I awoke about 4 am thinking about homemade waffles with a side of bacon. Actually, I think I first thought about it the night before. The kind of waffles my dad would make me, whipped up really well, with extra butter in them, and on them. Some Saturdays, one must indulge in one's hankering. So as Martyn slept, I indulged, with Huck, Billy, and Big Tony, at my feet. I was up early enough to catch the rising of the sun, coming in over fog clothed forests above the farm. Sky was already up having her pre-breakfast grass hor d'oeuvre. The farm in early morning is special, especially on these fall days. One must savor them, so, with a belly full of waffles I set out to enjoy the morning, simply by doing my routine barn chores.
Mr. Pumpkin Head was once again sleeping with what he thinks are his
brothers. Like I explained in a previous post, Mr. Pumpkin Head does not understand he is actually just named after a pumpkin, he truly believes he is a pumpkin. Why ruin such a harmless belief. As I set out from the house, the barn cats met me at the center gate area, and porch cat posse follows close behind me. Some nose rubbing, some jostling ensues, but mostly the tails are raised high in greeting. We greet all the boys - rams and donkeys - and head to the barn. It is a strict order of giving hay out - set in stone. If I, God forbid, step out of line once and feed out of order, a symphony of displeased goats, sheep, horse and cats rings out. So, all within about 1 minute, I open the stall for Mr. T and his 3 ladies to go out, throw cat food out for cats, give Sky a flake of hay, let goats out, and two young ewes not being bred, carry out hay for Joe Pye Weed, Rosie and Daisy, throw hay precisely in the right spot for goats so they don't try to go over fence for Joe's hay, run hay over to donkeys and other rams. Clock work. Everyone is content.
By the time I was done cleaning out a stall or two, Sky was done with her flake of hay, and I took her to the corral for a light workout. A perfect morning. With all the waffles in me, it seemed ironic she was the one running in circles, but
someone has to keep heir figure around here. It is the last weekend for deer season, and as I walked back to the house, I was relieved to see Ethel and her twins. The last weekend and the first weekend of deer season are sort of the same, a lot of the imbeciles come out for one last try. Like the guy who stopped across the private property across from us about a mile, got out of his pickup, shot towards three private properties - all with horses, livestock, children and pets, shot his gun, then jumped in and sped off, dust flying. Yelling was heard right before and after the shot. I was walking with Sky at the time, the rams scattered nearby. One always sort of looks around to count toes, sheep and pets. But the look of the fog lifting over the oaks reminded me - imbeciles with guns are everywhere - better off here with all this to look at.
