I'm A Wuss

I didn't realize how shaken I was from the mowing adventure in the orchard until I went out to get on the tractor again yesterday.  I did not want to do it.  It wasn't the tractor's fault.  After all, it had the good sense to stop before I did.  Still, I had to make myself get back up on that pony and make a couple of tight-jawed passes before I settled into the rhythm of what has been a pleasurable chore.  The brush hog gives a rough cut, so before going to the barn I trimmed the west field.  Star thistle has a tough, fibrous stalk that is a real booger to mow.  The spiny seeds are terrible, and this weed is the bane of our county.  After finishing with the girls, I mowed the front yard and was working on the side yard when my customer came about noon for milk.  Andrew (maybe three years old) had to show me four or five times how he could take off and put his shoes back on.  It was a welcome break, and too hot by then to go back out. 

After the heat of the day, I did a lot of watering of the deck plants and the herb garden.  There's a bird bath there, and it was full of little birds, splashing and yelling at the top of their lungs.  Those waiting for a turn in the tub played in the sprinkler.  It's no wonder I call these creatures "kids."