True To Form

There is usually a dearth of blog fodder on Mondays because little to nothing happens on Sundays, especially after such a hyped up Saturday as I had this week.  I so appreciate it when NASCAR runs on Sunday because it gives me a reason (not an excuse) to sit on my rusty dusty and do nothing for four hours.  My most ambitious undertaking yesterday was refilling the hummingbird feeders, certainly nothing to write home about.  Good grief, those tiny birds can really suck it down, drinking two quarts a day.

Sundown comes about 8:00 these days, a sign that the seasons are a'changing.  My neighbor's doggone big guard dogs were running the fence line last evening, barking nonstop in their deep, scary voices.  I never hear or see them during the day, and I don't know why they are periodically (too often as far as I'm concerned) let out at sunset, but it sure causes the goats to panic when they are.  There are exceptions, but bedtime usually goes so smoothly, taking maybe 10 minutes or so.  The girls have their own routine:  Sheila goes in first, then Inga, and Tessie last.  Boop, and we're done!  Last evening chaos reigned.  Nobody wanted to come in as the girls kept watching to see if the enemy was going to breach the fence.  Finally Inga made a dash for the safety of her room.  After several false starts, Sheila decided that if Inga could do it, she could, too.  Great, two down and one to go.  And then there was Tessie.  I stood, I sat, I pretended I was going to shut the door and leave her outside, and nothing was working.  Tessie would come to the door...and stop.  She really tries my patience.  Even after what seemed like forever and I heard the neighbors finally call the dogs in, Tessie was still spooked.  The sun was down and it was getting dark by the time she gathered enough courage to come in.  Whew!

That was enough excitement for a Sunday.