Thursday, August 9, 2012

The Doldrums

The best way to sit while milking a goat is next to her on the stand facing her south end, torso upright and legs straight out in an L position.  It's only when you're sitting bent forward in a V that you realize the front legs of the stand have once again sunk into the squirrel burrows.  The poor goat can't tell you that she's getting a head rush, trying to eat while her rump's in the air.  (As one might imagine, this happened again yesterday.)

The summer doldrums are upon us, those days when even putting on the brakes for things to come to a screeching halt would take too much effort.  Bess quickly learned the routine.  After spending most of the day trying to stay cool by moving from tiles to hearth, she lifts her head in the afternoon and gives me The Look.  "Want to go in the pool?"  She immediately goes to the door to the deck.  At first I had to put her front feet in before she'd go into the water.  Now she steps daintily over the edge without urging and stands waiting while I scoop water over her back.  The pool has to be in afternoon shadow or the water is too hot.

Water is such a precious resource.  When I'd spent a day without it after the electrical storm, I almost cried, "No! Don't waste it!," when the telephone guy poured a half-bottle of warm water from his truck out on the ground.  Water features are lovely in the garden, but having one would make me a crazy person.  The sound of running water sends me racing for the off valve!  Down in the valley, we had mister hoses all around the gazebo and it was wonderful to sit out there, cool on the hottest days.  Up here, all I'd be able to think about would be that I was running the well dry.  Watering the plants has to be done in shifts and for only so long.  I might yearn for a real grass lawn, but could I spare the water to keep it green?

Yesterday morning, blinking numbers on the clock told me there'd been an electrical hiccup during the night.  Why we lose power more during summer than in winter is beyond my ken.  All I can do is keep all troughs and bowls topped up and hope for the best.  At least hoping doesn't take much of my energy; there's not a lot to spare.


Kathryn said...

I can't even imagine! And I wish I could send you some water and an ocean breeze. Here's hoping that fickle Mother Nature will see fit to give you a break soon.

Kathy V said...

I milk facing the south end for most of my girls. But one, the one that was not mine until I received her later, needed to be milked from the rear.