Unfortunately, I had business to take care of in Auburn. Leaving the farm is now more difficult than before thanks to Pete's separation anxiety.
Three weeks ago, I left him and Garrett in my house for 4 hours while Cole and I did some work elsewhere. Upon my return, Pete was at the back door trembling and panting, working away like a busy beaver on the trim of the door. So, this time, the trio was sent to the barn with Flynn, who provided door to door taxi service. Enabling me to escape unseen.
Or so we thought. Pete ran all the way back home. He was hoofing it up the driveway as I was leaving.
I made my trip to Auburn as short as possible, as the crew awaited.
Pete: "Call 911, call the ASPCA, we've been abandoned. Whatever shall we, wherever shall we go?"
Frankly my dear, you're overreacting.
He's not letting me out of his sight anymore!
We have projects, so c'mon then.
Looks good, not catching squat though.
May be the omnipresent rain that has and will plague us for another week.
We've all been doing our part to clear all the downed limbs from trails and pastures.
It's a merciless, endless job...by the time you finish the 40th mile of trails, Mile 1 needs tending. We're all beginning to have nightmares about it.
One large and deep burn pit filled to capacity, thanks to the Three Amigos who don't want to see another stick in their lives. May we move on to something else? Please.
How about lights for the mower?
A set of John Deere headlights had been sitting on a shelf for many years. Since our grass cutting expeditions have been exceeding the length of daylight, Flynn obliged.
Best present ever!
Making the most of only light rain, I endeavored to clean up my ox barn.
What two troublemakers can do with $85 per round bales: fling them around and poop on them.
With Tommy's horns, I can't use a hay ring. I 'had' a homemade wooden basket, but he smashed one side to smithereens. Shameful to admit that a bovine mind has no trouble staying one step ahead of me.
A few hours pass and I manage to overload the wagon.
Now that's what I call a heavy core workout!
Black gold!
Not a bad day at all.
Wednesday morning starts off with the usual mini emergency. Angus has been snake bite on the face. Not a fresh wound, but definitely had me clutching my heart when I saw his face. Having had another horse in the same predicament this past weekend, I got it covered. Wild West out here.
Trying to move right along on my chores, a fledgling swallow drops to the ground in front of me. It's last remaining parent had died yesterday from a window strike and it had plaintively cried all afternoon from atop a rafter. An adult from another nest attacked it and tried to chase it from the barn.
The dogs and I had shared some steak last night and we had leftovers.
I may end up killing it with kindness-- or not.
Stay tuned. And stay dry if you're one of the lucky ones in the path of Tropical Storm Cindy.
