Tending to chores yesterday, I glanced over into the "orchard" (where the trees don't grow well and the birds get all of the fruit, when there is any) and noticed a four-foot post in the ground where I hadn't put a post. My curiosity piqued, I wandered over and found that the post was the broken end of a fifteen-foot branch that had evidently dropped straight down from the oak, buried (and I mean solidly buried) itself in the ground, and snapped off. Loggers call these limbs widow makers for good reason. I thanked my poor, overworked guardian angels that no animals, chickens, buildings, vehicles, or me was underneath when it fell. Tree Guy hasn't come back. I think I'll use the fallen branch to light a fire under his tail and get the oak over the barn taken down. Goat kebabs are not on my menu.
I check the Blogspot statistics every day. I find that since June (when the stats became available) I've got readers in twenty-five countries, including the U.S., recently picking up Iran, Iraq, and Pakistan. I have no way of knowing the constitution of these readers. They may be nationals interested in a very small slice of Americana, or like Cousin Mark, countrymen in foreign places finding The View a way to touch home. Those readers in the States may live in big cities, finding amusement (I hope not derision) in a completely different lifestyle, or country women (or men) like myself, finding common threads. There are between thirty and fifty "hits" a day, over forty-six hundred to date. This contact, albeit anonymous, makes the world seem much smaller and a much friendlier place. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to see The View From Farview Farm through my eyes.