Monday, June 15, 2015

Iris Knits has new web address

If you came here hoping that the link still works with my knitting blog, alas, it may not. HOWEVER, the new address is

Tuesday, June 09, 2015

Goodbye, Mr. Cluck

I found Mr. Cluck dead in his pen today. I was surprised last night that he didn’t run out to greet me when I got home. I checked on him and found him nesting in the new hay in his box. His eyes were bright and he cocked his head to study me.

There was no happy crow to wake me today. When I went out to feed him, no friendly rooster running to the gate. His food from yesterday was untouched. And he was dead in the hay of his box. :(

There was no damage on him. I can only assume he got overheated.

He was a joy to have around. I’ll miss him.

Monday, April 20, 2015

Where Did the Pictures Go?

It appears that about 90% of my blog photos have gone MIA. I deleted my Picasa account because I was tired of every stupid thing I might snap with my phone camera (the steering wheel and one foot; that poster I was going to remember to tell my daughter about; the one where my finger was over the lens, EVERYTHING!) was being posted to Picasa. This was in spite of me turning off all of automatic settings I could find. I had visions of all sorts of things I didn't want to see the light of day winging through the ether for Tom, Dick, and Harry to enjoy. So, I deleted my Picasa account. All of it.

What I did not realize was that my blog photos lived in Picasa. Now they too are gone forever.

Not exactly forever. Most of those files are stored elsewhere on my computer or a CD archive disc. Slowly I am reconstructing the evidence. This will not be an overnight restore because I have multiple blogs and some of them have many, many posts.

In the meantime, dear reader, please accept my apologies.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Meet the Chicken

We have added a chicken to the homestead. Gee. I didn't even know I had a homestead. I just have a small town home a garden, some grape vines and blackberries. And a bunch of herbs. And a penchant for canning. And a hobby of learning to use herbs for more than cooking. Not to mention the knitting and sewing. And... And... When did this become a homestead?

Now, about the chicken?" you ask. She is a rescue that my daughter-in-law brought home.  Lisa, the daughter-in-law, drives a semi. She found the chicken running loose in the parking lot at a Tyson slaughter house. Since no one claimed the feathered refugee, Lisa popped her into the cab of her truck and brought her home. I have no idea what breed of chicken she might be, but we've been calling her Lucky Leghorn.  We are pretty sure she was a caged bird, but I am very pleased she never had her beak trimmed.  It took her a week to become accustomed to walking and exploring a small cage at my son's house. Today Lucky was introduced to her new home: the 10x20' former dog pen in my back yard.

As soon as Lucky was released into the pen, my black cat Loki found his way inside. He went to sniff the chicken and Lucky pecked him on the nose. Ouch! He retreated to the water dish to check out the beverage on tap. Lucky spotted a long, black, fuzzy wormlike thing and pinched it. Ouch, again! If you look closely at the photo, you will see Loki on the right side of the pen, staying as far away from that Evil Chicken as he can get. Shortly after the photo was taken, Loki made his escape and got far, far away.
My first priority was to get the top of the pen enclosed so neither my cats nor any visiting hawks or raccoons could get inside. Son Joe, granddaughter Lala, and I strung netting across the top of the pen.  It was hardly finished before another of my cats, Lonesome, jumped up to check out the handy work. He must have been talking to Loki, because he didn't even try to get closer to Lucky.

Now Joe is building Lucky a small hen house where she can get out of the weather. I have a bit of straw I can tuck inside later for nesting material.

Dad built the dog pen in 1961 for his hunting dogs. I bet both he and Mom are in Heaven laughing about this latest use of his 53 year old dog pen.