The story of Arrietty

Say cheese!
This is FarmWife and her oldest human filly
meeting Arrietty G. Teaspoon for the very first time.

Here is the story of Arrietty, as well as we know it:

She was born seven years ago to a miniature mare in Conway, Washington. She was named Teaspoon by her breeder. Her breeder, a nurse, trained her to go into nursing homes to assist a man with Parkinson's. Teaspoon learned to walk up stairs, ride in elevators, and generally be a good friend to humans. She exudes peace and love.

At some point in her early life, Teaspoon got a great big dent in her hindquarters, but she seems quite sound and comfortable! It is clear to all of us that Teaspoon never knew an unfriendly person. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, she walks joyfully up to EVERYONE. I, on the other hand, only go looking for love from children, gentle women, and People of Established Trust.

At age five, Teaspoon was sold to a nice couple who named her Gertie. They lived in the tri-cities area of Washington State. They were parents, but their children were grown. After some time, they began to feel that Gertie would love to be a little girl's pet. They thought of teaching Gertie to drive, but never got around to starting her. They took awfully good care of her, though, and when they decided to sell her they wanted to be sure she went someplace special.

Gertie's owners found FarmWife (actually, FarmWife found them through Craigslist) and thought it seemed a good fit: in Wickersham, you see, there was a lonesome mule of excellent character; a smart woman with plenty of equine management experience; a not-too-big, not-too-grassy field; three sensitive, caring, and mule-crazy little girls; and a mule-shaped hole where Teaspoon/Gertie/Arrietty belonged. It was going to be perfect.

FarmWife, her mother, and her oldest human filly picked the little mule up in a Volkswagen Vanagon on Mother's Day, and the little mule arrived at Bent Barrow Farm as cool as a cucumber and as confident as a . . . well, as a mule. You can imagine that I was quite beside myself with excitement the day she came! She lived across the fence from me for 48 hours before she was given into my care, and we did a bit of staring and carrying on. After she came into my field, I showed her the best place to roll, the best way to drink (with tongue dangling, to catch a cool breeze), and the best place to stand for a view of the schoolbus stop. We have had all sorts of fun already.

FarmWife and her girls have decided to call their little mule Miss Arrietty G. Teaspoon. I call her MINE.

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 . . .

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 . . .

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 . . .

BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

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