tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73041012012-02-16T14:22:51.113+01:00Life on a French FarmLibbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.comBlogger5621100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-79795288380497065512007-02-10T16:02:00.000+01:002007-02-10T16:39:49.557+01:00

I pulled a set of twins last night. Just plunged my hands into the gooey birth canal and pulled. The twins belong to the unnamed sheep who I thought was dying about a month ago. Beautiful, identical twin ewes. They look like they could be sheep super models . . . lithe bodies and incredibly long legs. Mother and lambs knew immediately what to do. Wow! Lambing's a rush when it goes well.I've come

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-45164407781559113272007-02-09T18:11:00.000+01:002008-11-13T22:14:21.635+01:00

The Husband and his new friend.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-62358490207865833882007-01-25T19:05:00.000+01:002007-01-25T19:18:12.619+01:00

About 5:30 this evening I went out to feed the sheep. One of them had afterbirth stringing out behind her. Since she was with the flock, and not sequestered with her lambs, that wasn't a good omen.I scanned the pasture and saw the white blob. With a bit of optimism, based on my happy experience with Monday's white blob, I hurried out to rescue it.I arrived. And there were two perfect, but

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-73095506768025708592007-01-22T16:15:00.000+01:002007-01-22T16:55:20.716+01:00

Went out for the morning feeding. Did the head count and came up short a sheep. She wasn't very far away. She was standing in the pasture hovering over a large, still, white blob.I winced and felt sick to my stomach. Really, I told myself, you need to get out of this shepherding business, too much death, you can't take it. I moved closer to remove the dead lamb from the pasture, chastising myself

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-79185529609503279062007-01-21T18:45:00.000+01:002008-11-13T22:14:21.849+01:00

Soixante-Douze and her first lamb.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-29587611301140965942007-01-21T09:53:00.000+01:002007-01-21T10:15:30.459+01:00

When I woke up this morning it was raining heavily; but by the time I went out to feed the sheep, it had stopped.The sheep were rather subdued this morning. They didn't yell at me when I opened the door and walked out of the house -- although they were all gathered together and staring at me.When I counted the sheep --I do this every morning and evening in the manner of a prison head-count to

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-70622975798046294822007-01-08T09:32:00.000+01:002007-01-08T09:37:02.028+01:00

Each morning I expect to go out and find the ailing sheep dead. But this morning, she had a lot more energy so I'm hopeful she'll pull through and recover from this malady.Previous mornings she stood apart from the flock and I had to take her a bucket of grain, put it under her nose, and watch her eat one tiny mouthful.Today, she was in the thick of the flock during the feeding. I offered her

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-90834174779886726842007-01-06T20:44:00.000+01:002007-01-06T20:45:47.000+01:00

Big Horn Sheep in Colorado are being abducted!I hope these vets aren't giving the sheep anti-biotics -- that will kill em for sure.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-69068425908946653432007-01-06T15:40:00.000+01:002007-01-06T20:44:22.592+01:00

I have a sheep who's been sick for about six days. She doesn't have a name. Unfortunately, she's one of my pure-bred ewes. She does seem to be getting slightly better; but the improvement is so slight that it could just be my wishful projection. Because she's a sheep and she's sick, she'll probably croak soon and I'll have to deal with the Dead Animal Man again.As you know, when my first young

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-89834133623987919052007-01-05T20:57:00.001+01:002007-01-05T21:06:02.529+01:00

I wish one of my rams was gay! Then I wouldn't have to deal with complicated animal husbandry issues like worrying about who's mating with their mother.I'm trying to trade away Lambchop for two ewes -- but the prospective farmer told me he'd reflect on it. I think he considers Lambchop's half-breed mother to be a genetic drawback. But if anything, a little outside blood is good for this small

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-57067638050186775162007-01-03T14:13:00.000+01:002007-01-03T14:27:13.959+01:00

Our little village of 4,000 inhabitants never ceases to amaze me. While reading through the movie theatre's January listing of upcoming movies I was surprised to read that the director of a French feature length film will be available after the showing to discuss his work.The English language selections at the theatre this month are Fast Food Nation and Casino Royale.The other night, at the

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-59854611121192810882007-01-02T09:31:00.000+01:002007-01-06T20:49:44.770+01:00

The sheep have eaten all the grass in their fenced-in pasture. So they’re supplemented with hay and grain in the morning and then again just before it gets dark. But because they yell at me whenever they see me, I feel guilty so I try to take them out a half an hour to an hour each afternoon to graze on green grass.Since I want to train the dogs better to work with the sheep, I have lately been

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-47298241053676004892007-01-01T18:06:00.000+01:002007-01-01T18:10:09.149+01:00

The dogs sleep in the kitchen at night. The only thing they've chewed up in months has been Attila's dog bed. Everything else has been safe.However, Antoinette changed all that last night when she decided to pull my two prettiest cookbooks off the shelves, out of a choice of a hundred, and chewed their bindings off.One of them holds the coq au vin recipe . . . was she precient, and trying to

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-40445837490221509202007-01-01T18:04:00.000+01:002007-01-01T18:06:53.085+01:00

The Husband just informed me that we'll be serving coq au vin soon. The rooster attacked him and put a bloody hole in the Husband's leg.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-20465746172593778882006-12-31T07:32:00.000+01:002006-12-31T07:46:02.090+01:00

Last night, the Husband and I had dinner reservations at our favorite restaurant.In the late afternoon, I had finished up all the animal chores, except I hadn't tucked in the chickens for the night. So when we left for the restaurant, the Husband kindly offered to lock up the chickens.It was dark, and he slipped on the muddy slope down to the chicken shack. Luckily he didn't fall down.After being

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-50945726783226069092006-12-29T17:25:00.000+01:002006-12-29T17:27:43.608+01:00

Read the following post about the fish arriving before you read this one.So it wasn't a half-an-hour after I put up the post about the fish stocking in the mill pond, when the phone rang. It was the fish farmer. He apologized for calling; but said he realized after he left that the Husband didn't give him enough money.He thought the Husband had given him 195 Euros instead of the 155. So they

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-33548978069330678492006-12-29T12:51:00.000+01:002006-12-29T13:07:40.104+01:00

The fish finally arrived yesterday.Back in July, at the local outdoor market, I met a man who raises fish. I returned home and suggested to the Husband that he stock our mill pond with trout. During the drought a couple of years ago, the giant Blue Herons finished off all the fish and flew off, never to return.If I were honest, I'd admit that I really wanted the fish stocked so that the Blue

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-48477084729831712782006-12-27T20:08:00.000+01:002008-11-13T22:14:22.261+01:00

We named her Isabill . . . after the housesitting couple that was here during her birth.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-25361891034331651052006-11-11T12:33:00.000+01:002006-11-11T12:45:40.426+01:00

And every village and city in France celebrates it with the exact same protocol at the exact same time -- 11 am on the 11th day of the 11th month.Except my village! Antoinette and I arrived a few minutes before eleven and were the only people there. Another man showed up. We chatted and he left. The flags were out on the memorial. The flowers were out. Fed up with waiting, Antoinette pooped near

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-66800161781950909982006-11-09T15:42:00.000+01:002006-11-09T15:49:59.309+01:00

The flock grazing in the warm November sun.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1163082230077997072006-11-09T15:23:00.003+01:002006-11-09T15:23:20.569+01:00

The Husband and Antoinette going into the village together. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1162366907712642562006-11-01T08:41:00.000+01:002006-11-09T15:23:20.340+01:00

"Democracy must be something more than two wolves and a sheep voting on what to have for dinner." - James Bovard

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1162313808979744292006-10-31T17:56:00.000+01:002006-11-09T15:23:20.210+01:00

The Husband carved these Nice zucchini. We're waiting for the trick-or-treaters to arrive. The village children all walk in one big group. Last year they stepped out of the woods behind our house and scared Attila to death. You can see him hiding under the table in the photo. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1162310142563925832006-10-31T16:55:00.000+01:002006-11-09T15:23:20.083+01:00

Yvette, Leonce's wife. When you eat at her house she kills the chickens she serves you. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1162310043346598682006-10-31T16:54:00.000+01:002006-11-09T15:23:19.909+01:00

The Husband at Roger's birthday dinner. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1162309992773586682006-10-31T16:53:00.000+01:002006-11-09T15:23:19.710+01:00

Leonce being his cute self. A wild time was had by all. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1162309917456892002006-10-31T16:51:00.000+01:002006-11-09T15:23:18.848+01:00

Our youngest neighbors at Roger's birthday party . . .Jose and Evelyn. Both qualify as being the sweetest people in the world. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1162125638664434132006-10-29T13:40:00.000+01:002006-11-09T15:23:18.544+01:00

Husband feeding the dogs their daily requirement of Omega-3 fatty acids. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1162125565674892922006-10-29T13:39:00.000+01:002006-11-09T15:23:18.380+01:00

St. Roger celebrating his 78th birthday . . . neighbor Therese is seated next to him. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1161781566823474762006-10-25T15:06:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:18.236+01:00

The sheep stealing the chickens' corn stash! Biberon discovered it yesterday, and today the entire flock invaded the chicken coop. That's Blanche on the right, and Soixante-Douze on the left, who has this perpetually vigilant look about her. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1161529397976658422006-10-22T17:03:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:18.060+01:00

Pastoral view from the kitchen window.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1161344450897736072006-10-20T13:40:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:17.910+01:00

My nieces enjoying the French lifestyle. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1161343804595279452006-10-20T13:27:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:17.717+01:00

The Husband reported to me this morning that he witnessed Beau and Lambchop chasing Blanche around. I asked if anything was consummated. The Husband replied that there wasn't any sex. Beau and Blanche ended up too winded. And Lambchop's too young. He just tagged along for the fun of the chase."I'm worried that Beau and Lambchop are going to kill Blanche," the Husband said. "At the very least

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1161204362579614932006-10-18T22:36:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:17.505+01:00

The Husband asked me to report on the fact that he feeds the dogs walnuts . . .so they'll get their Omega-3 fatty acids and live to a ripe old age. The nut harvest is winding down early this year. Usually it goes into the first week of November. But we had a cold August and September and I think that's the reason the nuts fell pretty quickly . . . just three weeks of harvesting as compared to

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1161072803490851272006-10-17T10:13:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:17.302+01:00

The Husband. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1160928277065472072006-10-15T17:58:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:17.141+01:00

It's rumored that sheep breed in October and November. A few weeks ago, I caught Beau and Biberon in the act; now I suspect Beau is after Blanche again.They were fighting yesterday, butting heads. I couldn't believe how Blanche withstood Beau's testosterone driven butts -- punctuated with his little horns no less. But she didn't back down. He did.This afternoon I went out, and Blanche had

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1160800373434651602006-10-14T06:32:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:16.969+01:00

And here's Attila's close-up . . . notice walnuts lying in background that he has forgotten to pick up. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1160740176783377722006-10-13T13:48:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:16.794+01:00

Here's the SpaFinder.com listing for Camp Biche.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1160509333008722782006-10-10T21:42:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:16.584+01:00

The mesmerizing Antoinette! 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1160509138697338362006-10-10T21:38:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:16.247+01:00

Beau contemplating his next move. Notice his harem lined up behind him. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1160221015407970872006-10-07T13:36:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:15.694+01:00

Antoinette helping me pick nuts . . .  

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1160220929832005642006-10-07T13:35:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:15.491+01:00

Attila helping me pick nuts.  

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1160158382364438592006-10-06T20:13:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:15.131+01:00

I'm teaching Antoinette and Attila to work with the sheep. Here they are obeying the command "STOP." They aren't allowed to follow me past the open gate. They have to sit still waiting for me to return. And they have to sit still while the sheep run past them. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1160158489203958372006-10-06T20:11:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:15.330+01:00

And Voila! Attila and Antoinette have learned their lesson. They're waiting calmly while the sheep file past them. Can you pick out Beau in this photo?

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1160069492328629762006-10-05T19:31:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:14.981+01:00

Here's a recent photo of Blanche -- looking svelte and very white from all the rain. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1159711858444028642006-10-01T16:10:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:14.816+01:00

Attila & Antoinette helping with the walnut harvest. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1158925833550817892006-09-22T13:50:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:14.660+01:00

Leonce with the finished gariotte . . . he put the flowers on the door for me. I have to paint the door . . . maroon, he insisted. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1158858934552638672006-09-21T19:15:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:14.296+01:00

The Husband, busy with his roofing project. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1158244426146987662006-09-14T16:25:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:14.125+01:00

Woke up this morning and found Antoinette and Attila on the terrace sniffing at an English Setter. The Husband immediately became worried that Antoinette was in heat and had attracted the strange dog.Then The Husband really got worried when a Bull Mastiff showed up a few minutes later.I smiled sweetly and said, "See, I told you we should have got her fixed."The Husband didn't reply. He's still

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1158145110907962862006-09-13T12:58:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:13.935+01:00

Local building inspectors. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1158144963951271072006-09-13T12:56:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:13.779+01:00

The Husband opening a can of worms . . . er, I mean repairing the roof on his cave. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1158144199862051352006-09-13T12:40:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:13.614+01:00

Beau and Biberon got it on today . . . so hopefully we'll have another lamb in mid-January. Male sheep seem to go for speed and frequency when they copulate. I don't think that Biberon was fulfilled . . . she continued grazing throughout the lovemaking session. (Sorry, I don't have photos!)Don't forget to visit Camp Biche today.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1157964008085470712006-09-11T10:40:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:13.433+01:00

The Husband and me in St. Emilion. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1157355069064371472006-09-04T09:31:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:13.057+01:00

This is one of the quaint aspects of living (and dying) in a small French village. The mayor posts your death notice up in front of his office. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1157188917438403642006-09-02T11:11:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:12.798+01:00

The Husband's sad because his personal assistant, Tex the Hedgehog has died. (Named after the option trading strategy known as The Texas Hedge. A position where you're margined to the gills, balls out long (or short) and if the market doesn't go the way of your bet, you're tits up.)A couple days ago, Blackie the wayward sheep left us. Her previous, careless, owners came to retrieve her after she

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1156788424915158852006-08-28T20:07:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:12.575+01:00

Beau eating flowers from my young friend Marleyna back in July . . . before the weather got rotten and one could wear sundresses and not turtleneck sweaters as I'm doing today! 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1156778329146644812006-08-28T17:11:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:12.141+01:00

Seems the Husband read my blog, clicked on the hedgehog website link and read about how friendly the little buggers are. Then he stole the hedgehog from Antoinette. The hedgehog has a fancy new cage with a wheel and a little house, and runs around the Husband's desk all day. Here she is answering the phone.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1156779114088628382006-08-28T17:00:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:12.388+01:00

The personal assistant taking a little nap at her work station.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1156419078436688252006-08-24T13:28:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:11.959+01:00

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1156418213608870072006-08-24T12:56:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:11.802+01:00

I was in the kitchen making lunch. Antoinette was lying under the table and Attila was lying next to the stove. Attila decided to get up and visit Antoinette who started growling at him.I looked down to chastise Antoinette and saw that she had a balled-up hedgehog in her mouth! I let out a slight scream and ran to get the Husband so he could see what weirdness was taking place in our

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1156335517991859852006-08-23T14:18:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:11.660+01:00

Antoinette at the bottom of the scaffolding. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1156260205389961502006-08-22T17:23:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:11.527+01:00

Thought I better post a photo of Lambchop before he isn't a lamb anymore. I had a horrible lambing record this year . . . four dead . . . Lambchop is the only survivor. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1156260052854451942006-08-22T17:20:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:11.407+01:00

"Blackie" sort of being accepted by the flock. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1156256158474305212006-08-22T16:01:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:11.276+01:00

Here's the Last Chance for Democracy Cafe's analysis of a New York Times' article about the lamentable fact that Americans just aren't taking long vacations any more.I just walked in the door after spending three days in Paris where I hardly heard a French word spoken. The Parisiens are on vacation; leaving their city to be overrun with ITALIANS! Alitalia must have had an August fare sale.Next

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1155585507491223742006-08-14T21:58:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:10.999+01:00

Blackie the lost lamb. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1155585078943494412006-08-14T21:48:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:10.855+01:00

I don’t know if she’s a sheep. Her “baaaa” sounds like a goat to me – she looks strange, as if she’s a goat, crossed with a sheep, crossed with a dog, and a deer thrown in the mix; but everyone has been calling her a sheep. The phone calls came on Friday. “There’s a black sheep running with a mastiff dog. Is it yours?” Monsieur Dupuis asked the Husband.I was strapping on my bike gear when

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1155127859884324262006-08-09T14:50:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:10.680+01:00

The Husband looking handsome. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154948921569110072006-08-07T13:08:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:10.511+01:00

French Gothic -- Leonce and the Husband 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154948718106833632006-08-07T12:58:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:10.356+01:00

Well, you know the Iraq war has gone tits up when a conservative Brit accosts you at a party, and the first thing out of his mouth is: "I can't believe you people voted for George Bush."No "Hello, old Chap," to preface his comment.Pity the Husband and I. Since 2003 we've had the French, politely questioning us over America's political sanity; but now, we've got the conservative, landed British

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154686807557409582006-08-04T12:16:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:10.123+01:00

Watch Mel Gibson morph from "Hunk to Drunk" via US Magazine.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154627424326231412006-08-03T19:49:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:10.003+01:00

This is a great essay by Deepak Chopra that might bring you calm if you're worried about wars and politics.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154626605830176422006-08-03T19:36:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:09.894+01:00

WhatTheH, Here's your photo of Leonce and the shepherd's shack.  

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154438479138132242006-08-01T15:21:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:09.765+01:00

Dog Wrestling: Antoinette is pinned. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154438393631435612006-08-01T15:12:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:09.599+01:00

Happy first day of August. The sky has been drizzling off and on today. Perhaps the dog days of summer are behind us. Léonce arrived at 6am to start work. As usual, the dogs barked at him for a full fifteen minutes. As usual, the Husband and I woke up muttering our disapproval.At eight o’clock, Léonce persistently rang the doorbell. I opened up my shutters and hung out my bedroom window.“Are

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154421808941290242006-08-01T10:43:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:09.416+01:00

Antoinette 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154371223899778822006-07-31T20:40:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:09.247+01:00

The Husband's dog. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154371097921227642006-07-31T20:38:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:09.042+01:00

Chickens waiting for me to lock them in for the night. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154348515707713792006-07-31T14:21:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:08.824+01:00

Husband's dog trying to strangle my dog. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154347360606695942006-07-31T14:02:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:08.582+01:00

View from our village. 

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154343269200752712006-07-31T12:53:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:08.388+01:00

Weather has cooled down significantly. Dogs, sheep, people are happier. I drove into town today to get some groceries, and I didn’t even stop. The village was just too crowded with tourists . . . and it was a Monday, the day when most of the shops are shut. I will now avoid going to the village in the mornings until September.It finally happened. For the past five years, the people who were fed

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154253033888001622006-07-30T11:44:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:08.232+01:00

Blanche with Marley moments after his birth. My girlfriend sent me this photo, warning me that I would be sad. And I am.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154082201485756402006-07-28T12:16:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:07.518+01:00

It is the Progeny's contention that my dog, Antoinette, has adopted my personality traits.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154082431323400122006-07-28T12:07:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:07.659+01:00

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154082732186467522006-07-28T12:01:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:08.042+01:00

This guy should be sent to Iraq . . . or the French Foreign Legion . . .Beheader of Dog Sentenced to Two Years

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154074810166883132006-07-28T10:11:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:07.386+01:00

Village 5 km to the west of us.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1154074288675083832006-07-28T09:56:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:07.178+01:00

We had dinner last night with our dear friends Pierre-Yves and Marylen.They took us under their wings when we first arrived here; and whenever we have a problem we immediately get on the telephone and ask Pierre-Yves to solve it for us.The two of them had long careers with Air France, and speak perfect English. Pierre-Yves was the head purser on the Concorde for years. He’s organized and very

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1153978584190510172006-07-27T07:26:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:06.880+01:00

An unnamed member of the flock .

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1153935923507884722006-07-26T19:44:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:06.723+01:00

See my reply to your message in the comments section of July 24th. Merci beaucoup!

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1153935124282699082006-07-26T19:20:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:06.564+01:00

Here are a few of the items on today's "things to do before dinner guests arrive" list:pick up dog poop from freshly raked gravel drivewaywash chicken urine and feces off of terrace

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1153921083710092592006-07-26T15:28:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:06.437+01:00

Village down the road

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1153908088090788762006-07-26T11:50:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:06.304+01:00

Last night, the Husband and I walked the perimeter of the sheep pastures looking for clues to the disappearance of Marley. We found tufts of wool everywhere, but they were dirty and long so they weren't Marley's. I joked that we were stuck in a "boring" episode of C.S.I. No fancy editing or hip music to make our plight seem exciting.This morning, I returned from my bike ride, feelin g relaxed

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1153889988988220722006-07-26T06:59:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:06.136+01:00

Blanche is doing better. Her big bag is shrinking so I imagine that her physical pain is going away. Last night, I found her away from her flock, nibbling the meager grass offerings near her shed. She followed me out to the flock when I went to check on them. Beau sniffed her to see if there was any action to be had; there wasn’t so he sidled up to one of the yearling ewes. Blanche stayed

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1153811274600071322006-07-25T08:13:00.001+02:002006-11-09T15:23:05.983+01:00

Blanche in Happier Days

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1153808681272042812006-07-25T08:13:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:05.824+01:00

Blanche was feeling a bit better yesterday. Her bag was smaller, so I imagine she isn't in as much physical pain. She finally came out of her shed, but went into a different pasture than the rest of the flock. She is still isolating herself, but at least she's eating better. I take her geraniums each evening.Still no trace of the corpse of Marley. I can't stop obsessing about what animal took him

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1153717335774783002006-07-24T06:54:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:05.447+01:00

The Progeny with his 83-year-old "slave master", Leonce.

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1153720389027170762006-07-24T06:30:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:05.596+01:00

The Progeny flew back to Montana on Friday. I always feel down when he leaves.That evening, I put Blanche and her lamb out in the field with the rest of the flock. I kept the two of them for one night and two days in the barn so that they could bond. The sheep book says to not keep them in the “jug” for more than three days. Marley was nursing well, and I made the decision that they should go

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1153455852705322032006-07-21T06:19:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:05.300+01:00

Blanche gave birth yesterday to twins. I called a Dutch neighbor who had previously worked in a laboratory that studied sheep and was in charge of the birthing for six-hundred ewes; because I was worried that Blanche was so big she might have trouble.I don't know if calling him was beneficial or not. Blanche had a male and a female. The male came out first. The female, was backwards, and when the

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1152795929588125682006-07-13T14:53:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:05.152+01:00

Our place has turned into a prison work farm. Yesterday, everyone was breaking rocks, hauling rocks, laying rocks, or raking gravel.Leonce the ancient neighbor is building a little shepherd’s hut.The Progeny is helping him.The Husband was raking the gravel that was just delivered over the driveway where the asphalt was ripped out.James, the Guest, was helping the husband.The dogs just sat and

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1152511254402538932006-07-10T07:58:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:05.021+01:00

The Husband and I rode our bikes 36 kilometers yesterday, tackling some high, long hills. We just started our bike riding pursuits a little more than a week ago so we were quite proud of our feat. We rode through gorgeous scenery, filled with sunflowers, to a hilltop village that has an abundant and vibrant Sunday market. By the time we arrived, the bakery was almost stripped clean of goods, so

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304101.post-1152185531675675742006-07-06T13:29:00.000+02:002006-11-09T15:23:04.885+01:00

I’m sure getting tired of walking out in the field every few hours and lifting up Blanche’s tail to see if anything new is developing.Yesterday evening, Blanche wouldn’t get up, so I was certain she would hatch. Especially since we were going to spend the evening at Roger’s watching France play in the World Cup.The Husband was kind enough to go out during a rainstorm at halftime and lift up

Libbyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03366700576044971660noreply@blogger.com0