Y Is For...

Yelling!  Yelling (bellowing is probably more accurate) at the top of my lungs Yesterday at the idiot who, fortunately, was a lousy shot.  My friend and I were working at my computer in the afternoon when we were scared witless by the loud, way-too-close crack of a high-powered rifle and, hard to believe but true, the whiz of a bullet passing right outside the window by our heads.  Needing to see who might be shooting at us and at the same time wanting to stay away from the windows, we raced to the front room.  Looking out from a protected corner, I saw two bucks, a forked horn with a nice rack and a young spike, down in the little orchard in my front yard.  They obviously were the targets for this illegal, out-of-season, trespassing, idiot hunter who evidently never learned that it is important to know what is also behind the target.  It actually was a relief to see the deer as we weren't sure that we weren't under siege...not a good feeling on  September 11.  While I was hollering out the window, Linda was dialing 911.  The idiot had to have been on foot and definitely on my property.  The trajectory put the idiot at the edge of my woods.  That orchard cannot be seen from the road and we heard no vehicle.  There really was nothing the sheriff's deputy could do but cruise the area.

Shaken, but safe, we later sat on the deck and thanked our lucky stars that the close call was all it was.  Sitting among the hummingbirds that were coming for their evening meal, we saw the first lightning strikes over the mountain and heard the rumble of thunder.  A doozy of an electrical storm was brewing and coming our way.  The lightning was flashing every few seconds until it looked like a giant strobe light, accompanied by the constant crash of thunder that was unbelievably loud.    In minutes, the storm was directly overhead and rolling west.  A flock of birds wheeled in panic, not knowing which way to fly.  Having moved under cover before the rain hit, watching the show was incredibly exciting and we laughed like little kids.  I hoped for the best for the oaks and pitied the animals and chickens.  Bess was stuck a burr to my side and the cats were nowhere to be seen.  The clouds poured down rain in buckets.  We moved to the front porch to watch the storm move off, giving a parting shot or two before making a dramatic exit over the valley.  When I was finally able to go outside, the chickens were already in their houses and the goats and Poppy were ever so glad to get inside.  The meal I had prepped earlier but not yet cooked was long forgotten.  We again dined on pie and talked about the events of the day long into the night.

Linda can't say she didn't have a bang-up visit and a fantastic finale.