The Steelers went down in flames, and I'm going to have to raid the piggy bank to pay off my nickle bet with Dolly. As Clay said, though, "T'hell with football...it's time to go racing!" (NASCAR starts soon.)
I'm getting a reader's tan. Bessie Anne has quickly learned the routine: come back from the barn, strain the milk and set it to chill, grab a book and a beer and go sit on the deck for a bit. As soon as the buckets are washed, she heads for the door to wait for me. As soon as it's warm enough and before it gets too hot, I take a break outside after milking. It's one of the best parts of the day. At first, it's just my face and hands, but as it gets warmer, the sleeves get pushed up and my forearms brown...later, when shirts and turtlenecks get traded for tank tops and the long bibbies get switched for the short ones, more parts will get toasted until I look like something put together by Dr. Frankenstein. Bessie shifts from sun to shade as she keeps me company, sometimes joined by Frank and Pearl, but they usually get bored and go off to do whatever it is cats do during the day (when they're not sleeping).
Crows are back in full force. Until moving here, I had only heard crows caw. It took me awhile to know that they also do the darnedest call...it's kind of a ratchet sound, "K-k-k-k-k," followed by, "Gwock." Birds that have been elsewhere for months are returning. The avian population changes constantly. Hundreds of little blackbirds now fill the oaks and the air with their constant chatter. In the past, I've occasionally seen grey herons in the south pasture. Steller's jays delight the eye with their brilliant flash of blue. Woodpeckers are using their jackhammers on dead limbs. There's so much activity going on around me, it's sometimes difficult to concentrate on the page in front of me. Canadian honkers are starting to make their way north. The groups are small now, but when they come over by the hundreds in wave after wave...now that's something to see.