We lucked out in my area of Massachusetts this weekend with just one big tree down on the road in front of my neighborhood and a smattering of leafy debris in the backyard. Still, I moved the garden inside before things got going on Sunday morning.
Easier than putting bike helmets on them
A baby turkey from the rival gang* ran into trouble though. One minute he was waddling around with his family, the next he was in the backyard, chirping the most heartbreaking cry. Lucky for him, Beau leapt into action and ran outside to hustle him back to the tree line where the rest of the flock had disappeared shortly before. St. Beau, patron saint of poultry, returned from his adventure unscathed.
The rest of the day was spent safely indoors engaging in various cabin-fever fighting activities. I taught myself how to cast-on and (generally) how to do the knit stitch but after half a dozen attempts, things were still going terribly wrong when I tried to start a second row. I figure some frustration is probably healthy for a person though. It reminded me that not everything comes so easy. I'm sure it'll make success that much sweeter in the end.
Knitting abortions
While I cussed and threw balls of yarn across the room, Beau was happily overhauling the basement and jamming out to a mix CD from high school that was discovered in the clean up (featuring among other gems NSync's It's Gonna Be Me). When I was finally permitted to enter the sacred man space, I was delighted to find that our dedicated junk room had been reborn into a home brewery.
Behold! The Man Cave
Like little alcoholic soldiers getting ready for battle
* There are two flocks of turkeys in the woods behind our house. Our flock of six birds including three adults and three babies, which frequents our backyard in the morning and early evening, and the group that we call the rival gang, which is too large to get a clear count on the members.
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