It's only appropriate that I should have a horse to ride through Fair Play shouting, "The WWOOFers are coming! The WWOOFers are coming!" People might take notice then. Hollering out the window of a pickup simply doesn't have the same effect; people just think you've gone bonkers. Regardless, a young couple from Canada will be my guests for a day of goat milking and cheese making, and they will be here shortly. The rain beat them by about six hours. Oh goody. We all know how fractious goats get on rainy days.
Tree Guy dropped off Sons One and Two yesterday morning and bailed out like he was in a sinking canoe. Sons, with pickax and shovel, dug a two-hundred foot ditch, laid a PVC drip line and sprinkler heads, buried the whole thing, and put in T-posts in readiness for fencing to protect the mulberry trees when they arrive. The weather was perfect for such a job, and the guys said the ground was like butter. They certainly earned the beer I doled out at the end of the day. They intend to come back for whatever reason this morning, but with the rain, I'll give 'em a pass if they don't show.
Since I don't have a horse, I'll just go around the house announcing, "The WWOOFers are coming!," to Bess and the cats. They already think I'm bonkers.
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As I write this, I will holler (on your behalf, and to spread the word like Paul Revere), "The WWOOFers are there...The WWOOFers are there!!" OK, now Southern California knows! Hope it goes well, and ya for buttery soil and step one of your Mulberry Project! (Ooo, that might be a good book title - no one would suspect it was as simple as trees!)
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