Barn Photos (Not Mine)

I have found me the most wonderful website (not that it was lost!).  It's called Outdoor Guy Photography and is one of the blogs on Freshly Pressed/Wordpress.com today.  His name is Dan Traun, he seems to love nature, barns, children, animals and - barns! and his Nikon D7000 camera would crush my $50.00 sub-par camera to pieces and,yes, I'm jealous.  So, I'm 'stealing' his barn photos and 'borrowing' them for my blog.  Did I mention he likes barns?

http://www.outdoorguyphotography.wordpress.com/

P.S.  Check out his interesting section called "My Side Mirror", photos taken of what he can see through, of course, his side mirror on his travels.

Kittens and Chick

Took these photos tonight of the kittens and their friendly chicken.   The tabby cat is from last spring (1.5 years old).

Happily playing in the barn.  We were hoping to fill the barn with cattle today but the prices were too high.  We'll have to wait 'till prices come down or possibly a private sale.  When we do get the cattle, though, I'll be worried about the kittens.  They're friendly with older cats, a chicken, 2 dogs and 1 lone calf and lots of people.  I'm sure that they will try to befriend a herd of cows, too and that's kind of scary!

Two dogs.

Lone calf. 

New Kittens

First Snowfall.

 First snowfall of the year last night.

Lots of wood ready and stacked on the porch for the winter.  Ready for winter, like it or not.  The kids are hoping for snow days to keep them home from school.

IN FLANDERS FIELDS

http://www.trekearth.com/

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields

- Lieutenant-Colonel John Mc Crae / WWI

Remembrance Day Poem

One Lone Day

We shuffle out of school

And down the street

To the cenotaph

Where we all meet

People of all ages

Come on this day

To remember those who’ve fallen

The ultimate price that they paid

Though we all look different

We come together in the end

United by bright red poppies

That show us we’re all friends

The ceremony begins

And we all settle down

Waiting to see the true heroes

We excitedly look around

Different people step up

To place down a wreath

Bending low to set it

At the stone soldier’s feet

With guns held high

And heads hung low

All we hear

Is a single trumpet blow

At this the whispers are all hushed

As the two minutes of silence begin

Some bow their heads as they wait

For the slow-coming end

After the two minutes of silence

To school we depart

While looking the same on the outside

The change is in our hearts

To those brave Canadians

that gave their life

To bring us freedom

And end foreign strife

We will always remember

How they gave it their all

For the love of their country

They couldn’t bare to see fall

On one lone day

We pay respect

For two short minutes

                                                                       Lest we forget


My youngest son had to write a poem (with his sister's help!) for school for Nov. 11, Remembrance Day.  It's a yearly event put on by the Royal Canadian Legion with the winners moving on.
The kids often walk up to the town cenotaph to take part in the wreath-laying ceremony.  Nov. 11 used to be a holiday but no longer.

 http://www.independent.on.ca/

http://www.saugeentimes.com/

http://www.rainbowwarrior2005.wordpress.com/

Remember, Remember The 5th of November

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
the Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I see no reason why Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, t’was his intent to blow up King and Parliament.
Three score barrels were laid below to prove old England’s overthrow;
By God’s mercy he was catch’d with a dark lantern and lighted match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!
Hip hip hoorah!

A penny loaf to feed the Pope
A farthing o’ cheese to choke him.
A pint of beer to rinse it down.
A faggot of sticks to burn him.
Burn him in a tub of tar.
Burn him like a blazing star.
Burn his body from his head.
Then we’ll say ol’ Pope is dead.
Hip hip hoorah!
Hip hip hoorah hoorah

My British mom used to quote this old poem every year but I never heard more than the first 2 lines.  A little graphic, I'd say, but such were the times in which they lived.  I really miss the old sayings and songs she used to say, such as "It's a Long Way to Tipperary", "There'll Be Bluebirds Over the White Cliffs of Dover", "Ride a Cockhorse to Banbury Cross", etc.