I surrender, I give up. Mouse Mama had once again started a nest behind the curry brush. I can't credit her with good sense, but she takes the prize for obstinate determination. I did have to use the brush one more day for the girls, but I was careful not to disturb Mama's nursery and even left her a bit of gratis fluff. I was able to find a new brush at the feed store, so all's right in my world.
As the hens came tumbling down the ramp yesterday morning, Iron Monger Guy and his helper drove up. He'd lost the directions to my new neighbor's place and thought I might help, and I was happy to do so. IMG is a big tease and a lot of fun. Even though it set me a bit behind, it was a nice surprise and a great way to start the day.
Down in the pen, the girls all seemed to have been struck with a silly stick. (My dad would have said they had a feather up the butt.) Mock battles broke out everywhere, just for show. Not known for running, Inga and Sheila raced around the pen at full bore, seemingly for the joy of it. The fits of gaiety did not interfere with taking turns on the stand, so I could just take pleasure in their own.
My regular Thursday milk customer came for the last time. Sarah's own goats were bred and delivered, so she has her own milk source now. I will miss her gentle company once a week, and seeing her little girls as they grow. Kellan and William, the poop-scooping team, will take Sarah's place for milk on Thursdays, so I won't be quite so bereft. In fact, since the promise of rain that had threatened all day was not fulfilled, they will probably be here this morning to move my poop pile to their place.
Cold and heavily overcast here, my niece in New Hampshire called toward evening. It had been eighty-three degrees there and she'd spent the day working in her herb garden. It felt like we'd stepped into a flip-flopped alternate universe, our seasons are so out of whack.
It was a good day.