It's hard to acclimate when there is no transition time between a very pleasant day and the next when the temperature soars. I don't know why it always catches me off guard as it happens every year, but it feels like a hot boulder drops on my head, leaving me listless as it did yesterday. One good thing is that I've moved milking time up a couple of hours so the girls and I are out of the barn before it turns into a bake oven. Beau cleaned the stalls and we chatted while I tended to the goats. He confided that Esther and Sheila are his favorites in the herd, probably because they both like a head rub before leaving the stand, but maybe just because they have pleasing personalities. (I'm partial to Cindy, for obvious reasons.)
There are six, not five, baby squirrels living under the porch. Their mother lounges nearby while the little ones cavort in the shade by the front door. I wish the critters were not such destructive varmints because baby anythings are cuter than cute and they are such fun to watch.
Running the sprinkler in the herb/peony garden and filling Bessie's pool were my most ambitious undertakings yesterday. I did attempt a bit of weed pulling in the afternoon, but quickly gave that up in favor of sitting in the shade on the deck.
There is a fine timeline between enough light to get the goats into the barn easily and not dark enough for the pullets to want to go to bed. Bess did her best last evening but the little ones scattered like BBs as I tried to shoo them into their coop from inside the pen. Five in, three out. No, three in, five out. One on the roof, seven running around. Finally! All eight in and the door shut. Uff da!