Some Sad News

We don't know what happened to Popina - she disappeared without a trace while I was on vacation.  Sick to my stomach, I am.  Cried myself to sleep for a week.  If Cooper is my right arm, Popina was my left.  I can't describe just how much of a void she left.

Today, on what would have been her second birthday, I'm officially giving up hope.

Godspeed my little Poppet.  'Til we meet again.

A Rainy Day

It's been pouring off and on for about a week now.  If I trust Environment Canada's data reports, we had 59mm of rain over 3 days last week.  The forecast is pretty dismal for the coming week as well, so we'd better batten down the hatches or start building our ark.  Either that or start a fish farm.

The fields are saturated and too wet for planting right now.  This was supposed to be a "corn" year, but it's looking like it's going to be a "soya" year instead.  We can't even take the tractor out and get the grounds mowed because we'd leave deep trenches in our clay soil.  With all this rain, the grass has been growing, and with it the dandelions, the plantain, and my nemesis, the burdock, have all grown by leaps and bounds.  I've been trying to eradicate the burdock for about 9 years now, and I finally think I am on the home stretch.  If all else fails, well, there's always napalm to try...

Popina didn't really win the gene-pool lottery when she was born here, given the fact she has long hair.  She's been coming home with burrs in her fur for weeks now, and it's a pain to keep her brushed and burr-free.  She's a bit of a high-maintenance diva, yet manages to be a tomboy through and through.  She has an incredible prey drive, and it would have been impossible to keep her in the house as I had hoped to do.  She also thinks nothing of getting wet:

I love the look on her face in this photo.  It has BUGGER OFF written all over it.  Is it any wonder my house sometimes looks like a train went through it with 3 cats and a dog who get into messes like this?

She's a good little girl though, and gets busy trying to tidy herself up for her photo shoot.  Eric grabbed a towel and dried his "girlie-girl" off, as he's dubbed our little Popina.  His other nickname for her is "The Sniper-ette".

With the rain, we've had a lot of interesting storms roll through.  Here are some stratocumulus clouds that were part of a squall line:

The sky was pretty amazing, and it's hard to believe, but we didn't get a drop of rain from this system.

The storm front went right by us, and within a few minutes, we had beautiful, clear skies again.  It didn't last for long, but we're taking all the blue skies we can get right now.

An Ode to Spring

Spring has sprung,

and the grass has ris'

Now I know where the

dog poo is.

Buh-bye March.  Don't let the proverbial door hit your arse on the way out.

I can hardly remember a colder March.  Lots of snow, really cold temps and dreary, gray days.  I haven't made an Easter tree in years, but this was the year I finally dug out my Easter decorations.  Yes, I am aware I am a tad early, but I needed some brightness to restore my sanity.  Growing up in a German household, we'd eagerly await the day we went out to our secret pussy-willow location and cut a few branches to decorate with hand-painted eggs.  This year, I needed brightness now, so I marched over to the dollar store and bought a whack of fake forsythias and decorated them.  I avoid fake stuff like the Plague, so I have to plead lack-of-spring induced insanity.  Or something like that.  But I'm done apologizing, I love my Easter tree, and so does the cat.

The snow is still not gone and probably won't be for a while considering the long-range forecast for the week, but the daffs at work are poking their heads out in a valiant effort.  No signs of plant life here at the farm, not even the chives that grow against the barn wall have shown signs of resurrection.

The Poppet, aka Popina, aka Weenie Popeenie loves to climb trees.   Here she is in the pine tree, trying to work her way to the sky and a huge flock of Starlings:

 Meanwhile, her sidekick, BobCat, sits below and patiently waits:

Schatzie knows better.  She favours her sunbeam and has commandeered poor Cooper's dog-bed in the kitchen for one of her famous naps:

Pooper-scooping aside, it's a wonderful season of renewal and rebirth.  The longer days are a true gift, and once we get a few warm days under our belt, the trees will start to show their greenery and Spring will really have sprung.

Then we'll start to complain about mowing the lawn again, the prohibitively high humidity, mosquitoes the size of helicopters, until we start dreaming of evenings spent by the wood-stove and the first snow fall of the season.

And so the cycle continues...

Regia Hand-dye Effect Yarn Review

I picked up a few skeins of Regia Hand-Dye Effect yarn in Germany last year, and this week I finally sat down and cranked out a few pairs of socks.

All I can say is I wish my suitcase were larger, my wallet bigger, and my foresight better.

The yarn is lightly spun and plied with a thin, black thread I thought the CSM would not like.  Was I ever wrong.

This stuff went through the CSM like a hot knife through butter.  And the colours?

They are beyond beautiful.  This yarn is super-soft and fluffy on the skein, and when it's knit up, the fabric takes on a surprisingly coarse, almost scruffy feel.  I soaked the socks in Eucalan, dried them near the wood stove, and once dry, they soften up immensely.  The socks are very fluid and mold nicely to the foot.

Surprisingly, each skein weighed in at about 100g.  I started each sock with a 3:1 mock-rib on the 72 needle cylinder, knit 38 rows, replaced the missing needles and hung the purl bump from the neighbouring needle on each empty one to prevent the little hole that would result, and knit 2 rows before hanging my hem.  Then I knit 75 rows, turned my heel, knit 70 rows for the foot, and turned my toe.  I have about 4g of wool left from each skein, so I probably could have eked out a few more rows, but I don't live that dangerously...

Speaking of living dangerously, little Popina does:

Here she is in the kitchen, sitting serenely beneath Victoria whose innards are about to receive a bit of a tune-up.  I am going to have her cams brazed and reshaped, because she's a bit clunky.  Without needles, she's as smooth as can be, but once I have needles in and start to knit, she feels a bit...well...clunky.  I oiled her liberally, cranked out tube after tube, yet I don't feel she's at her best.  Since I took her apart, cleaned her, and put her back together again, I observed the uneven wear on her cams first-hand and think the extra work and expense will be worth the trouble.  So we'll be taking a trip to the machinist's workshop in the next few weeks, and I'll report back if my impressions are correct.

In the interim, I leave you with another view of Sockhenge:

A Tale of Two Kitties

We're all well aware that the dreaded cat version of Cabin Fever is rampant and contagious here.  BobCat needs a major nudge to get out the door, and isn't convinced that the same meteorological outcome is behind both the front door and the sliding door in the kitchen.  If there's ever been a cat who's looking forward to spring, it's the Bobberizer.

Here Bob is on the path to the front door, looking up while watching the snow slide from our metal roof.

He had this very intent look on his face, and kept ducking down slowly as the snow fell in sheets from the roof.  I love how one of his ears is always a bit off-kilter; it's like a little radar that rotates to the source of sound before his head has to move.

Weenie Popeenie has decided she loves the bathroom sink.  She loves water, and especially dripping water.  Good thing she can't open the faucets - yet!

I don't know why it has to be the bathroom sink, maybe it's the finish or the form or the warmth of the porcelain, but she can be found having her evening nap in the sink most days.  She also fights me for the hot-water bottle I take to bed every night.  She's quite the little diva, and of course we indulge her many little whims.  How can you resist an angelic little face like that?

Cabin Fever, Cat-Style

It's -20C outside.  BobCat and The Poppet aren't going outside in these temps, and invariably, cabin fever kicks in.  Here's a blow-by-blow account:

Stealth cats sees you...

If I can't see your eyes, can you still see me?

(Momentary distraction, tractor driving by...)

THWACK THWACK THWACK

I'm so frightnin', fast as lightnin'

I've had enough.  I am cat, hear me snore.

Uh, Bob, we weren't done yet...

Uh, Bobby?  Come back here!

And so it goes, day in, day out.

Cabin fever, cat-style, proudly presented by BobCat and The Poppet.

Welcome 2011

It's hard to believe Fall came and went with nary a post. Let's start the new year with renewed vigour and resolve to post more of the on-goings at Shim Farm, shall we?

So, in no particular coherent order, let's get on with it!

We had a little brunch for friends in early December, since Eric's work schedule had him working right through the Christmas holidays. Eric had just returned from a trip with a bag of chocolate Saint-Nick's, as well as the rotund candle from one of the many Christmas markets that abound in Europe in November and December. With a fine cup of Glühwein or four, Eric turns into a voracious shopper, despite the fact I can't even ask him to wait in the car for me while I nip into the grocery store on this side of the pond. I'm like a kid in a candy store when Eric comes home and plants his bags on the living room floor, jumping up and down, asking, "Whaddya bring, whaddya bring?" Eric rarely disappoints, and the candle unwittingly became a symbol of the holidays for me this season.

In older news...

One of our kittens, Pepper, now known as Minou, came to visit us for what was supposed to be a "week to ten days" and became a six-week stay. (I'm playing catch-up here, because he was with us in July and August). The first 3 days, he ignored Popina, BobCat and Schatzie, and then suddenly, on day 3, just as I was about to tear my hair out in frustration, the light suddenly went on, and Pepper emerged from his shell. He and Pop would tear around the house like in days of yore, having 2 play fits a day, mid-morning and late evening, as they were wont to do when they were still kittens. Pepper, like Poppy and Piglet (now Tuxedo) are all curious about water:

Pepper has this perpetual "deer in the headlights" look about him. He's a sleek cat, a stark contrast to his fuzzier siblings Tux and Popina:

Tux's about 8 months old in the above photo, and he's large like Pepper, but he has the silky, long-haired coat of his mom. He's the light of his new family's life, and rules his new domain with a furry fist.

Poppy, on the other hand, is a little fluff-ball:

Popina has proved to be a true Northern cat. She loves snow more than anything, and can be found burrowing in snow banks for hours on end. The fuzzy hairs between the pads on her paws accumulate tiny snow balls, so when she finally comes in the house, she can be heard, tippy-tappy, tippy-tappy, crossing the floor until she violently shakes the little ice-balls off. Yet last night, she fought me for the hot water bottle I put in the bed for my perpetually frozen feet, and won. She's a true feline diva.

Aren't they all, though?

Schatzie, our old hag, is pushing 25. Yes, you read that correctly, 25, in human years, at that. She's so old, I keep joking that we're going to carbon date her when she finally keels over. She's getting senile, and maintains her strict 23.5 hour per day sleep schedule. The rest of the time, she's begging for food, missing the litter box, and meowling piteously, for what I don't know. I just let her yowl, she's not in any pain, and her total deafness might have something to do with her loudness, because she can't hear herself, obviously. The deafer she gets, the louder she yowls. The things I do for this cat, you have no clue...

The poor old thing deserves a bit of air time, too, don't you think? Not to worry, I have her fur under control again, because she's the picture of neglect (oh yeah, riiiiight!) in the above photo. I kind of inadvertently felted her by letting her sleep on a real sheepskin fur. The fur-on-fur friction was too much, and despite brushing her regularly, her fur kept matting into uncontrollable clumps. We removed the sheepskin rug, and by cutting out the mats one-by-one, the old hag's finally up to snuff again. She's so old, she's almost given up grooming herself. She'd much rather I tend to her, so she can spend all her spare time recharging her batteries.

Poor Cooper's feeling mighty neglected, too. All these cats, and just one dog...

Gratuitous dog photo, coming right up!

That photo was taken in 2005, but I feel so much better now that it's released from my laptop.

He's such a good boy!

Well, here's to a new year...I'll raise a glass to that!

Poppet Power

Poppy, aka Popina, aka the Poppet with the Moppet is the kitten we kept from Plumette's litter. Plumie found a home in the throes of cat-luxury with an old family friend. She is happy and healthy, and doesn't have to worry about having repeated litters of kittens and spending her nights out in the cold. She's a happy indoor cat now, fawned over by an elderly lady who thinks the world of her.

Popina, the little power-house of kitten cuteness, has a drive like no other:

Gaining access to the great out-of-doors is her prime objective in life. She's only 8 months old and is still too young for unsupervised visits outside, but given the opportunity, she bolts out of the house, her little paws barely touching the ground as she flies out the front door. We race out in hot pursuit, trying to corral her back into the house again. The little bugger is fast, and knows she can take shelter if she runs under one of our cars in the driveway, looking at us with beady eyes and a knowing glance as we flail our outstretched arms in the hopes of grabbing her. Obviously, these moments happen when we're already running late and have time-sensitive obligations to attend to.

Right now, she's preoccupied by the pair of grackles building their nest in the gutter over the kitchen window. She sits in the window frame, making furtive little sounds as the grackles bring their sticks and grasses to line their nest.

Just wait until the swallows come back...I think she'll really enjoy watching them as they swoop by the kitchen window.

Whatcha doin'?

Just hangin' around.

Sorry, I couldn't resist. Poppy can shred my arms and I think she's cute. Everything she does is a still-life waiting to be recorded for future posterity. This cat had me from the minute she was born, and I can't count the number of times a day I pick her up for some kitten-huffing.

Fall Colours

We've had a wonderful fall! Beautiful colours, sunny days, and a bit of time to work on outside projects. No major accomplishments save for having finished planting our wind break. We planted over 100 trees - pines, oaks and ash - that were given to us by the Ministry of Agriculture to help create wind breaks. We are doing our part. We still have a few trees left that we planted in the vegetable plot, and we'll transplant these next spring as replacements for any winter-kill.

The kittens are keeping us busy. We weren't prepared for the level of attention and time 4 young kittens would need.

This is Poppy:

Can you tell she's here to stay? She's just the most snorgle-riffic kitten I have ever seen. Besides her angelic expression, her fur is one of her cutest features. It has almost a fake-fur quality to it, and makes her look like a little Furby.

Our entire house has been cat-proofed. Cooper needs to be kept apart from Plumette because she very defensive of her kittens, and now that they are getting older and more mobile, we've had to literally cover our couches in blankets, hang our curtains up over their rods, and prevent them from climbing upstairs and wreaking havoc in the construction zone. They have 2 play-attacks a day, once in the morning when we get up, and again in the evening before going to bed. I can't recall being woken by them once because they were playing in the middle of the night, something that sort of surprised me. They'd come over and see us if we woke up in the middle of the night and went downstairs to the bathroom, but we'd just ignore them and they'd go right back to the kitten mosh pit and sleep. It seems they have their own code of conduct.