Sunday, July 15, 2012

No Cooperation

I've been trying to get a photo of Huey and Dewey, those moosey, overgrown scrub jay adolescents down at the barn, but by the time I get the cell phone-camera out of my bibbies while milking one-handed, a parent will bring a tidbit and the boys get so excited they darned near fall off the perch and the pictures show just a blur of wings and open mouths.

Sheila pulled an "Inga" yesterday and refused to come in to be milked, preferring to stay up with the alfalfa and looking at me like she'd never heard the word 'Sheila' before in her life.  After schlepping a big bag of grain to the barn, milking the others, and cleaning the stalls, I was disinclined to chase her the length of the pen in the heat.  I gave her fair warning and plenty of time to change her mind, but no, so I picked up the buckets and went home.  We'll both pay for that today.

My guys are due in tonight, and that meant a major shopping trip yesterday.  A trip to the grocery store plus an errand or two took almost five hours, including travel time.  No wonder I go only once a month.  I'd planned on getting apples for a pie, but when I found ripe apricots at a decent price, I changed that plan immediately.  Usually the stores carry rock-hard, green, flavorless apricots, but these were at the peak of perfection and I couldn't resist.  Going back again to my childhood, apricot pie epitomizes the flavor of summer for me, more than sweet corn, more than watermelon.  I could say this pie will be for Pete and Jake, but if truth were told, this one is for me!

Well, as Frost wrote, "I have miles to go before I sleep."  There's a lot more than baking pies to do today.  I'll bet Sheila is the first one in the door this morning!

1 comment:

Kathryn said...

Oh what I would give for an apricot plucked right from my tree! That is one of the things I miss about leaving my Orange County home...the generous tree in the front yard. I have planted 2 ultra-dwarfs in pots. Starting from sticks, they have leafed out beautifully, and my fingers are crossed that next spring will bring the first tiny crop. Those same fingers are crossed for you to have a wonderful visit with your loved ones.