It takes ten minutes for the water barrel to fill....Greg discovered that it takes a whole lot less time than that to empty a full 50 gallon barrel ! The ranch creeks are running slow, the water in the pond is murky and coated in a nasty algae scum and it doesn't appear that our tropical Summer is going to cool down any time soon if MJ ( Fox 13 meteorologist ) is to be believed. The double Doppler is scanning the Pacific for a fluffy rain cloud but MJ assures us that the temperature in our Pacific Northwest greenhouse is just going to keep rising. All this hot dry weather has resulted in Greg acquiring yet another morning chore, if Mother Nature can't keep our water troughs full and clean it's down to Greg and his big plastic water barrel. This morning The quad sped out of the farm gate, Bran and Luke balancing precariously on the handlebar shelf and a full, splashing water barrel was bouncing in the little trailer behind. Aside from actually having to get out of bed, that's when Greg's day started to go seriously and badly downhill. The trailer, loaded with an overflowing 50 gallon water barrel, in the middle of the farm road developed a very flat tire (tyre for my English readers). I'm assured that no profanities were growled as 50 gallons of water and 10 minutes in time were lost on the farm road...and with the way Greg's day went, I wasn't going to challenge his assurance !
Our chicken house is currently occupied by 40 chickens that are either taking Industrial Action, eating their own eggs or are taking an early and unscheduled vacation. Either way, eggs are becoming a precious commodity and the feathered ladies are not earning their daily grain. Greg's bad day deteriorated significantly when, the egg basket containing the few eggs collected in my mid morning raid on the nest boxes was launched into orbit through the open door of the farm truck. The fourteen eggs I risked life and limb to collect, pooled in golden orbs amongst fractured brown and white shells in the stony gravel at Greg's feet. I guess it's not omelets for dinner !
Our plum tree in the barnyard has become the gift that keeps on giving. After already collecting about 150 pounds of rich purple / black juicy plums it was noted that more fruit had ripened on the laden branches and once again we trudged out with our collecting buckets. Sadly, the plum tree is between the two arrow signs that remind us of our absent friends and Greg was sharply reminded of them all when he came up under a painted arrow which tried to crush his skull.
Before closing, I have to say goodbye to young nephew Daniel who bravely returned to the farm for yet another three days of hard labor( Labour, Brit speak). You do realize Daniel, you get less time for murder !! Thank you for all your hard work and fun discussions. (I do hope I wasn't being analyzed. smile.)
As the cuckoo clock strikes, the dogs are waiting to irrigate a tree or three, the sun has set behind the cedar trees and I'm assuring Greg that tomorrow can't be as bad....can it ? Take care, keep safe (and cool) M