice cream pail by the rim with wet hands. I guarantee that the mess that ensues is *not* going to make you smile.

Go right ahead and let that sweet little 5 month old sleep between you and your beloved after his 4 am feeding, but be sure to stuff a pillow into the headboard above his head to prevent him from pushing himself in between the wrought iron rails and waist deep down between the mattress and the wall.

Make sure your hands are dry (again???) before attempting to grab the two year old's potty, and don't shrink from it girl.... grab it firmly and be bold. Believe me, the result of not having a firm grip is far worse than anything you can imagine.

Next time your 2 year old comes to your room and says "poop mommy" at 7:45 in the morning, please choose to kiss those last 15 minutes of sleep goodbye. They are just not worth the experience of waking up to a full pullup 15 minutes later.

Be sure to not leave your mug full of hot coffee within elbow reach of your four year old student and nestled among numerous piles of books.

Don't allow your 6 year old to prop your five month old just fed baby up among same said books before he has been properly burped. Seriously folks, coffee and projectile puke do not mix well with workbooks.

Just in case any of you thought my life was all peaches and roses. This is living proof that there's a lot of poop and puke and other not so delightful moments mixed up in there too. But somehow, they contribute to the beauty... *don't* ask me how.

Thankful 310

photo credit; Charles Thompson

I have so much I am thankful for on a daily basis, I feel that I can not even keep up sometimes. But today, I have a really BIG thankful. One that just stopped me in my tracks like a Mack Truck kind of thankful.

310. God's abundant provision. He always presses it down and keeps filling to overflowing. Truly I am humbled and in awe of how generous and good He is. This past year Prairie Guy got a double raise that pushed him into a higher tax bracket. We have always felt we did very well in a low tax bracket, merely because we get all of our income tax back and it works out to not much less than he would make on a much higher salary after contributing all his taxes and rrsp's. We were curious to know how these "raises' were going to affect us financially. We thought our actual income might end up going *down* slightly because of it, ironic as that is. He would gross more, possibly bring home a few dollars more (or not), but we would inevitably end up receiving less child support, and subsidies on the home end (it's always in the second year that our child support takes a dive as they base it on your previous years income).

So this year we were expecting a dramatic drop in our child support cheques which are pretty equivalent to what I would make in a 3/4 time position. Well, this week our provincial government introduced a new tax break that not only raises our old tax bracket by nearly 10,000.00 but also dramatically increases the deductable for each member of the family. When you've got 7 people in your family, the consequences are huge. Oh, and they are backpaying for last year....

It never fails to amaze me how rich we are (well not by rich people's standards, but seriously, we ARE rich) despite all the logistics that make up our life. It is only because of His goodness and grace and I am incredibly thankful.

How about you? How has God blessed you with His goodness and provision this past week?

Bruschetta

For the record, if you were wondering.... it's pronounced "brew-sket-uh" if another waiter says "huh? oh you mean brooshetta?" I'm gonna scream. Or "Guh-noke-ee". sigh. If you're going to *put* the authentic name on your menu, please make sure you teach your waiters how to pronounce it....

Anyway, here it is. One of those saving graces of the last minute on the fly meal (like tonight on mid-week club night).... it doesn't get quicker than this, and it hits the spot. You know, the bruschetta spot.

6 ciabatta buns (pronounced chah-bah-tah if you were wondering that too), halved.
3 cups fresh chunkily diced tomatoes
1 red bell pepper, diced as well
2 cups cottage cheese
1/4 cup olive oil
1 t salt
1/2 T oregano
1/2 T garlic powder mix (I use Johnny's from Costco)
2 cups shredded mozarella.

Toast buns on cookie sheets, face up for 5 min's at 375.
Mix remaining ingredients excluding mozza cheese.
Remove buns from oven, top with about 1/3 cup each of tomato mixture, sprinkle with cheese and return to oven for an additional 5 min's.

From start to finish this meal takes 15 min's and it's a real crowd pleaser. If you're short on ingredients you can do it as simply as you like... it's good without cottage cheese and you can omit the bell pepper as well if need be.

Mappin' Things Out.

Went into the schoolroom over the weekend and found Prairie Poppet (6) playing with this. Oh the joy of phonetic spelling.

Artic Ocean; Alasca; Canida; Younidid Stats; Mexico

Australia; North Pisific Ocean; J(inverted)apan;

Indeeu; China; Filipeens
Itlee; Trcee; Iran
Arginteenu
Indeein Ocean;

I love that she not only know where these places are but that she is learning so young how big and rich and diverse the world is.

Encore After Dusk.

Behold the Bride of the evening arrives

silently ascending the steps of celestial granite.

Swathed in white damask and adorned with fragile lilies she moves gracefully across the darkened cathedral of the heavens.

A million candles her matrons of honor, shimmer and quiver then fade at her approach

For the radiance of the groom's countenance is now fully reflected on the face of His bride, and everything else must fade to black.

Pictures and poetry by Prairie Chick.

First Lady of the Evening

Behold she takes the stage

Bedecked in mauves of bold outrage

With trailing scarves of lavender
A flush on her cheeks, her dark lashes sink

above lips painted petulant pink.

Her spirit is heated, her passion fast meted

She has only one moment to please.

Her seconds of glory, so quick you'll be sorry,
as she sinks in a curtsey and flees.



Pictures and poetry by Prairie Chick, all rights reserved

Prelude to a Sunset.

The leaves have completed their festive adieu, and the trees now stand stark and bare against the crew cut spindles left after the harvest. Thankfully, as the gold and russet arboral capes were shed, the sunset has taken centre stage in this ever changing prarie spectacle. Evening after evening she steps gingerly onto the stage adorned by a tiara of shimmering gold, and then before our eyes is transformed from a shy and unassuming maiden with downcast eyes and and a gentle blush, to a bold and astounding vixen with flaming cheeks and flashing eyes, dancing a tango step across the sky, determined at all cost to woo us with her charisma and beauty. This panorama of pictures were mostly snapped from the corner of my wrap around porch in one of those silent, golden moments just before she does the tango stomp, clenches the rose between her teeth and strides out in all her passion. This time of day never fails to woo me.

Prairie Guy playin' in the backhoe on the northeast corner of the yard.


A dying tree on the bank of the east pond.


a view of the back pasture to the south east.


the back pasture through the bracken at the edge of the orchard.


peeping through the orchard, south east.


last of the crabs, safe from arms reach, hanging on for dear life.


the barn, on the south side of the house.


The windmill, at the front corner of the barn.


The tire swing to the south west.


looking west, toward the river.


north, our driveway.


north, the road that brings us home.


(Stay tuned tomorrow for the second act, shot just moments after these.)