I'm at an unusual loss for words in my blog. Right now life pretty much revolves on getting the new dog settled in, and there's only so much I can write about that.
When Cliff wakes up, we have some fencing to do: The pasture is so lush that the horses around here are getting way too much to eat; I've seen enough founder to last me a lifetime, so we're going to have to electric-fence a smaller area for the horses. The herd now consists of Adam's two horses and the next-door neighbor's buckskin mare. The cows, of course, can continue to enjoy the buffet our forty acres offers; they don't suffer ill effects from eating all they want, as long as they don't eat too much white clover and bloat.
We received two inches of rain yesterday and last night, which is always welcome. It's been unseasonably cool, reminding me of 1967, the year my son was born (happy birthday a day late, Jim). Here I was with this beautiful new baby; we lived in the country, and I couldn't wait to be able to take him out in the stroller. I swear, we had to bundle him up to take him outside until mid-June, it was so cool that year.
Then there was the year we had a hard frost around this time. After checking online, it appears that must have been 1980; the low in Kansas City was 35° on May 9, and I'm sure it was colder out here. I read somewhere that if you took a garden hose and ran water over the plants to wash the frost off, they wouldn't be harmed; I figured it wouldn't hurt to try it on my tomato plants.
I knew I was out of luck when little icicles were left hanging from the leaves of those plants where I had "washed the frost off".
We've been selling things on Craigslist again; there's one item that has quite a story behind it, but I want to make sure it's actually sold before I blog about it (we were given $100 cash to hold it till Friday). I don't want to jinx the sale of something that has been a total disaster ever since we laid eyes on it. Murphy's law has been in force around here. I'll leave it at that for now.