If I really loved you, gentle reader, I would dig through my bag packed for the hospital, find my camera and take some pictures to post. But I don't forsee that happening. So how about a photo from days of yore. Look! My garden used to produce food! This is from last years garden. Unfortunately there's no current photo to compare and contrast, mostly because I don't usually take pictures of dead plants. Just imagine 70ish square feet of mostly naked soil with dying plants in it.
I think we successfully killed the gopher. Either that or he got bored and moved to the neighbors yard. But not before he was able to eat and/or destroy everything. What a curious gopher he was, he left the strawberry plants alone (yet tunneled under them enough that they're barely hanging on) but he ate all of the onions and almost all of the garlic. Funny, since those are the plants recommended for keeping gophers away. FAIL! Anyway, there are no new mounds appearing, which gladdens me. I'm slowly moving the strawberry plants to the opposite side of the yard and mourning the loss of this years bounty. Maybe after the baby is born I'll find time to plant some stuff. HA!
Which brings me to the next topic: this kid is still in me. It makes me rather cranky sometimes. I'm so tired of having the same conversations (with strangers) over and over and over (and over) again. I want to be able to go shopping and not have to talk to every. single. person. "no it's not twins," "no it's not triplets," "due june 14th," "it's a girl," "2nd baby," "thanks for saying I remind you of a zeppelin." I ran into a fellow pregnant woman at costco earlier this week, she's due the 18th but is having a scheduled c-section tomorrow. TOMORROW! Damn her for having her baby before me, especially since she only looks like she's 6 months pregnant. I realized after I got home from costco that if I hadn't fought the doctor for a VBAC I'd probably be having MY baby tomorrow. So I only have myself to blame. I still really want a VBAC...then again I also really want to eat food again, and not have to wear my husbands largest shirt because absolutely nothing else fits over the zeppelin-esque belly. See what I mean? Cranky.
One of our chickens is a rooster. Did I post this already? He has found his voice and then some. He crows incessantly from 5:30AM til 7PM. I'm really surprised none of our neighbors have attempted to kill him. Then again there's a peacock farm on the edge of our neighborhood, and those things go all night long. Especially during mating season, which we are in the throes of. So maybe one little rooster isn't so bad. Our across the street neighbors actually like the peacock farm, they say, "it's like living at the Wild Animal Park." That will be my defense for the rooster, "it's like living on a farm!" I've tuned the peacocks out for the most part and only really notice them at 3am or when we have company over and they ask, somewhat startled, "what the crap was that sound?" The rooster is slated for our dinner table anyway, in about a month. Jonas is excited. When I asked him what he wanted for lunch today he said, "how about we eat the rooster, mom?" He's asked me on several occasions to explain to him the slaughtering sequence. What you do first -chop off the head. Where the organs are -inside. Where inside -all over. What you do last- chop off the feet. Why- so you have something to hold them by while you pull out the feathers. This prompted a response of "I don't ever want to grow feathers mom!" Which prompted a discussion of the differences between birds and mammals. Ahhh the education of a homestead life. I'm pretty sure he'll grow to need therapy.