This Week in Pictures




It’s been a long week, punctuated by doctors appointments, weather events and minor flooding, and I’m too tired to compose anything literary. So for you faithful Funny Farm followers, here are a few images recapping the week:

Martin and the kids continued their Mother’s Day tradition of planting a new berry bush in our garden. This year they added more raspberries and strawberries.






On Tuesday night another monster storm tore through the area. A weather event that’s typical in August, not May — a real gully-washer. Not to be confused with Thursday’s gully-washer. Here are Martin and Hadley, watching as it closed in.




And finally, notable this week: I dyed my hair.


I’ve been calling it “midlife crisis mauve,” but truthfully, my reasons for doing this are pretty mundane. I tinted my locks like an Easter egg because I felt the need for a change.  I wanted to shake things up… and the tattooist in town had the day off. Kidding, Mom.

It’ll wash out. Eventually.



Okay, so that’s it! Hope to see you local readers at the Potomac Hunt Races this Sunday.

Otherwise, stay tuned for a brand new episode of Funny Farm next week.



Not So Plain Rain


It is Wednesday, noon, and I’m moving through the rooms of the house, holding my breath to listen for leaks.

We’re getting thumped by another rainy weather system. Though calling it “rain” sounds pedestrian or prosaic; it’s more like a never-ending wall of water.

It’s not a notable storm — there’s no sexy name like Derecho or Hurricane Sandy — it’s just another weather event that’s become all too common in recent years.

When does this one wrap up? Five inches of rain by 10 tonight or midnight? Just a few hours in and already we’ve reached the point of saturation. The rain dives from the sky, plunges into the earth and then… resurfaces again: percolating up through the stall floors in the barn and pooling in pond-fashion. In the house it’s burbling up through the cellar floor — though it doesn’t sound burbling. It sounds more like peeing as rivulets of water follow the sloped floor and trickle into the sump pump.

Fortunately, no leaks from the usual suspects — the rotted window frames or the porous clapboard on the stormy side of the house. Nothing yet, but I’m staying vigil. 

Meanwhile in the dog’s world, it’s an unremarkable day, no different than yesterday or tomorrow. I noticed Maisie’s absence but couldn’t believe that she’d bolt in this deluge. Then, an email from our neighbor Chet confirmed my suspicion:

No deer, foxes, people, or even birds can be seen anywhere [in this downpour]. There is, however, one very happy black-and-white dog, who just raced through the hayfield with pure joy, headed to the river.

Martin, if you’re reading this: Dig out your Wellies and your rain slicker. It’s gonna be a wet slog to get the dog.





Update at 4 pm: When the kids announce that they’re going to float boats in the cellar, assume that the sump pump isn’t working.



Mud Missive


Right now I’m swamped with work: a couple writing assignments with lurking deadlines, and the usual kid-farm-animal variety of chores.

So a new episode of Funny Farm? Coming soon to a screen near you.

In the meantime, here are a few photos of the Monocacy, a river in close proximity to our abode. (note: nearby, but not close enough to submerge us). Though the river has hovered near flood stage without measuring any record high, its swirling murkiness is mesmerizing nonetheless.



This evening before the kids went to bed, I spotted The Boy languishing in the bath, periodically draining the tub only to refill it once again.

“Turn that tap off,” I barked. “You’re wasting water!”

“Really?” he asked. “After all this rain, can’t we waste a bit now?”