Pearl is even more confused with the time change than I. She frequently will sit on the sill by my head and give the wake-up call. She woke me this morning and I had one foot on the floor before I saw that it was three-thirty! I fear I was a bit surly when I explained to her that we would not be getting up then, but she was waiting for me an hour later and we began our day. PST, DST...all NUTS to me.
There seems to be a symbiosis between red ants and star thistle. I hadn't seen too many of the red devils over the summer, but suddenly there they were recently. Star thistles throw up many little yellow, puffy flowers that are much loved by bees before adding the hard, dry thorns that give the plant its name. When the flower goes to seed, the yellow fluff turns white and that's when the ants show up. Long trains of ants, each carrying a white seed, travel from plant to nest. I'm not sure what benefits the ant, but they obviously plant the seeds for next year's crop of thistle.
There are no walnut trees on my property. The nearest grove I can see is well over a mile away. I am finding perfect halves of empty walnut shells all over the pathways. They obviously are being imported by the crows. It's enough that I feel the need to provide the chickens with tiny hard hats to protect them from the falling acorns; now they're being bombarded by walnuts!
What with spiders, snakes, and mice, I've learned never to reach into anything without looking first. I'd fed Twenty-Two and left the lid off the empty grain barrel in the goat barn, knowing I needed to fill it after milking. Luckily, I looked before dumping in the seventy-five-pound bag of feed later, because there at the bottom was a squirrel. Tipping the barrel, I let it run for cover. Reminder to self: always put the lid back on.
Company will be arriving this weekend. I hope I can get adjusted to the time change by then, as it seems impolite to invite someone to drive five-hundred miles just to watch me sleep in the chair.