Well, it did not rain last night. And it wont rain today, tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. It's time to get serious about watering. Giving up toward the end of September is understandable, but we're still firmly in August. I can't watch all plants wither and fade yet. So this morning I give them a helping hand.
(I have an odd pattern of growing dahlias: they start off the season modestly. Then they're eaten up by bugs -- beetles perhaps. Then, in the middle of the summer, they look like a dried up failure. Finally, they enter their late August stage of bloom -- as if the flower fairy granted them a second life, they bounce back better than ever! They look spectacular! Revived! Happy as can be!}
(Truly the last of the day lilies in the lily field...)
(Visitors)
(The gallant and brave girls of late summer: phlox, bee balm, black eyed susans, and false sunflower.)
At breakfast...
... Ed and I discuss Calico. You know -- the kitty that's in the writer's shed as we attempt to cure her of an acute episode of vestibular disease. Ed proposes transferring her to the bathroom in the sheep shed so that the other cats can sniff her out properly (through a crack in the door) and get more used to her. I'm hesitant. In my mind, she is better left alone. But for how long? We have no good answer.
Time for a progress report on the front entrance construction project: Ed has proposed many, many design ideas on how to do this well. I've agreed to all of them, but somehow the ideas did not click for him. Initially, he was going to simply replace the rotted timber, clear out the whole area, and have someone come in to do the job. Perhaps I should have guessed that in the end he would choose to do most of the work himself.
On the one hand, that means we'll be moving along now at a slick pace, because he is motivated. On the other hand, the design is not going to be complicated. Ed does not choose to do "complicated."
That's fine. It will be good to know that going forward, someone exiting the house by this "front" door will not kill herself on crumbling pieces of concrete.
In the evening the young family is here for dinner.
What can I say -- family dinners are always wonderful. I can't remember one that has been anything less than grand.
The kids dont want the evening to end. Oh, they know how to prolong it -- ask grandma to take a walk.
I'm feeling recklessly bold enough to suggest we go to the barn and put the cheepers away for the night. Into the coop!
It's not a fun project. Most of the hens are at rest now on the walls of the barn.
You need to encourage them to come down without scaring them. We managed! Well, all but Java, whom I had to chase down and carry into her spot in the coop.
Ah ah will be so surprised that we did it!
Yes he will, little ones. Yes he will.
(I have an odd pattern of growing dahlias: they start off the season modestly. Then they're eaten up by bugs -- beetles perhaps. Then, in the middle of the summer, they look like a dried up failure. Finally, they enter their late August stage of bloom -- as if the flower fairy granted them a second life, they bounce back better than ever! They look spectacular! Revived! Happy as can be!}
(Truly the last of the day lilies in the lily field...)
(Visitors)
(The gallant and brave girls of late summer: phlox, bee balm, black eyed susans, and false sunflower.)
At breakfast...
... Ed and I discuss Calico. You know -- the kitty that's in the writer's shed as we attempt to cure her of an acute episode of vestibular disease. Ed proposes transferring her to the bathroom in the sheep shed so that the other cats can sniff her out properly (through a crack in the door) and get more used to her. I'm hesitant. In my mind, she is better left alone. But for how long? We have no good answer.
Time for a progress report on the front entrance construction project: Ed has proposed many, many design ideas on how to do this well. I've agreed to all of them, but somehow the ideas did not click for him. Initially, he was going to simply replace the rotted timber, clear out the whole area, and have someone come in to do the job. Perhaps I should have guessed that in the end he would choose to do most of the work himself.
On the one hand, that means we'll be moving along now at a slick pace, because he is motivated. On the other hand, the design is not going to be complicated. Ed does not choose to do "complicated."
That's fine. It will be good to know that going forward, someone exiting the house by this "front" door will not kill herself on crumbling pieces of concrete.
In the evening the young family is here for dinner.
What can I say -- family dinners are always wonderful. I can't remember one that has been anything less than grand.
The kids dont want the evening to end. Oh, they know how to prolong it -- ask grandma to take a walk.
I'm feeling recklessly bold enough to suggest we go to the barn and put the cheepers away for the night. Into the coop!
It's not a fun project. Most of the hens are at rest now on the walls of the barn.
You need to encourage them to come down without scaring them. We managed! Well, all but Java, whom I had to chase down and carry into her spot in the coop.
Ah ah will be so surprised that we did it!
Yes he will, little ones. Yes he will.
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