May 06, 2011

broken down

May 06, 2011/ molly balint

Do you see what I'm up against?

What I'm tripping over as I step from kitchen to mudroom to the outdoors?

Do you see what cries to me while I'm making dinner, tiny little grey paws padding at the door, begging to come inside and toddle around my linoleum floor?

Piles of fluff and wisps of hair flopped together with milk-taugh tummies and tiny pink tongues, paws draped over each other.

Even my husband, not-so-fond-of-cats, has been caught cooing a word or two to them as he passes through.

They break you down, I tell you.

April 28, 2011

a dog, a baby, a chicken, a cow

April 28, 2011/ molly balint

This morning was quite a doozy.

Let's see, where to begin....Mid-morning my children's collective whining broke me down enough that I blew off school work to take them to the library. While driving, the grey skies opened up and decided to rain down a torrential downpour mixed with a sprinkling of tornado warnings. We bagged the library, opted for the drive-thru window to pick up our books and began the slow creep back home, watching the sky and listening to AM radio all the way....

I dropped the kids off for lunch at my dad's, anxious for an hour or so of quiet to deal with a few deadlines hanging over my head.

I walked in the door to discover that we were without power.

I walked up the stairs to put the baby to bed when I heard oddly loud squawking from the yard. From the upstairs window I got a glimpse of the neighbor's dog running around the yard chasing my chickens. I shouted out the window in my meanest "bad dog!" voice which sent Birdy into a screaming fit.

I ran downstairs and outside, crying Birdy on my hip, to discover the dog standing over a dead chicken.

I threw a stunned Birdy into the car to keep her safe, grabbed a big stick and threatened and yelled and chased the dog into our garden shed. I closed the door behind him, put a bench in front of the door for good measure and rescued Birdy (who was now hysterical) from the car.

We walked to the front of the house, so that I could inventory my chickens and see who was missing, only to hear loud rustling and movement at the other side of the house.

There, standing in the middle of my flower bed, was a teen-aged calf from my OTHER neighbor's farm.

By this time, Birdy was still sniffling, but beginning to think that maybe this outdoor adventure was ranking higher on her list than a nap.

I called in for reinforcement, trying to decide how I would manage a dog, a baby, a dead chicken, and a cow.

Eventually, I decided I couldn't wait around any longer. I stuck Birdy in her car seat and drove to the neighbor's house to tell her I had her dog. My neighbor lost her husband just a few weeks ago, so I couldn't bear to tell her the whole story. I just said I had her dog in my shed. She asked if I could walk him home on his leash. Hmmn.

On my drive back from her house, I spotted the other neighbor pulling in to his driveway. I flagged him down and asked if he needed help with the calf.

I became a human roadblock to keep the calf from traveling farther up the road as he herded it back into the fence. I hear Birdy wailing in the car. From her rolled down window, I wave at her and try to tell her I'm coming. She's not interested in my attempts at comfort.

I returned to my driveway, only to run into my uncle who was coming to retrieve my dead chicken to put out for the Bald Eagles. (word travels fast in the valley.) I asked if he would mind walking the dog home, too.

He was happy to. Thank goodness

I took Birdy back upstairs and threw up a prayer that she'd nap despite not having her usual sound machine running in the room.

I pulled the blinds, closed the curtains and laid her down in her crib.

I walked outside and flopped down in the chair, sweaty, wishing I'd showered that morning, and run the dishwasher, and done a load of laundry, and wondered what work I could possibly accomplish around the house that would involve absolutely zero noise in order to keep the baby sleeping.

There was a loud hum, and the lights came back on.

But, alas, the day has only since improved. I have showered. The baby has napped. The girls have plowed through some school work. My kitchen is clean. And I have even managed to squeak in a four o'clock cup of coffee (which I'll probably regret later) and a few things ticked off my to-do list.

Things are good.

April 27, 2011

it's all about the egg

April 27, 2011/ molly balint

Maybe it's like childbirth. How we conveniently forget the pain, the contractions. And somehow we find ourselves happily going through it all over again.

That must be what was happening when I decided to do the "chicks in the bathroom" thing again.

The chickens have launched a complete take over of the downstairs bathroom. The large green plastic tub that was formerly their home just wasn't cutting it and appparently unlike their mild-mannered predecessors, it wasn't enough space.

Every time I, heaven forbid, had to use the downstairs bathroom for its intended purpose, I had to first remove a roosting chick or two from the seat of the toilet. (a down toilet seat, of course.) Within seconds of plopping them back in their home there would be another, jumping at my thigh or flapping up to the edge of the box.

That's when it occured to me that we could give them the whole back corner of the bathroom. Which means, I guess that I'm the one responsible for the take over. And perhaps this also means that maybe it is a good thing that this little bathroom never saw a minute of remodeling work.

So I called Dan at work and asked if he could finagle some sort of barrier, he said it wouldn't be hard and by nightfall they had the run of the place.

Yesterday afternoon, Emma had a friend over and the mom stopped in to see the chicks. She's curious about the whole process and thinking of trying her hand with chickens.

She leaned over the large plywood barrier, looking at the chickens running willy-nilly on my bathroom floor which is now covered with both a tarp and layer of shavings..."Now, what is the advantage to getting chicks instead of older hens that are ready to go out in the coop?"

Huh. Good question.

It's fun? They were cute for three days before they started to get their pin feathers? They'll be tamer when we put them outside? I like the way they make my whole downstairs smell like a chicken coop? It gives my children something to do while they're on the potty? Life was getting boring and I needed a little something to fill all my free time?

Well, really. It's not that bad. At least not all the time.

There is enjoyment in the process. Like it or not, we are becoming attached to these six feathered characters taking up residence in our bathroom.

And some day these girls will begin to give back. We just have to keep our eyes on the egg.

April 11, 2011

sheep fabric

April 11, 2011/ molly balint

Last year, I doodled this sheep drawing into a notebook one afternoon while I was sitting at the table with the girls. I have always kind of loved it and wanted to turn it into something I could use. I thought about notecards, or a totebag, or putting it on the front of little onesies or tees for my kids, but I never really followed through with any of those ideas.

A few weeks ago, this baby blanket idea reminded me of spoonflower so I decided it was finally time to move the sketch from my notebook onto something.

After much anticipation, last week my own little piece of sheep fabric arrived in the mail. I'm beyond thrilled, especially because I have a soft spot for anything "sheep" and it is impossible to find sheep things that aren't completely "cartoon-goofy" or "cutesy precious."

The whole process on spoonflower was simple. I only ordered a fat quarter of quilters cotton and another swatch of a cotton canvas. If I eventually order more, I think I'll make the print a tiny bit smaller.

But eek! Overall, I LOVE it. Now of course, I'm faced with determining what project will be worthy of my little quarter of sheep print.

April 01, 2011

farm, field, sky and closet

April 01, 2011/ molly balint

farm:

Well, I'm suspcious the man at the mill is reading my blog. Just hours after my post we received "THE CALL". Chicks are in! Two hours later, my bathroom closet was taken over by heat lamps, plastic tubs, wood shavings,chick feed, and waterers. This batch of chicks has a certain spunk that I don't remember from previous years. When being "exercised" on my living room floor, they follow the girls around like they are their mother hens. The tear across the carpet, peck and tug at bits of whoknowswhat in the cracks between the wood floors. They are keeping us quite entertained.

field:

A few weeks ago, I received an email from a science supply catalog...they had messed up their shipments and had an overwhelming supply of caterpillars. And they were 50% off. We've yet to do the caterpillar thing, so I quickly snatched up a set. The caterpillars arrived and then disappointed when they didn't do much but crawl around eating the sticky brown food at the bottom of the cup, shed their exoskeletons and get awfully rotund. Eventually, I removed the cup from the middle of the kitchen table. It was getting a little gross. And they went into the school room. But this morning we woke up to two chrysalis (chrysalises?) . If a watched pot never boils, apparently a watched caterpillar never chrysalizes? (again, making up my own words here)

sky:

You might not share the same degree of excitement about this that I do but do you remember Maggie? After she (and all her ducklings) flew away late last fall, we've been curiously watching a group of mallards just up the road on a different stretch of Thomas Run. We like to pretend that those are our ducks. A group of the same number, eventually adding mates. We'd pull the car over, roll down the windows and call our "duck-duck-duck!" to them. And I swear, they cocked their heads to look at us. Well.....Wednesday morning as we were out doing morning chores Maggie and "Handsome" her husband came flying and dipping in, landing smack in the middle of the mess of barn cats roaming around waiting to be fed. They were completely unphased by the four-legged animals, wandering among the cats and waiting for us to bring them a scoop of food. After they ate, just like always, they went to the big rubber tub of water, looking for a drink and a quickswim. It's magical, I tell you! They're back. We're so excited. They've been showing up every morning since.

closet:

That same morning when I came in from all the duck excitement, I headed upstairs to get dressed. (Yes, I just might do chores in my pajamas sometimes). And I heard a curious mewing coming from my bedroom closet. Inside was the golden glow of cat eyes. One of the barn cats had managed to slip into the house and was obviously ready to have her babies. Thankfullly, I managed to remove her from my closet and back out onto our mudroom with a box and soft towel. Within the hour, there were four damp litle kittens nursing from their mama.

(chick photos by katiepertiet)