Trust

There are certain important events that have happened during my lifetime that I can remember exactly where I was when I found out about them.

I was at our kitchen table when my parents told me I was going to be a big sister.

I was in Mrs. Pierce’s English class the morning of September 11, 2001, when the first plane hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

I was on I-75, somewhere between Adel and Tifton, when I found out I was accepted into UGA.

I was at my desk in my room in Athens when I got the call that I got the job in Chattanooga.

I was alone in my two-room apartment in Chattanooga, on the living room floor, when I found out my dad had cancer.

I was at a softball game, covering it for the paper, when my mom called me to tell me the surgery had gone fine.

I was in my armchair when I found out it had come back. In my car when I found out it had come back yet again. In the yard. At Nini’s house.

I had just finished up editing a session at my computer today when I found out he is finally cancer free.

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God is so faithful.

Once I turned my worries over to God, He wrapped me in His arms and I finally felt peace. I hadn’t felt peace in so long. I let go of the anger and the questions of why it had to be him.

Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all that He has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand.

Some would chalk it up to a coincidence, but I know that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Although my trust was in Him, having a parent with cancer still weighed down heavily on me.

It  would creep into my mind if I awoke in the early morning hours and I’d lie in bed and ponder the “what-ifs.” Many a Disney movie has been watched at 4 a.m. and 5 a.m. to help ease the worry and to lull me back to sleep.

I’d begin to speak up during Sunday School or Bible Study to add him to the prayer list, but I’d change my mind when I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get the words out.

I’d act out of anger towards Tom or say something I didn’t mean to someone I care about. I’d think to myself, “I’m upset and it’s okay to act this way because my dad has cancer.” Then I’d feel guilty for using his illness as a petty excuse for my behavior.

My mind was divided into two time zones. Pre-cancer diagnosis and post-cancer diagnosis. I’d look through photos and think to myself,”this was just a few months before we found out.”

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Today, I looked down at my phone and I didn’t understand what the words meant. I could read them, but couldn’t put them together to make them form a comprehendible sentence. It had just become a fact. My dad had cancer. That was that. I had grown accustomed to bad news.

Do you want to know the first thing I did? My eyes filled with tears and I thought I was going to cry, but I didn’t, really. I walked outside to my porch and looked up at the sky and thanked God. I was embarrassed that I hadn’t trusted in His plan from day 1.  I said “thank you” over and over again. I didn’t know what else to say to Him. Then, I fell asleep. And for the first time in a year, I slept. I slept hard and for a long time. I didn’t dream and I didn’t wake up panicked. You don’t know how much something can weigh on you until you come out on the other side.

I slept and I woke up and began my day over again.

Post cancer. Not post cancer diagnosis.

Post cancer.

My Savior, He can move the mountains.

My Favorite Space

My favorite room in my house really isn’t a room. It’s my porch.

The porch was one of the main selling points of this place to me. Well, other than the original hardwood flooring. The perfect location. The barn out back. The acreage. The potential for farm animals. And the high ceilings.

Okay, I love my house.

But honestly, I loved the porch the first time I ever laid eyes on this little place. It’s not a wrap-a-round like I’ve always envisioned, but it serves its purpose well. It’s the perfect spot to relax and read a magazine, to have a picnic with friends, or to sit back and spy on the crazy cowboy that seems to appear out of nowhere – another story for a later time.

I’ve spent quite an amount of time fixing up the exterior of the place. It’s in great shape structurally, but since it was a rental for so long, nobody wanted to spent a considerable amount of money on making it “cute.” Totally understandable. That’s where I came in. This place needed some life breathed into it. Some color.

Lucky for me, I know a guy that knows a guy that owns a tree farm. So, we’ve installed 3 elms, 12 magnolias, and 7 cherry trees in the yard – and we’re not nearly done. My barn area sits in the middle of a small pecan orchard, so it’s got plenty of trees, but the yard had very little and looked more like the Sahara. Slowly, but surely, that’s beginning to change.

Anyway, back to my porch.

The first thing I did when I moved in was paint the boring green door. Now it’s the most vibrant, blinding shade of yellow that’s legal in the United States.

Emma made me the perfect burlap wreath – I get the most compliments on it! And the best part is, I can use it 10 months out of the year. I switch it up in November and December, but you better believe this beauty stays on my door as much as possible.

My patio furniture was … and this is pathetic … what I call a “pity-party buy.” Now, I have a bit of a budgeting problem sometimes, and I’ll be the first to admit that. When I lived in Chattanooga, if I ever felt lonely or homesick, I’d go buy something. Now, this isn’t necessarily beneficial or healthy, but it worked for me, okay? Sometimes the pity-party buys were small things: maybe a necklace from TJ Maxx or a pair of flats. And sometimes they were as big as patio furniture. Either way, my patio furniture is a necessity when you have a porch like mine. I also had a nice porch with a mountain view in Chatty, so I could definitely justify this purchase, thank ya very much.

My next install were the hanging planters. Now, I’ve lived here for nearly 8 months, and I’ve already been through 2 sets of hanging planters. Watering a plant daily is such a huge commitment. When I saw these perfect ones in the garden section, I knew they had to come home with me – they’re a perfect match to my yellow door. I’ve actually done a pretty stellar job watering these, thanks to my maintenance crew who installed a hose right next to my porch – now I don’t have to make 49 trips to the back of the house with an old skool watering can. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Tom and I got the window planters on super-clearance at Lowes. I think we only paid $3.00 for them, and they look super precious on my railing.

I found a bench in our storage building in Butler – not sure of the story behind it or where it came from, but it’s perfect on my left side – it holds flowers, a birdhouse made by a precious old man, and is sortof my “catch-all” spot, if you will.

Here’s the whole thing put together:

Oh, and I promise the house isn’t crooked. Just the stairs.

Now, branching out into my yard…

See those bushes by the side of the stairs? WELL, guess what the right one holds?

THAT’S RIGHT, A BIRD’S NEST. It belongs to a Mama Mockingbird, and it’s been really neat to see her build the nest and then care for the eggs – I can’t wait until they hatch. I will myself to stay away from it as much as possible, but I do take a peek everyday just praying I’ll see three sets of eyes looking up at me.

I saw my very first hummingbird today. I’ve been skeptical on whether or not they’d been visiting or if my feeder was just leaking. Tom also planted some hydrangea bushes around the front of the house, which will look amazing during the summer. There’s nothing more Southern than a bunch of hydrangeas.

Another recent install was my raised garden. Tom built it out of old railroad cross ties. It’s filled with the best dirt in all of the world, Soil 3. Seriously, this stuff is legit. Ben Copeland, who owns Super Sod came up with the concept – I don’t know much about how it works, but it literally will make anything grow. Check them out on Facebook and order your own semi-truck load. It’s fun because a semi comes to your house.

I’ve got tomatoes, carrots, okra, basil and parsley in this bed. Tom and my dad are also building a bed alongside the fence for things that need to climb, like more tomatoes and beans. This gives us so much more garden space. In the front of the fence facing the road, we’re planting flowers. I’m also busy plasma-cutting some metal flowers to hang on the fence

The chickens, well, you wouldn’t recognize them. Still ugly and still mean as the devil. I haven’t gotten brave enough to let them out of their coop yet after the devastating demise of Loretta & Cully. Plus, I don’t think they’re quite old enough (or smart enough) to stick around just yet.

Melrose is still precious and eats more than all three of my dogs combined. She seriously has the biggest appetite of any animal I’ve ever had. She lives in the barn now and loves it. I let her run around with the chickens during the day (they’re scared of her – stupid chickens).

And last, here are some pictures of my two trouble makers doing what they do best: causing turmoil. I know I don’t talk about Aphid as much as the other two, but that’s only because he is perfect and never causes any trouble – seriously!

Now after you’ve seen all that, can you believe there are still people that think this house is creepy?! Seriously, even the man that came to fix my air conditioner said he couldn’t believe I’d live here alone. Fine, you have your granite counter tops, your fake hardwood floors and your plush carpeting – I’ll take this any day of the week.

Me Too

Weevil’s having seizures. I knew it was happening, but I didn’t admit it to myself. But today, I witnessed one for the first time. They’re caused by his enlarged heart.

I called Dr. Felix and I cried. He listened. He listened because he knew I know what seizures mean. He listened because he knew that’s all I needed. To talk to someone who loves them as much as I do.

Tom told me Weevil had been having muscle cramps in the morning; that his legs would stiffen and curl up, that he’d fall over sideways. He was just trying to protect me. He knows I take it harder than most. He knows that when one of my babies are hurting or sick, that my heart hurts with them. I made myself believe it, too. Because silly muscle cramps are so much easier to comprehend than a seizure. You can fix muscle cramps.

He had a seizure this morning. I heard a thud from behind me. He fell off the couch and I dropped everything I had in my hands and grabbed him. I held him and I cried. I talked to him and rubbed his side. After about a minute, he was okay. But I wasn’t. He licked my tears away because that’s what dogs do. They are selfless little creatures that God sends us to show us how to act. He licked my tears and Tom came home from work and hugged us both. We ate lunch, but gave most of it to Weevil, because that little champ deserved it.

“I wish he wasn’t sick.”

“Me too, babe.”

“I’d give him my heart if I could.”

“I know, sweetie. I would too.”

I love him so much.

I try to prepare myself for the morning he won’t wake me up with that cold, wet nose in my ear.

I try to prepare myself for finding his fur on furniture when he’s not there anymore.

For leaving trash bags on the floor and having them stay unharmed.

His empty chair at the dinner table.

Those ears. I don’t ever want to forget how soft they are.

It’s hard knowing someone you love is very sick and you can’t do anything.

All About Easter

To be honest, I love Easter more than Christmas and my birthday combined. I can’t remember a day when I wasn’t absolutely, wholeheartedly obsessed with Easter. Coloring eggs, hunting candy-filled goodies, baby rabbits {and chocolate ones, too}, peach blossoms, pastel-colored dresses, Sunday sunrise service. EVERYTHING about Easter makes me happy. Perhaps my love for Easter stems from my obsession with Spring and Easter is sort of the “official marker” of warmer weather and longer days. Let’s be real, here. Winter is full of cold weather and darkness. Now, that’s great and all for about 2 days and then I just want to die.

Tom and I are lucky to be spending Easter in the best of ways this year. We’re eating lunch after church with Ben and Kristin and their kids, Katherine Ann and Win. We’re heading over to dinner at Emma and Matt’s house that night where my parents, Tom’s parents, and Matt’s family will eat together. Maybe if Dad and Tom would finish building my dining room table, I could host a holiday dinner. Ahem.

My Easter decor went up on February 17th and will probably remain until a month or so before Christmas. The only reason it didn’t go up the day after Valentine’s Day was because I was busy dying of food poisoning. Anyway, I feel like I’ve spent enough time on this blog harping on that.

Sticking with my theme of showing off my mantel…

As you can see, I’ve made approximately 0% progress in covering up my beige walls. *Sigh* Baby steps.

The Easter bunny actually made a visit earlier this week. He’s got abnormally large ears and has a fondness for digging in trashcans, digging holes in the yard, climbing onto tables, rolling in dead worms and dumping bags of dog food onto the floor. He’s really quite the charmer.

And the Easter “chicks” have grown up into the ugliest teenagers with terrible attitudes and bad skin. I hate them. They finally graduated to their “big-kid” coop this week and they love to escape and run up under vehicles so that one has to do the army crawl to reach them.

I met a guy earlier this year that breeds rabbits and he wanted me to have one. So here’s Melrose Culverhouse, a 2-month old baby rabbit that eats more than 50-lb Odie Claude. Now before all heck breaks loose, she’s not a prop for my photo business, although she’s made a few {supervised} appearances. She’s a pet that lives in her own little mansion in my barn and she’s quite happy there. She and the chicks have bonded quite nicely, although I’m scared to let them interact too much in case bad attitudes are contagious.

And because I can’t write a blogpost without mentioning my three stooges…

Odie Bear continues to keep watch over my yard. I walked out the other night and found him sitting in the chair I’d been using earlier that afternoon. My sweet hood rat.

The other two rats keep busy double-teaming Odie and beating him up, begging for food, or helping their mommy photograph 25 cans of BBQ sauce over an 8-hour period in the rain. Never again.

A few exciting things happening in April:

My friend from Chattanooga, Dan, is coming to visit for a weekend and to participate in a bike race in Perry.

I turn 24. Which maybe that’s not that exciting. I don’t really like birthdays anymore.

Tom and I are going to New York City with our BFFN {best friends for now}, Brittany and Patrick. We had such a grand time last year in Punta Cana between “Fanta Uvas,” “jamon y mayonesa” sandwiches, and “tienes un perros” that we can’t wait to see what the English-speaking Big Apple has in store for us.

Chosen

Tom and I attend a small Methodist church here in Fort Valley. Nestled in one of the only pretty parts within the city limits, Fort Valley Methodist has been such a blessing to us both. Since I worked every Sunday morning (shame on me!) for a year straight, 2013 is the first year I’ve been able to actively attend and my heart feels happier just being able to have that time of fellowship each Sunday morning.

Our interim pastor is such an amazing person. He brings the congregation (and himself) to tears each Sunday with his sermons; they’re relatable, non-accusitory, uplifting, and just simply interesting. I love to hear him preach each Sunday, but recently he said the most important words I have heard in my entire 23 years on this earth.

I’ve been so angry. It’s hard to admit it, but I’ve been so angry at God for the past year. My dad was diagnosed with cancer last May and since then, I’ve asked God so many times, “why him?”

Why does it have to be him?

God, ever since I was 4 years old and we’d dance in the living room to Brooks & Dunn’s “Maria” I’ve loved him. That’s my first memory. Looking up at him; I’d stand on his feet and we’d blast that cheesy, terrible country song, because it was my favorite, and we’d dance all around our living room. He’d have a 16 hour workday under his belt already, but he’d always make time to dance with me.

I was his little clone; I still am with our silly square heads.

Why does it have to be the man who’s taken care of me, who can fix anything, who’s provided for me and sheltered me, loved me unconditionally since before I was born?

Why does it have to be the man who rode me on the four-wheeler when I was a baby to make me go to sleep? The man who bought me a scooter and wrecked it in the driveway. Who’s worked long hours and has given me a better life than I deserve. Who comes to my rescue when I’m sad, sick, or broken.

Why, why, why would cancer invade the body of someone who’s so perfect in my eyes? He didn’t deserve this.

I retreated. I told two people. I stopped talking to God because I was mad. I just cried and I worried.

Eventually, time took it’s toll. I began to be able to talk about it without bursting into tears. I could tell the people who were suspicious. I still gave no details; “he’s fine,” “we caught it early,” “no, we don’t need anything.” I began to be able to think about other things, to focus on my job again, to enjoy life. But I was still so angry, so bitter that God didn’t answer our prayers. Just take it away. Wake me up from this nightmare. Make it me instead.

During the sermon, Pastor Hamlin was discussing how easy  it was to praise God during the good times. How easy it is to lift our hands towards the sky and know that God is so good when things are going our way. When we’re happy. Healthy. Successful. It’s so easy. But it’s not that easy when we fall on hard times. Suddenly those hands fall by your side, they’re no longer lifted upwards. We face the trials and turn from God, questioning Him. That’s what I’d been doing for 10 months. Retreating. Questioning.

I believed, but I didn’t trust.

Pastor Hamlin then asked us to think of life’s difficulties in a different way. Have we ever stopped to wonder why we (or someone we love, in my case) were chosen to face the hard times? He has a reason for everything. That God had chosen my dad to have cancer because He could use my dad in some way. Had I thought of it in that way?

No, I hadn’t. I’d been too busy fearing what the next doctor’s appointment held. Too busy not trusting in Him. I wanted to be in control.

I cried. In the middle of church. In all those months, those sleepless nights, fretful days, I had not ONCE thought of it that way. As Oprah would say, it was an “Ah-hah” moment. I literally felt at peace with things, at that very moment. That He had wrapped his arms around me and reminded me that He is good, all the time. That my dad was CHOSEN to be part of a greater good. And maybe we aren’t sure what that is, yet. Maybe it has yet to be reveled. I just pray the Lord will give me the ears to hear, the eyes to see, and the heart to receive what it is He is doing through my dad. But I have peace now. I know I’m not in control – and thank goodness for that.

God gives His hardest battles to His strongest soldiers.

Peaches to Beaches

If you know me at all, you know how much I detest mornings. I’ll do nearly anything and go to any length to arrange my schedule to prevent me from having to wake up before 8:30. I’ve only met one other being that hates mornings more than I do, and his name is Aphid Lewis Culverhouse.

That said, if there’s one thing that will get me up and moving during the wee hours, it’s shopping. If there’s shopping involved, I’m the rooster squawking before the dawn. Such was the case Friday morning, when the annual 100,000 mile-long yardsale “Peaches to Beaches” kicked off. Unfortunately, Aphid did not share in my excitement.

Mom and Dad picked Aphid and I up at a quarter till eight and we began our adventure less than half a mile down the road where I found this beauty. I have a very important Indian-themed shoot coming up, and I couldn’t resist having this “bouncy-horse” in on it. What a steal for only $25.00. And how lucky Tom is that he gets to haul it around in the back of his truck to various shoots for the rest of eternity. I’ll paint it, of course, but it’s in great shape structurally. Can’t wait for everyone to see it used in my shoot coming up this Thursday! It’s going to be pretty awesome.

I also snagged these vests for fifty cents each and I know two very special cowboys that will get some use out of them.

I picked up these pots at the same location that I’m going to use as flower pots by my side door leading out to the fenced-in area. I’m estimating that it will take Odie Claude approximately 3 minutes to dig them up. That’s if Weevil doesn’t get to them first and knock them over with his wagging hind end.

Further down the road, I fell in lurv with these $5.00 vintage sheets for my guest room. I mean, I know it’s kind of weird to buy used sheets, but I checked these over pretty well and they look like they’ve never been touched and they fit the overall theme of my house. Which can basically be described as 1920′s housewife with a fondness for chickens. Sad, but true.

At the same sale, I also bought these notecards for $1.00. I’m a huge believer in snail-mail, and I have quite a few elderly pen pals that will get a kick out of these. I like them so much that I might even frame one for my breakfast room.

Meanwhile, mom scored big-time with two rolls of basically unused fabric for the kitchen at our cabin in Butler. She also got a gorrrrgeous rabbit lamp for our dining room at the house in Warner Robins. She’s collected rabbits since before I was born, so I knew she’d flip when I pointed it out to her.

I bought a vintage tablecloth and an apron for an upcoming shoot, but I’m sure they’ll fit in quite well inside my house once I’m done. I paid $10.00 for both which wasn’t awesome since the tablecloth had a tear in the lace detailing and the apron has some stains, but I’m not a bargainer, really.

The next stop was downtown Perry, which was packed with vendors. Mostly junk, but I did pick up a few small things.

Don’t ask me why, I just loved it. I walked away from it at first, got really sad, and went back. {$3.00}

Once again, don’t ask me why. It’s delightfully tacky and being a farm family, we’re pretty obsessed with the weather around here. The girl comes out of the house when it’s going to be sunny and the little boy comes out when it’s going to rain. Not quite sure how it knows, but it’s probably more accurate than the weather man. But as good-looking as our weather man is here in Middle Georgia, I’ll still tune in at 5:00 and 6:00, but just to swoon over the dreamy (and unfortunately, married) Ben Jones. {$3.00}

This one had Mom and I laughing for nearly 10 minutes. When I was little, my mom was picky about what toys I could have; she had to like them, too, and they couldn’t be “tacky,” as she would say. I didn’t really play with Barbies or dolls or mainstream toys. Instead, I played with Little People. Little People toys were my childhood. My mom would set them up into a little town and I’d stay in the playroom for hours. They stopped making them because children were choking on the Little People, so they’re sort of valuable nowadays and hard to find. I saw this little garage, which just so happened to be my FAVORITE when I was little (yes, I had one already). But, like all hoarders, I wanted it so badly. It didn’t have a price, so I assumed she wanted upwards of $30.00 for it. Mom asked how much it was and she told us to name a price. Before we could say anything, she said $5.00 – I threw it at her and Mom and I ran away with our prize, giggling like little girls. My future kids will be delighted. Until then, I’ll just hoard it.

Once we got to the outskirts of Perry, the yard sales got junkier and junkier. The only thing I picked up was this chicken dish for $2.00.

Oh, and these Bean Boots. I rarely wear anything other than boots nowadays. I’ve ruined probably 10-12 pairs of shoes since I’ve moved home. Between feeding all the animals, working on various projects around the property, and my outdoor photoshoots, it just doesn’t make since to wear anything but boots. I already have a pair, but a backup couldn’t hurt and for only $15.00, I knew they had to come home with me.

On our way to Hawkinsville, we passed by a tiny neighborhood with only a few houses – the lightpole had a sign on it that had almost blown off. As Mom went to turn in, I protested. “Mom, let’s not even waste our time here, come on.” Persistent, she pulled into the neighborhood. There was no one at this yardsale, which was very unusual and the lady literally had like…6 or 7 items in her yard. I noticed two vintage pedal cars, which I’ve been wanting since I began doing children’s photography, but they’re so expensive. So expensive, in fact, that I didn’t even get out of the car. Because I didn’t want to see them. And fall in love with them, only to realize, she wanted far too much for them. Mom asked her how much she wanted for them.

“Ten dollars a piece,” she said.

I heard it from inside the car. Mom nearly fainted. I am fairly certain I had a stroke. From the backseat, Dad woke me up from my trance by saying, “THAT LADY SAID TEN DOLLARS! GO!”

I’m also fairly certain I didn’t use the door. I flew out the window and threw money at her like I was making it rain in a strip club. I asked her if she was serious and she acted completely oblivious that she was allowing us to rob her. I wanted to offer her more for them, but then again, that would be dumb. I still feel like a criminal for buying these beauties for only $10.00 apiece. I grabbed the fire engine and Dad ran out from the backseat and grabbed the other one as we raced to the car before anyone else saw them. As we were putting them in the car, a man pulled up behind me and offered me $100.00. I told him I’d taze him if he didn’t leave me alone.

Not really, I just told him no.

Honestly, all three of us were so elated after that that we barely could talk about anything else the rest of the day. Nothing could compare to the deal we just snagged from that wonderful, clueless lady. I’m pretty sure all three of us hyperventilated because we had to all take a water break and allow ourselves time to recover. It was nothing short of a miracle. I keep them in my guest room and sometimes just sit in there and stare in disbelief.

By this time, it was approaching noon and we could tell things were starting to get picked over. We stopped at the Sam Nunn plantation house where everything is always ridiculously overpriced. I did snag this $8.00 “dragon” chicken for my kitchen – I’ve been needing something to go over my washer/dryer set, and I knew this would be the right size.

I also got this … I guess you could call it folk art? The man who drew it noticed me eyeing it, took ten dollars off the price, and told me he “likes to get drunk and draw things.” How could I not buy it after all of that?

The road to Hawkinsville was paved with disappointment. Many stops and not much to show for it.

I picked up {yet another} suitcase. A photographer can never have enough suitcases. I told the lady I was going to put a baby in it and she looked at me weird. I’m not sure why.

And I bought a jar of canned jalapeno because I was hungry. They were too spicy to eat and not nearly as good as my Aunt Jeannie’s.

When we finally reached the town square, it was nearly 5:00. Just like my MIL, I’m absolutely OBSESSED with old country churches. Honestly, obsessed is not the word for it. I have hoards and hoards of photographs taken from all over the southeast of old country churches. I can’t pass one without taking a photo. There’s really nothing more beautiful than a white church with stained glass and a steeple. I’m getting worked up just typing about it. Anyway, I found this church sign and when I saw that it was only $7.00, my jaw hit the ground. Of course it had to come home with me and hang in my foyer.

I also picked up this chicken basket (noticing a poultry theme here?) filled with dainty little eggs for my coffee table. {$8.00}

At our very last stop, just down the road from the courthouse in Hawkinsville, I struck up a conversation with a precious elderly man. He had an instrument called a “hog scraper.” Thinking it was something used to groom a pig, I asked him if it was used to cut their hair. Well, it is. After they’ve been boiled in hot water. I immediately threw it down and explained my pig was a PET, not to be eaten. He thought it was hilarious and we ended up talking about how he used to raise pigs and participate in pig shows. I showed him photos of Lucy and ended up buying a birdhouse from him because I wanted to remember him each time I saw it. {$8.00}

All in all, it was a spectacular day. I spent some good ‘ole quality time with my parents and Aphid. We had the best time and I’m already anticipating next year. Maybe we’ll make it farther than Hawkinsville? Once Tom was sure the shopping was over, he met us at the Oil Lamp in Perry and listened to us brag about our finds. I fell asleep at 9:00 that night, probably the earliest I’ve gone to bed since middle school.

Photo Update | Life at the Culverhouse

Things have been going fairly smooth around here since I’ve slowed down a bit with my business and put limits on how much I work per week. I have most mornings free to edit and I usually do a shoot each afternoon and 3-4 per weekend. Things are trucking along at a pace I can handle and I haven’t experienced the chest pain-inducing stress in months.

Things around the house are going well. When I say well, I mean they’re going well, so WELL that my WELL broke and racked up a $1,400.00 WELL bill. Oh well. Then my heater broke, leaving me with another $300.00 bill and a sky-high power bill on top of things. I do love my house. So much. But home ownership is for the birds, man. Especially OLD home ownership, but I wouldn’t trade it. I’m used to a maintenance man swooping in and saving the day for free, but that just doesn’t happen when you own a home. Luckily, Tom is pretty handy and saves me lots of money on repair bills, but the ones that are out of his league sure do hurt.

I guess the biggest change around here is the fact that we now have a pig. I didn’t want a pig, but I’m known around Fort Valley as the biggest SUCKER in the county. Tom’s friend, Scott, has two sons that show pigs. Little Lucy didn’t make weight this year, so her fate was either me or bacon. People think that I’m the sucker, but it’s really Tom. After the influx of bills from the past month, I told Tom there was NO WAY I could afford to take care of and feed a 200 lb. pig. But Tom insisted, and is in the process of fencing in one side of my barn. He’s also responsible for all of Lucy’s expenses and care. Lucy (aka “Little Oink”) fits in quite well. She’s always covered in mud like her daddy, has an appetite like her mommy, and is lazy and spoiled like all of her brothers and sisters. So far, having a pig is exactly like having a dog. She rolls in the dirt, loves to have her belly scratched, and runs up to us when we walk over to her gate. She’s even had a few visitors stop by to meet her.

I forgot to mention how much she smiles. She seems to have a smile permanently plastered across her sweet face.

It’s also amazing how much she eats. We feed her leftovers, pig feed, and hay. She also grazes all day, steals the goat and mini-horse food, and we’ve had a few feed bowls go missing…

Speaking of pigs…

Odie Claude has gained almost 15 pounds since I found him roaming the streets of Fort Valley in November. I am quite smitten with this little boy. As Tom says, “you can take the rat out of the hood, but you can’t take the hood out of the rat.” OC is such a hooligan. Aphid and Weevil are so used to the finer things in life – Aphid barely even wants to go outside and FORGET IT if it’s raining. OC stays outside all day long and loves it – his main occupation is digging. A few weeks ago, I brought all three dogs a bone. The first thing OC did when I gave it to him was run to one of his beloved holes and bury it.

Aphid thought this was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard of and made his opinion known. Odie Claude just stood guard with those teeny ears drooped. I eventually had to dig up the bone and throw it away to avoid getting sent to jail for dog-fighting. When Odie is intimidated or nervous about something, he shuts his eyes…incase you were wondering why he looked like a meek little meercat in all of these pictures. Aphid was putting up quite the fuss.

Weevil’s heart condition is stable and he seems to be feeling well. He digs in the trash, knocks over any cup you leave sitting around, and will attempt to climb on any surface he deems climbable. Tom brings him by most mornings and he stays in my fence.

Another addition to the Culverhizzle is my tire swing. I was so excited to finally get this up and ready before my spring sessions begin.

On a sad note, Tom and I came home from church last Sunday and saw two stray dogs in my driveway. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw that one of them had something in its mouth. At first, I thought it was a cat, but the way Tom jumped out of the truck and started beating the dog clued me in. They killed both Cully and Loretta. I guess that’s part of living on a farm, but I sure was sad. They had become like pets and my clients adored them. I buried Cully on my grandparent’s land and unfortunately, there wasn’t enough left of Loretta to bury. We aren’t sure who the dogs belonged to. Tom wanted to shoot the dogs, but I said to save the bullet for the owners who aren’t watching them! They didn’t have collars but they looked well fed. Maybe their bellies were just swollen from so much chicken. My sweet chicken family will be missed, though.

I was so excited to introduce Cully and Loretta to their new children, but they never had the opportunity to meet. We have six teeny weeny baby chicks that, as of today, graduated to their temporary teenager coop instead of my guest bathroom. In a couple of weeks, I’m hoping they’ll be big enough to stay in my main chicken coop that you can see in the picture above.

They were the cutest, tiniest little babies when I got them.

Now they’ve grown up into loud, obnoxious teenagers with one heck of an attitude.

The picture on the left shows them at a week old; the picture on the right is their 2 week photo.

I hope their eggs are half as beautiful as the ones Mrs. Jennifer gave me. Loretta was an Ameraucana, which are known as Easter Egg layers. She had the prettiest blue eggs. These six babies are Red Pullets, which lay brown eggs. Not as pretty, but equally as tasty!