Normally on the Fourth, our son is here for his annual visit and we have quite a few fireworks on our place. We had none this year, since Jim wasn't here. It was a quiet Fourth; Cliff's sister, Rena, is doing a lot of work on our old house: New windows where they're needed, new doors, new floor covering. Her son has been here helping her with the remodeling this weekend, and she's been cooking the stuff he likes. Just so happens it's stuff WE like, too! Lasagna, for instance. Her son supplied us with some catfish he caught in Kansas, so last night we had that for supper. Good stuff, Maynard.
Yesterday afternoon I skimmed off what cream I could from the milk I stole from Bonnie and had myself a cup of raw Jersey milk. I had forgotten how good and rich it tastes, even lightly skimmed. Cliff came in later to get a glass of tea; seeing the milk, he decided to have some of that instead: he took a drink and said, "That's what I'm talkin' about!"
We have a noisy neighborhood, considering the fact that we live in the country. Youths who neither go to school nor hold down jobs run up and down the road at all hours, revving up their noisy engines. I woke up several times between 1:30 A.M. and 4 hearing someone nearby constantly gunning their vehicle as though they were stuck. Add to that my cow, Bonnie, mooing for her calf (I separated them for the night), and you have quite a racket going. At times like that, I almost envy Cliff his deafness.
The horses are oblivious to the sounds of firecrackers, but that wasn't always so with my Blue. The first summer we had him, some kids (nobody ever fessed up to it) thought it was great entertainment to shoot bottle rockets at him, and it's taken three or four years for him to get over that trauma. Sadie seems to be the only one scared of the banging, now. She hides in the furthest corner of the house until it's all over.
Cliff has spent most of his mini-vacation in the shop, getting ready to paint the canopy that goes on his Oliver tractor. In fact, I've hardly seen him except when I go out there, or when he comes in to eat or go to bed. This was the weekend we had planned to be in Tulsa at the Gold Wing rally; as it is, we haven't even been on the motorcycle. It rained off and on yesterday, so I wouldn't have wanted to go very far on the bike anyhow; and it's still cloudy and drizzly this morning.
Oh, it looks like the calf's name is going to be "Clyde", but I'll let the voting go on for the full time. "Sir Loin" is the second choice.
How's this for a rambling entry?