I Now Have a Beautiful Longbow!

This past week, I have been at a 1-week class in bow making. With only hand tools, we (the bowyers-in-training) transformed planks of wood, artificial sinew, and linen into a functioning bow, and we still had time after that to make an arrow, learn different kinds of draws, learn how to move stealthily in a forest, and have epic battles with foam arrows. Also, our main instructor was a kilt-wearing man. It was awesome. Wish I was as brave as a man wearing a kilt.
It was an intense week, all of it, but my main enemy was the rasp. I probably spent one full day in all just rasping and rasping and rasping some more. But seeing my bow strung and ready to use for the first time was so worth it.
Here is my bow. It is backed with linen and it isn't the prettiest bow ever made, but I love it all the same. Its name is Artemis. For those who don't know, Artemis in Greek mythology is the goddess of the moon and the hunt, and protector of baby animals. It's an appropriate name for a bow.

So true...

We Have a Butterfly!

I have yet to sex the little bug, but I've called my neighbor over and am waiting for her response to my text. Here's a picture, through the screen of the monarch's hatching enclosure. He or she is still drying their wings, I think.

More later.

Monarch Chrysalis

When I visited and gave an egg to one of my more interesting neighbors just now, she in turn gave me a little monarch-chrysalis-raising kit and asked me if I would like to raise a monarch butterfly. Of course, I enthusiastically agreed and she gave me direction on how to raise my little butterfly friend. When she showed me that little chrysalis, I was in awe. I have never seen such beauty come from one little insect. It looks like an intricate pendant that one might wear to a fancy dinner party. It is exactly the color of jade, with big swirls all over, and it looks like little gold beads have been inlaid in the perfect places. And it is all made by one little caterpillar.
The chrysalis should hatch within the week, and that is why I post now, on a weekday, because this way you can watch the drama unfold its wings and fly off into the sky.
To end this post, picture!

It's not high quality, but you get the gist. Beautiful.

Marina, Kidnapped part 2

Marina ran. She ran into the woods, dagger in hand, gasping for breath, before she came to her base. Marina’s base was one place that absolutely nobody knew about. Not her parents, not any princes, not even Marina’s kitten, Boots. It had leather clothes, an extra sword, another dagger, and even a spring nearby. The crude shelter was made of sticks and mud stuck together, built by Marina. She had learned how to do that when she ran away from home with a traveling hunter for a week. Again, that is another story for another day. In this story, Marina entered her base. She threw the jewels, the silk, and even the corset off of her body. She put on a pair of leather boots, a leather tunic, and her favorite belt, the one that held her sword and dagger snugly at her side. As she did this, she kept muttering to herself “It’s not like I’ll be going back there any time soon.” Marina decided that she would go gather some calming berries and herbs, and she needed them, because she was seething. She had been dancing with a prince that kept telling her that she was doing the dance wrong, while he was the one that was actually messing it up. Now, Marina hated dancing, but she hated being wrong even more, and even more than that, she hated being told she was wrong when she was actually right. Marina had far more education in dance than she cared to have, so much that she probably could have danced with the man that composed and choreographed “The Blue Waltz.” Then, her mother just had to come over, while stuffing her stupid face with fatty food, and reprimand Marina for eating too much duck.

                From all of this, Marina was in a terrible mood. She drove her dagger into the bark of a gnarled oak and slashed her sword through the air. Except it wasn’t air. Marina hit something that felt like a sand bag and heard a loud grunt. Thinking what she hit to be a wild boar, Marina whirled around, eyes wild, preparing to kill the boar if it was aggressive. Instead of a boar, a hand seized Marina’s shirt and whirled her around to face a gruff face. It was the face of a thug. Marina had seen “wanted” posters with that face on them. That giant scar on his cheek was hard to miss. His name was…Marina couldn’t remember. She did remember that this man was dangerous – a murderer and kidnapper. One thing Marina had not seen on the poster was the cut on the man’s belly. It was bleeding. Marina realized that she had made it with her sword. Her sword! She thought of it too late. The weapon was in the man’s calloused hands already. He chuckled.

More next week, because I like to keep people in suspense. Thanks for reading! Any current critiques, comments, compliments, corrections, curiosities or questions should go into the comments below and they will be answered shortly.

My Weekend

It has been a fairly productive and fun weekend for me. On Friday, I spent all my free time working on the chicken coop and run. Since I use the deep bed method in my coop, I only need to clean it out once a year, and in preparation for the hot summer staring me in the face, I cleaned out a year's worth of old, dusty bedding. When using the deep bed method, instead of cleaning out the coop once a week, you just add another layer of bedding until the annual clean-out. The deep bed method means that the bedding on the bottom is composting. There's the obvious benefit of stuff to add to the compost pile that's already slightly composted. There's also the fact that the compost releases heat, which can be a huge help in the winter. But in the summer months, it's best to keep the coop as cool as possible, so it gets cleaned out before June begins. If you are curious about the deep bed method, here's some reading for extra credit.
Anyway, I did my yearly clean-out of the coop and I swear, if I never inhale another smidgen of pine dust mixed with decomposing chicken coop, it will be too soon for my lungs. Unfortunately, I will inhale more in my lifetime. But, it's for the greater good of chickenkind.
After that, I cleaned the nest boxes, which wasn't too hard, but it was still work.
Then I planted some spearmint covered in chicken wire so that the chickens could munch on it when it got bigger. Apparently chickens really like spearmint because they stuck their heads through the chicken wire and stripped all the leaves off of the poor plant.. But the stem and roots survived, so hopefully it will grow back and after that grow bigger.
I refilled their giant feeder and their water bowl. If anybody reading has done chicken research, they'll probably tell me that I should use a waterer instead of a water bowl, but waterers don't really work for my flock. A normal waterer is too shallow, so my flock kicks dirt, poop, bedding, anything really, into their supply of water and it gets badly clogged. I also tried doing a nipple waterer, and my chickens were too dumb to figure out that water comes from the shiny thing when you peck it. Now, my water bowl isn't perfect. Some dirt still gets kicked into it. But it's not enough dirt to keep my chickens from having fresh water at all times. If you know of a better way to supply chicken water, then by all means tell me and I will probably give it a try. But for now, I have to be content with my little water bowl.
Finally, as the grand finale to all my hen-keeping activities, I made a DIY grit and oyster shell feeder of my own invention. It's not perfect, but it's certainly an improvement, because before, I'll be honest, the little plastic containers they were in got kicked all over, and then I would forget to refill them, and then I did not have happy hens. Here's my design.

It looks very precarious, and it's not a thing of beauty, but as long as the dowels stay on it should be fine. I'm putting it in a place that's sort of out of the way, so hopefully it will stay intact. Here's how to make it:

You Will Need:

2 small plastic containers, or 2 big plastic containers with the bottoms cut off, or one of each. Or 2 small glass or metal containers. Doesn't matter. You just need containers.

1 fairly large dowel cut into 4 sections that are about as tall as you want the feeder to be. My dowel was cut into 6 inch pieces.

1 hot glue gun

grit and oyster shell

The Steps:

1. Figure out which container should be the top and which should be the bottom, and which supplement should be put in each container. I put oyster shell on top and grit on the bottom, just because I would rather my chickens kick dirt in the grit than the oyster shell. They are more likely to find grit while free-ranging than oyster shell, so that's my reasoning.

2. Glue the tops of the dowel sections equidistantly on the bottom of the container you want to be the top. That's bamboozling, probably. So, if you're talking about mine, I would be gluing the dowel sections so that if you drew lines between them it would be a plus sign. And I would be gluing them to the bottom of the clear container. If your container has that little ring on the outside that helps it stand up, glue it inside of that. Be liberal with the glue!The way I glued my dowels was to put the glue on the tops of the dowels, then put the tops of the dowels on the container and hold it there. You have to do them one at a time though, or they'll get all messed up and you'll have to do it all over again.

3. When that glue has dried, put a dab of glue on the side of a dowel and make it slant. Slip your second container in and glue the side of the dowel to the side of the container. Repeat with the rest of the dowels. They should all slant outwards like in the picture.

4. Fill with grit and oyster shell and give to the chickens. Enjoy the amazing beauty of your new creation! : p

 

 

To finish off Friday, I had a riding lesson on a horse named Gunner. I couldn't have Dolly because the poor horse has an abscess on her leg. But Gunner was a fun challenge. I thought Dolly was stubborn...

On Saturday, I mainly sat around with my eyes glued to the laptop screen. I did to some research on keeping quail, though, so it wasn't a completely wasted day.

What will I do today? So far, I've woken up at 11 and done absolutely nothing! Fun, right?

Dance Party!

Insert your favorite dance song here!
I love my yootoob videos!
Now dance.

The Moon Pool

There is a secluded place on a popular hiking trail that I call the Moonpool. Warm rocks surround a pool that, depending on the time of year, is either pleasantly cool or frigidly freezing. Leading into the pool is a small waterfall, that you can get under if you want to get really wet. Don't go down the creek leading out of the pool, or you'll be inevitably pulled over a gigantic white waterfall, down to the jagged rocks below. Sometimes it is a perfect swimming hole, other times it is only safe to cling to the side of the pool as you wade in. I discovered it in high summer, when it was cool and still, unlike now, when it is cold and currents swirl through its dark blue waters. You can get to it by branching off the main trail in one of two ways: following a small trail, surrounded on all sides by manzanitas and overgrown bushes, or climbing the rocks next to the giant waterfall and follow the river for a while to reach it. I know that I am not the only one to know about it, as I have met others while swimming in it, but it feels like my place, like a place that no mere tourist knows about, and that only the very worthy should be filled in on its whereabouts. It is enchanted, the Moonpool. My legs cannot touch the bottom at the center of it. On one side there is a small cave made by an overhang in the rock, as deep as the center of the pool. On the other side, flowers like penstamen and small succulents grow in the cracks between rocks, and your first step into the water, even in high snowmelt season, is only ankle deep. Right now, if you throw a piece of pine bark into the turbulent waters near the small waterfall, it will be swept out of the Moonpool, into the white waters of the river, and the last glimpse you will see of it, ever, will be the bark taking a sharp turn down into the waterfall. Yesterday I visited the Moonpool. I felt like I had to at least try to describe its beauty. The water was freezing and restless, but I still waded in thigh-deep from the flower side, staying in for a few minutes at a time. I loved it.
P.S. Warriors Fans rejoice! The Moonpool has been found by Twolegs and named according to the Medicine Cat tradition.

Marina, Kidnapped part 1

As I have mentioned before on the blog, I have been writing short story and I wish to publish it on here. So I will. Here is the first segment of the short story I have entitled "Marina, Kidnapped."

                “Mom, tell us a story. A bedtime story!” exclaimed Maria, Lily’s youngest child.

                “Yes,” Lily’s oldest child agreed, “none of us have heard a story in a long time. Please, for Maria, will you tell one?”

                “Okay. I haven’t had the time to tell a story in a long time. What story do you want to hear, Maria?”

                “The best one!” exclaimed Maria.

                “Alright,” Lily laughed, “Once upon a time, in Old England, a daring young girl, let’s call her Marina, lived in a palace by the woods…”

                Marina argued with her mother and father over absolutely everything. She knew that they hated her. And there was no question in anybody’s mind that she hated her parents. After all, they were the people who forced her into corsets and ball gowns and finery. Like what she was trying to fit into right where our story begins. Marina had a bit of a broad build, she definitely wasn’t chubby in the least, but she was very muscular, which made it very, very hard to fit her into garments made for daintier ladies. For example, corsets, Marina’s third-to-least-favorite-thing in the world (the second was princes and the first was, of course, her parents.)Marina huffed out of hatefulness and horror at having to go to yet another ball. She puffed out of exertion and exhaustion. Finally, the corset tightened, albeit resentfully, because of the hard work of Marina’s mother, Revoltia Theodora Lowlady the Five Hundred and Forty Second. Behind her back, all the servants just called her Revolting, but she never was able to nudge her prying, gigantic, light purple nose into that little secret. The only reason Revoltia named her daughter something completely different was that she always had resented the last name “Lowlady.”

                Anyway, I’m going on and on about things you don’t want to hear about, right? Let’s just say that Revoltia finally forced Marina into every little jewel and piece of silk that could possibly fit on her body. In fact, let’s fast forward to when Marina’s mother leaves the room, after the lecture on etiquette, the lesson on how to manipulate a prince so that he will fall madly in love with you, and the fight about whether or not Marina could periodically go outside for fresh air during the ball. Yes, that’s a very good place to start.

                Marina breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, that old hag was gone. Now, she could get the one thing that always comforted her and calmed her. It had been bought with money stolen from her parents. It had a handle carved with swirls and dragons all over it. It shone in the light from Marina’s window like a star in the midnight sky. It was a dagger that was in Marina’s hand, with a handle of marble and a blade of pure diamond. It was beautiful, to be sure, but it was a dangerous weapon. The diamond blade could slice clean through glass if it was needed to. Luckily, Marina had never had to use it for real, but sometimes she liked to go into the woods at night to practice. She took a bag of sand with her and drew an X in glowing red on it. Then she practiced throwing, stabbing, and anything else you could imagine doing with a diamond dagger.

                However, we won’t go into that now. It’s another story for another day. This day there was a ball, as you may remember. Let’s fast-forward again, past Marina entering the ballroom, past the time when she spit in the eye of the prince she was dancing with, and past the lecture to Marina, provided by none other than Revoltia, about the importance of marrying off. Let’s go to when she went outside for a breath of fresh air, despite her mother’s wishes.

More next week, because I like to keep people in suspense. Thanks for reading! Any current critiques, comments, compliments, corrections, curiosities or questions should go into the comments below and they will be answered shortly.

Thrift Stores Yaaaaaay!

Today I went to various thrift stores around town and I scored some nice deals: a pair of fuzzy boots for next winter, $6.00, a pair of saddle shoes, $12.00, a nice doily I bought on impulse, $0.75, and, my favorite, a beautiful, flowing skirt made of contrasting black and white fabric.
In other news, I'm reading Catching Fire for the second time.

Weekend Update

I have been busy this weekend! I planted seeds, planted pea seedlings, got 2 houseplants that I will hopefully be able to keep alive, went to the feed store to look at cute baby chicks, got a fennel seedling and planted it, and, I saved the best for last, I am now in loving possession of the two Campine chickens in the guinea pig cage in the living room.
Really long sentence. Let me start from the beginning. I planted four rows of Candy Mountain corn seeds in my garden on Saturday, between rows of started pea seedlings. I have about double the amount of pea plants this year compared to last year, because I have discovered the amazing properties of very fresh peas. They are everything that store bought peas are not: sweet as candy, very green, delicious. There are also the things that I love about pea plants. They are nitrogen fixers, easy to grow from seed, and if you put a greenhouse in Antarctica I think you would be able to grow peas. There was also the pea challenge, which Jenna Woginrich posted on her blog, challenging rural and urban farmers alike to grow some peas. I accepted the challenge heartily, and now have about forty pea plants growing in my garden. Forty! It should be fun.
Then there were the houseplants. At Home Depot on Sunday, I caved and bought 2 small houseplants for 4 bucks. I will post pictures later, along with pictures of other things. They are beautiful houseplants, I just hope that I can keep them alive. I tend to kill houseplants, however much of a green thumb I have outdoors.
The feed store isn't much of a very good story. I went to my Friendly Local Feed Store, where they had big horse troughs filled with some cute, cute chicks. Oh, and then there was the trough of "chicks" in front, who were, creatively put in my very own words, in "The Ugly Weird Juvenile Stage." Oh, those were some ugly chickens. Even though when they're the chicks you've raised by hand you think they're still cute, really, they're quite hideous.
Planted Fennel seedling acquired at plant store in garden. End of really bad story.
Ah, yes, my favorites, the new chickens. One of them was named Feisty by her previous owner and is actually quite calm. Feisty is show quality. The other chicken I have named Spunk because, really, that chicken has some serious Spunk. I found that out by touching her a few times. They are beautiful chickens, and I hear that Spunk is quite a good layer. Feisty and Spunk. My new chickens. Heh. Heh.
So that's all for now, I will keep you wonderful people updated. Because, ya know, I'm so reliable.

Campines!

So, today, hopefully, if a certain Campine breeder happens to check her voicemails soon. For those readers unfamiliar with the breed, Campines are a breed of chicken almost bantam size, which means that they're about half the size of a normal chicken. Because of their small size they do tend to lay smaller eggs, but I'm figuring that I'll be able to eat these Campine eggs while still providing my regular egg customers with the eggs they're used to. I don't eat many eggs, so the size shouldn't be a problem. They are barred, which basically means they have stripes, and I believe that I will be getting Golden rather than Silver Campines. If you need some visuals, I'll have pictures up when I get the chickens.
By the way, I'm getting laying pullets (possibly hens) rather than chicks. Pullets are any female chicken under the age of  1 year.

Just Sayin'

I think it's time for me to get realistic with you guys. On week days I get home and crash or do things that really need doing. I hardly ever have time to post on the blog. So expect the bulk of my posts to come on Fridays or during the weekend, when I have the time and energy to write. I would love to write more frequently, and maybe some day that will happen. If it does then I will certainly let you fine people know, but right now it's just the weekend, folks. Expect some posts tomorrow, and I'll ry not to disappoint.

Pea Update

Remember those Maestro peas I planted long, long ago? Well, three of them are flowering!

Phew! AKA Portland part 1

I have inexcusably not posted since I left for Portland. Well, now I'm back to tell you guys everything I did.
On Sunday, I got up early and went to the Japanese garden, which was very beautiful. My favorite thing in that garden was a beautiful waterfall, with a pond at the bottom and so many varieties of colorful trees all around it. My least favorite part was that, unlike the San Francisco garden, the tea house was not open to the public! I walked around the entire garden three times and it was amazing, with twisting paths and so much GREEN! One thing about Portland: it is probably the greenest city I've ever seen.
Next up on Sunday's schedule was the Oregon zoo. There, I saw some amazing animals. There were so many that I can't even remember, let alone write about, so I'll just write about my favorites, in chronological order. First, there were juvenile lions with their mom, which was very cute and sweet, but they weren't very close to me, so it was hard to see them. Then there was the cheetahs with their coconut, and that was cool. Since I visited the zoo on Easter, all the animals got little presents for Easter, and the cheetahs had gotten an empty coconut shell to gnaw on. It was right near the window, so the cheetahs were very close, and as one walked by and I squatted down, in a breathless moment I was face to face with the very top of the African food chain. It was amazing, because I was literally three feet and a sheet of glass away from this amazing predator. After that, I saw the bats. I was amazed because there were hundreds of the little monkeys with wings and they were all flying around because it was their feeding times. Let me just say: I love bats. Other people are disgusted by them, but I feel gratitude and awe when I see one swooping around the night sky. If it weren't for that bat you saw last night, you would have a whole lot more of flies on your food and mosquito bites on your arms. And if you watch a bat's flight patterns, you would be amazed, too. So you can imagine that I was delighted to watch them in a feeding frenzy. But all of the things I said before - they were good, but not the best part of the zoo. The best part was watching the antics of a baby De Brazza's monkey, named Auggie. It was very interesting to watch this monkey interact with the humans behind the glass. You could tell that the monkey just wanted to play with everybody. He was literally bouncing off the walls to see people come over and watch his little performance. One time, when a man put his hands on the glass between the monkey and the people, the little monkey jumped over and put his hands on the glass, too, in the exact same spot. All that separated man and monkey was glass. Then the silly monkey got a cardboard box and tried to fit himself into it. It was hilarious. Finally, I had to leave because the zoo was closing, but not before I got to see a gigantic Polar Bear.
For dinner on Sunday, I went to a small café called Laughing Planet and got a bowl of veggies with free range beef. The beef was delicious. The veggies were OK, I've never been a big fan of Kale. I also had a very good smoothie there.
Finally, to wrap up Sunday, I went to an amazing ice cream parlor called Salt and Straw. If anyone reading this ever goes to Portland, GO THERE. On the menu were creative and exotic flavors such as Pear with Blue Cheese, Chimi Churro, and Honey Balsamic Strawberry with Cracked Black Pepper. Me? I had Woodblock Chocolate Sorbet as the base for a double scoop, with the top flavor being Honey Lavender. I have never had such creamy, flavorful, amzing ice cream. Plus, to top it all off, they try to make all their ingredients local. Once again, if you go to Portland, it is worth the line around the block to go to Salt and Straw.
On second thought, this post should be divided into parts. Part two and pictures will be coming soon.

Going

For the next day I probably won't be posting until 8:30 to 9, because I am gettin' on a plane and going to Portland!

Story Time?

So recently I've had this idea that the short story (which isn't very short, but definitely isn't a book) that I've been writing should be published. It is about a young princess, and I don't want to spoil anything, but she's sort of a rebel. Just to give you an idea of her character, she carries a dagger around everywhere she goes, hidden in her skirts. So, does anybody want to hear a story?

Western

So today I tried Western. Let me tell you: IT.IS. HARD. Here is the story of my Western encounter:
When I walked into the barn, Dolly, my horse, had not been tacked up, so I had to help put on her saddle while one of the instructors showed me how to put on Western tack. It was heavy. When it was on Dolly, finally, I looked at it and thought "that looks pretty comfortable." Then I got on Dolly. The saddle was so big. The stirrups seemed much too long. And the saddle was hard. I was terrified. The stirrups were going to come off my feet any second. "OK, ride her down to the arena" the instructor, well, instructed. I was very scared to ride in this unfamiliar tack on my own. I felt unbalanced. But I put a smile on my face and rode down to the barn. There, I was instructed by the person who owned the barn, my usual instructor, to "walk her around a few times and then we'll trot" Trot? I could barely take the walk, let alone the trot. And I knew that in Western riding, you sat the trot. I suck at sitting the trot - I bounce about a foot out of the saddle usually. Before I knew it, I was in for a bumpy ride. My instructor said "Trot!" I kicked Dolly. I bounced and rubbed against the uncomfortable saddle. My feet tried their hardest to come out of the stirrups, or so it seemed. I was tense. The saddle rubbed my butt and upper thighs,so now they're probably sore. Did I mention that I was scared out of my wits? I was kind of glad when the strenuous lesson ended, but I still want to give Western a few more chances. One thing that's for sure is, it is so different from English. Is anybody reading a pretty experienced Western rider?

Classic

When I set my bucket of chicken feed down on the other side of the fence and rested for a second, with crab apple blossoms everywhere, Snow White discovered it and started eating out of my metal bucket (no, she couldn't eat out of the feeder, had to eat out of the bucket.)I let her be out of curiosity and soon, the others joined her. Then, I realized that some farmer 100 years ago might have found entertainment, also, in watching chickens eat out of a metal bucket. I just stood there pondering it a minute before I snapped back to reality, went through the gate, and poured the feed into the feeder. Talk about a sense of perspective!

Sunday

Sunday is the day that I do all my dirty work for the week. I plant seeds, put new bedding in the chicken coop, weed things, water things, and attempt to find the time to bake bread. I try to post on this blog a lot today too, although sometimes I fail that goal, so I apologize for that. Sunday is the day before Monday, a last desperate chance for a bird to fly before it gets captured and thrown into the whirling business of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. So today I try to be a blur of happy, homesteading action today. Goodbye, time to attempt that.