To The Manor Born

One hundred degrees, no breeze, and a cloud cover that increased humidity.  It was not a day to take on any big or even little project.  I once had a relative who explained the reason she didn't do this or that menial task was because she'd been "to the manor born."  Although not born there, I spent nearly the entire day at the manor house, Downton Abbey, to be exact.  A fan of the PBS series "Downton Abbey" from the very first, I've watched every episode and had recorded several seasons.  Those were lost to me when the receiver was recently replaced.  As luck would have it, Deb and Craig purchased the entire set and loaned the DVDs to me.  I'd been saving them for just such a day as yesterday.  Once I'd figured out the complicated series of buttons that must be pushed in sequence on the three remote controls to get to the DVD player, I settled in to enter the lives of British peerage and those who serve them.  A far cry from Farview Farm and worlds apart, I sat in bibbies with a cat on my lap (too hot for comfort, but I wouldn't disturb her) and watched ladies in elegant dress and beautiful jewels upstairs and uniformed, hard-working servants downstairs in the Abbey.

Back to reality with a thud.  Time to put the goats in the barn and the chickens in their coops.  Amazingly, it only took that one night of herding the pullets.  They dithered as a group and then the little ones trooped in as if they'd always done so.  Good girls!

It doesn't appear to be any cooler today.  If you're looking for me, I'll be at Downton.