Green Acres is the Place to Be

Farm living is the life for me.

Ol' Mother Hubbard invited Handy Man and I to the farm for supper.
Recently, I finished a new book, Raising a Wild Child.  Well, I'll let you see for yourself if that is being accomplished with some of my wee folk.
We had the honor of visiting during the "Spring Worming."  Oh, my.
Mrs. Goose and the Alpacas were the only critters in barn when we arrived.

 Here is Ol' Henry with a farm toad.  This farm is this boy's joy and passion, his wonderland.

Dude, you need to do something about that bite.

 Time to bring the critters in for worming.  The  wee folk circled the wagons and raised a ruckus.  But every time the critters got to the barn door, they'd turn around and run.  Eventually it occurred to me that the likely reason for the turn and run was the dolt in the barn taking pictures- with a flash.

 I turned off the flash and in they came.

 The last hiney barely cleared the door when a pop up storm began a deluge.  If you look close here you can see the sheeting rain, with blue skies in abundance beyond the yard.

The kids would hold a sheep, while the Mister gave them a drink.

 The temptation to hop one for a ride was just too much, so hop on and ride they did.

 Baby Boy, who is not so much a baby anymore, having just celebrated his sixth birthday, wanted to show me the contraption Grandad devised for him to first remove the corn from the cob, then grind it for the chickens.

It was a happy evening watching these kidlets experience just what the Raising a Wild Child advises.

Well, except for the missing foundational pieces of a Grandad and a Grammer.  This is a time you surely hope they can look down and smile big at the legacy they've passed on.