The search for perfection.

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So now the husband wants to add floor moulding in his big barn… and you know what that means.

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An entire afternoon picking through more wood than I thought humanly possible.

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Granted, even I would reject that baby.

But come on…..

If he would take half as much time installing it as he does picking it out I might not mind. But nothing is going to be perfectly cornered or angled or mitered so why bother!

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Our afternoon trip ended here.

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With the moon rising and me refusing to cook the pork roast dinner I had planned.

You want perfect wood? You have to pay the piper.

Or in this case, the pizza place.

I love my town.

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And I love what people post on its Facebook page.

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Oh no.

If you see it?  Please tell it we serve a daily and nightly buffet free of charge.

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I’m not exactly sure what constitutes ‘groovy’ lamb.

But I’m pretty sure this isn’t it.

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Jumping orangey peach colored fish?

Thanks 2020. Like this year wasn’t weird enough.

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I have to admit I’d never even heard of letterboxing before.

Sounds like a perfect Covid era activity though.

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Normally I’d say friend.

But it’s 2020, for all we know that thing is radioactive.

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A giant vacuum cleaner?

Well, yeah.  They want us to social distance…  so just stick the hose end into your local pub and switch her on.

Bambi… the Devil’s Spawn.

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Our old doe surprised us recently. She’s been with us for a long time, and every year? She has young.

She was pregnant so often, that’s actually what we call her.  Pregnant.

Original? No.

But she didn’t look like a Betty,  so go with it.

This year she’s been moving more slowly and looks quite thin. It’s September and we hadn’t seen her with any fawns so we figured that time of her life had passed.

Until yesterday….

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When we looked out and saw her bringing a baby out of the field.

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It’s late in the year to have such a young spotted fawn.

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And to be honest, something about this baby looked…. off.

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At first I couldn’t put my finger on it.

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And then I thought…

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That little sucker just looks….

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Mean.

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Look at this last picture and tell me I’m wrong.

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Go on, I dare you.

A rare sighting.

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No, it’s not me eating a meatless meat patty or getting down with the free Billy Ocean album the husband’s playing to torment me in his barn, man cave large building filled with crap.

It’s this:

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Eight baby turkeys on the run, headed straight for our bird feeders.

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Momma brought them up for a nosh for the very first time since we’ve lived here.

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And that, my friends…. deserves a blog.

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The little guys were so sweet.

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Scratching the ground and pecking for seed.

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They stayed close to mom.

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And braved the great wide open for a snack.

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When mom looked wary?

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Babies did as well.

And a few seconds after this riveting video that will cause my new found legion of YouTube fans to flee….

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Momma got spooked and gathered her chicks.

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Funny thing was, all the babies ran one way and she ran the other.

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The chicks gathered.

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Huddled, and plopped right down to wait.

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When the coast was clear, momma called.

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They ran back.

And before I could focus?

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Everyone went flying for the woods.

 

 

Pandemic humor.

 

Milton Berle said laughter is an instant vacation.

So you might as well laugh, because no one’s going to Cabo anytime soon.

 

 

 

This week’s selections have a theme….

 

 

 

 

Which is basically 2020 bites….

 

 

 

 

And we’re over it.

 

 

 

Never has there been such a crazy, utterly wasted year.

 

 

 

Yes….

 

 

 

 

That pretty much says it all.

Random photos you don’t need to see, but will just to humor me.

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Our resident skunk who visits nightly.

Like everything else around here, he’s ass backwards with a black striped tail and white tip.

Regardless, he’s still a little stinker… and if the tip goes up?

Run.

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Two CH-53E Marine Corps choppers flying over our backyard during some rare state of Maine training.

We lived in the flight pattern of these babies down south when my husband was active duty, and trust me, when they go by? You feel it.

As does your house.. because everything that isn’t nailed down rattles.

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The sunset up the road from our house the other night.

You may ooh and ah at will.

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A sign I bought for the husband’s future barn bar.

Beer.

Making friends more interesting for centuries.

CSA and more rude produce.

 

This week’s CSA bounty was full.

 

 

With onions, fairy tale eggplants, celery, garlic, basil, rainbow chard, tomatoes, carrots, and salad mix.

But did you see it?

There, on the right hand side…

 

 

A slightly wrong tomato.

 

 

It’s either flipping me off…

 

 

Or sticking out it’s tongue.

 

 

Either way?

It’s rude produce, and that’s just wrong.