My tomato vines are really showing the effects of blight, but there are still lots of tomatoes on them, both red and green. I've been wanting to make a batch of green tomato chow-chow, but with the cool weather we've had, my sweet peppers haven't been ripening fast enough. Finally, today, I was able to come up with ten peppers.
I might even get energetic enough to can a few more jars of ripe tomatoes, as much as I dread the mess that would make. But seeing those vines dying makes me realize the time is short.
This morning I milked Bonnie; later on after Cliff was awake, drinking his coffee, I saw Sir Loin prancing and dancing around the front yard with glee. I ran out looking for an open gate, but none was ajar. I managed to get him to a gate and open it so he could rejoin his mother.
There's a spot where one fence almost joins another; Cliff left a space big enough for a person to squeeze through, but not large enough for a horse to escape. Back then we didn't have a skinny calf to worry about. I knew that had to be where Little Sir escaped.
"We can't waste too much time closing that gap," I told Cliff. "Little Sir is smart, by cattle standards."
I'd hardly gotten the words out of my mouth when Little Sir (or you can call him Houdini) went prancing and dancing and bucking across my front yard again. This time it wasn't so easy tricking him into the barn, but I managed. He isn't scared of me, but he loves to play; and he assumes I'm playing when I approach him, so he'll kick up his heels and run.
I had to send Sadie to the house, because of chasing. Oh no, Sadie wasn't chasing the calf; the calf was chasing her, and she was running for dear life!
Cliff went straight out and mended the gap where our calf had escaped. I'd love to be watching when he is in that area again and thinks he knows an escape route. The joke is on him.
It's a shame he's a bull calf; he's one of the most lovable bovines I've ever had on the place.