"Ain't no cure for the summertime blues..." The yards are parched and brown; nothing to mow, no way to water them. No more time than necessary is spent in that sweat-box barn with the animals, and they don't want to be in there either. Moving the sprinkler in the herb garden and hosing down the plants on the deck does not constitute real physical activity any more than pushing buttons on the remote. Lack of inspiration to cook in the overheated kitchen, the one room in the house that does not have but really needs an overhead fan, leads one to cereal for dinner. Waaa! Feel free to remind me of this when winter has turned my fingers blue and my nose red and the ground is white outside. (Nothing if not patriotic.)
The turkey mom who traveled with her train of 8-10 babies behind has lost all but one. She guards her one remaining chick, approaching adolescence, like a mother tiger. Yesterday she flew over into the chicken pen to share the hens' grain and the baby ran back and forth outside the fence. I'm pretty sure it's a little girl, but at that age it's hard to tell. Baby finally gathered courage and made the flight to join Mama. Then I worried. It is so common for these birdbrains to forget how to get back over a fence; I hear even the adults calling, "Don't leave me!" as the flock moves on over and out of the goat pens. I had to get on down to the girls, but was very relieved to find Baby gone when I came back up. That was the drama for the day.
This is just one of a series of photos from last evening. It was hard to choose. The colors and formations changed from minute to minute as I moved from the house to the barn. This was the last shot taken as I left the goat barn, having tucked in the girls.
It was a typical summertime day.
1 comment:
Wish I could snap my fingers and created a weather-controlled house for you! But what I can do is wish for delta breezes and cooler temps!
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