Spring is a magical time of year. It’s fun to watch things come back to life.

The woods come alive.

Yards come alive.

Meadows come alive.
Then there’s new life. One of my favorite places to experience that is the feed store.

There are shelves lined with herbs and vegetables, and there are

baby rabbits,

and cages overflowing with newborn chicks

and ducks…so many you can almost feel the rhythm of their little poultry hearts beating. It makes me happy; it gives me a buzz.
But, you don’t have to go to the feed store to feel the joy of new life. For instance, last night, in our kitchen, Adam and Laura gave us a photograph

of our new grandchild, which will arrive in November. We even heard a recording of it’s heartbeat. Talk ABOUT a buzz! Being able to see and hear that is the best buzz that ever wuzz. To heck with the feed store experience.

The wild hogs are absolutely TERRIBLE in our neck of the woods.

They’ve checked out other properties, but I think they have settled on ours

to spend Easter break. The party starts somewhere around 2:30 in the morning.

I like to get up early, but that’s a little extreme, even for me.

The Wildlife and Fisheries have gotten involved, and the other night counted eleven of those nosedozers.

The hogs were in a grove of trees so the guys were only able to kill one and wound one. I was told to call if the hogs came back for another rootin tootin time…and they did.

I called the number on the card and left a message.
About an hour later, I got a call from a nice lady who said that I had left a message about some hogs.
I said, “You’re not with the Wildlife and Fisheries are you?” She answered, “No.”
Then together we figured out where I made a mistake dialing the number.
I thanked the nice lady and apologized. Then I said, “Oh, and never mind about my hog problem.” She seemed fine with that.

Nikki needed to run an errand, so I walked over to their backyard and stayed with the kids. The boys have been learning about Native Americans in school…the Plains Indians to be exact. So, guess what we all had to be…

including the dog? Yep, you guessed it, and our mission was to kill a buffalo. It really wasn’t that hard, so in case you ever find yourself in that situation, here’s what we did.

First we chose Native American names. The boys chose ‘Buffalo Hudson’ and ‘Buffalo Denton’. I chose ‘Paints With A brush’. The other two members of our hunting party couldn’t choose for themselves, so I made some suggestions. For the dog, I picked ‘Dances With Fleas’. The boys looked confused and said, “Who’s ‘Dances With Fleas?” I just told them, “Never mind.”

For Josie I suggested

‘Boots On Wrong Feet’. She didn’t care, but the boys seemed highly offended and named her ‘Dandelion’.
The boys sent me out to scout the area. Then when I spotted buffalo, I gave the sign, and we all ran with our spears to make the kill. (Whooping loudly, I might add.)

The buffalo was placed on the bar-b que, and

Hudson said this prayer; “God, thank you for this whole day, and thank you for this buffalo. Help us to always please you, in Jesus’ name, amen.”
And that’s how ya do it.

Piper has always loved the twins and has FINALLY calmed down enough for them to enjoy each other.

Today the four of us were out back. I had fun watching Piper and the boys have fun.

The trio made laps around the pond…

not once..

but several times.

They would throw sticks in the water for Piper to retrieve, but he wouldn’t venture much farther than the bank. So, they cheered him on with, “Come on Piper, you can do it.

Don’t be afraid. Just be the water Piper. Beeee the water.”

Last summer, when that girl from New York was here, we got some chicks. The folks at the feed store said that they were Blue Laced Red Wyandottes, a new breed not yet registered. I’m not sure why, maybe they have to wait for the markings to be consistent…or something.

When you buy chicks, you either get ‘straight run’, which means that there’s a mix of roosters and pullets.

Or, you just get pullets. And that’s what I usually do.
The chicks grew into beautiful adults,

and sure as shootin’,

their markings were not consistent,

especially as far

their combs are concerned.
There was this one big chicken that resembled a rooster,

but I dismissed that idea because it never crowed…and roosters do that a lot, once they get the hang of it. As far as I was concerned, she was just one big mama.
Anyway, the night the boys stayed with us (when we played pirates) I slept in one of the guest rooms to be near them. The next morning just as dawn was about to crack, I heard this…well, you would call it a noise, but it was actually a rooster crowing. The sound was not high pitched and smooth like normal. Instead it was deep and rough.
As I laid there I thought, “I’ll be John Brown if ‘Big Mama’ isn’t ‘Big Daddy’ after all. And…

Daddy sings bass.”

Piper loves to play frisbee, but when we play, we play in the goat yard. “Why?” you ask. Because when curiosity knocks… he answers…and he’s gone.

So we have to play in a fenced in area.
The other day, Piper approached Rose and Jasmine about playing,

and at first, neither one seemed the least bit interested.

Then Jasmine reconsidered. Though frisbee was out of the question, they did appear to enjoy one another,

and Piper seemed quite entertained by Jasmine’s shenanigans. You know what I think? I think they’ll turn out to be

the best of friends.

We are getting new flooring…and that sounds simple…but you know, as well as you know your name, that it’s not. You don’t just GET new flooring. You move furniture, and take out the old carpet. If need be,

you have new subfloors put down.

Getting new flooring usually involves a visit

from the Ghost of Flooring Past. (1976 to be exact)

Trying to put together a meal in a kitchen with dismantled cabinets that rock a coat of wet paint isn’t easy. But, you do what you must do, and then let the jagged end drag.
Amidst our chaos came spring break, and with spring break came Lyndsey,

that girl from New York who stayed with us last summer. Her visit had really been planned since August, only none of us were sure it would get to take place. But it did. And to put it into true Southern vernacular, “We are tickled to day-uth!” And…

so is Piper.
This morning, that girl from New York helped me move a piano through FOUR rooms…which proves that good help CAN be found…

even if you have to send for it from New York.

Many thanks for your kind words of condolence. I can still hear the sound

of Matilda’s slow and steady steps. She was calm, laid back, and never really got in a rush.

Piper…..not so much. But, he is every bit as sweet and eager to please.
Having Piper is like having one of those change of life babies. Everything is going your way, and you’ve settled into a routine. Then, because of a somewhat spontaneous decision,

you’re up at night and potty training. (Sometimes walking in the snow…uphill…both ways.)
You’re dealing with teething.

Thank goodness this is not my most recent pair…but a favorite.
In general,

you’re running yourself ragged. But you wouldn’t trade that baby for anything. Besides, it keeps you young. Or at least that’s what they say.
Last weekend, after what took place, Joel asked if I wanted another puppy just like Piper to keep Piper company. I looked at him and said, “Lord no!”.

If you’ve followed the blog over the years

you are familiar with our Lab/Golden cross,

Matilda…everything you would want in a dog,

all wrapped up

in yellow fur.

Almost 13 years ago, when we brought her home,

I sat in the back seat of the truck and held her tight.

Saturday morning, when she ‘went home’, I crawled in back of the Subaru, and did the same.
I think Hudson and Denton described her best when they said, “She was our friend.”

In memory of Matilda, May 2001-March 2014

Forest Gump’s mama would compare Louisiana weather to a box of chocolates, because you’re never really sure what you’re going to get…especially this year.
The snow, the sleet, and the freezing rain suddenly gave way to springlike temperatures,

violets, and

fruit trees covered with blossoms.
Sunday evening when Joel, Piper and I made laps around the property, it was 80 degrees and humid, with a scattering of mosquitos.
Then, what began its trip from God’s fingertips as moisture, wound up in Woodworth Monday morning as snowflakes, and on Tuesday morning as sleet.

There wasn’t a lot…not at all like the last time,

but it was cold enough for a layer of ice to form on the the goldfish tub. Do you see him on the left bottom third of the tub? Poor ol’ thang.
It’s raining now, and not that cold, but the moisture tricks us into believing that it is.
I’m sure that JUST LIKE THAT, it will be spring again…

maybe tomorrow.