Lest I Be Accused

I suppose I could be accused of occasional embellishment, but I'd hate to be accused of out-and-out exaggeration when I describe chores.  Camera in hand, I went out yesterday to document some reality.  Top photo is of the lavender bed, with three large humps of pulled weeds, not counting the two wagon loads already hauled off.  To the left of the center daffodil patch is the portion not yet weeded.   Next shot is of the brush pile that hasn't yet been pulled over to the burn pile.  Third photo shows the mowed side yard (and the clothes line), with the last picture displaying the back side yard, unmowed. There's enough to do here to keep me out of the pool hall, for sure!

There was a panicky, heart-stopping moment the day after I put the chicks outside when I went to check on them after giving the hens their morning slurp of milk on my way back up to the house.  Not a chick in sight in the pen!  I looked in their little hut...no chicks.  Ohmigawd!  How did they get out?!  Then I heard a quiet little peep.  All four had gotten themselves under the pallet and were resting in its shade.  Whew.  They've got the bedtime routine down now, all tucked into their house before dark.

The switch or the gauge or something has gone funky on the pressure tank and water is once again iffy.  I've got to call Jim, the Pump Guy, and see what he can do.  I didn't know I was running out of water yesterday before I got into the shower and lathered.  That was fun.  Okay, that's an exaggeration.