If I Never...

If I never see another tomato or pear, it will be too soon.  Another afternoon of trimming, cutting, and filling bag after bag of pears to put in the freezer.  There are still a dozen or so in the box, but Camille came over and I set them aside.  Cam had finished painting the last two walls on her barn (another project that had dragged on and on) and was ready for a break.  I sure wasn't going to say no to that.  The morning had been spent doing laundry and hanging it on the line, and I, too, was ready for a sit down.

I'm going to start Tessie on an every-other-day milking routine.  She's about done, and I am, too.  Poor Sheila, I felt so bad for her yesterday.  The people who live behind me on property adjacent to the goat pen have two very large dogs.  I've only seen them a couple of times, but when they show up, they bark and bark at the goats (and me) in deep, loud, scary voices.  Sheila was up on the stand when the dogs started up.  Inga, the first outside, came racing behind the barn and Sheila started quivering so hard I thought she'd give ready-made milk shakes.  Fortunately, the dogs didn't stick around long.

I can't say one bad thing about the weather lately.  It's been perfect for fall, warm and breezy.  Much of the wind has been coming from the north, over the mountains from the desert, and it's very dry.  That keeps us in a high fire situation so I still can't mow, but, boy, I sure want to.  The property looks so raggle-taggle, it's embarrassing.  Oh well.