Morning: (noun) The time of day when the list seems possible.
(Big rumbling snore….squeak!)
The grub generator is in action again, this time stocked with an unfortunate young rabbit that met its end at the mouth of an unknown assailant. If our dog had killed it, he would have waved it around proudly and eaten most of it, but I discovered the body on a path in an attitude of sleep (there was trauma to the side it was lying on though). It will be transformed to chicken food now.
38 pints of peaches; longest day of my life.
They sure look pretty, though.
Two bee stings in three days. That’s about average for a summer. I can be done now.
(Not my honeybees. Bumblebee and some wild bee that helped me discover their underground hive in the field.)
Every time the hens get moved to a new path of field jungle, a hush instantly falls. The silence is serene.
Instantly, they become impossible to count in the tall brush. If you’re lucky, you can see a few tails upended. Occasionally a head pokes up on a long neck for an orienting glance around.
Seriously? An inch of snow overnight. ARE you KIDDING me? It’s the second half of April!
The theme change: always so painful! I like the new look, but I hate the transition. Please bear with the technical difficulties.