Blast, It's hunting season, Wailing Cows, and Thistle bushes.

Fell into, a sea of grass, and disappeared amongst the shady blades.

Children rolling over me, screaming "TAG! You are the one!"

She trips her as her sandals fail, she says, "STOP..I'm a girl." whose     fingernails are painted mothers pearl. Yellow

 buttercup, helicopter, orange butterfly chasing after the crazy bee mad about 

somebody I know.

The lyrics to my favorite song linger in my head every morning during my meditation. First course of business in the morning is feeding my munchkins their organic egg dishes and crumpet of sort. Then off to the garden with my steaming coffee to pray for my loved ones on the west coast who are still resting or perhaps just rolling in from the evening before. As I sit I watch a bumblebee collect pollen from the bountiful echinacia and chamomile wild flowers that are currently setting up colonies around the chicken coop. As I sit along the chicken coop the sun rises behind me and the sounds of happy children eating from the sun porch. Two days ago I noticed a single leaf drift across the property lonesome and dry. This morning it is rain

ing leaves, as the 100 year old Sycamore is shedding it's summer skin. Yes, summertime rolls again. The days are getting shorter, and the kids are getting wiser. Madeline takes the school bus home now. The tears of new school days have not subsided, as I am sure they will continue to flood as Grace starts her Pre-k next week.

My morning coffee meditations have been interrupted on occasion by the screaming blasts of shotguns coming from the forest. Yes, unfortunately it'

 hunting season again. The first year we lived here we would awake in the morning to see a strange pick up truck parked close to the house in our north field. Being out in the country as we are, it is rare for us to have visitors without our knowing. I watched the blue truck rest in the same place for hours,wondering,watching, waiting fo

r our visitors to reveal themselves. BLAST!! 

Came from the back thicket. Upon instincts I immediately ducked for cover, as the only gun fire I am used to hearing at such close range is not of the hunting kind.  I had a chuckle after I  witnessing  eight deer run from our thicket, stop at the anonymous pick up truck, look back at the forest almost as if they were mocking the

 hunter they had just escaped. The deer then took  a head count of each other, and were off across the country road on their way to Cincinnati. The hunters were in the forest for the rest of the day, I'm sure swearing that they just saw a deer. I'm sure they did. Drat! Where is my video camera at times like these? This year I'm prepared. We have since posted NO HUNTING signs around the property. The last thing I need is to have my children witnes

s a wounded Bambi being dragged across our yard. 

Remember when I mentioned the wolves howling a few chapters back? Come to find out they were not wolves at all, in fact they were hunting dogs, hunting coons!! Coons? Why on earth would somebody want to hunt a coon? Isn't this why every farmer has a hunting dog?To keep the coons away? Not for all, according to my red neck diva mommy friend, some of the country folk like to eat them. On that note....

The cows have begun their end of the summer wails. Oh the sadness that comes from the saddened mother. 

MOOOOOO OOOH, MOOOOO OOOH, MOOOO OOOH

!

As loud as can be, 24 hours straight. It is time for the farmer to ween the calves from their mother's milk and remove them from their mother's pasture. Last year, I believe they weened all of the calves at the same time which caused a symphony of sorrowful wails. At this time there is only one cow wailing for the past three days. It wont be long until they all begin. 

We have the most amazing thistle bushes growing throughout the yard. Have you ever wondered what becomes of the thorny weeds that endlessly sprout up in every yard. Southern California locals  spend thousands and thousands of dollars a year keeping their lawns manicured and rid of these prickly pests. While our riding mower has been waiting to be repaired these thorny weeds have grown into the most amazing thistle bushes. Each one is over 6 foot tall, some providing shade for the chicken. At the moment they are beginning to bloom cotton ball sized bright purple thistles. Amazing!  Our riding mower was finally repaired allowing me to get in the back field to mow a path of discoveries for the children.  While we were away the deer made a pretty impressionable path. I followed it with my mower and created a couple round abouts leaving the over grown thistle trees to shade my little prince and princess during their next adventure on Hollywood Farm.

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