I guess this means Summer is over ?

Well, it’s feast or famine here….80 something days ( really technical I know !) with NO rain and today we are nearly paddling. It has been so dry that the pastures are parched and burnt. The truck has 80 days of dust on it, ( so what’s new ?) the creek was barely a trickle over the recent months and when the horses returned hot and sweaty from the fields a new coat of grey dust covered from the tips of soft noses to the end of a swishing tail.  Allergies have run rampant through man (woman) and beast, with resultant sneezes snuffles and runny eyes. Majestic Cedar  trees and shrubs have wilted and died and the brilliant red white and blue on my Union Jack flag have faded. That was yesterday…..today the rain has come down in torrents, my faded flag and Old Glory hung limp and lifeless from the flagpole. In the pastures,  golden palomino Charm and Starbuck ( black Appaloosa without spots) managed to look even more miserable than they had with the heat and flies. The “old guys” T Bone and Cooper did what they do best…..eat. Sometimes, old timer T Bone at 30 years young somehow manages to look like he is physically on a permanent 45 degree angle in danger of collapsing in a heap but mentally that old man is still a teenager. Occasionally, old T Bone will gather his old swollen joints, shake his noble head, swish his thinning black tail and canter round the pasture. Occasionally old T Bone will fall asleep, his aged body rocking on unstable legs, head hanging and bottom lip drooping. In their stalls, the aged bay horses have become familiar with the ranch routine. Early mornings as the barn door opens, T Bone and Cooper are ready and anxious for their breakfast grain, heads toss over the stall doors, low welcoming whickers come from crinkled muzzles. Cooper is the ranch busy-body, while T Bone eats his grain and attempts to eat the bucket too, comparative youngster Cooper at 20 years old busies himself with who is going where, with whom and when. More often than not, his grain remains disturbed but uneaten in his rubber bucket as he ricochets from bucket to stall door as the sleeping ranch wakes and people, horses, livestock and dog come and go. This morning, as the gate to the goat pen opened, three sets of eyes watched the rain dripping from the dilapidated rusty gutters, considered the rapidly growing puddle of muddy water outside their stall and unanimously appeared to say “you want us to do what ???”. Macho the buck, Alicia and Acorn, his harem are no lovers of  water, rain or wind and today was a day to hunker down and hang out close to home.

In the cow barn Daisy May is still keeping us waiting. As she happily munches on whatever tasty morsel she finds in her feeder, we anxiously watch and wait the arrival of her calf. All the signs point to the immanent arrival of a Daisy May “mini me” but, as of 8pm tonight as her ample bovine butt was checked for the millionth time, little Mojo/Mojoanne was still tucked up snugly and refusing to be born. Who knows….tomorrow may be the day !!!

Well, as the rain continues to fall, Bran the Border Collie hesitates to leave the warm dry house to complete his “business” for the day and the weather forecaster predicts more of the same …but worse for tomorrow. We are finaly  finished for the day. Dishes are cleared, eggs are washed and the cuckoo clock advises us that it is bedtime….Good night, God Bless and more of the same tomorrow. Take care, keep safe and dry, M