barn revival

a few befores and afters

view from the top We're often referred to as "lucky" that we can do all the work ourselves.

I strongly disagree.

Lucky would be having such deep pockets that we could hire the most exorbitant, extravagant contractor from Dubai.

Thou...even if I were the wealthy love child of Donald Trump or Bill Gates...I still wouldn't change a thing.

There is nothing as satisfying as seeing your hard efforts and lofty ideas take a permanent form.

To look at the stones and know that my hands were the very ones to press them together.

Gawk at the hardy beams and know your shoulder pressed against them until they were fixed in place.

Poor hubby is the unsung hero...like the writer of a song sitting silently in the wings as someone else gives it voice. All his tiresome work lies behind the walls or under the earth. He sets the footings, structures the walls.....all his toils entombed behind the aesthetics of paint and stone.

On numerous occasion I did notice him archiving his name and date in pencil in hidden nooks...I suppose in high hopes to someday be revealed again on the next centuries restoration.

Dedicated we were.

Aching backs and all....even if it meant one held the chainsaw down as the other pulled the starter cord....a sad yet, humorous sight.

And no room scardy-cats here. You quickly learn to master your fear of heights. White-knuckeled, no-nonsense , dizzying, drunken heights.

So stone for walls and floors was delivered from Champlain ...or plucked and from the yard...old beams recyled...discarded telephone poles hoarded...new doors constructed..windows replaced...paint slathered by the gallon...the icing on the country cake.

So enough of the fanfare and ode to me.

The real warriors are the ones who grew this relic out of real sweat. No electric tools, no hardware stores no cheating. Real craftmen.

There names and stories are lost in the dirt and shavings.

We are just a couple of Johnny-come-latelys. The least we can do is maintain and honor what they started... if not for our own selfish love of barns...

knee high by the 4th of july

Ok, so the old adage generally applies to growing corn, but I will liberally apply it to growing chicks.

They really have grown...as I'm sure they will be knee-high soon.

And, yes....knee high for me isn't such a feat as I wasn't blessed with stature....but still...

Before you ask me if I'd like some "whine with that cheese".....

We already have a few roosters that are "above the knee" in height.

Let me tell you, nothing scarier than a testosterone-laced bird charging at you with 3 inch spurs.

To think of the prize money I've missed out on for funny home videos.

Grown men running like silly school girls....

Mother in laws jumping on hoods of cars....(yes, it's true)

Me scurrying up the nearest climbable object....or just playing ring around the wheelbarrow.

After a run-in with the trailer hitch these poor legs can't sfford another scar.

The expletive words we hurl at these haughty birds....!

Their plumage and dazzling sheen are magnificent.

So our two new chicks are a blessing and a curse.

One a hen one a rooster.

pardon my english

disclaimer: to all the garden aficionados I apologize for any distress,pain and suffering caused by my rose ignorance.

I love these roses. I call them English Roses. A true breed.

Not like the pointy, thornless supermarket roses bred for a long shelf and stem length. Something is lost there....the humongous petal count which takes each precious botanical gem forever to unfold and most important ...and the intoxicating, perfumerous scent! Isn't that the first thing you do when you pick up a rose? Give it a big sniff?

Oh to be Mena Suvari in American Beauty covered with all those roses (strategically placed of course).

I nickname these June's Perfume... As they were plopped in the ground so long ago the name may be lost forever....sadly they only grace the garden for the fleeting month of June...

I think of them as David Austin roses....cup-shaped with a maze of petals when in full bloom...forming a sacred cross in the center. Color simultaneously vibrant and faded on each velvety petal.

I daydream of Cotswold cottages amassed and shrouded in thorny vines peppered with color...Tasha Tudor at the doorway with a tea cozy.

I wish I could insert a scratch and sniff...the fragrance is divine.

Rosy, lemony, sweet, fruited, earthy.

So in true kitschy style...this is my blog postcard to you.....

"Wish You Were Here"

p.s. You know the ones Bethe!

hole in my heart

So take a good look at this proud old tree....because the next time you see it I will probably have strapped myself to it in an effort to save it from Hubby's chainsaw.

This poor old tree hasn't much left to it...just a lot of heart. (fyi this is the thickest view....from the side it's nay a sliver) The trunks as hollow as my cookie jar after my sweet tooth acts up.

Poor thing. It looks as if a slight breeze may knock it to the ground for a final count. Or a nesting bird may topple it like a frail old man.

Amazed am I to see it sprout anew every Spring.

Happy am I to say "In your face" to hubby.

So for now the return of blooming buds have twarted hubby's efforts.

Go tree go!

Maid Service

So the question was "how does a gal who paints cows and flowers adapt to a sea-themed artist show?".

I pondered for quite a while.

Finally I got my sea legs and just dove in.

So your eyes do not deceive you.....I painted mermaids....yes, little ol' me......and had fun doing so!

A week to go 'til the show!

Song Of The Sea

2008 Spring Soiree

The Gallery at The Country Life

40 Main Street

Warwick , NY

Sunday May 18th 11-4

hope to sea you there!!

another mouth to feed

peep-a-boo!

Ok 2 out of 3 ain't bad..............at least that's want the song claims.

So 2 precious little peeps hatched out of 3. I'm not a gambler, but I's put a bet on those odds! Hubby, lend me some money?

So our latest is Dander. Thrilled and proud am I to see that they will be feather-footed! As long as those feather-legs don't go after mine - we'll get along just fine.

fluffed and dried

couldn't resist having more chicks around....

hmmm, may be a while before we know if we have a bouncing baby girl or spurring baby boy....crossing my fingers, legs ,toes and eyes for a hen....so for now this is Lucky.