Yesterday reminded me of the song from "The Music Man," Talk A Little, Cheep A Little, as Michelle, Lori and I had years of talk to catch up on. Both women lived out of state for long periods of time, but are back in southern California now. One of the first things they asked when they got here was, "What is that place where the many-colored flowers come down the hill?" They'd driven by the iris farm; I knew they'd find it stunning. I may send them over to visit that farm today while I grab a nap. Staying up after midnight and getting up at daybreak is not my norm, for sure.
The tractor will survive but needs a new carburetor, a part that must be ordered, of course. That and a transfusion of cash will pull it through to mow another field. In the meantime, the red clover has come into bloom and the bees are happy, happy, happy.
The weather is a quick-change artist, rain one day and nearly 90 degrees the next. Michelle and I went around opening windows again, hoping to catch a breeze. I think today is going to be more of the same.