The cloud cover moved up from the south, the wind picked up, and a light rain began. Opening the barn doors was like opening the starting gate for breeding season. Goats (and deer) don't normally mate during the heat and long days of summer. Waiting until fall ensures that the babies will be born in the spring when forage is at its best. Given the conditions yesterday morning, the girls did everything but holler "Woohoo!!" They pranced, they danced, they headbutted, and they took turns mounting. They ran and spun in circles. Unless they are in a flat-out panic, goats look like rocking horses bobbing up and down when they run. The ones on the stand gobbled down their breakfast so they could get back to the party. Talk about a celebration! I didn't have the heart to tell them I wasn't going to rent a buck this year.
Coming back up from the barn, I noticed that the first naked ladies have come back to Farview. A cluster of those pink amaryllis has sprung up by the wood pile. Since they send up no greenery first, their arrival is always a surprise.
It's been too hot to read lately. I preferred to sit in front of the TV and be spoon fed my entertainment. The rain continued off and on all day yesterday and I picked up my newest favorite author, Patrick Taylor. He writes Irish like Fannie Flagg writes southern with a lilt and cadence of dialogue and interesting characters I love. There is a line in this latest book, The Past Is A Foreign Country: They Do Things Differently There. That pretty much describes how I feel when I reminisce about how it was when I was a child: things were different then. Because it is my wont to swallow books whole in a single day, I was determined to savor this latest. Read a chapter, go do housework. Read a chapter, fill the hummers' feeders. Read a chapter. Oh, go on and read a couple more. I'm only half-way through so I have something to look forward to today. I showed a little more self-restraint than the goats.
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Glad your restraint of yesterday will bring forth pleasure today. Also glad that your oppressive heat seems to be subsiding a bit. I love the title of the book, and it reminds me of my favorite Facebook site, "I grew up in Newport Beach BEFORE it was the OC." It is a "gentle" site (no religious or political discussions allowed), and if mostly filled with 50-somethings, altho some of us geezers are vocal, and the discussion of times-gone-by is a delight.
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