Author Archives: maryjane

Are You My Mama?

Piper and Patch were a frolickin’.

Along the road so sweet.

When they thought they heard a cry, a baaa!

Was it their mother, the long lost sheep?

“Are you my mama?” Patch asked.

Maizy the cow was all a-bawl.

And with a little spit, she gave ’em a lick

“A new auntie” they cried, “so tall!”

“Are you my mama?” Piper asked.

“I’ll peep and peep all day!”

And with a “cheep” and a monstrous leap.

The chicken flew away.

“Now this is hopeful!” they bellowed.

As Tulip said “Hello.”

She’s big and white … but not quite right.

One bark and off they go.

But who’s this walking toward us?

“Baa, baa,” they cried!

We’ve been looking for you all day, ma ma!

And with that, they let out a sheepish sigh.

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Talkin’ ’bout my girl, my girl!

Can you … ?

Identify this farmgirl?

Puppy Bowl

Did any of you get the chance to watch Puppy Bowl last Sunday, on Animal Planet? In case you missed it, check out the behind-the-scenes video below. All of the puppies playing are looking for good homes through PetFinder. Check ’em out if you’re in the market for a pet.

 

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We Love Ewe!

First, before you click on “continue reading,” you must need prepare yourself for cuteness overload. That’s right, I said “must need” because the situation is more than just a must, or a need, it’s … a must need.

How this phrase made its way into the authorized language of the academic world has always perplexed me. But I digress …

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Did You Catch These?

I know Super Bowl ads have been making the rounds, but these two are a farmgirl must see. Let me preface this first one by sharing a a portion of an e-mail I received yesterday from Shery, our Ranch Farmgirl blogger.

“Six farmgirls and I planned to go on an antique hunting trip last weekend … an overnighter … 2 antique malls, 3 shops, and a BARN full of antiques that opens by appointment in the winter. Icy, snow-packed roads nixxed the plan. Arrrrgh. Coverage of our fab outing was to be my blog THIS week. Drat. Soooo, instead I’m making a recycle type of bird-feeder from an old blue-swirl enamelware pan and matching lid … and offering up instructions.”

Shery continued: “Also, I said goodbye to a dear friend in my horse-life. 24-year-old Bluebelle laid down and left this life last week. She & Dolly & I became ranchers together. We grew gray hair together. She was ‘the easiest horse on earth’ … and when it was her time to depart, she laid down and quietly left. She was never sick a day in her life and if she had anything to say about it, she would have spared us the anguish of putting her down when the time came. It appears that is exactly what happened. She always made the ride easier. She lifted each hoof on cue for the farrier before he asked for it. She dipped her head in her halter and bridle. When we moved bulls, she made certain that I never had to get off. She would reach deeply into a thicket of trees and like a land shark, she’d peel the hair of a bull’s rump until he bellered and fled. She *always”* made things easier for me. She took great care in being the ‘dude’ horse and read each rider according to their ability … or lack thereof. She even died by the gate so that it would be easy to move her for burial. How I loved her and her easy peaceful nature. I will miss Bluebelle wrapping her neck and head around me in a ‘horse hug’. She was buried in the manner in which all great horses are laid to rest: standing, facing the rising sun.”

As evidenced in the following ad, the way we feed our country is on the cusp of change. As we start to see that healthier harvests are born of nurtured land, we are seeing a new breed of farmer step up to the plow, and SHE is breathing new life into agriculture. Tip your hats to Dodge for recognizing that women are farmers too, especially since a woman now manages 1 out of every 7 farms in the U.S.

 

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Memory Lane

Every year about this time (mid-January’ish), I receive a newsy update from my first business bookkeeper, who lives in Australia now.

This is gonna date me. Am I ready for this kind of full disclosure?

Okay, it’s 1993, and I’ve just printed one of my first catalogs (really more of a magalog, printed at my local newspaper, Moscow’s Daily News). My bookkeeper, Mare Rosenthal, was also a neighbor. She and husband, Greg Brown, had moved here from Iowa, purchased an 80-acre farm, and then proceeded to plant hundreds and hundreds of pine trees in order to restore their farm land back to its native state and turn it into a wildlife preserve.

Now, this is really gonna date me.

Bookkeeping back then involved ledger paper (kept in a cloth-covered binder), and a pencil that sharpened.

In this grainy “vintage” photo (before digital cameras), hubby and I

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Sunday Surprise

Yesterday, while I was sorting through a mountain of paperwork, Kim’s car pulled up unexpectedly. Out she hopped with two baby lambs, only two days old!

Outfitted in their “house wear” uniforms, they showed up for their Sunday visit in diapers and onesies that Kim had picked up at the Goodwill for 25 cents.

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