False Colors

Grass might grow a couple of inches in a week or so; star thistle shoots up a foot or more.  I have star thistle and no grass.  In an attempt to beat the heat yesterday, I got an early start and mowed down the west point and down the drive before it was time to take on barn chores.  Even so, while cutting the last swath I could feel the sun start burning through my shirt.

After throwing down bird seed under the oak, the first chore every day is to let the Silkies out of the Taj and make sure they have water.  The roosters were loudly proclaiming their presence and greeting the sun.  Then I heard a tentative, almost whispered, "Cockadooo," response from the hen house next to the small pen.  Although none of the "hens" I've raised in this latest batch has yet to show any of the secondary male characteristics of comb, wattles, and spurs, it would appear that someone has been flying under false colors.  None of the flock would 'fess up as they came tumbling down the ramp.  I'm hoping there is only one impostor in the bunch.  I was going to put up a notice to try to sell some of the Silkie boys, but now I'll wait and see how many males are in the big flock; maybe I can give a group discount, or perhaps a "buy one, get two free" deal.  Otherwise I might end up down in front of the grocery store with a box of roosters like those people with litters of puppies.

It used to be the comfrey plant, but the epazote has taken over the responsibility of informing me that it's time to water.  The epazote wilts, I water, it stands up straight again.  It's like plant push-ups, and in this weather, the epazote is getting a good workout.

Getting a head start worked pretty well yesterday.  Maybe I'll mow the front and side yards as soon as the sun comes up today.  Or not.