Got my first pullet egg the other day. How cute!

(What can I say? Little things like this excite me.)

A few photos for the Pioneer Woman’s Fall Landscape Bokeh assignment. 

This sunflower is still kicking.

These sunflowers are, sadly, no longer with us. Rest in peace, my dears.

And if you haven’t checked out The Pioneer Woman yet, that’s my assignment to you. Go now.

Ahem. I would like to introduce you to the newest member of the family. Meet Izzy.

Izzy appears to be a Border Collie. I say “appears” because I have no idea. He could be a mutt for all I know. 

He was observed wandering around the local gas station for three days by an alert acquaintance. The said acquaintance lured him into his pickup with a taco. However, said acquaintance also already has four border collies and his wife apparently draws the line at five. Perfectly understandable. 

So, said acquaintance tried to give the dog to my uncle, who said “I don’t want it, but my sister needs another dog like she needs a hole in the head. I’ll take it!” Or rather, “She’ll take it.”

He brought it to our house and said “Here you go.” My mother said “Take it back right now or you’ll be sorry.” Then the insurance agent showed up, distracted her, and my uncle made his getaway, sans dog.

And there you have it, the complete history of Izzy as I know it. 

My guess is that someone thought “Hey, Border Collies are smart and cute. I want one.” Then they figured out how difficult they really are to handle and finally decided the best course of action was to let him beg for tacos at the gas station.

Yes, he is smart. Yes, he is cute. But he needs a lot of work, patience and guidance.

The good news is that we could really use a Border Collie to help us out. It would be nice to have four extra paws to watch a gate when we’re feeding cows or rounding a herd up.

The bad news is Izzy has no idea how to do those things and I have no idea how to teach him. Fortunately, we’re both willing to try.

Hang on Izzy, old buddy. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long, wild ride.

We were blessed with lots of hay this year. Lots of hay also meant lots of time in the tractor for me. Lots of time in the tractor meant lots of time to think. To fill those hours up I sometimes imagined the bales I made had personalities.

There’s the straight-laced, squared away bale. No time for nonsense here.

The lopsided bale. Spends lots of time laying on the couch watching reality TV and eating Doritos.

Soldier bales. Lined up in formation, ready for close quarter drill.

Lazy bale. Sleeps until noon.

Wild and crazy bale. Likes bungee jumping and punk rock music.

Sad bale. Is often down in the dumps.

And finally, my favorite – the chocolate covered bale. 

Anyone else suddenly craving Oreos?

Version one.

Version two. 

I couldn’t decide which I liked better, so I’ll just give you both. Too bad I don’t have Smell-O-Vision, as Guy Fiere would say.

This is the house my family lived in until I was six years old. My grandparents built it when they homesteaded the land. In the corner of the house between the front porch and my old room there is a beautiful old honeysuckle tree. 

Each year I go back and look at it and think the poor thing has finally died. It’s hard to grow trees on the prairie. 

But each year it surprises me and the leaves wiggle their way out and pretty soon the little pink buds of the blooms burst open.

I wish you could smell it! It’s one of my favorite country scents, right up there with freshly cut alfalfa and the air after a good rain.

And horse sweat. Don’t ask me why, but horse sweat actually smells good.

Right, Jiggalicious?