Dark Moon Farm, LLC

06/04/2026

I just ran out to the barn... anyone care to guess why?

06/03/2026

I spend a lot of time outside by myself. Barn chores. Garden work. Wandering around the pastures checking fences. Shoveling p**p - so much p**p. The usual farm stuff.

And I swear, at least once a day, I get that feeling that something is watching me.

Sometimes it's a dog.

Sometimes it's a goat making questionable life choices.

Sometimes it's just paranoia.

But when I'm walking through knee-high grass?

It's zombies. I'm sure of it.

Not fast zombies either.

Slow zombies.

The kind that don't need to run because they know I'm eventually going to trip over a hidden rock, a groundhog hole, a fence post, or my own feet.

There is absolutely no logical reason for this fear.

I've never seen a zombie.

I've never found zombie tracks.

I've never even found evidence of a zombie.

Yet every time the grass gets tall enough that I can't see the ground, my brain immediately decides there are at least three of them hiding in there waiting for me.

Probably crouched down.

Patiently.

Like oversized ticks with worse attitudes.

I'll be out there carrying a bucket, trying to look casual while making enough noise to let the zombies know I've spotted them.

Because everybody knows zombies prefer surprise attacks.

So I talk to myself.

Kick at the grass.

Poke suspicious clumps with a stick.

Generally behave like a completely sane and rational adult.

So far, no zombies.

Just grass.

Crickets.

The occasional frog.

And let's face it - it's my own fault. Doomsday p**n addiction and all.

And one very judgmental barn cat.

But one day it's actually going to be zombies.

And when that happens, I expect apologies from everyone who laughed at me.

06/03/2026

06/02/2026

House Hippo Shenanigans
Episode 20: The Battle for the Papasan Chair

In the wilds of the modern homestead, the North American House Hippo can often be found occupying soft furnishings far beyond its natural size limitations.

This particular House Hippo had no intention of sharing the Papasan Chair. None whatsoever.

The chair had been carefully claimed sometime around 9:07 a.m. through the ancient and highly respected method of "I was here first." From that moment forward, ownership was considered legally binding under House Hippo law.

Several challenges were expected throughout the day.

A human might need the chair.

Another dog might want the chair.

A blanket might require rearranging.

None of these concerns altered the House Hippo's position.

Observers noted that despite occupying less than 12% of the available chair surface area, the House Hippo somehow managed to control 100% of the chair. This phenomenon remains poorly understood by scientists.

As the afternoon sun streamed through the window, the tiny beast settled deeper into the plush blue nest. Her eyes remained partially open, ever watchful for potential intruders.

The battle had been won.

The chair was secured.

The kingdom was at peace.

At least until someone opened a cheese wrapper in another room.

Then all treaties would be immediately suspended. 🦛🧀

06/01/2026

My social media reels have apparently decided that every man dreams of marrying the low-maintenance woman who doesn't want designer purses, expensive shoes, jewelry, or perfume.

My husband used to tell his friends how lucky he was.

"My wife doesn't want any of that stuff. She wants books, seeds, and livestock."

And honestly, that was true.

The problem is that books turn into bookshelves.

Seeds turn into gardens.

Gardens turn into greenhouses.

Greenhouses multiply.

Livestock turns into more livestock because apparently nobody can own just one goat. Or one sheep. Or one cow.

Somewhere along the way he realized that while I don't collect handbags, I collect infrastructure.

While some women are out shopping for luxury accessories, my husband spent part of his day building yet another greenhouse because I casually mentioned I was running out of room.

And by "helping," I mean he did approximately 96.58% of the work.

I held things.

I handed him tools - once.

I occasionally provided moral support.

And I made sure he knew how much I appreciated his efforts by immediately discussing all the things I plan to grow in it AND the next project! Did I mention he is also remodeling our guest bathroom?

I occasionally think I hear him standing in the yard muttering to himself.

Not loudly.

Just enough to wonder if he's doing math.

The thing is, I didn't marry a loser.

He's been spoiling me for more than 19 years.

So yes, I'm spoiled.

But at this point, that's really on him.

When I point at a ridiculous project and say, "You know what would be a great idea?" he rarely says no. He might mention it's inconvenient. Sometimes he improves on the idea.

So now we have cows, sheep, goats, chickens, gardens, greenhouses, and enough ongoing projects to keep us busy until retirement.

I still don't want expensive purses.

I just want seeds.

And livestock.

And greenhouses.

And maybe another greenhouse.

In hindsight, those designer bags might have been cheaper. 😂

05/31/2026

We had a visitor at dusk this evening.

A black bear wandered out of the woods and strolled across the property. He didn't seem particularly interested in anything, just passing through and minding his own business. That changed when the dogs spotted him during their evening potty break and started barking.

Apparently, he decided our dogs were far more concerning than he was. The moment he realized they were there, he turned around and headed back toward the woods at a much quicker pace.

It's always a good reminder that while we share this land with plenty of wildlife, most of it would rather avoid us than cause trouble. Still, I think the dogs are feeling pretty proud of themselves tonight after successfully defending the homestead from a bear. 🐻🐕

05/30/2026

Another greenhouse project is underway at Dark Moon Farm. Apparently word has spread through the local wildlife community.

We started hauling out the poles, sorting parts, and figuring out which pieces go where. Pretty standard farm construction stuff. What was not part of the plan was discovering that one of the greenhouse components had already been claimed by a very surprised resident.

As I started moving materials, this little garter snake (Thamnophis sirtalis) popped its head out and looked at me with what I can only describe as complete and utter betrayal.

Excuse me, ma'am. Some of us are trying to have a peaceful afternoon.

Sorry, buddy. The free housing development has been condemned. Immediate eviction notice. No appeals process.

The good news is that garter snakes are welcome residents around here. They eat slugs, insects, and all sorts of garden pests, which automatically puts them on the "helpful employee" list. They just occasionally choose inconvenient places to live.

So construction was briefly delayed while I relocated our tiny foreman to a safer spot and explained that the greenhouse was intended for peppers and tomatoes, not snakes.

I don't think he agreed with the decision.

🐍🏡🌱

05/27/2026

These are the heartiest chives I’ve ever grown.

I neglect them horribly.

I forget to water them sometimes. I let them go completely feral in the planter. I let them flower. I let them go to seed. I basically treat them like tiny onion weeds with benefits.

And every single year they come back bigger, thicker, and more determined than before.

Meanwhile, the bumblebees absolutely adore them. Every time the flowers pop open, the whole planter starts buzzing like a tiny bee airport. Which honestly makes me ridiculously happy.

There’s something I love about plants that don’t need perfection. No fuss. No drama. No delicate greenhouse diva behavior. Just:
“Cool. Winter’s over. Guess we grow again.”

Honestly, life goals.

Also yes, the bees have fully claimed this planter as their property now. I just pay the mortgage.

05/26/2026

I spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening in the greenhouse working on peppers.

It was hot. It was drippy. Which, admittedly, is not a great combination. But then again, it's a greenhouse. If it's not hot and drippy, something has probably gone terribly wrong. So really, it was exactly what I wanted.

While I was working, I got a visitor.

A dragonfly.

Dragonflies aren't unusual around here. Some years we have hundreds of them. They patrol the pastures, zip down the driveway, and generally make themselves useful by turning mosquitoes and other bugs into lunch. They're also some of the prettiest insects we have.

What was unusual was seeing one this early in the season.

Now, depending on who you ask, dragonflies are said to symbolize change, transformation, prosperity, or good luck. I don't know about all that, but I do know that finding one inside my brand-new greenhouse while I was planting peppers felt like a pretty good sign.

So I've decided the greenhouse has officially been christened.

Not by a ribbon cutting.
Not by a bottle of champagne.

By a dragonfly.

And honestly, I think I prefer that.

May the peppers grow, the weeds stay confused, the pests stay hungry somewhere else, and the dragonflies continue their patrols.

I'll take that blessing.