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I can’t help myself when it comes to these baby woodchucks. I have to try and make friends.
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Apple chunks help inter species relationships.
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This little fellow was so close..
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But ducked under the barn at the last minute.
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I can’t help myself when it comes to these baby woodchucks. I have to try and make friends.
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Apple chunks help inter species relationships.
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This little fellow was so close..
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But ducked under the barn at the last minute.
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The little guys are on the move.
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And damn it, they’re adorable.
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One little fellow loves the wagon wheels and uses them like a jungle gym.
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Momma isn’t a doting parent and I’ve actually watched her steal apple slices from junior.
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I know people dislike them and yes, they can be destructive… but thankfully they’ve never wreaked havoc here other than a few holes.
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Maybe they’re being nice and paying us back for the daily treats.
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Baby woodchucks are making their way out from under the man cave/barn.
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And the little scampers are adorable.
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I’ve spotted three so far.
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With one little tiny runt.
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Naturally he’s the sweetest and clumsy as all get out.
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I just love them.
💕
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I love this time of year in Maine. It’s warm but not hot, we have ample rain and things are blooming everywhere you look.
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Pansies are always the first things I plant in pots. They’re frost tolerant and because that can still happen at the end of May here … they’re a safe bet.
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Lilacs!
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We have two massive bushes that reach for the sky… taller than our roof. It’s fabulous!
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One white, one dark purple. I wish WordPress had Smell o Vision…. because trust me peeps, it is seriously fragrant up in here.
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I planted my annual marigold rotation in front of the mini barn last week.
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And some color coordinated geraniums next to the bulkhead doors.
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I didn’t pee on my garden before I read this, but rest assured I shall be passing it along to my husband who has been known to relieve himself off the barn porch.
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I have never in my life urinated on a lawn and I don’t plan to start now. But men can be very dog like when it comes to marking their territory as evidenced by this photo of a conspicuous patch of dead lawn adjacent to the barn porch.
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Apparently that goes for grass as well.
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Momma Chuck has been visiting off and on for a few weeks now and while I’m not sure if she’s moved back in under the man cave/barn… it’s a distinct possibility.
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I threw out some carrot shavings for her yesterday when low and behold…
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Junior showed up as well.
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Last year when Momma had her babies, there was a runt who was constantly by her side. We worried that he wouldn’t grow big enough to make it through the winter, but it looks like he did.
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Although having a pesky teenager following you around could get old quickly.
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The husband’s weekly Sunday pool game is still in full swing and I fear I’ve doomed myself to a full day of cooking, serving and cleaning from here on out.
I’m hard wired to feed people when they visit, and though technically no one is visiting me… the men come over to play at 9:00am and don’t leave until 3:30 – 4:00pm which means lunch. Whipping up something in the crock pot works well because it meant less trips back and forth, and with no kitchen or running water in the man cave I’m not serving 3 course meals. But it also means I’m up and cooking at 5:00am every Sunday so it’s ready at noon. Back and forth to the barn with cutlery, plates, serving utensils etc. … setting it all up, feeding them, clearing up, running it all back to house to wash. This is not my idea of a relaxing weekend.
But the sweet little (competitive as hell) old man is a widower so now as well as feeding him lunch… I’m boxing up leftovers for him to take home.
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Creamy ham and noodle casserole was a hit last week. As was my plate of strawberry crinkle cookies I made the night before and had to post off limits before the husband ate them all.
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I keep telling the guys once summer heat is in full swing the meal train is apt to stop, although the widower’s disappointment is almost palpable. No one wants chicken and dumplings in July… and besides, I’m rapidly running out of crock pot recipes.
🥴
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Hard as it is to believe after the apple tree planting fiasco of 2021, my husband was back at it the other day … ripping up the dead apple twigs and filling the holes with bigger and better new trees.
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He came home with a beautiful flowering cherry I would have loved for the back lawn where I could see it every day….
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So naturally he planted it on the far side of the barn where it’s completely blocked by the building and out of line of sight from our house.
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It will however be prime viewing when playing pool in the man cave.
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It’s a pretty tree and was an immediate bee magnet. In no time flat they were circling and we were stepping away.
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I might just have to buy another for my viewing pleasure.
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The weekly pool game saw team play again today.
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And after spending four hours this morning cooking lasagna, then serving it and the salad to the crew, I took a hard cider break before I ferried it all back in the house to do dishes.
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I sat, sipped and watched the mild mannered old widower school the group with a twinkle in his eye. Game after game, no matter who he teamed with, it was a rout.
And no amount of freshly tapped beer helped.
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The other three couldn’t seem to get out of their own way.
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You know there’s only one answer to the question, “ what do you want to do to celebrate?”
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Antiquing of course.
This time around it was the semi famous, at least in Maine… Elmers Barn. A ramshackle place that looks small from the front but feels like it’s 10 football fields deep once you’re inside.
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In other words, husband heaven.
And because technically it was a barn at one time….
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This lovely fellow greeted us upon arrival.
My husband turned 75 that day and to be honest, for the last few years he’s been feeling his age. The combination of a global plague, retirement, health issues, multiple deaths of friends and family, and the general weariness of aches and pains that are more prevalent when you spend considerable time on this side of the dirt have finally caught up to him. This winter the twinkle in his eye has faded and there’s not much spring in his step. Once the weather turns and he’s able to soak up some sun and fresh air I’m sure he’ll perk back up… but for now all I could offer was a day sifting and sorting through piles of useless crap untold treasure and a promise he could buy whatever he wanted without nary an eye roll from me.
Oh, the sacrifices I make for love.
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This was one of the first things we saw when we walked in and I fervently hoped he wouldn’t want to buy it. Dolls in general creep me out, but dolls with dead eyes who look ready to consume your soul in one easy gulp?
No. Thank. You.
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Needless to say we spent hours in this store and saw our share of strange things. Vintage snow sled with training wheels?
Check!
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Taxidermy with stylish chapeaux?
Check!
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I lost the husband in the aptly named ‘tool room’ for a long period of time, but surprisingly after spending half the day in a creaky old barn that promised 3 floors of odd and unusual…. there were very few items that could be described as either. Quite disappointing, that.
And though I fully expected to strain my eyes in a valiant attempt to stop them rolling… my beloved only made one small five dollar purchase that day.
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An antique wooden tap for the man cave.
Color me surprised.
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