Hello from Miranda :)

My mom is running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get things packed up and ready to go to the cabin. Sooo, here I am guest-blogging.

I was told to write about "puppies and things... You know, just say I'm at the cabin partying and happy 4th and whatever". There you go. Puppies. Partying. And whatever.

Now that I've got that out of the way, here are some pictures to make you squeal.

You can view the pictures larger by clicking on them. :)

Please ignore our nasty brown grass. The heat has been miserable this summer and we've had very little rain. It's mighty crunchy and dead.



Have a wonderful (and safe) 4th of July! Try to not burn anything down.... I can't promise that we won't.

I took a walk down memory lane this morning. There were four baby kittens whining terribly for their mother right outside my bedroom window. My daughter, Miranda was already up doing a 'photo walk' with her camera by the time I came walking through the field down to the barn in search for Mama Cat. She had already taken over one hundred photos of the field, flowers, clouds, etc. by the time I got to the barn and then she snapped this photo.

Yes, I'm still in my nightgown. But when kittens cry, there are some things you don't think about.

I can't count the times I've climbed this old ladder up into the hayloft. I've spent many a day looking out onto the fields and watching my family bale hay or feed cattle. I also used to swing from a rope from the rafters for hours on end. And on occasion, I had an accident or two. I fell through the loft into a huge pile of cow manure one day. I came running to the house crying. And of course, after my granddaddy hosed me off, they all had a good laugh.

Mama Cat followed us back to the house and took care of her babies and all was well. I had to take a shower and pull the straw out of my hair, but it was worth it.

I love this old farm.

Good night all!

I promised to share my beautiful puppies with you this evening, so my daughter, Miranda, and I took them outside for their Birthday Portraits. Some were happier than others in this new adventure. This post seems appropriate since today they turned five weeks old.

Happy Birthday Puppies!

Of course their momma wanted her portrait done as well. She's a big camera ham!

This is Miss Winnie. Her actual name is Miss Winchester, but that just seemed too masculine for such a girly girl. She has been with us for a year now and she's absolutely spoiled rotten. She actually had 14 pups on Tuesday, May 27. And with it being such a large litter, we were very
grateful that nine healthy puppies made it.

Miss Winnie almost died on us last week. We had to rush her to the emergency vet hospital with a temperature of 103. The doc said she had the worst case of mastitis he had ever seen. A large dose of antibiotics and a weeks worth of pills later, she is back to running and playing again. Although she can no longer nurse the puppies, she likes to lick and play with them.

They were not quite 4 weeks old and already being fed puppy food. They mostly laid in it and licked it off of each other's faces for the first couple of days. Now they are eating the hard stuff and chowing like there's no tomorrow. As you can tell in their photos, they are chubby little bundles.

We're going to wait until they are 8 weeks until we start giving them up for adoption. It's going to be very difficult to watch them go. We want to keep a couple for ourselves, but that choice seems to change like the weather. Right now, I want to keep "Buddy". He's the long haired, black looking lab. He's the biggest of the bunch and Miranda calls him "Calf Head". She swears he looks just like one of our baby calves. Bless it's heart! I think he's adorable. Miranda is leaning towards keeping "Coco". She is the second biggest and the ring leader of the pack. She's very bossy and has lots of personality. My husband, Kent, has a new favorite everyday.
But who knows which ones will be staying in three more weeks.

We wish we could afford to keep them all.

Puppies have been fed, bathed, and are sleeping. Guess that's my cue to turn out the lights.

Good night!

I was in the middle of my garden this afternoon, when the first storm clouds rolled in. I knew I had about an hour's worth of weeding, hoeing, and watering of plants and vines before heading back to the house. I just crossed my fingers and drug out the garden hose.

I knew the garden would get the drink they needed if the clouds dropped on us, so I hurried to drench eight pots of flowers and
twelve hanging Boston ferns wrapped around my 70 ft. porch. Thirty-five feet on each side. Boy, if this old porch could talk. The stories it could tell. My grandparents and my great uncle Cecil would sit out on the porch for hours and swap interesting tid bits along with the gossip of the day.


By now I realized the rain was imminent. But I had more to do, so I put the memories away for a while and finished checking my garden. The tomatoes are growing like weeds, but still too green, even for fried green tomatoes. (Yum.)






The leaf lettuce, red lettuce, peppers, cucumbers, and squash all looked happy and healthy as well, so I high-tailed it over to cover the pool and "batten down the hatches" as grandmother would say.

The storm is rolling in fast and I can hear her plain as day: "You better get inside this house young lady. Unplug the TV's and stay away from the windows. And don't you dare think about gettin' on that phone." This old farm house has been hit by lightning so many times I've lost count. And she was good at reminding us. I can count many an evening sitting in the middle of the living room floor in the dark with only the sound of a portable radio ( no plugs, ha) and the distant sound of thunder. She'd sit in her big pink chair holding her fly swatter, humming some gospel tune until the thunder passed and only a few drops of rain water could be heard dripping from the gutters.

I had to remind my daughter of the windows today. She was too busy taking care of our nine puppies to notice the storm. She was busy washing puppy bowls in the sink right in front of the kitchen window. And without hesitating I heard my grandmother's words fly from my mouth: "Turn that water off and get away from that window, young lady."

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

The storm blew over and all is well at the farm. We're cleaning up the puppy pen and washing puppy blankets this evening. I'm guessing I need to introduce you to my nine beautiful puppies soon. They take up a lot of our time, but it's just another part of farm life.

Thanks for the walk down memory lane. Have a good evening!

I decided to pick more of the June Apples in my backyard today. By the end of July there are more on the ground than on the trees and I hated the thoughts of those fresh apples going to waste. By the first of August I have normally frozen a couple dozen quart bags to make sure we have lots of tasty treats throughout the long winter months.

My mouth was already watering; thinking about the fried apple pies that my grandmother used to make here on this old farm. Picked from these same old apple trees.

My grandmother, grandfather, as well as my mother all had some wonderful family recipes that I hope to share here at some point. Today I chose to share my grandmother's fried apple pies.

Now keep in mind there was a time many years ago that she would make her own dough, but by the 1970's she decided taking a little shortcut every now and then wasn't such a bad idea. And it didn't take away from the tart, but sugary goodness of those pies.

These fried apple pies are made with refrigerated biscuits and fresh picked June apples.

INGREDIENTS:

• 8 - 10 fresh sliced apples with the peel
• 1/3 cup brown sugar
• 1 tablespoon butter
• 2 tablespoons water
  
• 1 can (10 ounces) refrigerated flaky biscuits
• vegetable oil, for frying

PREPARATION:

Combine apples, water, and butter in saucepan; bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer for 30 minutes or until tender. Remove from heat and let cool, mashing slightly if pieces are large. Stir in sugar and set mixture aside.

Roll each biscuit into a 5-inch circle on a lightly floured surface.

Place about 2 tablespoons apple mixture on half of each biscuit circle. To seal pies, dip fingers in water and moisten edges of circles. Fold in half, making sure edges are even. Using a fork dipped in flour, press edges firmly together to seal. Pour oil to a depth of 1/2 inch into a cast iron skillet, or use deep fryer. Fry pies in hot oil (370°) over medium-high heat golden, turning once. Drain well on paper towels.

Be sure to save some brown sugar to sprinkle on the top as soon as they hit the plate. YuMmy!

Makes 10 little pies.

We enjoyed our pies as we sat on the porch and watched the sun go down behind the barn and silo. There was a gentle breeze and the slight pink in the distance reminds us that tomorrow will bring better weather.
Good night!

We drove off the mountain pretty late this evening. We had to wait for the thunder showers to clear because we were on the 4-wheeler.......and fully loaded.

We did a lot of mowing, weed eating, and built a new back porch on my Grandfather's old cabin, circa 1904.

Since it is so late, I will post more blog and photos tomorrow.

I hope everyone had a nice weekend.

After my first major blog, I'm taking a day for myself. My husband and I are going 4-wheeling up to our cabin in the woods about 10 miles straight up a rocky road above the farm.

We have enjoyed lots of adventures and good times with friends at our cozy cabin. We also enjoy just taking time for ourselves, relaxing on the front porch, watching the deer or drinking a cold one in front of the fire pit. I can hear thunder in the distance now, so I'm guessing we will be cozied up on the sofa tonight. Or maybe we will venture out onto the porch for a view of the "fireworks". The lightning is amazing at 4,500 ft. altitude.

Until tomorrow...

I've never written a blog entry. I don't really know what blogs are. Confessions? Random thoughts?

Here's a thought that just came to mind: Most people might assume I will write blog entries about mothers and daughters, or farming, or country life. But I'm like most people, made up of other moments in life as well; those planned and not; some interesting and others irritating; all those moments that made me who I am as a person.

But alas! I grew up here on this farm in southwest Virginia. I am a farm girl! And in being a farm girl, I will most definitely be entering blogs on my life here on the farm.

Climbing trees, skinning knees, wading the creek, splattering through cow pies, and various other farm girl adventures made for wonderful memories as a young girl. But then I discovered another love. Dancing!

I started dancing at age three, trained at numerous dance schools across the country and abroad. I attended Virginia Intermont College, one of the finest ballet schools on the east coast as far as I'm concerned. I have been teaching ballet, tap, jazz, hip-hop, etc. for over 25 years now. I also teach ballroom, swing, and straight-up jitterbug!!!

Dancing ultimately led to leaving my small country life. I lived in urban and large cities across the country for several years before taking a giant leap and multiple planes to an eight year adventure in Barrow, Alaska; a.k.a. "Top of the World". ........about 4,500 miles from my farm in the mountains. After the deaths of my mother and grandparents, there was no one left here on the farm. And on thinking of it being just a part of my history, the farm called me back home.

I finally moved back in 2005. And it wasn't long until I found myself being that fun loving farm girl again. I love 4-wheelin' with my husband and daughter, gettin' mud on the tires, goin' to the cabin and target shootin'. But due to many years and adventures abroad, I also love to travel, enjoy a nice glass of merlot, listening to jazz, and collecting exotic treasures!

So there you have it...I don't have to prove that I'm a farm girl by wearing overalls, chewing on a piece of straw, and putting my hair up in pigtails. The truth of that matter is, no matter where I go or what I'm doing, I will ALWAYS have the farm in my heart and the urge to share my story with those who need to hear it most.

Ya wanna hear somethin' funny? I'm actually sitting here barefoot, in cut off jean shorts, and my hair in pigtails. Ha! I love this old farm.

Phew! I did it. Virgin Blogger No More.