A sheep in the field with the goats. Big deal. Well, it was a very big deal for Poppy. For the better part of a week she's been crying, left behind in the old pen, unable or unwilling to go through the gate. After milking yesterday, I turned the goat girls loose and went to let Nineteen out of his stall. Poppy was once again bawling, standing alone under the dead oak. I turned back to get a handful of Nineteen's alfalfa as a consolation prize for poor ol' Pop, and then I couldn't find her. Circling the barn, I looked over and there she was, grazing amongst the goats as if she hadn't a care in the world. I was so proud of her! That pride was somewhat short-lived when later I heard her bawling again. The herd had moved back into the old pen without her. Bessie Anne is hell on wheels when it comes to herding chickens, and I started wondering how she'd be as a sheep herder. Fortunately, Poppy figured it out before I had to put Bess to the test.
Being a NASCAR fan forces a day of rest. The races usually take about four hours, and my NASCAR mentors, Dave and Clay, told me early on that it is de rigueur to take a nap somewhere in that time. Far be it from me to break with tradition. Even though there were hours of daylight left after the race, I told myself it was too late to start a project. For once I listened to my own advice and picked up a book to round out a good afternoon. Poppy going through the gate was excitement enough for one day.
