All Good Things

My "vacation" ended yesterday and it was back to business as usual in the barn.  Honestly, I had missed my girls.  I think Cindy missed me, too, as she put her face to mine before getting down from the stand, huffing her breath and nuzzling all over my face and hair.  Beau had offered to clean stalls for me as I am a little concerned about the raking motion straining the incisions, and I took him up on it for the week ahead.

There was a time down in the valley that I never missed a Scottish Highland Games and gathering of the clans, sometimes driving many miles to hear bagpipes and drums, eat bangers, onions and chips, as well as critique manly men in skirts (not necessarily in that order).  I was delighted to learn at the last minute that Games were to be held in Plymouth yesterday, about as far to the south as Placerville is to the north from here.  Cam had never been, so after morning chores, off we went.

The day was everything one could have hoped for.  One either loves or hates bagpipes; I come down on the side of love.  (I've many CDs of Celtic music.)  We could hear the bands while still in the parking lot; it's hard to walk and not march in time to the drums.  The weather was perfect.  This was the first year Games have been held in Plymouth and there wasn't a lot of advance advertising so there weren't great crowds.  Cam and I cruised the vendors' stands, listened to the numerous bands, and, yes, I got my bangers (very mild sausages).  Wonderful costumes everywhere and lots of kilts.  I missed getting a photo of the Queen's Halberdiers on the march, an awesome sight with boots thundering on the ground, but caught Andrew for a quick shot.  That's not an optical illusion, I'm not that short and he really was that tall.

In the morning, Cam had been worried about being gone too long from home.  Ha!  I had to drag her away when it was time to leave, but all good things must come to an end sometime.

It was a very good day.