Catch-all
posted in Garden, Livestock and Pets, OmegaGranny, Philosophy, Pop Culture, Socializing |Our (green)house is a very, very, very fine (green)house
So the greenhouse is complete, except for some trim work, as of today. We happily lugged our two “baby” chickens into the greenhouse to provide a contained greeting spot for old hens and new chickens to get accustomed to each other, in preparation to migrating the new birds into the large coop.
I have to say, the greenhouse is awesome. OmegaDad did a wonderful job. It’s neat, tidy, sunny, light and warm inside, roomy, has lots of beams to hang plants from, and looks like it may provide a very nice spot to hang out on chilly days that have some sunshine. Not that I’m thinking of lazing about there in the dead of winter, mind you. But it’s really, really nice.
To refresh the memory, here’s what it looked like before:
And this is what it looks like now:
(Pay no attention to the detritus in the foreground of the second picture–there’s a pair of sawhorses with plywood making a work surface, which is covered with paint cans, tools, scrids and scrads of lumber and foam molding, and it provides a nice place to lean rakes, shovels, brooms, etc. while they’re in use. The whole affair is due to be removed Very Soon Now.)
I am most satisfied.
The bunny…the bunny…oh, I love the bunny
The day after our baby duckling died (I am still sad about that), OmegaDotter went off to play with some neighborhood friends. An hour later, one of the girls poked her head around the back of the house to ask if we, by any chance, had some carrots? Why? Well, see, there’s this bunny that we’re trying to catch…
So I provided some carrots, and figured they’d have a grand time unsuccessfully trying to attract one of the wild bunnies that hang out in the neighborhood (some of them are very interested in our veggie garden, but we have netting over it to deter moose, and it seems to deter the bunnies as well).
An hour later, three girls show up in our backyard lugging the world’s most enormous bunny. OmegaDad and I take one look and know it’s someone’s pet bunny, but whose? So we stash the bunny in our downstairs bathroom, animal refuge par excellence, I print up a bunny flier with a picture, and we send the girls out armed with fliers and tape to attach same to mailbox clusters around the neighborhood.
This is the bunny:
You can’t tell, but he’s HUGE.
A day later we get a call from Kelsey, who says she thinks it’s her bunny. Since at that point I had no idea where the bunny was–A. and G. had taken it home, then A2 and her sister had taken it to their home–I asked her to call later when the dotter was home, so we could return the bunny.
A few hours later, she called and asked if we wanted the bunny.
So now we have a bunny. His name is Copper. He’s 7/8ths Belgian giant, 1/8 satin, three years old, and “frisky”, according to Kelsey’s dad. “Frisky” means he’s not neutered, and thinks people’s legs are sexay female bunnies.
He, too, is moving into the greenhouse as soon as we get the (utterly gross yucky stinky peee-yew) bunny cage and shelter that we got from Kelsey’s family cleaned up.
Fame!
In my last post, I talked about Michael Jackson’s death and how I thought it was tragic. Please understand, I am not trying to make him out to be any sort of hero. To me, “tragic” does not necessarily correlate with “heroic”; I was thinking more on the lines of “tragic waste”. I just think of a boy star who grew up surrounded by people who wanted a piece of him, and not having the maturity to realize that your friends are the people who will pull you up when you’re doing something stupid and say, “What on earth are you thinking, man?!” There you are, young and rich and talented, and you’ve got people who call themselves “friends” who are not “friends”, but enablers, and they poison your mind against the ones who want you to stop and think for a few moments…to the point where all you have around you are the sleazebags, the sycophants, the wimps who *do* like you for yourself but aren’t strong enough to pull you back. That is the tragedy to me, that someone with so much promise went off into La-La Land.
Oh, it’s not a new story; it’s so old it shows up in fables and folk tales and (no doubt) the Bible. But it’s still a sad story, to me.
I’m leaving on a jet plane
The dotter and I board a plane very late this evening to head off to visit GrannyJ for a few weeks. We leave poor OmegaDad behind to cope with introducing chickens to each other, figuring out how to make a bunny hutch out of the plywood and lumber we have left over, and being left alllll alooooone. Right now, I’m in that state of semi-frantic obsessive list-checking. Alas, some things on the list were destined to not get done.
I’ll try to post some entries, but am not sure how often. The first week coincides with a visit from my bro and his family, so you’re more likely to see stuff after the end of the week.
