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Across the Fence:  Farmgirl of the Month - December 2020  |
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nne9703721
Farmgirl in Training
33 Posts
Nichelle
Kent
Washington
USA
33 Posts |
 Posted - Dec 04 2020 : 8:26:30 PM
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Hello Everyone,
I decided to write a little to everyone so they can get to know me better. I already know I won't be able to write daily, but I will try for a weekly post.
I am thinking of heritage right now. My quest is to go back to the roots of the tree, go back as far as I can go. I recently sent away my DNA so I can know more about myself. If I know exactly what's in my veins, it might help me figure out which records to sift through when I sit down and comb through the National Archives on my quest to find out about my ancestors. So far, I don't know a lot about my ancestors, but I think I have found a link to one of them.
Female, aged 16
That is how her owner identified her in the Slave Schedule in the U.S. Census for 1850. He was not required to list her name, just her gender and her approximate age. How do I know she is probably my ancestor? This same slave/owner combination shows up again in 1860. Her owner's last name matches one of my family's oldest last names. Their location also matches the state and county where my family originated. An electric shock ran through me when I realized what I was looking at, who I had probably found. At first I felt a sense of triumph. But then I looked at how dehumanizing the ledger-style entry was, how a person's life was represented by three words, not even a name, and all I could do was cry for her. And it got worse when I found her again in 1860 with the ages of her babies, realizing that she couldn't even claim them as her own. They all belonged to her owner, not each other.
But how can I be sure it's her?
Well, I can't be 100% sure. There isn't a birth certificate trail to follow. But I do know this. Slavery ended in 1865. A woman named Dorcas Rhode appears in the 1880 Census with a daughter who I know for a fact was my grandmother's grandmother. Hibernia Rhode Rowe, my grandmother's grandmother, was born around 1868. According to that Census record, Dorcas' age is close enough to "Female aged 16" to be the same person. If Dorcas is the woman I saw in that record in the National Archives, then her first three children were born into slavery and lost to that practice (They appear next to their mother's listing in 1860 but not in the 1880 Census. Hibernia is the oldest child.). There are no family stories about them. And my elderly Aunt Margaret that I took care of before her death mentioned once that her grandmother once mentioned that some of her siblings had been sold away.
I'd like to think that I've found my family's "furthest back person" in Dorcas. I've found her in other places in the National Archives as well. After the Civil War, she registered with the Freedmen's Bureau. This organization was set up to help newly freed slaves adapt to living on their own. This is another way I've been able to track her journey as a free woman. I even found an early mention of the man who became her husband.
Hibernia Rhode Rowe (Ms. Bunnie) was a force of nature, so I'm told. She was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall, if that. She had strong faith in God, and was well respected for knowledge in natural plant medicine. Her knowledge was so valued in her community that she was called Ms. Bunnie by both Blacks and Whites in the small segregated South Carolina town she lived in. She was also blind. And there's a strange story about how she accurately predicted how many children her three youngest granddaughters (whom she was raising after their mother died) would have just from the sound of how their urine splashed into the chamber pot. (Don't ask how, she was right, though.)
On way too may occasions, my grandmother has given me a strange penetrating look and asked me point blank if I was her grandmother reincarnated. Apparently, I sometimes say things like Ms. Bunnie.
When my Aunt Margaret died, one thing I made sure I kept, was her picture of her grandmother. It was an old fashioned photograph that had been painted to look like a fancy painting.
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katmom
True Blue Farmgirl
17025 Posts
Grace
WACAL Gal
WashCalif.
USA
17025 Posts |
Posted - Dec 04 2020 : 9:01:37 PM
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Nichelle,, what a wonderful journey you are taking..
I have many times watched the PBS TV show, 'Finding Your Roots', it is just amazing the many 'threads' one has to find to piece their story of their heritage together...
I was working on mine.. and found documentation of my mother and I coming to the US via a French Liner into NY 1956.. as we were 'immigrants' coming into the US. Mom and I got US Citizenship in summer of 1957.
Oh what a fun journey... continue to keep us updated as you find more 'threads'..
>^..^<
>^..^<
Happiness is being a katmom and Glamping Diva!
www.katmom4.blogspot.com & http://graciesvictorianrose.blogspot.com
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JeanP
True Blue Farmgirl
1284 Posts
Jean
Deary
ID
USA
1284 Posts |
Posted - Dec 04 2020 : 10:38:04 PM
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Dear Dear Nichelle . . . I am in awe of you sharing your journey with us. This is amazing. You are amazing!
"However difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at."
. . . .Stephen Hawking |
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YellowRose
True Blue Farmgirl
6816 Posts
Sara
Paris
TX
USA
6816 Posts |
Posted - Dec 04 2020 : 11:44:47 PM
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Nichelle, thanks for sharing your story of discovery with all of us. It's a story that needs to be told and heard.
Sara - FarmGirl Sister #6034 8/25/14
FarmGirl of the Month Sept 2015 & Feb 2019
Lord put your arm around my shoulders & your hand over my mouth.
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Red Tractor Girl
True Blue Farmgirl
6525 Posts
Winnie
Gainesville
Fl
USA
6525 Posts |
Posted - Dec 05 2020 : 05:09:12 AM
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Nichelle, what a fascinating and wonderful family history you are uncovering! I too have been digging into my past after completing the Ancestry.com test. There are threads, however, that show up and nary a family story to give any hints as to whether that is true or not. We are all complicated human beings when it comes to where we came from. I do love the fact that you have definitive links and even a photo to validate some of who were your ancestors. Thank-you for sharing and again, WELCOME to our MJF community. We are always excited to meet another Farmgirl!
Winnie #3109
Red Tractor Girl
Farm Sister of the Year 2014-2015
FGOTM- October 2018 |
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Hammahsfarm
True Blue Farmgirl
154 Posts
Nik
Baldwinsville
NY
USA
154 Posts |
Posted - Dec 11 2020 : 4:34:51 PM
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Nichelle, what an amazing story and how wonderful to have as much family history as you have. As a History teacher I know that that it is very difficult for African Americans to trace family lines due to the type of record keeping that was kept in the South/the Institution of Slavery. Oral History is often all they have to rely on.
I have been so fortunate in my family - My grandmother on my father's side had written a book on the Genealogy and family lines for both her and her husbands lines dating back to the 12th century in Ireland and Scotland. I continued the Research for my Mother's side using the skills/resources that that grandmother was able to teach me and had at her disposal. We have also completed my husband's side. My girls are very fortunate to have a complete geneology completed for them dating back to between the 1100s-1400s for most branches.
My oldest Grandson is Bi-racial and we have started to research his father's side. He is both African American and Native American so we are running into issues such as you have.
My youngest grandson was a product of rape so my daughter has no idea who his father is and will not be able to trace his genealogy ever. This is something that bother's my oldest daughter because they grew up with a large focus on Genealogy.
I try to tell them both that who they know their sons are today and who they look like and take after , their personalities are each their own and that is what is important now.
Sometimes the story and new history you build for your family can be just as important. New traditions, new parts of Heritage and Culture.
Hammah Nik
Hammahsfarm
Farmgirl # 8102
The little red hen asked her friends, "Who will help me plant the seeds ?" "Not I," barked the lazy dog . "Not I," purred the sleepy cat . "Not I," quacked the noisy yellow duck . "Then I will," said the little red hen . |
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nne9703721
Farmgirl in Training
33 Posts
Nichelle
Kent
Washington
USA
33 Posts |
Posted - Dec 11 2020 : 5:04:43 PM
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Hello,
Lest you think I'm always serious, here's a story inspired by the wars I lost with squirrels in the community garden when I lived in New York. Sorry, it is long. I wrote it as an exercise for my students.
Title: Ghetto Squirrel
Let me start by saying that I do not hate squirrels. Squirrels have a right to exist, and they have a purpose on Earth. I’ll even say that they’re useful. They carefully dig holes and stash nuts away. When those hidden nuts sprout in the spring, new trees grow. Around 2014, I joined a local urban garden project, the Edgecombe Garden, in New York City. My neighborhood back then was filled with apartment buildings, stores, and an occasional playground. Edgecombe Garden was a tiny green spot between two tall apartment buildings; it had originally been an ugly empty lot filled with garbage. After two neighborhood ladies cleaned it up and got permission from the city to turn it into a garden, it was a place for quiet reflection and being close to nature. I spent many hours watching squirrels that crossed the street from Jackie Robinson Park scamper up and down the few trees that had grown when the space was unused. Their antics made me laugh as they came to me looking for food. Squirrels were cool.
I was an urban gardener, a person dedicated to finding my inner Earth Mother. With the garden being hidden between the buildings, going in there was like disappearing from the rest of the world. Outside the garden, there were cars and people, and their various noises and problems. But inside the garden, it was peaceful, a world of its own, with gentle birdsong and green plants. The garden was my personal recovery space during the year I went on medical leave from work due to migraine headaches. But much as I enjoyed being one with nature, I found myself in a non-stop war with certain segments of Mother Nature Incorporated. Public Enemy #1 was usually Mr. Raccoon or Ms. Kitty Kat. Both animals had been regular visitors to my garden plot in the past, wreaking havoc whenever they passed through in the form of bitten plants, torn leaves, and poop. This particular year, though, I hadn’t heard a single meow or spied a single ringed tail.
But I did have encounters with Ghetto Squirrel. I had numerous encounters with Ghetto Squirrel and the trees he planted in my garden plot, flowerpots, and other planting containers.
Ghetto Squirrel, a name for a squirrel bold enough to approach humans, was invented by my son, Xavier, and his friends back when they were in high school. One day, Xavier came home with a story about a grey squirrel with absolutely no fear of the boys as they hung out on a bench after school. The boys encountered this fearless fellow on more than one occasion. Ghetto Squirrel boldly snatched dropped cookies, demanded popcorn, helped himself to their French fries, and finally chased them away from the bench one day when he’d had enough of their nonsense. The boys chose the name because, well, we lived in a rough neighborhood, and the squirrel was just as rough and crazy as everything else around us.
“Did you see Ghetto Squirrel today, Xave?”
It was a new game of ours, me questioning him about the squirrel after dinner.
“Yeah, Ma. He was driving a stolen car past the school,” Xavier said as he helped clear the table, straight-faced. While funny as he'd no doubt intended, it was alarming how he could outright lie so calmly. Note to self: watch that behavior. Sociopaths had no trouble lying, too.
“Really,” I questioned, letting my eyebrows rise as if in shock. Every time he talked about the squirrel, the stories got wilder and wilder.
“Yeah. We were sitting on our bench, and somebody honked at us. We looked over and saw it was him.” By this time, Xavier was miming his take on a squirrel driving. He had an angry look on his face as he “drove” around me in circles. “Ghett-Oooo Squirrrrrel,” he sang as he drove. Apparently, Ghetto Squirrel had a theme song.
"Oooo-kay, then," I replied as I nodded my head with new understanding. Not a sociopath, but an actor, screenwriter, or comedian, perhaps?
I was close. He's in advertising now.
***
It was just my luck that I’d managed to attract Ghetto Squirrel’s successor. Hard-core New Yorker or not, I did not need oak trees in my flowerpots.
When I started prepping my soil that season, I found enough acorns to feed Manhattan's entire squirrel population. I wasn’t happy about it. I knew that squirrel would be back later looking for his nutty stash. Sure enough, I started seeing new holes in my garden plot every time I arrived.
I didn’t need holes in my asparagus pot. I complained as I added soil to the hole. I didn’t need holes in my tomatoes, squash, and bean beds. I grumbled as I used a shovel to dig around in the hole to see what else was in it. I didn’t need holes in my sunflower patch; I groused as I poured a little fertilizer in the hole and covered it over with fresh soil. Carefully, I removed every acorn I could find, thinking this would keep him out of my area.
But Ghetto Squirrel had other ideas.
I discovered his real plan when the weather got warmer. As April rolled into May, I started to see small sprouts in places I didn’t think I’d planted anything. Leaving a few to get a little larger, it wasn’t long before I realized what they were. They were not something I’d planted the season before and forgotten was there, like the alliums that came up like purple fireworks after I’d lost them. They were baby oak trees. I knew from the leaves. This started a rush to remove every sapling from my plot and potted plants, as I had nightmarish visions of my garden turning into a forest. On the end of every sapling was the evidence that linked Ghetto Squirrel to the tree invasion.
An acorn.
So, I tried a new strategy. I tried to make nice with Ghetto Squirrel. I started leaving him piles of tasty walnuts, delicious pecans, and tempting hazelnuts. Yum. Yum. Yum. Since he didn’t have to dig for these, maybe he would leave my plot alone? Imagine the satisfaction I felt every time I came out to the garden and saw piles of nutshells and not a single hole. Smugly, I went along planting and weeding, and smiling as I thought of how my human intellect had triumphed over animal instinct, resulting in a squirrel-free garden.
Until I decided to reuse a flowerpot, Ghetto Squirrel ruined earlier in the gardening season by digging and killing my irises' root system.
It was July by then, hot, and the best time for getting results in the garden. I had so many plants growing tall and wonderful. My tomatoes were as tall as towers. My eggplants were thick, bushy, and covered in purple flowers. My peppers were starting to develop a little color as they turned from green to red. It seemed like the best time to plant something simple, like a few flower seeds. I picked some Cosmos seeds out of my garden bag because I had grown some before. They were easy to grow and would come up pretty and dark yellow.
Looking around my pile, I spotted a red plastic pot that still had some dirt in it. I figured they’d look great in one of my freestanding flowerpots. As I grabbed a small trowel, I started imagining blobs of yellow sunshine dangling on green wires over the edges of the red pot. I had happy thoughts as I broke up the soil and mixed in some compost with my trowel. Mix, mix, happy, happy, grow strong little seeds.
As I got towards the bottom of the pot, I noticed a lump sticking out. I stared at it. What was it? Was it a small animal, formerly furry and recently departed? Cautiously, I removed it from the pot.
It wasn’t soft, furry, or mushy, thank goodness. It was round, solid. I brushed more dirt off it, studied it carefully.
A sinking feeling started blossoming in my mind. If only my other plants blossomed with the vigor and tenacity that this feeling had as it snaked tendrils of defeat around my arms, my legs, my entire body.
No, it can’t be…, I thought to myself. There’s no way…, I thought again as I tried to deny the awful truth. Hands balling into fists, I dropped the offending object.
Ghetto Squirrel had buried one of the walnuts I’d given him as a peace offering. After tasting the treats, he'd decided to eat some now and save some for later.
Behind me, I heard a chittering sound. I raised my head slowly, eyes narrowed, as I turned towards the fence where my cucumbers were growing.
There he was, sitting on the fence, watching me. And the dang beast was laughing at me. There he was, chittering away, waving his fluffy tail over his head in a “WHOOP! WHOOP!” of triumph.
Oh. Heck. No. My inner New Yorker started to boil to the surface as I realized that now, I might start finding walnut, hazelnut, and pecan saplings. My plan to feed the squirrel had backfired magnificently. I had not made a friend; instead, I had created a potential forest. Keeping my nemesis in my sights, I reached down for the hated object I’d just dropped. It felt as if it burned my fingers as I touched it, but there was no way he was going to be allowed to laugh at my moment of shame.
I was smarter than a danged squirrel. I was an A+ student when I wanted to be, all through elementary, middle, and high school.
I aimed.
I was a 4.0 student when I wanted to be, all through undergrad and grad school. Twice through grad school.
He looked right at me and chittered. SCREEEEEEEEE. SCREEEEEEEEE. It was like he was taunting me. “What ‘cha gonna do? Huh? What ‘cha gonna do, lady?”
I was a New Yorker who worked for the New York City Department of Education as a middle school teacher. Nobody was tougher or more tenacious than a middle school teacher. I laughed at lightning and made tough kids think twice with the death glare of doom. There was no flipping way I was going to be taken down by a squirrel!
“You little…”
I had no words vile enough to call Ghetto Squirrel in that moment. The silence after the word “little” held all my anguish, all my disappointment, all my frustration over not being able to keep one single furry menace out of my garden. I’d been told I was near genius when I was ten. What could have possibly happened to all that intellect? How could I have fallen so low as to not being able to get rid of that fluffy tail?
I put everything I had into my arm as I threw that walnut at that squirrel.
WOOSH!
The walnut flew just as it was aimed.
THWACK!
I missed. I’m terrible at throwing. I can’t hit the broad side of a barn if I tried. But, darn it, I tried. I really tried to let Ghetto Squirrel know exactly how I was feeling. The walnut hit the fence to his left instead of hitting him. He screeched and jetted away from that part of the fence, deciding, tough or not, maybe staying still while a crazy lady threw things at him was not very street smart. A safe distance away, Ghetto Squirrel gave one final chitter before scampering away.
To this day, I’m convinced he flashed gang signs at me before he ran out of the garden.
As the end of the gardening season approached, I tried my best to save a few of the annuals I’d planted, hoping that they’d survive a little longer in the cozy environment of a flowerpot in my apartment. I dug them out of my garden plot, stuck them into plastic bags, and carted the whole cart full of plants, small flowerpots, and tools back to the Bronx on the subway. People stared at me the same way they stared at me when I sat on the subway and knitted with my unusual knitting looms.
Once home, I repotted the few alpine strawberries I'd managed to save. I was curious to see if they would keep producing strawberries in the winter in a warm place with more light than the garden could provide during fall and winter. I lovingly watered them in my kitchen, turning them periodically to make sure they had enough light. I think I sang to them a few times. It took a little while, but they survived the change from hardy outdoor plants to pampered homebound posies.
One day, I noticed something strange in my hanging strawberry pot. I'm fairly blind as a bat without my glasses, but even with limited eyesight, I'd scrutinized the pot enough to realize that the thing rising above the rest of the thriving greenery was not the same. Tentatively, I approached the pot, fearful that somehow, I had brought in some weed or fungus that would overrun my window. I'd already discovered a weird yellow fungus in a few of my pots. What was this new thing?
I looked at it carefully. Then I took another, even closer look, to be sure.
"I give up," I called out in resignation to the powers that be that were in charge of gardens as I let my head drop dramatically in defeat.
"What's wrong," my husband asked as he entered the kitchen that morning. He had just finished his coffee and wondered what could have disturbed me so early in the morning.
Wordlessly, I pointed to the offending object in my flowerpot. I kept my head down. There was no way I could face him or anyone else after such a discovery. Confused, he looked at it.
"What is that," my husband asked in Japanese accented English.
"Just take a good look at it."
He looked. Then, he laughed. "Nature is smarter than you are." Still laughing, he walked out of the kitchen.
There was an acorn sapling in my strawberry pot, courtesy of Ghetto Squirrel. He had left an acorn in my patch of dirt, and I had brought it home when I dug up my strawberries. And now it was sprouting.
Final Score:
Ghetto Squirrel: 1
Ghetto Gardener: 0
Hope you enjoyed the story.
Nichelle
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JeanP
True Blue Farmgirl
1284 Posts
Jean
Deary
ID
USA
1284 Posts |
Posted - Dec 12 2020 : 11:21:46 AM
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Nik -- Such an adventure you and Nichelle are having wandering through your family's roots. And, you are so fortunate to have the genealogy compiled by your grandmother as a foundation for your continued search.
Nichelle -- I adore Ghetto Squirrel!! He has sooooo much personality, albeit very aggravating for the Ghetto Gardener. I read your story right after you posted it yesterday and chuckled about it all evening. A wonderfully delightful read. Thank you for sharing.
Farmgirl hugs,
jean
"However difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at."
. . . .Stephen Hawking |
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katmom
True Blue Farmgirl
17025 Posts
Grace
WACAL Gal
WashCalif.
USA
17025 Posts |
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nne9703721
Farmgirl in Training
33 Posts
Nichelle
Kent
Washington
USA
33 Posts |
Posted - Dec 13 2020 : 10:37:36 AM
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@ Jean,
The story was based on my early years as a gardener. I really thought I could outsmart the squirrels. Now, I don't bother. I just try to make things unattractive for them from the start. And yes, I really did find an oak sapling in my flowerpot at home. I was dumbfounded when I realized what was growing in my pot and how it got there. Just couldn't get a break that year. My students always get a kick out of that story, and I used it when I demonstrate how to write a narrative. All of the techniques, like dialogue, onomatopoeia, and inner monologue are in there.
And I really did have that conversation with my son.
I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station, through which God speaks to us every hour if we will only tune in.
George Washington Carver |
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windypines
True Blue Farmgirl
4111 Posts
Michele
Bruce
Wisconsin
USA
4111 Posts |
Posted - Dec 14 2020 : 3:51:30 PM
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Your a great story teller Nichelle. Thank you
Farming in WI
Michele
FGOTM June2019
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Red Tractor Girl
True Blue Farmgirl
6525 Posts
Winnie
Gainesville
Fl
USA
6525 Posts |
Posted - Dec 14 2020 : 5:18:52 PM
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Love your family story, Nichelle! Thank-you for sharing.
Winnie #3109
Red Tractor Girl
Farm Sister of the Year 2014-2015
FGOTM- October 2018 |
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nne9703721
Farmgirl in Training
33 Posts
Nichelle
Kent
Washington
USA
33 Posts |
Posted - Dec 31 2020 : 5:45:22 PM
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Hello.
Today is the last day of 2020 and my last day as Farmgirl of the Month for December. I hope everyone is staying safe, and I hope everyone had a lovely holiday.
I haven’t posted recently because I was tending to an elderly cat. He crossed over on Christmas Eve. He was about 17.5 years old. Although I’m still sad about his passing (I raised him from a kitten), I feel privileged to have been his pet parent and friend for so long. So, here’s to Neo, King of the water bowl, a true New Yorker in every way. I miss tripping over your “freshly killed” pillow every morning.
He was my furry son as well as my friend.
I started my first post, thinking about heritage. My cats are just as much my family as the humans, at least to me they are. My husband didn’t think so when we first got married 14 years ago. It was amusing watching him try and fail to put Neo in his place after we got married. My husband wanted Neo to understand that humans came first, and Neo wanted my husband to understand that all five cats were in my life long before he became a boyfriend, and they came first. Many bites later, watching my husband mourn my cat suggests that Neo finally won him over.
I’m going to end this last post thinking about friendship. Thank you for the warm friendship that you ladies have shown me. A few of you sent gifts. Thank you so much. The care and thought that went into each item was evident and appreciated. Others took the time to read my posts and comment. You have no idea how sustaining how such comments can be to a writer/writing teacher.
When I joined the Sisterhood, I joined for the challenge of the badges. I wasn’t expecting to make new friends. What an unexpected joy! I will definitely be spending much more time in the Forums getting to know more of you going forward. And this brings me to thinking about one Sister.
I'm looking forward to letting her know she's my choice for next month.
Stay safe everyone. Happy New Year.
Nichelle
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katmom
True Blue Farmgirl
17025 Posts
Grace
WACAL Gal
WashCalif.
USA
17025 Posts |
Posted - Jan 01 2021 : 10:25:20 AM
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Nichelle,,
So sorry about your fur child crossing over the Rainbow Bridge,, hugz to you .
Glad you had a lovely FGOTM...
Did you ever get my message? I sent you via the forum..??
>^..^<
Happiness is being a katmom and Glamping Diva!
www.katmom4.blogspot.com & http://graciesvictorianrose.blogspot.com
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StitchinWitch
True Blue Farmgirl
2135 Posts
Judith
Galt
CA
USA
2135 Posts |
Posted - Jan 01 2021 : 3:16:05 PM
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Nichelle --I'm so sorry you lost Neo. My cats are family too. My DH didn't like cats when he moved in with me 26 years ago. They changed him in a hurry; he rescued and bottle fed two of ours and sits with one draped on his shoulders.
You were a great Farmgirl of the Month.
Judith
7932
Happiness is Homemade |
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JeanP
True Blue Farmgirl
1284 Posts
Jean
Deary
ID
USA
1284 Posts |
Posted - Jan 01 2021 : 3:34:09 PM
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Well, dear Nichelle . . . What do you think? Were you confused by it all in the beginning? Unsure of what, if anything, was expected of you and how to proceed? Did the experience change you some. From looking at your swan song posting, I'd say the answer would be "yes" to all those questions. It sure was for me. And my take-away was so similar to yours . . . this forum offers far more than I had originally expected. And, it certainly has been a Godsend during the unsettling year we have just experienced. So, so, glad we "connected" Uruha. You're a treasure.
Big farmgirl hugs,
jean
"However difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at."
. . . .Stephen Hawking |
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JeanP
True Blue Farmgirl
1284 Posts
Jean
Deary
ID
USA
1284 Posts |
Posted - Jan 01 2021 : 3:36:17 PM
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Well, dear Nichelle . . . What do you think? Were you confused by it all in the beginning? Unsure of what, if anything, was expected of you and how to proceed? Did the experience change you some. From looking at your swan song posting, I'd say the answer would be "yes" to all those questions. It sure was for me. And my take-away was so similar to yours . . . this forum offers far more than I had originally expected. And, it certainly has been a Godsend during the unsettling year we have just experienced. So, so, glad we "connected" Uruha. You're a treasure.
Big farmgirl hugs,
jean
"However difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at."
. . . .Stephen Hawking |
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nne9703721
Farmgirl in Training
33 Posts
Nichelle
Kent
Washington
USA
33 Posts |
Posted - Jan 01 2021 : 4:57:04 PM
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@ Grace, Thank you for your kind words about my grumpy boy. He was one of a kind and is sorely missed. I used to tell time by his stomach, so now I have to learn to use a clock again, lol. Oh well, my Bella is starting to train me properly. She's about 5 years old and is the kitty who became my daughter's cat when a different member of my furry tribe crossed over. That kitty was Trinity, and yes, there was a Matrix vibe going on when she came to live with us, thanks to my son. He was fascinated with the movies and named both young cats after characters from the movies. Trinity was Neo's pet cat. So, my other cats were older and going crazy because a kitten was chasing them around, not to mention driving me crazy because he kept treating me like a chew toy. I asked someone in the pet store what I could do to restore order at home, and they said I should get another kitten to keep him company. So, when I found out another neighbor had kittens looking for homes, I went and picked out a tortoise-shell female that looked like she could give him a run for his money. Trinity was with us for about 12 years.
I did get an email message from you and I thought I sent a reply. Did you not get my reply?
I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station through which God speaks to us every hour if we will only tune in.
George Washington Carver |
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nne9703721
Farmgirl in Training
33 Posts
Nichelle
Kent
Washington
USA
33 Posts |
Posted - Jan 01 2021 : 5:10:18 PM
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@ Judith, Thank you for your condolences. I'm watching my husband, Mick, adjust to Bella, our remaining cat. He helped my daughter pick Bella out 5 years ago. It was amusing to see how much he'd changed. Bella just started coming when you call her name, sometimes even chirping a verbal response. My husband was so disappointed when Bella didn't respond when he called her. I know she will respond to him at some point. He misses Neo just as much as I do because Neo used to sit under his desk every day.
I had fun being FGOTM. I'm glad I was able to do a good job.
I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station through which God speaks to us every hour if we will only tune in.
George Washington Carver |
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Across the Fence: Farmgirl of the Month - December 2020 |
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Farmgirl of the Month - December 2020
