Continuing with yesterday's theme, this tiny guy (maybe 2-1/2") was a little too up close for comfort. He was on the sill on the inside of the screen door in the morning. I was glad the cats were elsewhere or Ralph, especially, would have thought he had a new toy. Thankfully, Lizzie's visit was a short one.
The turkeys' feeding station is right by the pig garden. Checking to see how the transplanted roses from Deb and Craig were doing, one was not only thriving, it was blooming! This is one of three roses that had burst open on the bush. Lovely.
The temperature was rising. Down in the barn earlier than usual, I wasn't early enough. By the time the last girl got off the stand, I was a sweaty, drippy mess. Maybe it's just me, but I think it's way too early for high 90s up here and 105 in the valley.
Bessie Anne evidently felt the same way. She obviously remembered how good the water felt the other day in Cam's pool. In the summertime, Honey is always soaked. She goes swimming on her own all the time, but this time she just kept watch over her little friend.
Not as luxurious as Cam's setting, I have put water in Bessie's little wading pool, but yesterday I had the sprinkler going in the front herb garden. I sat in the shade on the porch, but Bess plunked herself down in the marjoram and thyme and stayed there in the spray until she was soaked and soggy. Talk about a "bad hair" day!
I am still shaking my head over one of life's little mysteries. On my way to the barn at dusk, halfway there on the path I looked down and saw...an egg. A chicken egg. A chicken egg right there where no chicken egg should be. All beaks were accounted for so none of the little kids had gone free-ranging and I certainly don't carry eggs around where I might have dropped one. I'm trying to figure out how some critter or other could have gotten an egg out of the coop, then out of the pen and all the way into the west field. Not a crack nor tooth or claw mark on the shell. I'll probably never know.
It was a hot day.
1 comment:
Could a critter have carried an egg from another farm and then just figured, "Oh to heck with it??" Hmmm...maybe Agatha Christie knows!!
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