Barn chores done on a beautiful morning, Bessie and I headed to the deck bench to soak up some rays, me with another Terry Pratchett book in hand. I love this guy's inventive writing; he cracks me up. In Men At Arms, Death (who always speaks in capital letters - I can almost hear his echoing, sonorous tones) comes for a troll named Bjorn (pronounced Byorn) who has been fatally bonked on the head. The troll explains to Death that he believes in reincarnation. "WELL, SINCE YOU BELIEVE IN REINCARNATION, YOU'LL BE BJORN AGAIN." I say without shame that puns make me laugh out loud, even bad puns, and this was no exception. I'm sitting on the deck all by myself (not counting Bessie Anne, who never gets the point of a pun) and burst out with, "Ha ha ha!," when I read this. A nearby crow joined in. "Ha ha ha!," said the crow, who evidently thought it was punny too. Nice to know we share a sense of humor.
Having spent the day before crunching numbers and gathering receipts for the danged Dept. of Agriculture census form, I needed to break out and enjoy the warm afternoon. My constant companion and I went to work on the lavender bed. There is something so peaceful about the mountain on a quiet day, trimming the fragrant shrubs, listening to the hens gossiping in their yard close by, and hearing the breeze sing through the bare branches of the oak overhead. I want to use the term "magical," but it was really just an ordinary day.