Setting aside things I should have been doing (procrastination being the name of the game), Bess and I went out to tend plants on the deck in the warm afternoon sunshine. The water line had been turned off for the winter and mid March seems way too early for plants to droop, but droop they did, gasping for a drink. Bess moved along with me, lying in the sun and then shifting to shade while I cleaned out dead leaves and plants from pots. It was a most pleasant way to while away an hour or so. Pink and purple anemones in full bloom were worthy of a photo, but I really didn't want to go in the house for the camera just then. Hummers thrummed the air around the feeders, so close to my head I feared getting skewered while watering the plants underneath.
A few days ago, the sound of a helicopter low overhead got my attention while I was milking. Up here where there is little air traffic, helicopters are not good news. It could be LifeFlight or it could mean a fire. When the 'copter made several passes, I came out of the barn to see the whirlybird with the hanging bucket getting water out of Boondock Lake. This time it was a fire. Scanning the horizon, I was relieved to see no smoke in the immediate vicinity but there was a column rising somewhere up toward Grizzly Flat. With drought conditions and heat this early, it doesn't bode well for the fire season this year.
Ralph feels safe under cover of darkness and makes a pest of himself as I type. From the bed behind, he puts a paw on my shoulder so I'll turn and he can get on my lap. He'd very much like to use the keyboard to add his own comments, but I decline. Thwarted, he goes behind the monitor and over the desk, knocking things left and right. Misjudging, he fell off and hit the modem. (Note to self: "save" frequently in case Ralph pulls wires loose.) Right now he's over on the dresser, wreaking havoc there. I have no idea where Celeste might be. Bessie Anne raises her head from my feet, sighs, and says, "You wanted cats, Mom. You got 'em."