Sheep and Wool Festival. Trespassing. and The Ladies.

I’ve really snoozed on the blog again.. But never fear, I’ve been sourcing important content. There is generally too much excitement over here. Plenty to keep a rapscallion too busy to write. We spent the better part of last Saturday being bombarded by hoards of women in shawls, and their livestock, at the local sheep and wool festival. It was a highly educational affair.

 

Sam spent some time conducting texture-explorations, and we determined a few possible candidates for profitable future pets…

 

 

This lady’s pretty high on my list of candidates. Something about a grazing animal in a cape just makes my heart warm. I especially like that her cape is tattered. She’ll fit right in on our hillbilly Hoot.

 

 

and then there’s always this element. I had no idea, but apparently:

 

 

= $$$

 

(we’re doing the math on this right now…)

 

 

 

But the day wasn’t all fun and games, because I made Sam stand in a long line with me. Which he hates. And what’s even worse, I made him stand in line to get artichokes. (Which he hates.) And the artichokes were from a can. (…) He kept telling me everything was fine, but his face looked like this the whole time:

 

 

 

 

 

Back on the home-front, we had a delightful visit from a dear old friend, Rachel. She showed up with whiskey (god love her…) and set to work helping me throw together a chicken shack in preparation for the arrival of The Ladies.

 

Enthusiasm will get you a long way in this life..

We thought she deserved a little fun for all of her hard work, so we took her out on one of our favorite jaunts.. A-trespassin!

 

 

 

There’s no better way to entertain visitors than by taking them to eerie old abandoned houses. We’ve had a real interest in this one. It’s set back off the road a ways, and a small bird told us the back door was unlocked. It was totally undisturbed inside, which is pretty rare. To give you an idea, here’s the downstairs bedroom:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We got out spooked, but unscathed. Rachel, intuitive friend that she is, figured that the only way to knock the heebie-jeebies was with a huge pot of pumpkin soup!! So she made us one. in a typical rachel manner:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day, I decided to jump the gun on my well-thought out plan. The chicken house didn’t exactly have walls or a roof yet, but if Sam and I can live in a cold, unfinished house, chickens could certainly scrap it for a few days while I finished their shack. I was feeling a little hasty to find some new friends. And thus, Rachel and I set out on a very strange journey to fetch The Ladies.

I had to drop Rachel at the train on the way back, and when I got home with the new brood, Sam had transformed one of our closets into a chicken motel.

 

They seemed to find the accommodations suitable.

 

 

 

 

And continued doing what chickens are best at.

 

 

 

 

 

Today, I finally finished the shack:

 

Eventually, there will be a front porch. And maybe a banjo, if they’re lucky. But for now, its a step up from the closet.

 

 

 

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