Morning garden update

Among other things. Warm, hazy, and humid this morning. At 8 a.m. it was 73 degrees and 49 percent humidity. That there is humid, at least for this part of the world.

My sweet corn was flowering this morning.

Squash bee in a pumpkin blossom.

Out in the country, sunflowers and corn in a field of proso millet. And an unidentified bee zipping through the frame.

Dryland soybeans were setting pods.

Field corn flowering.

Prickly poppy, one of my favorite wildflowers.

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And of course there had to be an irritating part of the day.

The cow that does this pushes her head through the wire to reach grass on the other side. It's learned behavior and probably comes from being hungry in another pasture or lot and learning to reach for grass through a fence. In this case it's become a habit. She has to walk through green tasty grass to get to the fence, and the grass (and millet crop) on the other side is neither as tasty or nutritious.

Because she's a cow, big and strong, she can push the steel posts over as she reaches for the grass. Along the edge of this pasture, where it butts up against a farm field, the soil is quite loose and doesn't firmly hold the steel posts. Which is why when I built the fence I placed eight-foot wooden posts in between the steel posts. That means that the wooden posts are anchored in four feet of soil. They'd be very solid and prevent the steel posts from pushing over except for one thing. They were improperly treated against rot and insects. The shoddy treatment crystalized the wood. So when a cow pushes on them, they break at ground level.

No use in blaming anyone but myself. Caveat emptor.

The whole fencing gig is a process. Fences are temporary structures placed upon an astonishingly dynamic landscape in an extremely dynamic environment.

All in all it's a good thing. This quarter section is the only place we have this problem, and the fix is relatively inexpensive and requires only time and effort. It's work I enjoy doing in a place I love to spend time. And good physical labor is beautiful exercise for mind, body, and soul.

So there's that.

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Seen at the local dollah sto'.

To help me what?

Yeah right.

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After checking cattle I worked on corrals. By that time it was muggy and well over 90 degrees. A superior workout with lots of sweat sting in the eyeballs and biting stable flies. Those things are a challenge and a trial. It's good to be uncomfortable from time to time. It's important to know that hard work and discomfort aren't fatal, that they can be worked through. That knowledge might be the difference between living and dying when the unexpected happens.

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Then I spent quality time at the park with the kids, followed by a late lunch at my house including free-range cherry tomatoes from the garden.

And tricycle decoration.

July has been delightful. Bring on August!

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.

Snapshot of survival

It was quite the day today, followed by quite the day yesterday. Yesterday I did about 16 miles on the LPC's including my Tommy hike, ranch work, and a little over five miles playing a game with the littles and a handful of the neighborhood kids. The game involved rolling the kids back and forth across the front yard inside a big, heavy duty, cardboard tube. By big I mean two feet in diameter by 3.5 feet tall, so bigger than a 55 gallon drum. You can fit a pair of 10-year-olds in there, or a couple of littles and a 10 year old. It was a very good cardio workout and also great fun. A real pleasure to experience kids at play, enjoying outside fun on a lovely summer evening in slowville.

Bedtime was late, and I intended to get to work fairly early, but the littles are little and need their sleep, so I let them snooze until they got up on their own.

I got a lot of work done and by mid-afternoon it was time for the party. Grilled hot dogs, chips, and fruit punch, followed by a load of presents and finally some birthday cake. It was a lovely time, filled with love and family. The newly-minted six year old had a great time, and if Sissy felt a little left out, she also had a great time and experienced one of life's important lessons. I have only one image, and that one taken by someone else. I intended to document, but I did not. I was too wrapped up in the moment.

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Here's a resurrected post from long ago. An interesting bit of drama served up by nature and providing good food for thought.

Originally published April 13, 2011. This is a story about and some pictures of a unique turkey vulture I "met" in July, 2009. The bird unknowingly shared with me a good lesson in living life with adversity.

At 9 p.m. there was still a warm glow in the western sky though the sun had long since set and full darkness was only minutes away. Speeding east along the county road, a farm truck loaded with freshly harvested wheat was making the day’s last run to the elevator. The big GMC truck had only one headlight – a dim, weak headlight at that – and the driver was moving fast, trying to complete the trip while some twilight remained.

Ahead of the speeding truck a young fox bounded through tall ditch weeds and up onto the road. Startled by the sudden appearance and noise of the truck, the fox paused and stared into the single dim headlight, then turned to scamper out of the way. Too late. The truck driver barely noticed the thud as he ran over the fox, leaving a bloody carcass behind in the slowly settling dust.

Two days later the fox carcass attracted a curious visitor, a visitor that illustrated in plain and basic terms nature's no-bullshit reality.

The big dark bird arrived an hour after sunrise, soaring in looping, graceful circles in the clear, cobalt sky. Fluttering wingtips proved that the bird was riding rough currents of warm, rising air as a high summer sun baked the farmland below.

After twenty minutes of lazy circling the bird stooped toward the road, flared a dozen feet above the fox carcass, then made possibly the ugliest, most graceless landing in the history of flight. Slowly, almost painfully, with wings still spread wide, the bird hopped once, twice, three times toward the carcass. Folding its wings, the seemingly tiny, bare red head became apparent, almost glowing in the slanting morning sunlight.

Ah-ha! Turkey Vulture.

The Turkey Vulture (Cathartes aura) is far from uncommon across the High Plains, though populations are probably smaller than those of the more commonly seen hawk species. Often called Turkey Buzzards, the big, dark birds are almost exclusively carrion eaters. Graceful on the wing, they are rather clumsy on the ground, and rather ugly with their red, naked head. They serve a useful purpose, though, helping to clean up the remains of dead animals. Turkey Vultures have one of the most highly developed olfactory systems of any animal, and can scent decaying carcasses at incredible distances.

Remarkably, the Turkey Vulture’s acute sense of smell has proven uniquely useful to mankind in recent years, as they have the ability to detect and ferret out small leaks in natural gas pipelines, scenting and homing in on the ethyl mercaptan additive in commercial natural gas.

A closer look revealed the reason this particular Turkey Vulture seemed so clumsy on the ground – it had only a single leg. Other than the missing leg, the bird seemed to be a healthy adult. Whether the missing limb was a congenital or traumatic defect, it didn’t seem to have kept the vulture from thriving.

Author and historian Douglas Brinkley recently (for certain values of recently) appeared on C-SPAN touting his new book, “The Wilderness Warrior: Theodore Roosevelt and the Crusade for America,” the story of the former president’s contribution to the conservation movement. Brinkley noted that Roosevelt, sometimes called America’s only conservationist president, was responsible for setting aside more than 230 million acres of “wilderness” and launching the National Park System.

Like Roosevelt, Brinkley was a sickly child, and again like Roosevelt, felt strongly drawn to nature and the country’s “unspoiled” lands. Especially smitten by the High Plains, Brinkley said that he travels to the region annually to “...recharge my spirit by getting back to nature,” a practice he highly recommended. Brinkley called the National Park System a national treasure and a life-saver for millions of Americans suffering from nature deficit disorder.

Those of us who lead rural lives, particularly farmers and ranchers, spend many – if not most – of our working lives outdoors and in the midst of nature. Though few of us live in majestic national parks, we are surrounded by and interact with native and wild flora and fauna on a daily basis. We tend to take our daily experiences in nature for granted and rarely give thought to the hundreds of million Americans who visit nature only during brief, whirlwind vacations.

Though in general use the term “rural” carries the negative connotations of poverty and backwardness, especially among urban conversationalists, we rural Americans are rich in our nearness to nature and the “real” world, as encounters such as this one illustrate.

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.

More Semper Gumby

You never know whose mugshot is going to appear on the interwebs.

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John Blackshoe's comment on yesterday's post was perfect.

In case you missed the post, I was trying to write about what you do when your plans get turned upside down by reality. I didn't write it very well. Some days are like that.

Get back on the horse, right?

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This morning my plan was to take out the trash, go check cows, do a little bit of fence work, watch the kids for an hour or so, and then do some afternoon stuff.

So I took out the trash. The most important thing in taking out the trash is to make sure that Tommy doesn't get out. He's rushed the gate a couple of times before. Both times he just flew off in whichever direction his nose was pointed an it was a real not-so-fun adventure getting him back.

Therefore, it's important to get his attention at the gate and tell him "Stay." He almost always minds that command nicely. Most often he steps back and sits down. So give the command, go through the gate and close it, say "good boy," then after tossing the trash in the dumpster, carefully re-enter and secure the gate behind you.

This morning I did all that except for the "good boy" and the careful re-entry. My brain was already planning through the next thing on the list and while I was wool-gathering Tommy bolted through the gate.

Firetruck!

I grabbed the leash and followed him, thinking he'd get tired of playing "can't catch me I'm the gingerbread dog" eventually and let me take him home. Three miles later my last sight of him was disappearing over a hill in a pasture south of town.

Well, shit.

So I hiked on home, opened the back gate, and headed out to check cows. Along the way, texting while driving, I tried to post my plight up on the Kimball lost and found pets koobecaf page. Since I wasn't yet an approved member of the group (I am now) I had to wait to be approved. So I got on with checking cows. Which went fine.

Later at home, with only 20 minutes before I had to show up to watch the kids, I checked the koobecaf and immediately saw Tommy's mugshot. All my worry and dark fears instantly vanished. Man that felt good.

Along with the mugshot the lady who captured him posted: "This dog showed up outside of my grooming salon. Doesn't look very old and looks a little hungry. Please come get your dog"

Which I did.

As an aside, the grooming shop is on the opposite side of town from where Tommy disappeared. That boy can cover a lot of ground in a hurry.

I got him home and still had seconds to spare for my kids watching gig.

What a morning!

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There was much fun had through the rest of the day, as well as a little bit of work. Tomorrow is the now six year old's birthday party, four days after his actual birthday in order that family might attend. And as it's 11:44 p.m. I'd best post this up before today becomes tomorrow.

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.

In the moment

The rain started just before 6 a.m. Over the next two hours there was some grumbling thunder and 0.31 inches of soft, soaking rain. It was delightful.

Once the rain had let up the weekly (ish) tornado siren test was conducted. The construction in the background is the new local hospital boondoggle. Yeah, don't get me started...

Things were lovely and green out on the prairie, and there were no cattle out.

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Being a Homo sapiens type ape-lizard, during my non-sleeping hours I find myself constantly making and modifying plans. I think most of us are that way. It's part of navigating life. I make both short- and long-term plans, and then, as Gunny Highway put it, I improvise, adapt, and overcome whenever reality refuses to adhere to my plan. Strangely enough, reality never lines up exactly with my plans. It's usually in the vicinity, but to get stuff to actually work out requires that I tweak my plans to make up for all of the incorrect assumptions I based them on.

When I find myself dealing with real reality and having to junk my moronic version of imagined reality, I have two choices. I can shoulder the adversity I've made for myself and relish the challenge, or I can whine and bitch and complain that "it's not fair" in true 'merkin professional victim style.

As for the second choice,

As for the first, it's the hard choice and by far the best choice. It's livin' in the moment, and that's where the best of life is lived.

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I spent a lot of time in the moment today. Quite a bit of it was with the kids. I shot a couple of long videos, almost forgetting that I was filming as I experienced lovely, lovely moments. I intended to post them up, the videos that is, but I suspect they're not as awesome as I think they are. Or perhaps that kids at play are just kids at play unless they're your kids.

There were three yard bunnies too.

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After supper and as I was preparing to soak my aching carcass there was a knock at the door. Three of the tweener neighborhood kids wanted to play on the tree swings. That was a good moment to be in, a small town neighborhood moment that is possibly rather a rare thing for most of today's civilized world.

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.

 

Cows do what cows do

And so it begins. 😊

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One of the great joys in my life is the frequent surprises. When I go to work in the morning (it's always morning o'clock somewhere) I don't groundhog day myself into the same commute-cubicle-commute cycle. My days often rhyme, but they never repeat. Not even close.

This means surprises are not infrequent. And while sometimes they are inconvenient and even vexing, they always bring the joy of livin' to the party.

This morning I immediately noticed a slight major problem surprise.

Then it was time for a little hillside cattle handlin'.

Followed by fixin' the fence.

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Later on I spent a good bit of the day with the kids. As usual they wore me plumb out. But in a good way! We had lots of adventures including a lovely scooter crash. Sissy really put on a show over protecting Brother. Then she danced!

After that we introduced the Cousin's Beagle Odin to Tommy. They had a grand time. In the middle of that one of the neighborhood kids climbed over the fence to join in the festivities.

Eventually we played all the play out of the day and the neighbor girl introduced the little one to the concept of "no boys allowed." It hurt brother's feelings, but I 'splained to him that sometimes girls do that. And hinted that there was nothing preventing him from making a sign himself.

And now that it's nearly 10 p.m. it's time for me to post this up and hit the hay.

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.

  

Fences and neighbors

It's been a lovely, long ol' day. I got a lot of work done, including mending some fence on the south unit. It's a fence shared with a neighbor, and as I worked I kept seeing signs of the neighbor's contribution to maintaining the fence. Which made me think long and hard about about the beauty of having neighbors.

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You may recall that Robert Frost (1874-1963), one-time Poet Laureate of the United States and recipient of four Pulitzer Prizes for his work, penned in 1914 a poem called “Mending Wall.”

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,…

Frost was describing the stone walls of New England, walls which marked property boundaries and kept livestock within the bounds of the owner’s land.

Mary Benefiel

In this part of the country, we have fences, but, walls or fences, the purpose is the same.

So to is the heavy hand nature lays upon a fence or a wall. Frost spoke of ground heave disrupting a wall and necessitating annual repair. Here on the High Plains our fences suffer from ground heave too, as well as from wind pressure, wood rot, rust, and gravity. In Frost’s poem he also describes the ravages of hunters, who tear holes in walls to more easily pass, as well as to “…have the rabbit out of hiding.”

Modern “hunters” have torn down miles (actually yards) of my fences. Such people most assuredly do not deserve the noble title of hunter. Frost seems to have held such hunters in small regard as well.

The wall Frost’s poetic character shared with a neighbor was not a livestock barrier. Perhaps this is why he didn’t comment on damage wrought by livestock. Or perhaps livestock can do little if any damage to a stone wall. In my mind’s eye, stone is much sturdier than stranded barbed wire stretched between wooden and steel posts.

Livestock can certainly damage a fence, though.

Some years ago a neighbor’s (Same fence and neighbor from today) bull pushed his way through an aging (but to the eye, still sturdy) six-wire fence to join the yearling heifers in our adjacent pasture. In the wake of his fence-passage, he left snarls of wire and broken posts. He made, in fact, not one passage through the fence, but three.

We didn’t want the neighbor’s bull in with our heifers. We had our own bulls, our own breeding program, our own carefully selected genetics. The same was true for the neighbor. He had no desire for his bull to mix with out cattle, nor for our bulls to mix with his cattle. This is why we shared, and still share, a sturdy fence.

But if a fence has a week spot (or two, or three) a bull in pursuit of heifers in estrus will find it. It’s what they do. We clever humans try to prevent cross-herd genetic flow with our fences. But, to paraphrase Frost, something there is that does not love a fence. Wire rusts, posts rot, staples heave themselves from posts over years of freeze-thaw cycles.

In “Mending Wall,” Frost puzzled over the motivation of his neighbor, who insisted on maintaining the shared wall even though Frost’s poetic narrator saw no need, and would have preferred ready access to his neighbor’s land – to wander unimpeded where his poetic muse led him. He saw his neighbor as an ancient, fading farmer, unable to break the time worn habits of the past:

He will not go behind his father’s saying,
…Good fences make good neighbors.

Still, Frost not only shared the annual backbreaking labor of wall repair with his neighbor, he initiated and coordinated the chore:

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line,
And set the wall between us once again.

Here on the High Plains, where fence repair is somewhat less taxing than rebuilding a stone wall, there’s seldom need for neighbors to meet and share the labor. A few hours suffice, and the neighbor who discovers the problem generally fixes it.

The wayward bull was eased back into his pasture where he could attend to his own responsibilities, and the fence was quickly repaired. As I repaired the fence I marveled at the ravages time had wrought upon the fence. In places the oldest wire had corroded to almost nothing, and in other places, sturdy wire was the only thing holding base-rotted fence posts aloft. Indeed, …something there is that does not love a fence.

Though Frost used the line “Good fences make good neighbors” twice in his poem, and though countless college professors have made much of this, carefully explaining to their students that fences clearly serve to keep people apart, I read in the poem a far deeper understanding of nature and of people than most professors will ever be able to achieve.

In my mind, Frost was describing the very real beauty of the relationships between men and nature, men and their tough agricultural pursuits, and between men and men – neighbors if you will.

Though the lettered demand that Frost was railing against divisions between men, it’s clear to me that he was observing and reporting the simple beauty of human existence on the land, and on the remarkably special intersections where men and toil and nature meet.

Though Frost’s character repeated the phrase “Good fences make good neighbors,” it’s clear to me that his ultimate message is that good neighbors make good neighbors. And that together, good neighbors do remarkable things. Remarkable things that most people rely on, but only rarely understand.

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.

A little rain

Harvester ants explore a sunflower bud north of Kimball this afternoon.

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We just had a very brief rainstorm which delivered 0.55 inches of lovely precipitation. The little thunder cell popped up out of nowhere and flowed down from the north. The ones that come from the north often seem to deliver more rain than those coming from the west or south.

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Pretty routine day today. Not as warm as it's been so pretty pleasant. I got a lot of little chores done including a trip to Scottsbluff to fetch the F-150 home from recall work. I took the top picture while returning. Also saw a combine offloading on the go while cutting a field of irrigated wheat.

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After checking cows this morning Red reported to Mom. "It's all good."

A question about the ranch dog Red prompted a memory and the decision to link to this post. Red's a tough dog!

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While I was perusing some other 2016 posts I found this one. Coming hard on the heels of my 2016 Achilles tendon surgery, it should have been a Corpsman Chronicle, but it was not. I blame the drugs.

And now it's time to hit the big bathtub for some hydrotherapy. Just a little achy this evening. A good soak with Dr. Teal's Epsom salts plus melatonin does wonders.

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.

Slow weather front

These calves were sampling tasty currant shrubs halfway up a canyon wall this morning. It's not completely vertical but it's close and I'm relatively sure I couldn't scramble up there myself. They were about 20 feet above the canyon floor and 20 feet from the rim. Their moms didn't appear to be worried. Adult cattle are grass eaters and only rarely browse shrubs, usually only if there's nothing else to eat. Calves, on the other hand, seem to be interested in novel experiences. Kinda like kids. Nature and her works are always fascinating, but I don't always take the time to look, think, and appreciate.

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We're presently in between a couple of atmospheric pressure ridges, one to the east and one to the west. There's low pressure northwest of us and relatively higher pressure to the southeast. The resulting air flow, from higher pressure to lower pressure, is giving us southeasterly surface winds. Those winds, because of the higher pressure east and west, are flowing through a pressure trough which is rather deep, perhaps 7,000 to 10,000 feet above the surface. All of that flowing air is serving to slow the passage of the weather system which arrived Friday evening.

That and fifty bucks will buy you a cup of tepid "coffee" at a macdombles.

The day has been (unsurprisingly) breezy, slightly overcast, and relatively cool with the high temp only touching about 85 degrees. It's quite refreshing. The weather guessers predict a quarter-inch of rain later this evening and an overnight low of about 58. We'll see.

Following yesterday's rest break I was able to hit it hard today. I fixed some fence, checked some cows, mowed some thistle, watered some garden, and mowed my "lawn" in town. We didn't move cows today, schedules simply didn't line up. Perhaps tomorrow.

Now that evening is coming on and I've sat myself down to write, I find that I'm struggling to compose any kind of an interesting post. I guess I'm not surprised, having logged more than 36,000 steps today totaling around 18 miles. So it's been a good and productive day, except for the writing part. And I had such high hopes this morning!

I think I'll link to a grass post and a weaning post from some many years ago. My intent is to provide some fundamental ranching information, kind of as a setup for some more detailed explanations. Maybe it'll be interesting and informative. We'll see.

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Speaking (way up above) of kids and novel experiences, how do you teach a kid to fill water balloons? My method is 'splain, demonstrate, and let 'em at it. Encouragement seems to help.

They don't need much guidance on throwing the things.

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I've posted these before but today feels like Intruder Sunday. Desert.

Boat. Night. Almost a pinky.

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.

Weather front

Mule deer doe in the neighbor's July corn.

See the wee trailer?

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It's been a warm July. That shouldn't come as a surprise. It's warm in July. Thus far in the month we've had 16 of 23 days where the temperature has been 90 degrees or above. We've also had two days of 100 or above -- both days hitting 101. We've also had 15 of 23 days with low temps in the 50's, and zero days with low temps in the 70's. That right there is one of the nice features of this part of the world, we generally have cool summer nights.

As of today the average high temp for this July is 92.36; the average low 58.54, and the daily mean 75.45. The 129-year averages for Kimball for July are 87, 56, and 71.5, respectively. Before anyone calls 911, let's keep in mind that there are eight more days to go in the month. If history is any guide the July 2022 averages will be closer to, well, average, by the time the month closes out.

Interestingly, we had a "heat wave busting" weather front move into the region today. Today's high only reached 88 degrees, and the forecast predicts sub-90 degree daily highs for the remainder of the month. I suspect when I crunch the numbers in eight days time this July will have been a degree or two above average. Over 129 years a degree or two is indistinguishable from average.

What does it all mean? It means it's July.

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I took a lazy day today. I had stuff that needed to be done, which I did, but I also had stuff I could have done which I did not do. It was a good day for it. I got some lovely relaxing reading done, sitting in my camp chair on the front porch while the cool July day went on all around me.

This may have something to do with my desire to be lazy today!

Here's a video from Thursday morning at about 9 a.m. No unscripted blabbering!

And here's a slightly longer one, take a few minutes later, also sans blabbering.

Something about the beauty of the morning kept my yap shut. I should do that more often.

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This morning there was a cow and calf in an adjacent pasture. I'm not sure exactly how they got in there; no wires down or obvious tracks. No big deal, I had only to open the gate and the pair came running, anxious to rejoin the herd. Moving cows can be easy when everyone is on the same page!

I did a lot of blabbering though, and there was some wind noise...

Tomorrow, unless plans change, we'll move the lot down to the south unit.

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.

Royals, slime and spiders

"See if you can guess," said the message from my Herefordshire farming friend, "who the lady holding the bouquet is."

So. Evidence. Message is from Great Britain. Lady wearing that style of dress and sensible shoes, holding a bouquet, surrounded by a small group that looks like English Gentry. Gotta be a Royal.

Other than The Queen, I have no real idea who the Royals are or how the whole thing works. But for some reason I knew that she was Princess Anne. My farmer friend added, "She was on her way back from the Royal Welsh Show which is being held for first time since Covid. Someone got her to come and open a building they had built for foreign visitors, and as a neighbour and friend I was invited along."

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I got a recipe for slime from one of the ewww!toobe mom channels I follow. If that isn't an odd sentence for a Naval Air Cowman to blog up and post, I don't know what is. Which feels like a pretty cool thing for some reason. Anyway...

They had a great deal of fun making their own slime. Which lasted about 20 minutes. Then the boy was off the play minecraft, whatever that is, with big brother. And the little one wanted to go outside and play with daddy longlegs.

I get such enjoyment from adventuring with the littles. When they're not being grumpy or recalcitrant their open minded curiosity is delightful, and reminds me of the old saying that grownups should strive to be childlike and fight against being childish.

Sometimes I pull it off. It almost always takes an assist from these precious miniature ape-lizards. When I put these things in a reasonable context, the concept of blessed seems far too small and insignificant.

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.

Quick-kick

The littles have flat run over me today! I'll post up some video and images and commentary tomorrow-ish. Which probably means Saturday or Sunday. BTW, I'm working on Part Two of What the Firetruck is Wrong With My Leg? Shouldn't be too much longer.

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In the meantime... A Blast From The Past.

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty

Just summer stuff

What was the moon phase 53 years ago today? Waxing crescent.

What is today's moon phase? Last quarter.

So, yeah...?

I was in Safeway in Scottsbluff this afternoon when I remembered that it's July 20.

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Six hours before Safeway...

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After fixing fence I checked cows and found another sick calf, 0009.

I heard him coughing before I saw him. When I looked him over his ears were droopy and he was a little snotty and moving slow. Also breathing fast and a bit laboriously. The owner came right out and darted him with draxxin. That should put him right. We plan to move the cows to the south unit Saturday or Sunday when it's cooler, and that should give him time to feel better before having to trudge a mile or so across a stubble field and down a lane.

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After that the littles and I had an exciting Daddy Longlegs hunt while the almost thirteen year old went to swimming lessons. It was starting to warm up by then but it was still cool on the north side of the house and there were dozens of longlegs of all sizes. The little one is fascinated by them and wants one for a pet, however, she's not quite ready to touch or hold one yet. The almost six year old doesn't like them at all and complained mightily every time a blade of grass tickled his leg. "It makes me think there's one on me!" Yesterday he actually did get one on him and it was a rather traumatic experience for him. I didn't get any pics or videos today.

Yesterday, however, I did. This one has a lot of fun (at least for me) detail. At one point the boy scolded the girl for cutting a corner on his 'maginary race track, to which she replied, "I'll do what I want." Shortly after that I thought I heard the boy call his sister the B word. They had a car-trike collision and Sissy said, "Watch where you're goin', Dude!" His response sounded to me like, "Watch out where you're going, b****!" He almost convinced me that he said, "sis." Hmmm.

Later, when it was time to go inside, the boy took it upon himself to put both the trike and the scooter away, and then complained loudly about having to do all the work. I wasn't buying any, and that really made him cross.

Ah, fun times in July.

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Be well and embrace the blessings of liberty.