Early Birds

The thing is, I wasn't even running late.  I'm used to hearing turkeys talk as they stroll about the yards or congregate under the oaks, but yesterday morning one turkey sounded particularly close.  Yup, there was a hen standing on the deck rail, looking in the living room window and yelling repeatedly, "We want breakfast!  We want breakfast!"  Gee willikers, now the turkeys are getting bossy.

Three-thirty a.m.  Long, skinny cat arms slide under my face on the pillow.  Cat paws knead the blanket over my chest.  Cat body plops down heavily on my legs.  Ralph is up early.  Once he's sure I'm awake, he leaves the bed to jump up on the desk and start knocking pencils to the floor and move other objects around.  Waiting until I doze off again, he comes to the window sill over my head and rattles the cords to the blinds.  I turn over and try to get back to sleep.  "We'll be having none of that, m'lady!"  Ralph jumps down on the pillow and launches himself to the floor, landing like a ton of bricks with a loud thump.  He enlists Celeste's help and the two of them race across the bed.  Four-thirty a.m.  I give up and get up.  It's going to be a long day.

The feed store was a busy place yesterday, and I passed Patrick coming and going as he delivered hay.  I'm not the only one stocking up before the weather changes for the worse.  The goat barn is battened down as much as I can make it.  There's still that hole in the roof, but now there's a bucket underneath.  Deck furniture has been secured.  The truck is parked out on the point.  Now we play the waiting game. 

Sunset last night was pretty spectacular, but I guess I should thank Ralph for getting me up in time to see this morning's sunrise.  We early birds get the best photos.