Skip to main content

What a week!



I got to spend most of my week with the one and only Granny J-Bone, FarmWife's human mother and famed animal lover, who took time out from her own life to petsit here at Bent Barrow Farm. She is the very same Granny who offered up her Volkswagen Vanagon for the transportation of Miss Arrietty G. Teaspoon on her voyage across the mountains last spring, and the very same Granny who helped fund the purchase of Yours Truly because, as she once put it, mules are "better than Prozac" (and probably more effective). She is probably one of only a handful of humans that FarmWife trusts completely to take good and proper care of we furred and feathered citizens of Bent Barrow Farm.

FarmWife, meanwhile, went on a trip with the human family to the Happiest Place on Earth: Disneyland (and the adjacent park, Disney California Adventure) in Anaheim, California. While at Disneyland, FarmWife saw three draft horses which she took to be a Shire, a Belgian, and a Brabant. All were in exquisite condition, pulling lovely vehicles full of overjoyed children and their overtired parents.

The trip was a present from FarmWife's parents-in-law, my other human Grandparents, who went along too and who had an equally marvelous time. You may remember them as the Grandparents-Who-Always-Bring-Carrots, which leads me to my two complaints: why was I not invited too, and why were there no carrots in the returning luggage?

FarmWife went into the Disneyland experience thinking it would be a good time for the kids and a tolerable one for the adults, but do you know what? She LOVED it. The attention to detail apparent throughout the Disney parks was wonderful for her to see, and the cheerful demeanor of all Disney cast members was enough to blot away the didn't-get-a-new-job-blues for a few days, at least. Now, she's returned to a wildly green spring, a 9th anniversary (yesterday), a child's birthday (today), and some exciting new prospects on the job hunt horizon. We're going to be just fine.

Ears,
Fenway

Comments

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

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 ...

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...

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...