You’ve heard me say this before: You can take the girl away from the farm but you can’t take the farm out of the girl. Or something like that.

I was raised on a small farm in the heart of the Willamette Valley near Eugene, Oregon. Our six acres included a half-acre vegetable garden (which took entire summers to weed), dozens of fruit trees, blackberries growing wild right on the fence line (what I wouldn’t give…), Angus beef, a couple of quarter horses and the occasional flu-free swine. We had a couple of dogs, too, but my dad drew the line on two things: No chickens. No cats.

That’s OK, because, as you know, I’m really not a cat person.

Unless that cat thinks it’s a dog.

But this spring has brought me such a nice surprise.

You’ve already met the girls.

Let me introduce to you the litter that found its way into our garage over the weekend:

litter

blackie

itwasallyellow

e i e i oooooo!