oh dear

It turns out that our Great Pyrenees - Petunia - has been, uh, KNOWN. 

In the biblical sense. 

Ahem. 

To make this even more complicated . . . our first Great Pyr, Wally, got the neighbor's lab pregnant. Then he got run over. 

So we got a second Great Pyr . . . the exact same day the neighbor asked us to take two of the lab's puppies. 

One was Wally's protege and one was their Shar Pei's offspring. 

That's correct. 

We ended up with three puppies in one day. It was also the day we told our parents we were having a baby. 

Like I said . . . oh dear. 

Now Petunia is pregnant . . . perhaps with Wally's son's baby or perhaps with our black lab Blackjack's pups. 

Can someone please cue the Lion King's Circle of Life? 

In any case, if you're in Missouri and are on the lookout for a 3/4 Great Pyr -- or perhaps a half Great Pyr, half lab -- give us a shout-out. Petunia, like State Farm, has got you covered. 

day 8 of farmacology: neighbors helping neighbors

One of the things you may not know about farm folks is that

we take care of our neighbors, and they take care of us. 

Here in Missouri, we're falling asleep to the sound of grain bins drying corn and combines running late into the night. 

And coyotes. 

But it's also one of the times when we get to see most clearly how neighbors take care of neighbors here in the country. 

You shouldn't be surprised if you see two pick-ups stopped on a gravel road so farmers can have a little chat. 

And you shouldn't be surprised if you see a Gator driven by your neighbor go whizzing by, only to have him wave and holler, "Hey!" as he kicks up dust. 

And you definitely shouldn't be surprised if your neighbor offers you three puppies, and even though you already have two dogs, you somehow end up taking two puppies anyway. 

Uffda. 

You shouldn't be surprised if your neighbor brings you a package because the mail man got your houses mixed up.

And you shouldn't be surprised if his wife drops a batch of cookies by at Christmastime just because. 

And you shouldn't be surprised if you get sick and all your neighbors band together to bring your harvest in because you can't. 

Like this farmer in Illinois who was blessed to have 40 folks show up to bring in his harvest. 

Or this farmer with the pesky pancreas who saw 60 people turn out to harvest his wheat. 

When I was a young girl, a farmer passed away and the whole town showed up to harvest his widow's crop. Some people drove combines. Some drove tractors with grain carts. Some hauled semis to town. Some made sandwiches and side dishes. Some ferried coffee and hot chocolate back and forth from the house to the people driving the machinery. 

We may not live right next door to each other. We may not share a trash can or a backyard fence or even a block party. But we do keep tabs on -- and take care of -- each other, and in this day and age, that counts for something. 

Want to read more of my 31 day farmacology writing challenge? Click here. 

awkward teenage chickens

Remember those cute, yellow, fluffy, little balls of chickens that we picked up at the post office just a couple of weeks ago? They've now successfully entered their awkward teenage phase of life where their legs are too long, their feathers aren't full and they want to fly but can't really figure out how.

the envy of all the canines

I'm not sure when I realized it first. 

Maybe it was when we loaded up our chickens--with their wings flapping in our faces--dropped them off to be processed and then went back a week later to pick up frozen drumsticks and breasts.

Or maybe it was when my cousin visited the farm for the first time and asked in shock, "You mean bacon comes from hogs? I thought it just came from the grocery store!"