Saturday, February 7, 2015
There was no sign of the trash can lid and I assumed it would be found somewhere in Placer County someday. I raced through the milking and barn chores with the wind thundering against the walls and roof, and finished before the rain started. The goats were as nervous as I and clustered close to the barn. Leaving the gate to the play yard open for the girls to get shelter, I hauled the milk up to the house. When the rain began about noon, it was a deluge beating on the windows. It was not a day to concentrate on anything and The Project was again put on hold. I walked through the house time and again, looking out at the trees and hoping to see them all upright. So far, so good. From the advantage of height, I did see the lid down in the north field by the woods, but left it where it lay as I sure wasn't going out in that storm. Wonder of wonders, there was only one brief blip in the power all day.
I had thought Ginger would be frantic to get inside with the flock, but, again, I was wrong. With the rain pelting down and the wind blowing strong, the little twit was scratching and pecking with the turkeys down in the orchard and would not come when I called. I tucked the rest of the chickens inside, told her she was on her own, and went in to get dry. My conscience got the better of me as darkness fell and so I went out again. Bess stayed indoors and said, "She's your chicken, Mom. I want nothing to do with her." This time, a soggy little chicken came running and beat me to the gate. "I thought you'd never get here!" We'll have to discuss her timing.
I can't really say it was a good day, but if this is as bad as it gets, it was tolerable. Fingers crossed.