When I first moved here to the farm, it was not a Christmas Tree Farm. We had acres of Flowers, Ornamental Corn, Gourds, pumpkins and you name it, we had it. We also had a lovely well kept meadow where we boarded "sheep" for our horse breeder friend. He was having a problem when he separated the Ewes from their babies and needed a place to put the Ewes where they could not hear their babies calling for them during their weening process. Also keeping the Rams separated until breeding season. ( He and my daughter who is the Equine Specialist for the State of New Jersey became friends many years ago when they both were racing Standardbred Horses). He wanted to be sure his show, breeding and meat sheep were cared for properly and having been friends in the horse business he knew we cared for our animals properly. You do not just put them in a field and tell them to eat. Sheep need watching for hoof problems as well as health problems,
So, since our meadow was not being used and we had enough to do without keeping it mowed every few days to keep it looking nice, we offered it to him to use if he wanted to bring the Ewes to this location. He was pleased because the meadow had been used for our own animals for years and we kept seeding it and mowing it to keep it in top shape. Sheep would help us with our mowing and we would feed them at the same time we fed our own animals. That became my job since my part of the house was closest to the gate and feed tubs of that meadow.Barney and I loved those sheep and became very attached to some of them during their stay. This story is a result of our fun and love for the sheep in our meadow.
"The Sheep Kisser"
Have you ever kissed a Sheep? Well, let me tell you I have and it is fun.
Every morning JB and I have the job of counting the sheep in the meadow and making sure they are all well and healthy. Here at RobLyn Farm they board some show and some meat Sheep. (The owners either do not have enough pasture for them, or they may want to keep the Ewes separate from the Rams and Lambs until breeding season. No matter for what reason they are here, we must keep an eye on them to be sure they are well and healthy.
We begin by walking around the entire pasture and checking each Ewe individually. It is my job to kiss each one and make them know we love them. I am really good at kissing because I practice a lot on my family. At first the "girls" as JB calls them, thought I was a sheep dog and they were afraid of me, but now after several weeks, they have learned I am a Jack Russell and just a "kisser", not a herder.
They come to the fence when we walk by and stick their noses out for me…like they are all puckered up…but of course sheep can't pucker. I give them a sniff and a kiss thru the fence and then move on to the next one. Some of the older, bigger ones just lay there and ignore me, so I stick my head thru the fence and grab a mouth full of their wool and pull….. they turn their heads towards me and get their smooch. Their noses are fuzzy and dry. That's a good thing. I would not want to kiss a wet nose. Ugh!
It is kind of fun and some of the little, younger ones are playful and put their heads down like they are going to come after me and when they get to me they just sniff and wait for me to react. Of course I react quickly with a big wet one.
Considering I was raised on a bird farm, and I had never even seen a sheep until we moved here, I would say I am adjusting very well to this type farm life. I really like it here. I have all these new girl friends and I don't even mind that they are not dogs.
The end for now!
Growing up as an only child I had to find my playmates/companions in many forms. Most of the time I spent with my fur and feathered friends and I would speak to them and I would pretend they spoke back to me. I was born with a sense of humor that would not quit and many times over the years it has gotten me into trouble, but it has also kept me alive. During my years of growing up and older I found myself talking to not only the animals and birds, but my plants. One time when I was pruning one of my jasmine plants I kept telling it I hoped I was not hurting it when I cut the branches but that when it was all finished they would be beautiful and feel so much better.
After I caught myself talking to the plants I really wondered if I was loosing my mind but I then thought back and realized that I am still an only child and have not changed in all these years. I keep telling myself I am just sensitive and love my plants and animals and birds as I love my human family. I also began keeping a journal off and on for many years During the years of writing in my journal I would write stories pretending I was someone or something other than me. I think that is where my sense of humor shows up. I found some of those stories while cleaning up my computer files and decided to share them.
These I wrote as Barney, my one Jack Russell Terrier who was my companion for 9 years during some of the most difficult years of my life. I have always believed that writing about things that make you laugh or happy help save your sanity when you think there is no end to life's miseries.
The first one is about Barney arriving at Laurel Run Bird Farm, my home and business. He was a puppy and such a funny little dog, but extremely smart and protective.
THE FORPUS FARM FEROCIOUS ONE
My name is Breezewood's Barney, most of the people here call me Barney, Mom (JB) calls me Barn Dog, my nice neighbor calls me Mr. Barney, but I don't care what you call me as long as you just call me. I love attention and get lots of it here. I was born in Pennsylvania on September 24, 1997. My Dad's name was Breezewood's Elvis ( a black and white Rough coated Jack Russell Terrier) and my Mom's name was Glenhaven's Zania (a Brown and White Smooth coated Jack Russell Terrier). Let me tell you, I do not look like a Jack Russell Terrier. I look like a mix of something, I am a 30 pound tri-colored Jack Russell, half rough, half smooth coat. But those who know me love me.
When I first came here I was a tiny puppy dog, and not too well behaved. Mom (JB) had a really nice lady come here to the farm for a lot of weeks and teach me how to behave like a gentleman dog. I am really a nice, intelligent, well mannered, loveable, young man dog now. At least I think so.
My job here at the farm is to protect Mom (JB) and my family of feathered friends.
I do such a good job that Mom (JB) makes me stay in my crate when customers come inside to pick up their new babies. I don't think she trusts me, but unless someone didn't smell right, I don't think I would harm anyone…I don't think????
I also make sure all the birds are in or on their cages at all times. Sometimes when my friend, Tweeter, The Farm Alarm, gets excited she falls on the floor and I must run and tell Mom (JB) to pick her up. She has a bad leg and cannot get back up to her cage when she falls on the floor. She just sits there and waits for me to get Mom (JB).
The job I really like is writing stories. I may write anything I want as long as I don't tell any stories that aren't true.
The next story is about Tweeter, Barney's favorite of all of the birds at Laurel Run Bird Farm.
THE FARM ALARM
In the Spring of 1996, Tweeter pipped her way out of an egg in the Exotabator at Laurel Run Bird Farm. She is a Sun Conure from parents ( George and Gracie) who had the nasty habit of destroying eggs soon after they were laid. JB would pull the eggs and replace them with fake eggs and place them in the incubator. Tweeter's hatch date arrived and there was very little pipping activity. JB was really concerned. It took Tweeter much too long to pip her way out of her shell. When she finally arrived, she was very tiny and weak and her one leg was turned backwards. As soon as JB was sure her critical period was over, and she was sure to survive her stressful beginning, she packed her up and took her to the Avian Vet for his opinion. They both felt at that time they should start to move the leg back to the correct position. This went on for weeks. One time the vet put a brace on her hip when she got bigger and nothing seemed to help. The vet then told JB he felt a ligament was damaged during her hatching. There was nothing more they could do.
As Tweeter grew, she became more beautiful than all her other siblings. I doubt if she knows she is disabled. JB kept Tweeter and her brother Timmy and they were to live here with us as pets.
Today, Tweeter has the place of honor on the Sun Porch. She is seldom in her cage, and never tries to fly. I think she knows her wings are clipped and she would just fall on the floor. She just hangs around and sometimes she hangs on the cage door by her foot and grabs at my tail when I walk by. One time she missed my tail and fell down. I went and got JB so she could help her get back up on her cage. I knew better than to mess with Tweeter. She has a big black beak that could hurt me.
There is a big rocking chair beside her cage and if someone sits on the chair, she comes down the cage and picks at the arm of the person until they talk to her. She doesn't bite, just pulls at their sleeve. She loves attention. She also gives lots of kisses.
She does one thing I am not allowed to do and that is, drink orange juice out of JB's glass. I am not sure I understand why she can do it and why I can't?????
She also helps me protect the farm. She screams a really loud scream when someone comes in the circle drive and there is no "turning her off" like you would any other alarm. Many times when I am taking a "doggie" nap, I hear her leave out a scream and being the watch dog that I am, I must go and check it out myself and then, if necessary, I must bark. Well, sometimes I just bark for fun. This is kind of a game we play and JB gets really upset at us for teasing her. She comes running to see who is there and it is just me and Tweeter.
I don't want to hurt any of the other bird's feelings, but I think Tweeter is my favorite. I call her the Farm Alarm.
Moving on to more of Barney's Bird Farm Fun.
OUR ODD COUPLE
I know JB has Senior Moments, but being a relatively young dog, I don't think I would be subject to them just yet….but this morning I thought I had one.
The bird room is one of my favorite places to sniff around because all my birdie buddies throw out some of their goodies and I, being the hoggy dog I am, eat anything that tastes o.k. I usually make several trips out there during the day, especially in the morning because that is when most of the treats I get are freshly thrown. This morning I did a sniffy trip and heard Joey, the one lovebird making lots of noise. He is not really too noisy unless he is upset…I checked and Joey was sitting on top of his cage flapping his wings and making all sorts of unhappy sounds. He obviously was trying to tell JB that his partner, Sage, another male lovebird was not in or on his cage. I did a check of the floor to be sure I was safe from any biting beaks, and no Sage. I went into the kitchen and checked it out and nothing. JB was busy working at the counter. I decided I needed to call her attention to the fact we were in the one bird missing mode. It did not take her but a second to start to check on what was happening.
I thought it best for me to stay out of her way and then I heard her say," what are you doing in there?" ….I just had to look. There he was, Sage and Tweeter sitting on Tweeter's feed dish both having breakfast. They have, in the past, played together, but Sage would never try and go into her cage. They looked so happy and content picking and eating their food, but that came to an immediate end when JB insisted Sage returned to his cage immediately.
No matter how many times JB told Sage to come out, he just ignored her. When JB talks, we are to listen, but Sage turned a deaf ear and then he hid behind one of Tweeter's big toys and you could hardly see him. When JB found him she reached right in, grabbed him and put him back in his cage. Sage was so surprised he didn't even protest.
She moved so fast and furious that Joey went flying off his cage, knowing he was next to be grabbed. I went after him. That is when I heard NO BARNEY….and I was just about to get a good grab on Joey's tail, but instead, I turned and ran into the kitchen…Joey looked up and there she was…and there he went. He was in his cage in seconds, but not without a small fight because I heard JB say a few choice words after she said "OUCH". I know Joey is sorry he bit her because that did not make her very happy and when she is unhappy, we all wait for the explosion. It never came, instead, things got really quiet for a while and then JB went back to Tweeter and started to explain why she may not have male visitors. Evidentially, Tweeter is at the age when she could be having babies, and JB is afraid Joey, who is of age also, may just decide to make that happen.
I heard JB asking someone on the telephone if Lovebirds will breed with Conures…but I could not hear what the person said so I guess I will never know the answer to that question. Which is o.k. because I don't understand that bird talk anyway.
Tweeter and Sage do make an odd couple. Tweeter is so much bigger than Sage, but they are both beautiful birds…… if you like birds.
Footnote to the above story.
Sage, the lovebird lived to be 19 years old and everyday of his life he spent with Tweeter. When he died I honestly think Tweeter missed him to the point where she began to change her attitude and eating habits. She died about a year later at the age of 22. These two birds were inseparatable, yet at night Sage knew he had to sleep in his own cage because Tweeter slept on the bottom of her cage. Unable to perch due to her leg problem she was a bottom sleeper and Sage being normal was a percher so at bed time Sage would go in his cage which was next to Tweeters and sleep. First thing in the morning, he was out again and over to her cage for the rest of the day.
I never bred Tweeter because I was never able to find out why that leg was the way it was. None of her siblings ever had a leg problem but I did not want to take any chances. I feel sure it was being in the egg too long at birth.
Gunny, also known as The Big Gun, the Double Yellow-Headed Amazon
There are a lot of birds around here….almost half of all the rooms in the house have birds in them. It really is fun when they are all behaving and making their bird sounds. Frankie the Canary is the loudest but he sings a really pretty song. Then there is Gunny….the Amazon,
Who not only can't carry a tune but he can't remember the words and the words he does remember he doesn't pronounce correctly. For example, he sings Happy "Burfday" to you. Now I ask you…then there is his favorite Mary had a little…Mary had a little….little what…the whole song is Mary had a little. I wish he would learn the rest of it.
Gunny is the biggest and the oldest bird JB has here at the farm. He more or less just hangs out on the top of his cage talking, mumbling, making funny sounds and singing. There was a time he would never leave that cage. He has now started to change his habits. He must be getting brave in his old age of 12.
My crate is in the same room that Gunny lives in. I like it in that room because the babies that are for sale are in there and I can watch them playing and learning to fly in the flight cages. But he has really started to irritate me. Just as I am getting all cozy and relaxed and am half dozing off,
in my crate with the door open , Gunny gets down off his cage and waddles like a duck over to my crate and stands in front of me and flaps his wings and makes clucking noises. Me, being the well-behaved coward I am, I just stay inside that crate and wait to see if he is coming in with me. So far I have not had to deal with that ever happening…JB usually is within sight and hearing that cackling noise, she rescues me from that nasty bird. I wonder if he thinks I am a bird?
The other day I was in the breeding room with JB checking for mice and I was getting under her feet and she kept bumping into me so she ran me into the house with the broom. I hate that broom and I turn and ran really fast through the mudroom and up the two steps into the room where the babies are and WHAM, BANG, AAK. When I hit the top step I hit something and it moved and I kept going until I got in my crate. When I looked to see what I had bumped into, there was JB talking to Gunny. He was standing on the top step and when I went running past him I knocked him on his tail feathers. He was really angry with me and JB stood there laughing because the expression on that birds face was really funny. He was looking straight at me and I think I could read his mind….but, I can't repeat what I think he was thinking. He climbed up on his cage and stared at me for the rest of the morning.
When The Big Gun is in a good mood and I feel like playing, JB sits on the floor with Gunny on one side and me on the other (I don't think she trusts either of us at times). She takes one of my tennis balls and rolls it to Gunny and he pushes it over to me and I push it back to him. It is fun but his attention span is not as long as mine, so the game only lasts a few minutes. I would rather play with JB alone, but this seems to make her happy when we behave and play together.
There is one more thing that he does that really gets my goat. JB and I have our time together after she feeds the babies before dinner. We sit in the living room, relax and have a drink and a snack. Gunny and the other pet birds get a cracker. This is my favorite time. But, Gunny usually eats fast and then he starts yelling, "Jack" "Jack" "What are you doin?" . The only way JB can shut him up is to put him in his cage, kiss him good night and close the blinds. When
that is done, you can hear him yawning and settling down. That is when I like him best, when he is asleep.
The end of this one.
This is the last bird story Barney wrote. It is my favorite because it is about my sweet babies. The baby Parrotlets are so tiny and funny
The Dirty Dozen
It was really hectic here at the Farm this Spring. Breeding season was nearly over with the exception of two nest boxes of Pacific Parrotlets that each contained 6 eggs. On June 5th,the day our Nana, (JB's Mother) died, the eggs started to hatch. All the eggs were fertile and all twelve babies hatched.
JB had the brooder set up and ready. When the babies eyes started to open, between 10 to 14 days old, she removed them, two at a time, from the nest. A very small band was put on each baby bird (in NJ all Parrotlets must have bands).
All but the last two chicks were removed from the nests. One was ten days old and the other, a very tiny one (the last to be hatched). JB was afraid to leave the little one alone in the nest because the parents may not feed him, so he got pulled early along with the 10 day old chick from that clutch.
She tried to keep the 6 clutch mates together so she put 6 chicks in each crock in the brooder. That lasted a short time and they started to switch places. They would jump out of the crock they were to live in and crawl in the other. They were always switching places so she gave up. They all wanted to be together in the brooder and huddle on one pile so, that is what they did.
Feeding was difficult because you must to be sure everyone eats the proper amount of formula and everyone ate a different amount. At first when they were small, there was no problem, she would feed them and move them to another place in the same basket. But as they got older they were so active that did not work. Finally, all 12 chicks were put in a big flat sewing basket and fed, one at a time, moving them into a small fish tank when they were done eating. This was the only way to be sure not to miss one or feed one twice.
They were all strong and healthy babies (two blues and 10 greens) but they were very sloppy eaters. At the end of each feeding everyone and everything was full of formula and one day JB started to call them the "Dirty Dozen". They were such a mess when they were finished eating she would take them one by one and wash their faces before they were put back in the brooder.
The little guy with no feathers was always the first in line to be fed and he would crawl up over top of the other 11 to get to the syringe and scream at the top of his little lungs until she fed him.
The other 11 chicks had feathers and Rover had none. JB tried separating him and putting him alone in the same water brooder, but in his own nest closer to the warm water so he would not get pushed aside and get cold. That didn't work, the minute he was awake, he would crawl out and go cuddle with the others. She was so frustrated with him she just gave up and left him do what he wanted. She said he was like the old "Land Rovers". They went up over top of everything like tanks. So, she named him Rover.
After about 8 weeks all of the Dirty Dozen had been sold and had gone to their new homes.
You could see the relief on JB's face when the last one left. I know she hates to give up her babies, but she also told me she would not miss the mess this twelve made.
Oh, I forgot to tell you, Rover did not leave…….JB could not part with him…she is such a softy……he is going to live here with us……..but, that is another story. The end for now.
Rover all grown up!
This is the Bird Story Collection from Barney, the Barndog. It was fun writing them and hopefully the will bring some smiles to the people who read them. The stories are all true, the characters are all true and no, they have not been published. The were written for fun and fun alone. I am sharing them with love to all my friends who love birds as much as I do. Enjoy!
GROWING UP ON ROBLYN CHRISTMAS TREE FARM
Little buds were popping in the big trees. It was Spring and I found myself being put into a big box with hundreds of my other little tree friends here in Western Pennsylvania. The box was sealed and we were loaded into a big truck and began our long trip. We were wondering where we were going. We stayed quiet for a long time and then the truck began to move.
We were bounced around and thrown around for days. My roots were getting dry and my friends were smashed against me and I was one unhappy little fir tree. I thought I was going to die for sure. Then the big truck stopped and we felt our box being taken out and dropped on the ground. The driver asked someone if this was 305 Wrightstown Sykesville Rd. Wrightstown, New Jersey, and the person said yes it is. So he put us down on the ground and I heard him pull away. I was glad to be on solid ground at last. We waited for a few hours, we had very little water left on our roots and it was stuffy in the box.
Much to our delight, the box was opened and we saw daylight again. Soon a man gently began to pick us up and drop us roots first in a big white bucket of cool, fresh water. It was great having a drink again. Then, another man, began taking us out of the bucket one at a time and trimming our roots with sharp clippers. It did not hurt, in fact getting all the straggly stuff off felt good. I knew then I was at my new home and I was really glad. I could hardly wait to see what was going to happen next.
My tree friends and I were now laid in the bucket of the front end loader with some water to keep us from getting thirsty. Soon we began to move and we were taken to a big beautifully prepared field. It was marked with little orange flags spaced evenly apart in rows. It was in full sun and just a perfect location for us to be placed and left to grow into beautiful Christmas Trees.
I was about 12 inches tall after my roots were planted and covered. I stayed that way for a long time. With the changing seasons, my little branches began to get stronger and bigger and my little needles began to form and were really pretty and smelled so good.
I noticed as time passed I was bigger and it felt so good to be able to spread out and look around. All my tree friends were there with me and we would make tree chatter among us. The little birds and butterflies began to sit on us and enjoy our sweet tasting sap.
One day I felt something digging in the soil near my trunk and saw a Mommy Bunny making a nest close to my trunk under the branches where she would not be disturbed. She had four baby bunnies in her nest and as they got older they would play safely under my branches and scamper around staying close to their nest until they grew older and could outrun any predators. One by one they went off on their own and I would see them scampering about among the trees, playing and jumping and eating the clover in the middle of our rows.
All this time I am growing taller, my branches are getting stronger and my needles are getting a beautiful color and longer. The man who planted us has sprayed us to keep insects and worms from getting in our trunks and branches. He also fertilizes the soil so we have plenty of nourishment. We are feeling cared for and loved and that is really what it takes to make us happy.
Time passed, winters were sometimes snowy and icy. One time I looked like an ice cube. The rain turned to ice and all my needles were icy and stiff. I was glad when the sun came out and melted it.
As the seasons change and the holidays come, we notice the farm becomes really busy after Thanksgiving Day. Our field is quiet, but the other fields are full of children running and playing, families having pictures taken standing in front of the bigger trees, people playing in the snow, trees being cut down and loaded on cars to be taken away to their new homes. It was really exciting to think one day it will be my turn. We are still not big enough. It takes between 5 and 7 years or more for people to notice us and begin to take interest in our size and shape.
Wow, I just had a new experience. I am being trimmed with a long trimmer. My straggly growth is all gone, my top is cut and trimmed and then it dawned on me. I AM OLD ENOUGH TO BE A CHRISTMAS TREE. I am now about 7 feet tall and still growing, and I am beautiful. I can hardly wait until the seasons change again and our field is open to the public.
Then it happened, the leaves began to fall off the big trees by the lane, the grass did not grow, the summer birds left and the winter birds were busy eating and singing. Big red bows were put on the top of some of us who can be seen from the road. Our farm sign, Roblyn Farm, had big red bows on it and I knew then, this year it was for sure, my field would be open to the public.
If I am lucky, someone will pick me to go home with them and I will be trimmed and decorated and make some little ones very happy when Santa comes and puts the gifts under my branches. Now, all I need to do is look beautiful and wait.
The weeks are going by and people are picking the taller trees. Here I am, waiting to make some kids happy and no one wants me. Now that makes me very sad. I was about to give up hope for this year, when I noticed two little girls and their daddy. The littlest girl was pulling a cart with a saw and gloves on it, coming into my field. They are getting closer, yes, they are stopping.
I feel someone touching my branches and gently feeling my needles. I am so excited! They put something on the ground under my branches and I knew then, they had picked me.
The older girl got down on the pad and began to saw into my trunk. I was so excited I was afraid I would drop all my needles. Wow, I am going home with them!
They put me on the cart and took me over to the barn where two men put the bottom of my trunk in the hole of this tall thing they call Mr. Shakey and held me by my top and then it happened. I was shaking all over and the old tree leaves that were stuck in my branches went flying out and all my old dead needles went all over the place. They shook me until nothing more could fly out of my branches. Wow, what a wild ride that was!
When that was finished they covered me with some really pretty red and white netting and loaded me into the back of their truck. At last, my dream will come true. I am going to a home to be decorated and Santa will put all the presents under my branches on Christmas morning.
I AM NOW A REAL CHRISTMAS TREE!
Merry Christmas from all of us at Roblyn Farm. The pictures of their girls are printed with permission of Dawn and Ray Goeke, taken from one of their annual trips to the farm. May God Bless you all and may your Christmas be filled with peace, joy and love.
Once Upon a Time there was a beautiful weeping cherry tree on a Christmas Tree Farm in New Jersey. It was a magnificent tree located in front of an old barn where everyone could see. Then one day a big storm came along and the tree was gone.
Cleaning up after a devastating storm is always a sad thing, especially when you loose an old tree that you watched grow into a landmark. I am sure there are not many weeping cherry trees that lived as long as that one did. It was so special in so many ways and now there is nothing left but a big ugly stump.
We debated removing the stump but the roots were so close to the very old barn that we were sure that would end up being a major problem, so we just cut it down to the ground as far as we could and left it sit to rot. Very depressing memory of a very nasty storm.
In the coming months, instead of throwing the potting soil from dead starter plants in the greenhouse out in the field, I began throwing it on the old stump to try and cover up the unsightly mess. One day the neighbor, who has a farmers market and many greenhouses dropped off some plants she was going to throw away and ask me if I wanted them. They were small cuttings and starters of some old Sedum. Just what I needed to help hide the stump I thought. So, I began planting on that old stump and slowly it began to show signs of life and beauty.
Much to my surprise a seedling from the old holly began showing life at the back of the stump. Some cats and kittens and miniature Hosta were added. We still have a long way to go, but these views show you how it is progressing.
I am sure many people have done this over the years to their old stumps, but this was my first attempt and now it is more like a memorial to our old cherry tree rather than just an unsightly old stump. It is amazing what plants can do to help you recover from a disaster.
Please enlarge the pictures if you want to see the entire picture.
Another shot of the progress of the old stump
If you look close, you can see the little holly seedling at the very back by the old barn
Grandmother Maze' always told me me things happen in 3s. I know now she was right.
When I first moved here to my daughter and son-in-laws farm, to stay out of trouble, I was feeding the barn cats one day and I had Barney my Jack Russell with me to help. He loved cats and seldom chased them. This day was a bit different. We kept the cat food in a large metal garbage container for safe keeping since there were five sometimes more cats arrive to eat day and night as well as other critters. I was leaning over and into this big can one morning and suddenly a stray cat arrived and off went Barney to chase him away. In doing so he went between me and the garbage can and I went flying right down and the can went up under my armpit. I hung there, trying to get on my feet again finished feeding. Spent the rest of the day getting really sore. Ended up going for xrays to be sure no ribs were broken. All is well that ends well. No breaks, just badly bruised left armpit, arm and chest.
I went along for a year or more with no problems and one day I had the plant wagon full of plants at the door of the greenhouse and I turned around to fix them as I was moving them from the greenhouse to the outside. When I turned around without knowing it I knocked the handle of the wagon and it fell down on the ground. I am blind in one eye and sometimes do not see things on my right side (which is what happened in this incident). I turned back and began to walk into the greenhouse to get other plants and tripped over the handle of the wagon, throwing me onto the stone floor of the greenhouse. I tried to break the fall with my right arm and damaged the rotator cup and muscle in that arm in doing so. Ended up going for an xray to be sure nothing was broken because the pain was nasty. All is well that ends well. No breaks, just badly bruised right arm and shoulder.
More years passed and all was going well. i am now 84 and still remain active and healthy except for the pacemaker and some arthritis in the feet and hips and shoulders (no doubt from previous falls from horses and dumb incidents).I had the dog on the leash and we were going for our morning stroll around the farm. We went out the door and went around the front of the house. Around the front of the house are some 2 x 4 s that border the grass and separate the stones in the barnyard and the grass. Sometimes the 2 x 4s pop up due to rain or freezing weather, but I usually am very careful to watch for something that could cause a fall. I made the turn to go where Charle, my Cavalier King Charles Spaniel was leading me and when I did I stepped on the side of the one 2x4 and it threw me to the left, I knew I had to break the fall so I went down on my knees and therefore the damage was to the side of my foot only. I was still holding on to Charle, on my knees on the grass trying to decide if I was all in one piece. I finally got up and realized the walk had to be cancelled because I was not sure if I had broken my foot. I could not walk on it. I got us inside painfully and I mean painfully, and got the ice pack on the foot. I could not use the foot all day which meant nothing was going to get done in the greenhouse, outside or anyplace until my kids came home. The next morning I knew I was in trouble so I told my daughter I needed to have it xrayed and something done to make it easier to walk. She made an appointment with her foot surgeon and we had xrays taken, bandaged,and he put on a walking boot. All is well that ends well and the xray results showed nothing was broken just the ligament badly bruised.
OK Grandma.........you are right, things do happen in threes. I miss you so much. (Your Spanish wisdom is also missed.)
The end of my story. Hopefully, if Grandma is correct, there will be no more incidents to write about.
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