The smell of rain

We awoke up to the lovely aroma of rain this morning. Rain was in the forecast for the middle of this week, and thankfully, the weatherwoman was right. We probably won't get much, even though we need it. It is DRY. Our well provides delicious water, but with an output of seven gallons/minute or less, it's not big enough for irrigating, just providing for our household, animals and garden.

The garden, of course, likes the hot, dry weather. With the timely application of water, everything is looking good but the corn. All but one of the potato plants died, so Brian and Rick harvested a nice "mess" of new potatoes on Sunday. We're also getting a few cherry tomatoes, raspberries and blueberries (the berries aren't pictured).

Here, looking east, you can see our browning lawn in the foreground (with the edge of the deck on the right), the crispy pasture beyond. There is no food value left in the pastures to speak of, just room to move and something to chew on out of boredom. Soon Rick will mow them so they look a bit neater. The lambs are enjoying a bit of green in a little pocket pasture; I guess they're special. :-) They are walking politely on their leads to the pasture every morning, and following the grain can (my invisible halter :-) back to their quarantine pen in the evening. I need to take them out for individual halter lessons as well, or their training will have a big hole.

Yesterday the farrier was out to trim and reshoe the horses. Our next appointment is Sept. 10, and I've asked him to bring his sheep shears. Dinah will definitely be ready to give up a nice-sized fleece of clean, coated white wool; Valentine's and Bella's fleeces look like they will have plenty of staple length, too. Not only will I get a second crop of fleece to sell or spin, I won't have to buy bigger coats to get them through until spring. That's a good thing; right, Martha?

That's it for now at . . .