Had to get moving pretty early this morning as it is trash day. I'd not accumulated enough last week to make going down to the big road worthwhile. I don't want Trash Guy thinking I'm not holding up my end of the deal. Bessie Anne knows when I put on shoes before sunup that she is going for a ride, and a ride in the truck means a treat when we get home. Ta da!
Well past foxtails, we've now moved on from dreaded burr clover to the truly awful beggar's lice, tiny Velcro-like burrs that cover Bess by thousands. My intention is to give her a puppy-cut, but the weather has been so changeable that I've hesitated. It's been a choice between putting her in the wading pool or knitting her a sweater. So far, the pool has won the cut of the cards. In between, I've been brushing out burrs by the handfuls every night. Thanks to the help of the worker bees who used the weed-whacker, we've successfully avoided the darts of years gone by. That evil weed got cut down well before setting seeds.
Ground squirrels have moved in on the chickens. I see as many (or more) squirrels going in and out of the coop as chickens. I don't know how the hens feel about these squatters.
I've got to get a move on for a major house cleaning for company next week. The problem is that I don't know if the three guys will be staying here or in a motel, nor for how many days they'll be here. The room downstairs can be easily converted to a dorm with futon and fold-out couch for Jeff and Tim, and Richard can have the guest room upstairs. It's menus and shopping that have me in a quandary. I'm not a three-meals-a-day person myself, but I realize that others are. It's not like there is a shopping center just down the block so I need to stock up if they're staying.
Trash Guy just roared past down at the corner, so it's time for me to get moving again. Enough lollygagging for one morning.