Christmas Eve

As most years, the old and rather raggedy Christmas tree was set up during Thanksgiving, and this year it was finally endowed with new lights, so it shines rather brightly.  The remaining few of the fake needles we try to hide under trinkets and sparkly things, and the whole procedure is for the dogs.

Maggie knows the promise implied, and has been checking for the best present, but like a good girl without doing more than slightly moistening the wrapping paper.
She points to the choicest present with the insistence of a compass needle, so how could I refuse?

We opened it first.  It was a matter of survival, I believe.

...And the winner is...

Only after sampling the Milkbones (Harold's pick), were the other presents worthy of consideration.

some go hide with their present

while the others need more refreshments

Ralphy gladly traded all other presents for the magic Milk bones

Aftermath

Calmer times

It is truly winter.

Snow and ice have settled in, or so it seems.  The lowest temperature we've had do far was around 11° F (-12°C) and that is NIPPY with the least bit of wind stirring.  But it warms up during the day, so the critters have been managing rather well, and the dogs seem to love this weather.

Dangerous times

It is easy to get complacent here, out in the middle of nowhere.
I mean, the house was warm, the dogs were walked, the critters have been fed, and all that remained to do was for me to take a nice hot shower and go to bed.  I wanted to read a few more chapters of Don Quixote, which is my current literary masterpiece (and that is a loosely used term) that I am trying to read through.  For those who think it is all about windmills, there's a thousand pages of the 'adventures' of the crazy knight errant, his nag, and luckily his companion slash squire, Sancho Panza, who is at least slightly amusing.  The rest is... well, in serious need of editing.
Now, it is not nearly as bad a book as Ulysses was, but it also isn't nearly the fun and joy of Moby Dick.  So occupied with like thoughts and banalities, like finding some clothes for the next morning, I was fumbling around, tripping over a suitcase that Harold was supposed to empty out and put away, and while I am grumbling about that, I look up and see...

...something...

                         ...but what exactly?

It is something on the wall, near the ceiling, a big smudge.  Sure the smudge is probably something else, but I had left my glasses downstairs, so I can't tell what.  Most likely it is a moth, I decide, and I don't deal with insects that are large enough to see without glasses.
So I holler for Harold, and for my glasses, my good mood in anticipation of an early bedtime (Don Quixote puts me out like a light) gone.
Harold, wearing his glasses looks at the smudge and declares it dust.  "See, there is some on the ceiling too."
Okay, I am a very particular housekeeper, particularly bad, that is, but dirt on the ceiling?  That's a bit much.
So I climb on a stool and it is NOT dust, no, it is a hole!
A bullet hole, to be precise.

The bullet came through the wall, bounced off the ceiling, and smashed into the vent cover on the other side, and, once I looked for it, I tripped over the darn thing on the carpet.
Okay, forget nice early night of refreshing slumber.  Our house had bullet holes!

Harold actually found another one in the roof, and a chip out of the chimney, and what does the man find remarkable about that?  The grouping!  Tight grouping, he says with admiration.
Someone shot those real close together.

Okay, I am not impressed, and after a few phone calls and a visit from the deputy sheriff, I didn't get to get bored by Don Quixote for a few nights, because I was too wound up.

Sure, easy to say that it was a hunting accident, and I am not tall enough to have gotten hit by it, and that Harold took just a few minutes to fix the roof and the outside wall (the inside walls still need to be repainted), all those are intellectually true and emotionally not at all comforting.

Could be a moth...

... but isn't

Follow the path of the bullet 

The talented Decibel - Canine astronomer

Decibel is very observant.

It keeps her out of a lot of trouble, for she seems to know exactly how far to push things, or when exactly to misbehave and I am in too good a mood to correct her.

It also keeps her rather busy, for the world is hers to patrol and check for intruders, shadows, and especially stray lights.  This may be part of her eco-defender dog superhero persona, who knows.  But be assured, no reflection, sneaky alien with sparkly space ship, or flashlight bearing person can ever hope to sneak up on us.  Not while she is on guard against such dastardly things.

One morning as I am doing the chores in my half stupor, she goes off:


BOWOWWOWWOWWOWWOOOO!!!


Now what?  
She's barking at the moon.  Okay, the moon is weird.  It is missing its top.  Good girl Decibel!  Someone stole a chunk of moon.  You tell them.

Same moon, but not during eclipse

Thanks to her we got to see the tail end of the lunar eclipse, which I would have missed otherwise.  Since there isn't another one for a few years, and that one will likely be cloudy, well, I'm kind of glad she pointed that out.

What has two tails?

Today's world is full of mythical creatures, from Sasquatch/Bigfoot, teenage werewolves and vampires, ghosts and spirits, to the zombie apocalypse, but most of us know that these are as fake as unicorns.

Okay, maybe only some of us know that.

But here now I present proof of a creature with a tail on either end, a freak of nature or simply something that has an explanation?  You be the judge...

Well, all except Marcy.  Marcy, just skip this post.  Really, trust me here.

Introducing the two tailed creature:

Yes, I know, what a let down, it was a fake... the front tail is detachable!  

Maggie finally caught the rascally squirrel she has been chasing all fall.  The thing was mocking her, and it would jump off the tree trunks and run ON THE GROUND to another trunk, thus teasing and taunting Maggie, in an evolutionarily ill-conceived show of rodent supremacy.  

After weeks of such hubris, Maggie had the last laugh.  

She carries the squirrel everywhere with her, but politely leaves it outside when she enters the house.  She can still dream about it though...

Decibel and Maggie PLAY!

Maggie has started to play with Decibel.  It is an honor bestowed upon Decibel, and she knows it.  She plays by the rules, which ensure that Maggie wins.  It has been happening quite frequently, but it is not an easy thing to take pictures of.  Fur flies and gets blurred, and it is a fast paced activity.  Although teeth to flash, they are never actually used.
It is all in good fun.

 

And Decibel is smart enough to let Maggie win.  Oh yes, she is.

Just a walk

We've had beautiful fall weather for the most part this year.  Lots of times it was warm enough to walk around without having to bundle up, and I even got a late ride in this November.
On a walk up to the horse barn Decibel was just her usual playful self.  She often brings me a stick or a piece of bark or a weed (we call them flowers).

I'm trying to close the gate - Decibel can't wait...

play tug

tug tug tug

Your turn to play, Dad!

Kirschenmichel

Every once in a while I have a nostalgic hankering for food from my past, usually childhood treats.  Often I even have the recipe for those, but they include a difficult to impossible to get ingredient, so they remain cravings.

One of the recent cravings was Kirschenmichel, a sweet cherry-pudding type thing, baked in the oven, and consumed warm, topped with the all important, IMPORTED, cold vanilla sauce that is a thing of beauty all by itself.  My Mom got me the vanilla sauce on her last trip to Germany, so I was a step closer to fulfilling my food fantasy.

Well, one good thing about having a cow is that I can make Quark, which is a German fresh cheese type thing, not yogurt, not sour cream, not mascarpone, not cream cheese, and so forth, but a little like all of those things.  It is white, creamy, soft, mild, fluffy stuff, and can be made savory or sweet.

Of course Harold had to joke about quarks and ask about the neutrinos, but I told him not to worry, since they are faster than light (I TOLD YOU SO), they were gone before I even made the stuff, which takes about two days.  One day you let the culture grow in the milk, another day you leave the curds to drain, and then, voila, it is Quark.

Now all I needed was Gries, which is farina (Cream of Wheat), and cherries, and I was good to go, since eggs, sugar, cream and butter are common enough.  I even had my Mom’s handwritten recipe, which upon closer examination was rather suggestive.  She doesn’t have to write down things like oven temperature and other details, since she KNOWS how to cook.  But I guessed at the gaps, and the resulting dish was…

SUPERB!



Oh it was good.  The dogs surrounded me and focused their mental beams on me so they got a taste, and then they were in the same happy sugar and cream induced vanilla flavored heaven that I occupied.  Seriously, it was bliss.

Cloning on the farm

Well, you can't keep a 'retired' genetic engineer away from the test tubes and DNA for too long, especially when there is a surplus of milk and a shortage of drinkers.  The pigs were shipped and we were once more drowning in the white stuff.
Sooo....
                            ... I cloned me a batch!

                          Seriously?!?

No, of course not.  Our friend and dear dairy consultant brought over a couple of heifer (girl) calves to help with the milk disposal.  The experiment was almost successful.  Ruby spent a day looking at the duplicates, chewing her cud and thinking, and then?

Then she upped her milk production!

No joke.  But we are feeding three and still have plenty of milk for cheese, butter, yogurt, and more.  It took the little new ones only one feeding and they mob us now, it is good milk!  I named the new girls Gertrude and Priscilla, for reasons obvious to me, but their final names will be decided by their owner.

Decibel now sleeps with one eye open, so I don't add more 'kids' to the family.