State of the Humans

No, she didn't break her leg on the trampoline!

Did anyone get fooled yesterday? Not me. FarmWife is very nice about not playing nasty tricks.

I wanted to update you all on the state of my humans. They're doing terribly interesting things these days!

FarmHusband has become a jogger, and ran in a 5K foot race yesterday despite having some sort of awful flu. He's an admirable and mulish man.

FarmWife is going to meet one of her very favorite online friends later this month . . . S., you know who you are. I only wish I could come along too. FarmWife is also going to visit sunny Monterey, one of the many perks of being an employee of the Timber Framers Guild. They hold their conferences in wonderful places. She promises me that I will be looked after in her absence.

My biggest human filly is nearly done with her sixth grade year, which makes her practically a grownup. She is part of a very prestigious girls' choir, which makes her the second best brayer in our family after me, Fenway Bartholomule. The two of us should sing a duet, no?

My middle human filly got her cast off today. I do say, if you're going to break your leg then it's terribly smart to do it during the muddy season. She's hardly missed anything worthwhile!

My littlest human filly is turning five this week, which means she'll be off to school in September. I hope to enjoy a few dozen more picnics with her before she is too mature and sensible to share her sandwiches. For her birthday, she has requested a tiara, a drum set, and peach-upside down cupcakes with whipped cream and spun-sugar bunnies on top. I have a hunch that she is getting all three of those things.

My other humans—the neighbors, the grandparents, the aunts and uncles—are likewise well. My dear Aunt Hannah is coming from New England next week, which thrills me. She's always good for a carrot or two.

Ears,

FenBar

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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 . . .

The Scoop on Bird

Human here, to give you the scoop on Songbird. He is shiny, sweet, and wonderful . . . and a little bit broken hearted. (Fenway was once, too.) As I've gotten to know him more over the last month, I've come to understand that he associates humans with unpleasantness, at least, and suffering, at worst. He has some gnarly scars. He flinches away from touch, though he warms up quickly when treats are involved. He's quite a foodie. He's easily startled. He's alert, and vigilant. He doesn't always feel safe. He also really likes it at my mom's house, which has a slower pace than the wonderful boarding and lesson barn where he lived in June. He appreciates the predictable routine, the long quiet afternoons, and the retired horses who give him company. He has flattened the grass under the big cedar out back and created nests to rest in. The soft footing at my mom's is better for his newly bare feet. He is starting to believe he'll be ok. I have ridden him...

Continued . . .

That Which Was Foretold Has Come To Pass

After some negotiation and exchange of words like "motheaten" and "raggedy", Farmwife talked me into enduring the roaching of my mane, which I had rubbed on the fence while reaching for delectable edibles at my previous home. We both agreed on four things: 1) it was essential to retain my forelock, which is a thing of splendor that adds greatly to my dashing good looks. I'll get a picture for you tomorrow. 2) once the cut has grown out a bit, she will give me those fancy castle turrets that she used to style for Fenway. 3) we owe our dear readers a better photo, when I have not just rolled in the mud. 4) there is no hairstyle capable of making me look anything but marvelous.

Continued . . .

BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

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