Sunday, July 30, 2017
To The Manor Born
Trying to beat the heat, I go down to the barn earlier each day and it makes no difference. I can't get ahead of 84 degrees. (It was 72 at 4:30 this morning.) Eighty-four was the ambient temperature; I can only imagine what it was under the metal roof in direct sun. I've often thought of putting a gauge inside, but I'm probably better off not knowing. Each of the girls has a stall with windows; the milking room is more enclosed. I don't spend any more time than necessary, for my sake and theirs.
Star thistle is rampant. It's such an evil weed, with hard, spiky thorns that really hurt. My yards and fields look so unkempt, and there's not a darned thing I can do about it. It was determined that the Ranch Fire was started on someone's property, undoubtedly by a mower striking gravel and throwing sparks. I'd never take that chance, regardless of how shabby we look.
I settled for a semi- two-fer yesterday. Like a lady to the manor born, I put my staff to work washing dishes and doing laundry. I even used the dryer instead of going out under the noonday sun. I compromised by folding and even putting clothes away. Hey, I live alone and it's just as easy to pull a shirt off a stack as out of the closet. To assuage any guilt at not taking on any big items on the list, I took care of a number of piddly chores, with plenty of sit-down time in between.
Cam and Honey came by in the afternoon. Camille is taking advantage of my lending library. I've got literally thousands of books from which to chose. Summer has just as much down time as the depth of winter up here. Cam works harder than almost any woman I know, but realizes that working outside in this heat is a killer. Reading is a good way to spend indoor time. She takes five books, brings them back, and takes five more. She tells me what kind she likes, and I have fun picking out a selection for her.
It was a good day.