What a Strange Summer It's Been

This, I think, was the summer o' visitors. It's been good—the June visitors brought carrots, the July visitors brought watermelon, and the August visitors brought pears. One of the July visitors had muleback rides (but gently, and only because he was two—July was also the month, if you will recall, of the hock injection); the August visitors remembered to include me in their beautiful family photo.

Yesterday, a friend from way-off Massachusetts came for lunch, and produced carrots from the garden.

Jasper Jules and I have a special way of enjoying little carrots: I commence to chewing the delectable root, whilst he robs me of as much greenery as he can gobble. His little pink lips browse the foliage, nibbling right up to the limits of my own big brown ones. It is a race to see who can swallow more, and sooner, but he usually gets most of the green stuff (which, doctors say, is the healthiest part!) Like taking candy from a baby, except that it is a vegetable and I am a grown mule. I cannot stop him without compromising my reputation for gentleness and dignity, and so I don't. Anyway, there's this comfort—the root is sweeter.

When it comes to bigger carrots, the humans break them into safe bite-sized pieces. This "oh, but they'll choke!" business is silly, if you ask me. It's as though they're forgetting that we ungulates have gigantic masticating molars the size of a grown man's knuckles.

Speaking of silly, there was apparently a goat costume contest at our local fair yesterday. We missed it! I am so disappointed. I would have loved so much to make Jasper Jules don his tutu and hennin for the event.

PHILIP A. DWYER | BELLINGHAM HERALD

Macki Johnston, 11, Whatcom Cattle & Company 4-H club member and Mia, a, saanen goat, test a new head dress Tuesday morning, Aug, 17, 2010, in preparation for the goat costume contest.

And, speaking of costumes, I know what I'm going to be for Halloween. Do you?

With that, I take my leave of you . . . but first, cross your fingers for me that NEXT summer will be the summer o' trail rides!

Ears to you,
Fenway Bartholomule

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Here are the Cloud Dog's X-Rays

Here, for your edification, are the X-rays of dear Paisley's leg. There is, apparently, no new break (since his Monday siezure) but there is, of course, a great deal of abnormality caused by years of living with a shortened ulna. His pronounced lameness, the vet says, may temporarily improve. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, poor cloud dog can't expect much in the way of a full recovery. Not having the $$$$ for surgery to fuse the joint, we are working on making some sort of rigid splint to support the limb and prevent further degeneration. That is, the humans (with their space-age material inventions and their opposable thumbs) are working on making a splint; I am working on giving cloud dog brayful looks of support and encouragement every time he totters into the yard to relieve himself. As always, he fears me (me?!) and keeps his distance. Ears to you, Fenway

Continued . . .

Vegan Spring Rolls

I, Fenway Bartholomule, am a vegan: of course I only eat plants, not people! My human is too, so I'm sharing my blog with her today so that she can participate in the 2014 Virtual Vegan Potluck ! When you're done perusing the recipe for these delicious spring rolls, click "back" or "forward" for the entire potluck experience! Virtual Vegan Potluck: Spring Roll Appetizers Beautiful? Check. Healthy? Check. Delicious? Check. Easy? Check. Fancy? Check. Quick to clean up after? Check. Vegan? OF COURSE! If you're looking for something portable, colorful, and crowd-pleasing for your next potluck, look no further than these simple vegan spring rolls! The best part? You can substitute ANYTHING. I never make these the same way twice, so play around with cilantro, kale, cabbage, scallions, or whatever you think sounds good! Ingredients Veggie mix: 2 carrots (grated) 4 oz mung bean sprouts 1/3 cup chopped peanuts (raw, or roasted and salted) or ...

Continued . . .

2025 State of the Farmlet Address

A red stag photographed by Farmwife in Scotland, from whence the family descends and to where they voyaged in September 2024. Dear Mules and Countrywomen, It is my pleasure to report to you today, from my forested vantage point, that the Farmlet is well. It has been eight years since my family had a Farmlet to report upon, and this one is among the best. It is 25 minutes south of Casa de Bartholomule-Teaspoon, where you may remember the family lived for a time, and situated on the same verdant island. It is 120 minutes south of Bent Barrow Farm, where the ancient rhododendron still blooms and where FenBar's old barn of many colors still stands and shelters farm machinery. This place has rhododendrons, too, encircling a lawn which slopes down to my barn and paddock. We call the barn Hoofhouse, and it is going to be painted black in the spring to match the house and my companion, Puck. My paddock, by design, does not overlap the lawn but instead winds through a mix...

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Catastrophy

This is the emergency broadcast system. This is not a test. I was going to entertain you with more haiku today, but something terrible has happened. I need your support. Today was supposed to be a regular spa day—a nice little hoofie trim, a fresh mane roach, an ear massage, and a handful of sunflower seeds (for shine). Instead of merely taking care of my beauty routine, however, FarmWife spent a full hour in contemplation of and attention to my overall physique. The upshot? A revision of my condition from Plump to Obese. (Her actual words, upon removing my blanket for the first time in a few days, were "Oh my God! You've ballooned!") She has decided that my fatness has become a health risk, and has resolved to exercise me as often as possible. It gets dark at 4:30. Her husband gets home at 5:30. She has small children and no sitter. This, my friends, means that I will end up being longed. Longed at the end of a stupid, smelly old rope. Forced to walk and trot...

Continued . . .

BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

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