Dealing with chicken poop.

My sewing room isn’t likely to become a sweatshop.

The slower pace of the winter months is over now.

Fifty-three years of fundraising for an all-volunteer fire department in rural Montana.

It will look like a bag eventually, I promise.

At least it wasn’t a quilt.

The ground squirrels will have nowhere to hide.

It’s a wonder sometimes that I am a functioning adult.

It’s only been a couple of years in the planning stages.

There is no such thing as “too many trucks,” toy ones or otherwise.

You never know when it might come in handy.

Take your wife to the sporting goods store.

If only real life came with snow tires.

In order to make things happen.

The calendar says spring but the yard says winter.

Barred Rocks and Light Brahmas.

I still have to look at snow, but at least it’s melting.

And I brought home a special find.

Toddler T-shirts are great for practice.

And the turkeys know that spring is coming.