Undecided

It's hard to know how to dress in the mornings now.  (I know how to dress myself, I just don't know what to wear.)  Cool enough for a jacket on the way to the barn, it's way too hot on the walk back.  Too hot to sit in the sun on the deck later, but chilly working in the lavender bed in the shade with the breeze.  I often wonder what Bessie thinks about all the clothes changes during the day.  "She puts on stuff and then takes it off, and then puts it back on again.  She takes off everything at night and then puts more stuff on.  Why does she do that?"  I imagine she thinks the same sort of thoughts about my weeding.  "She pulls stuff out of the ground and then puts more stuff in.  Why?"  She and I walked out to the garden.  I hadn't been out there since I put the seed potatoes and onion sets in the barrels.  It was pointless because the hose had sprung a massive leak and I needed to replace the fitting.  That accomplished, I went to water the veggies and discovered that some of the onion sets were sprouting up already.  They seem to thrive on neglect.  Nothing from the potatoes yet; guess they're keeping their eyes closed.  (That's a farm joke.)  Nothing will spur me on like guilt, and I saw that Deb had cleared another big barrel in addition to weed-eating the entire garden area.  I'd better get something planted or I won't be able to live with myself.

Chickens are pitiless.  The flock had gathered around one of the old hens, pecking her mercilessly.  She's on her way out, but she doesn't need to go like that.  I moved her to a place of safety.  Later in the evening, she had rallied and came out for the nighttime snack.  Even the pullets had turned on one of their own recently.  The peckee evidently made peace with the others and has healed.  The hobbits will definitely need their wings clipped before moving into the big pen.  They flutter and fly all over Hobbitville now.  I'm waiting until they get big enough so they're not hawk bait before moving them over.  The big pen seems to be secure otherwise.  Camille has called almost daily with the score:  right now it is Coyotes 2, Chickens 2 (two escaped from the jaws of death).  She's had free-range chickens for several years on her property without incident, but lately she's seen the coyotes take off with two big buff Orpingtons.  The donkeys, Shadow and Cricket, were hot after the marauders (who knew?), and Honey joined in the chase, but they were unable to stop the theft.  It's the time of year when the coyotes are denned up with pups and the moms have mouths to feed, making them brazen.  It's something we all live with here.  The one consolation is knowing the hens are not being killed wantonly.

Looks like a shirtsleeve - no jacket day today.  But I could be wrong.