Thursday, June 16, 2011
Better yet, at nightfall the pullets had tucked themselves in the dog crate...every single one! Bless their little chicken hearts. (It probably helped that I had left Bessie Anne in the house until chicken chores were done.)
If spring is a girl in flowered skirts, summer is a boy, landing with a resounding thump and stomping around in big boots. In a week's time, the pastures have turned brown. There's no ignoring this kid; his presence is made known and he's not shy. We who were wet with rain a couple of weeks ago are still wet, sweating like horses with the least exertion. I'm already starting to plan my day around where there is shade outside, and what I can get done before the heat strikes. All the windows in the house have been thrown open and the comforter removed from the bed. With little advance warning and no time for transition, there's a new kid in town, for sure.