Mixed Signals

"Red sky at dawning, sailors take warning."  There must be a pretty confused navy out there, as Nature sent the very same picture at dusk; "Red sky at night, sailors' delight."  For those of us on dry land, we are simply treated to spectacular displays at either end of the day.

Dolly and I walked out together in the morning, each of us going to our own brand of reality, she with a suitcase, me with buckets.  Down in the barn, I played reruns of her visit and enjoyed our time all over again.

The morning lineup usually goes like this in the milking room:  Cindy is the first on the stand, followed by Esther.  There can be a bit of change with the remaining four, depending on who has the fuller bag or who'd rather stay for another bite of alfalfa.  Ruth generally ambles down next, and then Inga.  Tessie has Inga's number.  Inga is the most timid, and will startle if I've put the barn rake in a different place.  If Tessie feels Inga is taking too long to finish her cereal, she'll stand outside and snort (the danger signal), and Inga can't get out of the milking room fast enough.  It's kind of a mean trick, but it works every time and it cracks me up.  I'm always happy when Sheila is the last in line.  She's the easiest to milk, I can do her fastest, and she's like the reward for working through the others.

A quick trip to town emphasized the change in seasons.  It's not just my pastures that have greened up with the recent rains.  There is "gold in them thar hills;" trees overhanging the road are dressing in their fall finery and golden leaves are spotlighted everywhere.  The zinfandel vines are turning red.  As much as I protest any trip to town, I'll have to admit it is an outstandingly beautiful drive, always prettier when I'm on my way home.