Author Archives: Jessie

Ready For Winter

The chickens are ready for winter and it’s a beautiful sight. Chicken Coop Ready For Winter

They live in an old hay wagon which was converted to chicken coop that we move every few weeks all spring, summer and fall. It works beautifully. The wire floor means I don’t have to shovel out a chicken coop and the easy mobility means the chickens can roam out away from the house and gardens all summer long.

I love my chicken coop.

But in winter the chickens need a little extra warmth. So every fall, at the last possible second, we pull them up close to the house, plug in a heated water bowl and stop up that drafty underside with a ring of straw bales. Today was the last possible second.  John and I moved the bales around the edge as Clara jumped inside, out of the wind and snow, letting us know where we needed more straw.

Maybe my chicken coop doesn’t fit your definition of beauty but as I stood back, job finished, chickens ready for whatever this winter may throw at them, the sun peeked out through the clouds.  The straw shone golden in the sunshine, it’s clean smell filled the air and it was just my kind of beautiful.

If you’d like to see what the chicken coop looks like without it’s winter wrapping check out:

The Indecisive Chicken or When Chickens Fly

A Place in the World by Cinda Crabbe MacKinnon

I sat down to write this review, ready to say that nothing huge and dramatic happens in this book.

I was about to tell you that this is a lovely little book, set in dramatic Colombia, amongst the beauty of rain forests on a coffee farm, where a woman leads her life the best she can, as she finds her own place in the world.

But then I remembered the volcano.

It’s hard to claim a volcano isn’t huge and dramatic – it’s a volcano.

So I did some more thinking. How had my faulty memory managed to marginalize the volcano, and quite a few other notably dramatic events?

Eventually, I came to the conclusion that it was the main character’s unique attitude. As an American who has lived for many years in Colombia, she handles things with an amazing blend of the two cultures.  Stepping back and forth between them so well  that the big drama fades into the background,  leaving the focus of the book right where it should be, on the young woman in search of her place in the world.

It just so happens that her world is run by men, contains active volcanoes, guerrilla fighters, monkeys, a bit of political turmoil, coffee crops and an occasional iguana in the water tank – making it infinitely more interesting to read about than our own.

Would I recommend it? I would. Drama aside, the information on the culture, rain forests and coffee growing would have been enough to keep me interested.

Rosie's Book Review team 1

This honest review was given in return for a free copy of the book from its author.

Pokey Fences

What happened when the cow jumped over the barbed wire fence?

China plate with Thomas Jeffersons home

This has nothing to do with the terrible joke or fences of any kind. This is a picture of the only landmark I saw today and was taken for photo 101: The Monticello home of Thomas Jefferson, as seen from my dining room.

Udder destruction.

 

Which brings me to my question…

 

 

 

 

Buttons

It is a different tin, different buttons but the sound of buttons pouring out onto a wooden table is just the same.

Immediately I’m back at my Granny’s side, eagerly dumping out her tins of buttons. Running my fingers through the pile as I sort. Finding my favorites, dividing by color, talking with Granny, endlessly fascinated by the collection. Always, I am reluctant to undo my “work” and sweep them back into their circular home when the time comes, only slightly mollified by promises that they’ll be there next time.

But sometimes next time doesn’t come soon enough and I am mystified by the reluctance I see in Granny’s eyes when I mention the buttons.Buttons

Today I dumped the buttons on the table, and though the tin has spent the last year inside a moving box, the girls were drawn to the sound as if by magic. Buttons! Can we play with them? Can we pile them? These are mine! Oops- I dropped some. No- THESE are mine! Can we put them on string? Oops!

The girls and I crawled about on the floor finding buttons and the look I remember in Grannys eyes is no longer a mystery. But I’ll leave the buttons out, just for tomorrow.

It’s a small magic, that of button tins and memories, but there it is, running through the generations, connecting us in my mind like buttons on a string.

 

All That Blue

Is there anything better than the blue sky of a fall day?blue sky

Just look at all that blue!

Oh, and our road – you can look at that too.

We can even pretend it’s a “street” as per the photo challenge of the day.

But it’s not, it’s a road.

Well, technically a highway but certainly not a street, it’s got far too many cornfields to ever be a street.

The Visible Soul

“I love cats because I enjoy my home; and little by little, they become its visible soul.”

― Jean CocteauGypsy in window

That seemed like such a nice quote – until I thought about it.

Now, having thought about it, I’m concerned that the soul of our house, while cuddly on the outside, has a dark, blood thirsty, thieving, conniving side. And, to be perfectly honest, I’m totally fine that the cats have those attributes but if that is part of my home’s, soul I’d really rather it not be visible.

So forget Cocteau, let’s go with Wesley Bates, “There’s no need for a piece of sculpture in a home that has a cat.”

Thank goodness for that, the cats would just knock it to the floor anyway…