Old Nichols Farm

Around here today - Flowers

2013-07-27T23:19:00.000-05:00

If you're gonna have dandelions in your yard, you might as well have daisies too. They're in tiny patches here and there. Little habitats. I didn't notice the silky spider threads until I saw this one on the computer. Also, you notice the decapitated stem? That lovely one is in my kitchen.

Hollyhocks. I've tried for three years to get them established outside our barn. A too-mild winter, and ahem... these birds called chickens, took quite a toll. But LOOK! Blooms! Finally, I am getting closer to declaring the hollyhock mission a success. Also? Pink is so not my color, but I'm totally okay with it if that's what it takes.

The cilantro is flowering. Fine by me if it seeds itself again so I don't have to do that next year. A cilantro jungle - that's what we have.

And the dill. I planted it once, like four years ago, and it shows up right on time ever since.

So in conclusion, I probably should have titled this one, "The things that grow all.by.themselves whether I want them to or not, except the stubborn Hollyhocks".

These purple carrots

2013-07-22T23:35:00.000-05:00

We're doing a few experiments in our garden again, a collaboration with the NDSU extension. We're nothing special. But we like to think we are, and when I word it like that... it sure sounds like we are. Special, I mean.

This garden just went crazy behind my back these last few weeks. It always does that in July. I figured we had the weeds about 80% under control. And then? July happened.

So I figured we'd better get started taste-testing these odd carrots. They're purple. I guess I told the kids these ones were going to be purple, because they were neither impressed nor surprised. With all the drama we usually have going on around here, I was honestly a bit disappointed.

We picked a few carrots. Carefully. In two bundles as to not get the two varieties mixed up.

'Cause we have to be responsible with this one, you know.

No drama to write home about.

For once.

(Yesterday was a different story... Emergency Room. Stitches. Lots of wailing and snot.)

Oh, and the girl found a very pretty squash. That was after she ate a basil leaf half the size of her head. Now do you think she'd eat a leaf of basil if I handed it to her in the house? No way. These kids always smell very, ummm... culinary(?) after a trip to the garden. One favors the cilantro, and the other two go after the basil, but it has to be foraged completely on their own.

Scratch and sniff: Basil

I'm realizing now these pictures make it look like our garden is on the moon (or Texas?), or mulched with rock, or something. This is actually up on our driveway next to the house. The driveway has weeds too. It keeps the chickens busy. Everything around here has a purpose, people.

Even the squash.

On the kitchen table...

2013-07-09T14:23:00.001-05:00

Just as I found them:

I have no idea who started it this time, but I love these kids' creativity. Our table sees so many beautiful things.

Silly

2013-04-04T22:51:00.004-05:00

This kid of mine? He wants to have fun. Always.

Unless he's busy whining. He can fuss and whine like nobody's business. Otherwise he's all the time silly.

simple moments is about finding the small things that make up our everyday, things we want to remember and be thankful for. it's the little bits of our lives that might not be remembered when we are gray and old. so we document it, on paper, with a photo, in a journal, through a blog

My helper

2013-03-29T11:10:00.000-05:00

By default, she's my helper. Sometimes this works better than other times. Sometimes it doesn't work at all. And sometimes, the universe interacts with her in ways that just boggles my mind.

Our local K-Mart is closing, which is a sad thing because it means Mal-Wart wins.

So we went. Just to see what was left, and we found some foam swords. Foam swords! Thus commenced a great battle in the summer-fun aisle. Me and her, with much giggling and squealing on her part, to the great delight of all kinds of old ladies meandering past with their shopping carts. I'm sort of disappointed none of them grabbed a sword to join us.

Then I got distracted by a blow-up bounce house for small kidlings, because I often wish I had a padded room to toss that girl into. It would be good for both her and me, actually. On clearance it was still a ridiculous $200. But you know, I have a job now and so it was slightly tempting anyway. While I was deep in thought imagining how cool it would be to throw her into such a contraption for half an hour, and the great many things I might be able to get done, and how it could perhaps be worth almost $200...

That was when it happened.

"Ka-WHOMP"

The girl? She'd been bravely swinging her sword up and down the aisle like any good warrior.

And she'd been captured.

By a stack of 9 evil plastic pools.

And what did she say?

"It's dark in here"

Looking for the Simple Moments with my friend Brooke. "simple moments is about finding the small things that make up our everyday, things we want to remember and be thankful for. it's the little bits of our lives that might not be remembered when we are gray and old. so we document it, on paper, with a photo, through a blog"

March 10 (+2) on 10

2013-03-11T08:05:00.000-05:00

She's getting braver. I don't know if it's the super-awesome fish treats, or if the kids have learned to be quieter around her, or if she's going senile. My vote would be for the fish treats.

Fish, Ellie? FISH!???

He's the mechanical-minded one - asked for a toothpick and went and got himself a light. Then he announced that if he spun the wheels backwards all that junk caught around them started to unwind itself. Not too bad for a six year old. Then again, he's always had an interesting connection with cars... ahem... having been born in one.

Our drive to church. Kind of bleak. Kind of still winter. Endless month of March. I'm totally okay with it this year, which is unusual.

Ye old styrofoam cup, always begging to be mutilated.

Peek:

And a peek back:

You have muddy pawprints on your sunroof too, right?

See the reflection of the little girl feet?

This was right before his head smashed into my lens... which smashed my camera into my glasses. My new glasses. My only-four-days-ago I got'em glasses. My I-gotta-go-back-and-get-them-adjusted already again glasses. My this-is-exactly-why-I-got-two-pairs-of-them glasses. I win, dear readers. I win.

She's three. But she's almost four. And when it gets deathly quiet, it's still a dreadful thing. Blue sand dunes all over the kitchen floor? True story. I lose.

Just try, ladies. Just you try coming through that door.

WHAM!

And there's most of the menagerie. What should we add next? Turkeys? Goats? Emu?

The spoiled floppy purring one. And there. All the cats made it into one blog post.

Did I mention she's still a handful? Some nights this is the only way (without tears) I can convince her to head into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Valuable lessons

2013-02-15T21:11:00.000-06:00

She was searching for lipstick. I told her I thought I had one somewhere... maybe it was in the bathroom, or a coat pocket, or a camera bag. After we searched, and searched, and searched, I re-thought what I had previously thought. Then I thought perhaps I had thrown that one tube of lipstick away. Then I tried to remember the last time I might have used it. Meanwhile she continued to search for it.

"Mom, what's this?"

It was a can of shaving cream. Half-empty. Almost as old as she is.

The way I saw it, there was only one thing to do.

Four minutes is about how long it took me to post that picture on facebook, in the other room, by the way. Meanwhile, a couple of valuable lessons were simmering.

Being the Swedish Chef is good, but there's always more imagination to be had. Fun is good, but more fun is better. Pretend bugs leaving their footprints all over the table is good, but bugs walk on the walls too, so obviously that's better.

Lesson number one: Don't turn your back on the shaving cream.

Lesson number two: Shaving cream will take the finish right off the table.

February 10 on 10

2013-02-12T11:52:00.000-06:00

He's creating a masterpiece drawing on the iPad. What kind of masterpiece, you ask? The kind with a rocket ship that suddenly lights on fire so all the frogs have to jump out and then you draw parachutes on them, of course, because frogs can't fly very well on their own. Mouth open concentration required. Cute sister optional.

We were in a blizzard warning, or blizzard watch, or prepare yourself HERE COMES THE WIND, or church and 4H cancelled or something like that. I was confused. But then I saw Marshall hunkered down in the chicken coop and figured something must be brewing. The critters always know.

More creative concentration in full swing...

Then, instead of a blizzard, the sillies arrived. What else do you do on a so called Snow Day when someone "accidentally" smashes a plant?

Mom: "Hey, all you need is a toga!"
Kid: "What's a toga?"

I call this one: "Brave children onward through the snow"
Alternately titled: "Mom kicked them straight out the front door"

Kids outside, peaceful house inside, my Ellie slinks out of the attic temporarily.

Two hours later, he's nowhere near ready to come in yet... and by the way, for all my Southern friends, it was so warm out the dog was panting. True story.

Prelude to bedtime. How do you comb a Dad's hair when he hasn't got any hair to comb?

It's obvious what this is, right?

What, you can't tell?

Hello. It's a Christmas Tree.

The commute to my virtual office is a short one. Blowing snow and ice has Interstate shut down? Whatever.

Not all online chat agents barely speak English and live in India. Sometimes they live in the middle of North Dakota. Some forward-looking companies want their customers to have someone knowledgeable to walk the aisles of their online stores with them, except, in a less creepy way. And if you (by some act of God, or perhaps lack of regard for normal safety standards that most humans have) smashed your Nikon D90 at an off-road race in SoCal... I'll promise we'll get along okay, even though I love Canon. And I'll tell you the Mack Diamond warranty might be nice for "normal and abnormal wear and tear" but it's too bad it'll only cover your gear and not your personal injuries. And then I'll sell you a sweet new Nikon camera.

I am really loving this job, it's such a perfect fit for where I am in life right now.

Oh, and dual monitors? Kicks butt.

Counting (again)

2013-01-15T21:19:00.001-06:00

72. Packing peanuts. The starchy kind that dissolve in water. The kind you can lick and stick together to build all sorts of interesting things.

73. Crusty noses and milk mustache remnants. 'Cause this too shall pass.

It's been awhile since I counted these simple gift-type-things... I was all ready to post this last week. And then I accidentally broke my photo editing software. And then I accidentally got sick.

74. How much better a 99 degree fever feels than a 102 degree fever.

75. A husband that's totally my computer guy.

76. Shadow-masked pretend grumpy faces. Awesome, right!?

77. Shoving packing peanuts up your shirt.

78. Belly buttons.

79. Gravity. It never fails us. Except when we don't want certain things to fall down. Ahem. Packing peanuts? Ummm... yeah. That's exactly what I meant.

Joining my dear friend Brooke in looking for the "Simple Moments".

Favorites of 2012

2013-01-02T21:14:00.000-06:00

You know those two roads that diverged in a yellow wood?

It's true.

The one less traveled by has made all the difference.

The Battle

Featured in the "Why it Works" section of the January 2013 issue of CLICK magazine.

Captive

Yes, I am that Mom that rescues a turtle off the highway and tosses it in my son's lap while he squeals like a little girl.

Waiting

My beautiful baby sister and her belly!

Left Behind: First Day of School

Featured on Clickin' Moms blog and facebook wall

Enough Helpers?

Curiosity

What Remains

Featured on Clickin' Moms blog
Best of Show at our local County Fair

Summer Bliss

Childhood Memory

Epic Quest

Solstice

Smack

2012-12-11T23:03:00.000-06:00

So this new kitty of ours is going to be a big one. I swear she's already the size of a small raccoon. My oldest boy told me I'm not allowed to call her fat. Because that's mean. Ms. Paws is officially "round". But being round doesn't slow her down any, because, she's just... big all the way around.

And if you challenge her? She will bring it.

The smack-down starts innocently enough:

Soon enough you realize that her roundness only adds more power to her punch:

(or maybe it's the extra thumbs?)

Game over.

Entirely worth it

2012-12-06T22:35:00.000-06:00

I dread trips to MalWart. But this, well, it made the whole florescent light, sensory overload, having to interact with people, on the brink of disaster three year old, wobbly cart, how did I just spend $145, so help me God I am never coming here again event entirely worth it.

And it's a whole lot bigger than it looks, okay?

This puddle was directly behind my car. It was lovely trying to step around it while attempting to load up my trunk with the whatever that I had bought. The whatever was heavy. My car was muddy. And the space that was left between this... formerly-alive puddle... and my car, and the cart with my kid, was interesting to say the least. Meanwhile some old guy was washing the windshield of the car next to us, and then he way-too-cheerfully said, "Gotta take care of the boss!" as he jumped in a different car and drove away. But that's beside my point.

I don't know what my point is.

What type of bird, exactly, has three legs and one beak?

Does MalWart clean their parking lot, like, ever?

And why did I never share this creation from last year? It's my favorite.

credit to my sarcastic sister for the de-motivational poster concept and the caption

Problem solving

2012-10-04T10:40:00.001-05:00

"Give me a five here on my foot", said the kid in the tree...

Oh, also? Those boys took apart a washing machine and a dryer, almost completely by themselves. And then? They partly reassembled them.

{yes one is in the dryer}

Garden of Summer-past

2012-09-29T15:59:00.000-05:00

Goodbye garden. Hello garden-blogging fail.

I'm equal parts thrilled and cringing that October is almost here.

This is my very favorite time of year. Running through crunchy leaves, sipping spiced cider, listening to my chickens sing as they scratch up the last of Summer's bugs, tidying up the garden in perfect hazy afternoon light, hearing combines chewing through the fields surrounding us, constantly sampling bits of whatever is going on or coming off our overworked dehydrator, tripping over the produce that spills out of our entryway and into our home... The whole season is one great big sensory experience, and I love it.

Cringing because, well, these glorious weeks are so fleeting.

And here it is, yes, almost October.

{not snow - cattail seeds}

And I have failed to blog about... anything and everything. But the garden? I barely mentioned it three times. That makes me cringe too. Seedlings in eggshells, harvesting peas, and voluptuous eggplants. That was it.

I did the writing in my head.

Here are handful of abbreviated posts that never made it to press:

1. I neglected far too much of our garden the previous year. The perfect solution to that is obviously to add another fifty square feet and five NDSU home garden variety trials. The observing, learning, comparing, tasting, and ownership the kids had of their trials was a beautiful thing. I wholeheartedly recommend this program to my North Dakota friends!

2. Our pole bean tee-pee was magnificent. I've never grown pole beans before. I underestimated them. It was shocking how the tee-pee went from bare to covered to unrecognizable (in a matter of fourteen days) as the beans went beyond crazy. The cats loved that thing, far too much. They even left offerings exactly in the middle of it. So weird.

3. The younger boy planted sixteen watermelon plants. See variety trials above. See oppressed overworked dehydrator above.

4. Apples! Finally these trees produced enough to justify using the word harvest. And harvest we did. We waited four and a half years for this.

{maybe that one had a bug?}

5. I cannot imagine fall without winter squash. A whole long shelf full. Every one of my seeds rotted in the ground this Spring, and I was irrationally upset about it. Yeah, I know I can get winter squash at the grocery store or the Farmer's Market. It just isn't the same. Then I found a volunteer something among the sunflowers that looked suspiciously gourd-like. Sweet happy day when I realized it was, in fact, winter squash. God does answer insignificant little prayers.

Game on

2012-09-26T23:30:00.000-05:00

Nothing says true love like:

Someone searching Asia for a meaningful, plastic, made-in-China souvenir gift for his wife. 'Cause Lord knows you can't get stuff like that around here. Even better, he had previously (repeatedly) told me not to purchase said item because of all it's redeeming plastic junk qualities. He settled for a chocolate candy bar instead. It had intriguing Chinese script on the wrapper which made it extra cool.

Nothing says irony (no, not ironing) like:

That fantastic plastic made-in-China itemapparently not for sale in China. Being a "piece of junk" is actually it's most endearing characteristic (I swear I'm not being sarcastic for once), which is why it has held a place of honor on my Amazon wish list for so long. You know how this ends, right? My sweet husband showed up with an empty Hershey's wrapper, because it would have melted on the way home anyway.

Or maybe a cow...

2012-09-05T23:51:00.000-05:00

Maybe, just maybe, a cow would be more entertaining than a donkey?

Fun facts:
1. Objects may be closer than they appear. Like, dangerously so.
2. I didn't realize fact number one soon enough.
3. I learned fact number two after I discovered that someone had drooled on me. A lot.
4. Slobbering cows drool like they mean it. And then some.
5. If I could borrow this critter and park it outside my friend Deanna's house to slime up her kitchen window... I totally would.

Paper chain

2012-09-04T22:49:00.000-05:00

There was this paper chain. In the kitchen. It was fairly long. Not anything impressive like military-deployment long (one of the reasons we waited to have kids). But still, it was far more days than we had ever been away from each other (beyond military life).

It was a count-down, and there was more than a week still left on the chain.

While we waited for the school bus I told one of the boys to rip a link off the chain.

He was sufficiently confused.

"Did we forget one?"

This is supposed to be an end-of-day activity.

Little Miss Destructo had no hesitation in breaking our own rule and ripping a few links off. Over the last nine days we had to re-tape several unauthorized removals back on. I have also had to extract one cat's tail from the door (pretty sure it, the tail - not the door, is broken), rescue a boy's formerly elaborate half-dismantled Lego creation, confiscate a broom (don't ask), and clean up the remains of 52 (yep, fifty two, I counted) over-ripe apples that were used as bouncy balls indoors... all courtesy of The Unstoppable Bean.

{the princess shirt kills me}

Then a fight broke out. Someone grabbed a link out of someone else's hand, or took one out of turn, or I really have no idea. You know, the usual. The princess was the one left crying, however, which is unusual.

It's hard to feel too sorry for her when she's usually the one wrecking everyth... well, nevermind.

"Boys. BOYS! What does it mean if the whole chain is gone!?"

1/160th of a blurry second, apparently, and they got it.

Daddy was coming home early!

From the surprises-don't-ever-go-over-so-well even if they're fantastic ones, I-don't-know-how-to-express-myself face...

to the really-Mom-you're-not-joking, wanting-to-believe, guarded smile...

Really?

Ummmm.... yes.

The only bad news was his surprise early return left me no time to borrow a donkey.

I guess there's always next time.

Clearing my conscience

2012-08-26T23:30:00.000-05:00

My husband was in China a month ago, and I gave his side of our bed to a cat. It wasn't premeditated. I wasn't even certain the spur-of-the-moment kitty acquisition was actually happening until my dear friend put the kitten in my car and my confused kids said "What?". It might have been appropriate to wonder what my husband would say, since we already had a herd of one indoor and three outdoor cats. Then I remembered that I am the crazy cat lady, and my groom was well aware of that when he married me.

As it turns out, I had no need to worry. I was about to pull off my best yet "It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission" moment. Not that I try to make it a habit or anything. See, as we were on Facetime attempting to gently break it to him that we had brought a new animal home in his absence, he jumped ahead of my words and assumed it was a large animal that eats grass. A donkey.

He was so relieved that it was only a cat.

Excuse me while I high-five myself in the mirror...

Paw-lee looks an awful lot like Bad Kitty, but with extra toes on her gigantic adorable feet. However, if the tragic events leading up to the cat re-homing incident had a title, it would definitely be Bad Doggie.

The roller coaster of emotions was rattling at top speed.

My own kids were angry and in shocked disbelief that I had executed our Red Rooster while they slept the night before. Despite my 20 minute top-of-my-lungs sobbing under the stars I was nowhere near finished grieving. It may have been Game Over but that doesn't mean it wasn't horribly upsetting or that I didn't love that ornery rooster dearly.

My friend's family was reeling from the violent death of two of their other kittens from the week before, which had followed yet another one, which had followed the inexcusable death of their sweet beloved Momma cat just days after her babies were born. Bad, bad doggie.

Now that the remaining one is ours, I feel so guilty that I wasn't more strongly insistent on taking a time-share of bottle feeding that batch of kittens when they were tiny.

For the record, The Old Nichols Farm has officially reached it's quota of cats.

For the record, we're in love.

My husband is in China again, and I think it would be pretty darn funny to borrow someone's ass (the four-legged kind) and park it in my corral just to mess with him when he gets home.

Hello 10th

2012-08-11T10:35:00.000-05:00

Hello Kitty. Hello breakfast strawberry.

Hello schoolwork.

Hello snakeskin!

Hello Paw-lee!

Uh. Hello mess.

Hello sensory experience. (are you annoyed with the hello stuff yet?)

BUSTED! Caught shopping in Daddy's stuff.

Hello 14-inch circumference eggplant! (can't help myself - I tried, and anyway, Hello Kitty started it)

Helllllllooooo broody Mimi!

Hello "why am I missing a pic?" Hello whatever.

Hello linky:

Summer

2012-07-20T11:54:00.000-05:00

Would we be this uncivilized if our nearest neighbor wasn't a mile away?

{some of us don't have tan lines}

Definitely.

How (not) to tame your rooster

2012-07-18T15:51:00.002-05:00

First, you've got to catch your rooster. This is likely easier said than done. Go ahead, click that link. I'll wait.

Red happened to be distracted by the little sister's dance moves. He was either plotting against her or very confused. Or both. One of the grown-ups saw the golden opportunity and nabbed him quick. The element of surprise... there's nothing quite like it when it comes to catching a disrespectful rooster.

It's true. We've got an ongoing respect issue. Lack of respect. The bird hates my kids. Having them sit on him once in awhile boosts their courage and knocks his ego down a healthy notch.

Except, ummm... when the rooster's face turns dark purple and you have to remind the kid he's not supposed to be sitting with ALL his weight on the rooster. I mean, the thing has to be able to breath.

Oops.

Well, that's better. Red is so much more handsome red than purple.

The other brother will want a turn too. But the sister won't.

And when we finally let him go...

Did you know roosters can swear?

Magical

2012-07-16T14:28:00.000-05:00

A neighbor asked if I was surprised. My blank expression was accompanied by a four-second inner monologue echoing in my brain that went something like this: "Surprised that I'm a year older? That my nearly-eight-year-old spent half the church service hiding under the pew because he couldn't stand the guest-pastor's voice? That we might actually have some chicks hatching soon? That the mohawk fits the littler boy's personality perfectly? That someone broke the unspoken no-birthday gifts rule and did a dang good job of it too!? Oh, no. Wait. What if it's that thing that I joked to my husband was going to happen only because the winner gets a girly girl prize, and that is just my luck."

And yep, it was that thing.

4H kids learn a whole lot of life skills, like the uncanny ability to put together a very very last minute entry for the Fair and still somehow walk away with the super-fancy Champion ribbon. It's a priceless talent to have, really. My Mom will be thrilled to hear that I've still got what it takes.

So I sincerely ask, what in the world will I do with a $20 styling salon gift certificate?

My husband sincerely asked, "What if a man had won it?"

I looked at his partly-bald head and giggled, "I guess you could get your hair cut!"

Anyway, last night topped off a pretty great week with a magical combination of ingredients: My children were sleeping and their Daddy was home to watch them. It was warm out. There was just enough breeze to keep the mosquitoes from being obnoxious. In a quiet corner of the barn, tiny peeps sang to their Mama hen as they fought their way out of their shells and into a whole new world. Electrons from the sun were blasting the Earth's magnetic field, causing the sky to dance overhead.

To the best of my knowledge, none of the psychotic little skunks crossed my path when I was out of the car.

And I stayed up way, way too late.

Magic, I tell you.

Our buggy 4th

2012-07-12T23:00:00.000-05:00

We brought our collection of Red Admiral chrysalises to the lake:
a. to keep the kids entertained on the three-hour drive.
b. because I heard it was the cool new thing to do.
c. to show my Dad the evidence that I had identified the caterpillars wrong. (oh, the shame... they're Red Admirals, not Buckeyes)
d. because I was too chicken to ask my neighbor to babysit them for me after I'd already asked him to keep an eye on my chickens, and you certainly can't have butterflies flitting around the house unsupervised.

e. all of the above.

The Bean was ecstatic about:
a. Daddy and you and me and the boys and me and you and Daddy going to the lake? And Daddy? And ALL of us!!!
b. stealing tomatoes.
c. helping her Mom get an abandoned Project 52 back on track.
d. fishing during the day...

and at night...

e. all except choice "c", of course.

The boys found a toad that:
a. peed a lot!

b. made them laugh and squeal and climb up a cliff and run ALL the way back up the hill to show the Grandmas in the cabin.
c. did not amuse the Grandmas.
d. was gigantic! (at least by North Dakota standards)
e. ALL of the above.

The porch was a great place to find:
a. Great Grandpa Gus talking in German!
b. bare feet.
c. numerous Mayflies that stuck like velcro anywhere we put them!

d. a rogue cactus, which ended up stuck in someone's poor little foot!?
e. all of the above.

Perhaps the best part of shooting off fireworks when we got home was:
a. The Bean's very first sparkler!

b. scaring the living daylights out of our curious chickens with that first "boom".
c. Daddy tossing a firecracker into the septic tank.
d. playing with fire and making smoke.

e. every single bit of it.

This "4th of July Week" multiple choice fun is brought to you:
a. at least a few days too late.
b. just to freshen up this crusty old moldy lonely blog.
c. for the third time, which officially makes it an annual tradition. (2011 and 2010)
d. by a procrastinating Mom who should be doing dishes and folding laundry.
e. all of the (cough, cough) above.

This life

2012-07-06T10:28:00.000-05:00

I hope my kids grow up remembering that their Daddy could fix anything.

My own Dad builds cabinets. Embedded deep in my brain is the sound of his saw, the smell of the wood, laughing as the air compressor blasted off the sawdust I had inadvertently collected on my skin when it was time to go home.

I wonder if it will be the smell of gasoline, the sound of the summer bugs and the toolbox drawers opening and closing, the happy sprawled dog panting beside them, the feel of wearing the shop floor on their dirty bare feet... but I hope it brings them right back.

The Mystery of the Multiplying Caterpillar

2012-06-19T23:30:00.000-05:00

If a man jogs all the way down the road and happens to see that his neighbors are home, he'll stop for an evening chat. If the discussion turns to wondering about the battalion of fascinating black caterpillars that are marching through their yard, he'll say he doesn't know what they are, but he knows someone who does. If he gently picks one up and safely carries it a full mile back the way he came, he'll deposit the bewildered spiky insect in his wife's hands. If she has never seen one before and hasn't got a clue what type of butterfly larva it is, she'll click around online. If she finds the perfect match, it will be a species that lives in Europe.

Europe?

Wrong answer.

But if the online images of that butterfly's wings look vaguely similar (in pattern, but not color) to one that does live on the windswept North American plains, all that sleuthing might not have been in vain. And if I'm fresh out of Snapdragons but the apparently somewhat-slightly-related European critter likes Nettles, you know I grabbed a scissors, a jar, and a flashlight, and ran straight out past the barn, through the corral, and behind one of the gardens to a big old patch of Stinging Nettle.

Not literally, I mean.

Don't run with scissors. Ever. Especially in the dark, when half-grown cats are liable to come creeping along the darkest shadows of the garden path and ambush innocent seekers of Stinging Nettle. Stranger things have happened, believe me.

If the caterpillar happily munches away on that nasty stuff, I might mutter "Homeostasis is at ninety-five percent".

If a Bio-Dome quote randomly surfaces, there must be a former Pauly Shore fan in the house.

If that's embarrassing, let's pretend it didn't happen.

The critter seemed happy enough so I tossed the jar on a shelf for a day or three.

Welcome to the The Old Nichols Farm... where the wackiness level fluctuates between "coconut" and "fruitcake" depending on whether we had oatmeal for breakfast, the Earth's geomagnetic activity (honestly - I've tracked it long enough to know), and how many fireflies are loose in the house.

Fruitcake:

I have no idea what that thing is. She found it in the yard. I caught her just in time to save a very trusting cat (please don't ask).

So I know you won't be surprised. In the least. I mean, I wasn't. What? When I casually mention that we popped the lid off that jar a perfectly responsible amount of time later (cough, cough) to give our captive some fresh food. We carefully dumped the jar upside down and found...

Two?

What? What!

Yes, in our jar.

Exactly identical.

What on earth!?

My first thought was that someone had played a great joke on us. However, my awareness of our household having entered The Fruitcake Zone told me that much more fantastic options had the possibility of being true. Anything, people. Anything is possible.

Sure enough, that patch of Stinging Nettle had been attacked. Eaten up. We found a swarm of spikey black caterpillars all over the remaining plants. I somehow managed to identify our caterpillar so perfectly that I had inadvertently collected another one a few nights prior. And strangely enough, as many times as we had inspected that jar we had only ever seen one.

If you tell me something that bizarre can happen in The Coconut Zone, I'll tell you you're crazy.

Fruitcake Queen. I'm putting it on my resume.