And the naps just kept on coming. I was tired from the minute I opened my eyes in the morning. Goats fed and milked, stalls cleaned. Back at the house, I sat down and fell asleep. I'd really wanted to join dear relatives who were holiday camping down the road apiece (Pine Grove), but the thought of getting in the truck and driving was overwhelming. Also, I had to wait for a delivery of alfalfa. I napped until Patrick knocked on the door to let me know he'd offloaded the bales.
Propane Guy arrived and topped off the tank, so I'm assured of hot water and a working stove top for the holiday season. Deliverymen in our area, be they propane, Fed-Ex, UPS, whatever, are clever guys who carry a supply of milk bones in their truck. Bessie Anne starts wagging as soon as any delivery truck pulls up and goes to greet her "best friends." Not too many houses up here don't have at least one dog in residence.
Later, while finishing a turkey sandwich and smacking my lips, I commiserated with my friend Linda, who had joined others for dinner and had no Thanksgiving leftovers. My own crowd had descended like locusts and filled bags and containers to take home. Not to worry, I still have plenty. It's the company I treasure on Thanksgiving Day and the leftovers I enjoy after they leave.
The clouds that marched eastward yesterday got organized and the promised rain began last night. After an evening nap, we all went to bed early. It's a very stormy morning and I've got to put the window coverings up on the goat barn. That's farm life.