Cabin fever.

All the residents here at Crosswinds farm have been suffering with a raging case of cabin fever, after all, it is January in Iowa, and you will have that here, it happens. A lot. Each of us has been trying to cope in our own way. Sunday, Gary and I decided that we needed to get out of the house for a while, so we opted for some 'flea market therapy'. I think we all know about my unnatural love of junk...mostly old junk....wooden junk, farmy junk, antique junk.....pretty much all of it. Yup, I love junk.

It was a nice day for a drive, and although on this trip we didn't really find anything that we couldn't live without, it felt good to get away for a couple of hours. It is more the thrill of the hunt anyway, that makes my heart go pitter pat. Never knowing for sure what you are going to find in the bottom of that filthy, dust covered box. Or what treasures might be lurking under the piles of musty linens....boy, I really make it sound appealing, don't I?

The only things we came home with were this old canning jar, 'cause I love them and like to put more junk inside of them,

and this basket (that the seller touted as being an egg basket, but I am pretty sure it is actually a golf ball basket...either way, it works for eggs). I needed a basket to carry my eggs into the house. I am not known for having a fabulous memory, and as Miss Effie and I say, we don't multi-task as well as we used to, so I generally forget to bring an egg carton out with me when I do chores in the evening. My forgetfulness has resulted (more times than I care to admit) in me stuffing eggs into my deep Carharrt coat pockets while I carry on with the rest of my business, only to hear a crunch later as I bend down to fill a water bucket, or clean out a feeder, leaving me with a pocket full of soupy, scrambled goodness.........now let's see if I remember to take the basket out with me.

The other inhabitants of the farm found different ways to entertain themselves and pass the cold January day.

Rooster Cogburn struts about proclaiming his superiority over any and all that reside here.
Ande follows me (at a ridiculously close proximity) generously offering his assistance.Cinnamon, the barn cat, comes along during chore time to act as an over zealous Walmart greeter, schmoozing with all the critters.

.....except the chickens, he has a deep fear of chickens (he is contemplating his escape in this photo).
And then there is Emma. Emma doesn't care about cabin fever...or anything else really. As long as she has something fun to roll around in.....

...and, of course, her funky, mowed over, falling apart, constant companion Jolly Ball, she's happy.

Brown Kitty has found that if she tips the heated water bowl to empty it, it makes a lovely place to warm her feet on a cold January day.

I guess we all have to do whatever it takes to get through the long winter.