It’s gorgeous isn’t it?

Those trees are on the neighboring plat, the rock outcropping is to the South-East, which is going to make for some awesome sunrises.

Believe it or not, this is zoned as a residential neighborhood. Rural residential (which means animals are okay) but still residential.

My inner rock hound is delighted, being so close to all the best places to find the best shiny things nature can provide.

I’m so indescribably happy. And worried. Happy because I’ve wanted to get a place where we could keep a few larger animals (not horse large, but a dairy goat would be nice) and some chickens, and because I really still don’t like the way our neighborhood has changed over the last few years (all the cool people got divorced and moved away, leaving room for not so awesome people to move in and start annoying me.)

And worried because we have a whole property to plan and develop.

a finished sock upon my lap.

If I die before I wake;

that second sock I won’t have to make.

the verdict is "orange tree"-- even the alligator confirms it

It’s the leaves. The leaves have grown out and given it away as an actual orange tree of some kind. Since I don’t know which part of the seed it sprouted from there’s no telling if it’s identical to one parent or a cross between the seed bearing parent and the pollen producing parent. I could guess, but it would be just that– a guess.

The weather looked like it was going to clear up so my little citrusy babe has spent his first whole day and night out of doors in anticipation of the great glowing orb’s return. He doesn’t look too distraught at the change in light and temperature, although I can honestly say that my desk looks very sad without a wee orange tree on it.

Lexi made two egg heads but she’s refused to allow me to photograph them because she wants to post them on her blog.

For some reason I thought this project would be a little more involved than it actually was. Eggmond’s collar is a bit of cardboard tube scavenged from an aluminum foil box, connected with white glue. I drew his face on using sharpie marker. Then we filled his head with potting soil and topped it off with a sprinkle of wheat grass grain (which are just starting to sprout.)

I’m growing quite fond of Eggmond.

Then I plotted out my garden, but I still haven’t dug it up. I need a dry day to mow the lawn before I start digging. And a cattle panel to install for the squash and gourds before I put the starts in the ground.

Tried to go see Max Brooks at the Salem Public Library on the 27th of last month, but his presentation was sold out. So it’s possible I’ll never know if I have the ten essential skills to survive a zombie apocalypse. I did have a good laugh that night commiserating on the lack of tickets with other fans online, noting that there is absolutely no irony in the fact that scalpers typically don’t have tickets to public library events.

I did however manage to pick up the last copy of the Zombie Survival Guide at Borders, swooping in just before someone with tickets was able to purchase it (that was before I knew the presentation was sold out. Of course I was buying the book in anticipation of having it autographed as our first copy has been read by everyone in the family, it looks like it has gone though a zombie apocalypse. So I really hope I didn’t screw one of the ticket holders out of an autograph by getting the last copy that night.

maybe, I hope, I think so, it could be

Since the sprouting it hasn’t grown much, just this side of two inches– I’m almost confident that its a real orange tree sprout and not a weed seed that found its way into the potting soil.

Since the 29th of October I’ve kept it in good condition and have managed to not kill it off by neglect. Although I almost killed it by leaving the light over it on too high an intensity over Christmas holiday.

I haven’t planted anything else, but I’m planning on ruining my yard this year and cutting a 5×20 foot garden right in front of the house. I say “ruin” somewhat tongue in cheek because the beauty of a yard or  garden is subjective. I tend to think a perfectly manicured lawn is lovely, but I live with two children, four dogs, and a patch of feral strawberries that are determined to keep such a yard a distant and unrealistic dream.

Have you ever run over cleverly concealed ripe strawberries with a mulching lawn mower in August? I did, the carnage was great. Day one smells like a strawberry punch, day three after the mowing smelled like strawberry wine, day 10 and my yard smelled like a Ceasar salad. Not wholly unpleasant but mildly disturbing in that I was tempted to fetch croutons and Parmesan every time I went out to water the hedge.

Usually I try to scatter my food gardening as unobtrusively as possible around our property, a side effect of living in a family house is the fear that everyone is going to criticize any change, no matter how small and no matter how great of an improvement it might be over the way things Grandma had them arranged.

Grandma had dark fake wooden paneling in the living room– and I took so much flack for removing it. Mom’s dog used to pee on that rhododendron by the front door, never mind that the plant is dead it had sentimental value. Can’t dig there because we buried a cat there 4 decades ago.

The reality of it is though that if Matt and I hadn’t purchased the place then it would have been bought by people who would have seen it for the money pit that  it is, razed it to the foundation, torn out all the landscaping and built a duplex here. This year, I’m just going suck it up, brace myself for the finger pointing and cries of heresy and treat my property as my property and manage it the way I like instead of catering to a bunch of people who never bother to visit unless someone has died anyway.

getting ready for the 21st

It’s not that horrible, at least that’s what I tell myself. I tell myself a lot of things when I’m sewing, things like “I’m never doing another craft show again.” (Lie.) Things like “This is so not worth the effort.” (Lie.) and “Next year I’m just going to buy gifts for everyone and not worry about any of this.” (Lie.) and a perennial favorite “Just one more.” (Lie.)

I’m starting to not believe anything I say when there’s a sewing needle and fabric involved.

My dogs will never be vegetarians. I appreciate your sentiment about my animals eating other animals, but they were designed to eat other animals so I’m not going interfere. Besides Greta’s bowels do bad things when she manages to get a single corn chip, and as much as she loves a nice raw head of cabbage last time she got at one the neighbors called the city suspecting that we had a corpse rotting in our backyard.

Actually, rotting corpse would have been an improvement. CSI wouldn’t have scooped that poop. Lawrence Fishburne’s character would have been all “F–k this, I quit.” and then he would have stormed off, the rest of the episode would be the other characters trying to figure out who stepped in what and where did Lawrence Fishburne go?

Bacon grease is an essential ingredient in blueberry muffins. It makes them last longer, taste better, and its cheaper than coconut oil which frankly does a 2nd rate job. I will make you any other type of muffin, even the cranberry ones, completely vegan if you like but I draw the line at my blueberry muffin recipe.

Tofu is awesome, stop pretending that its a meat replacement and accept it as tofu. I will defile neither tofu nor my meatloaf recipe attempting to appease your perverse appetite that craves both moral superiority and down home good cooking at the same time.

Justify it all you like, if you are vegan and don’t eat beans and bean products you are a crappy (and likely malnourished) vegan, pastatarians don’t count. Fake chicken nuggets and egg free ramen do NOT have enough protein to keep your brain functioning, which is probably why you feel like crap and don’t have the mental acuity to calculate exactly how much protein you need to eat each day.

Finally, I’ll happily make as many vegan portions for dinner as there are vegans, which tends to include enough for seconds if you like and a bit extra for the omnivores to sample if they like. Do NOT pout because you don’t feel included or because you think I’m trying to single you out somehow by not offering you meat products that I know you will make a big deal out of not eating– that attitude just makes you come off as a permanent window licker on the short bus of life, its just rude.

I thought that was it, but I have one more: Under no circumstances are you EVER to claim to be a strict vegan with “soy sensitivities” and expect me to cater to your bizarre dietary claims with anything other than a good stout bowl of oatmeal and a look of piercing disdain mixed with a pinch of distrust.

There is no sweater wearing on these gorgeous tropical sun drenched brightly lit days, my beautiful socks must stay in a drawer while my feet go flopping around naked in dusty leather sandals, and my freckled skin does its absolute best to imitate a tan.

I don’t so much tan really, I just kind of turn into a reverse white on dark freckle pattern.