When I lived down in the valley, my home was in a triangle bordered by the Yolo causeway, the deep-water channel, and the Sacramento river. I lived there in what was called the 100-year flood and it got pretty hairy, watching the waters rise and waiting to see if the levees would hold. They did. Flood insurance is one thing I don't need up here on the crest of the hill, but I'm a little tired of being wet. El Nino (sorry, can't type the tilde) has arrived and we are getting wave after wave of storms, seemingly for days on end. Turkeys flock together under the oaks, shoulders hunched and wet feathers dark. No offense to either profession, but they make me think of solemn, morose clergymen or undertakers as they slowly pace in groups. We have been on rainy-day routine down at the barn. I leave the girls in their stalls until they need to come into the milking room instead of turning them out, all but one, to go up for alfalfa and a stretch of the legs to wait their turn. The wind has been out of the east, blowing rain halfway into the sheltered play yard. There is plenty of room for them to stay dry during the day, but the space is limited. Mud is two inches deep in front of the barn, making footing a challenge, and I don't even want to talk about the chicken pen. I open the little door and ramp to the coop, the hens cluster in the doorway and say, "Nuh uh, we're not going out in that!" After making sure they've got food and water, I close the big door and make my way carefully out of their pen.
Dogs have phenomenal bladder control. Given several opportunities, Bessie Anne declined to go out in the wind (really heavy yesterday) and rain. There is no litter box for dogs and I was beginning to worry about how long she could hold it. Linda dropped by unexpectedly in early afternoon and only then could I push Bess out the door. Linda and I goth a laugh when Bessie came back in. Obviously feeling lighter than air, she raced around, found one of the cats' toys and tossed it like a puppy, getting Linda to chase her (her favorite game). "Oh, what a relief it is!"
Having shown remarkable restraint, I waited until last night to try the coconut-ginger simmering sauce with chicken (thighs this time), chunked up potatoes and carrots, and a sprinkling of peas. Really, really good, but I like the vindaloo more. I'm going to ask my personal shoppers to put these sauces on the list for their next visit.
My weather app tells me we'll get showers today and maybe, just maybe, sunshine tomorrow. Some rain is good, but it is possible to get too much of a good thing.