Skip to main content

Grow a pair

You may recall my having been frightened by a sheep a few weeks back. It demonstrated a terrible lack of courage, and I stand humbled before you in apology for my gutless response to an unfamiliar ungulate.

Luckily, some wonderful ladies from Wyoming have the answer—the ewes of Wind River Woolen, seeing that I could not grow them myself, grew and mailed this lovely pair of fleecy, felted balls!

They report that they learned of these things from Grandpa Rambo, who assures them that such charms aid in the development of ATTITUDE and INVINCIBILITY. "Lost is now returned to ewe," they write, and "wear the pair, plus the spare, around the neck . . . and the bell, perhaps, to change the tune for spring."

I've donned these marvels briefly for today's photo shoot, but you'll surely see them upon my breastplate in future as a standard wardrobe component. FarmWife thinks they'll come in handy.

Ears to you, and may you too regain lost treasures this week!

Fenway Bartholomule


A spare (it's white) and a bell to change the tune for spring!

My bell, and balls worn jauntily upon the ear.
 The pair about my neck—I'm told they can be worn this way or in the nether region, though I think I'll wear mine affixed to my breastplate in future.

p.s. I don't actually live amongst all of this playground equipment—that would be untidy and less than safe. I am, however, permitted to mow around the swings and sandbox on sunny afternoons. Just call me Fenway Bartholomule, Landscape Contractor.

Comments

  1. DomApril 22, 2011 at 4:21 PM

    Awww, what kind ladies.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Marnie JacksonApril 27, 2011 at 7:50 AM

    I agree! Weren't they sweet to match them, even, to the rest of my coat color?

    FenBar

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Thanks in Advance for Your Mulish Opinion!

Popular Posts

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
2 comments
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 ...
11 comments
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...
Post a Comment
Continued . . .

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...
14 comments
Continued . . .