To climb, or not to climb: that was the question. I heard the problem even before I got to the barn. The wind had torn one of the plexiglass panels on the roof loose and every gust would cause it to rise and bang down. Not too much rain had gotten into the stall shared by Poppy and Sheila, but that loud noise must have been awful during the night for all the girls. What to do? Even were I brave (foolish) enough to climb a ladder anymore, past experience has taught me that working alone while the goats are out is not a good idea; they insist on getting into the act. If the panel kept flapping, it would eventually break. It pains me to have to ask for help, but finally called one of my Kids for advice. He suggested I find a couple of old boards in the pen and shove them up on the panel, hoping to hold it down. That worked briefly, but at least kept it from rising up as high as before. Drat. Help comes in mysterious ways just when you need it most. Dave called and said a motorcycle buddy who lived in the area had some business to take care of and then would be over to nail down the roof; what a kind offer. Then my friend Tim called. He needed something of mine; was I going to be home? I explained the situation and, yes, I was here waiting for Dave's friend. A short while later Tim drove up, screw gun in hand, and took charge. (I called Dave immediately to let him know his buddy was off the hook.)
They call this a warm rain, but when the drops are stinging like rock salt on your face and the wind is whipping wet pant legs, it doesn't feel very warm. Slogging down to the barn and surrounded by complaining goats, my job was to hold the ladder for the few minutes it took Tim to screw down the panel. Mission accomplished, the only question then was whether my good Samaritan wanted cream in his cup of hot coffee.
It is still raining and the wind is still blowing.