How are you? All is well here at home.
We are all fever free (finally!) and only a slight cough remains of whatever dreadful virus plagued us these past few weeks. All my company have come and gone (Hi Daddy! Miss you.) and I used the last few quiet, unscheduled days to sew my little heart out - right to the point of causing the bobbin to cry Uncle and stop working completely. Poo.
Gosh, you have been so patient with my unintended blog absence and it didn't go unnoticed. As a token of thanks, I brought the camera and your babies with me to feed this afternoon to document the day, just as it occurred.
We stepped out to an overcast day but no rain and a comfortable 60 degrees. Straight out of the door FRANK ran to you know where
(this thicket is Jane and Henny Penny's favorite hang out) to chase you know who.
But Jane, being the world's smartest chicken and all, knew just what to do -tattle to Mama - and she did. So I tended to business and the ladies went back about their's.
And Frank slinked out, ashamed as he well should be. He KNOWS better. Stinker.
And exactly 17 seconds later he had recovered from my severe lashing (you know how I am) enough to go about his business as usual.
Then we were all off, down to the camp for the pre-feed parade the horses put on for us everyday. So nice of them, that is.
And as usual, immediately following the parade was the stampede to the first feed bucket, like clockwork.
Little sweetie helped Mama and Jack,
well, you know. The usual.
Have I mentioned I tidied up the camp. Yup. See pic below, but I'll warn you - this one pulls you in and makes you stay awhile.
See, told you.
The hay is holding out nicely. I know how you worry about that.
But the feed buckets are driving me crazy. We need a new system, for sure - project one when you get home, maybe? Um, make that project two. (Sewing machine, One.)
The new horse is rounding out nicely, don't you think. I've been calling her GG.
We spent the rest of the evening doing the usual. Like this.
And that.
And the inevitable.
When we are picking up the new feed troughs remind me to get the kids taller boots.
She misses you. So much.
And yes, Maggie was there with her usual look that I'll call
PET. ME.
and yes, I was wearing my red "outside shoes" but THIS time I didn't bother to take off my stripy socks because we live miles and miles from another soul and statistically speaking I could frolic outside in that long, sweatshirt kitty cat nightgown most any day and not get caught. But Steve dropped by. And I was a bit embarrassed.
Steve's arrival ignited a new death match between Slick & Slim (two Whippet looking dogs that made themselves at home here while we were away on our exotic diamond expedition). Embarrassing, AGAIN. Especially when his dog, Lacy, was so well behaved AND well dressed - every single one of our dogs was nekked as jay birds. Heathens.
Anyhoo, about his time, Jack fell down in the pond and screamed that he was coooooooooold while sister risked life and limb to save him. (Make those tall boots hip waders.)
And that was it. Typical day. But no you.
So we laughed a lot less and the kids didn't reach death defying heights on the swings and no one kissed me on the fishing deck. But you can imagine, these pictures will help.
Forever Yours,
The Lady of Hillsboro
