A lot to say on Mother's Day

First of all, an update on our birdhouse – remember, the one that bluebirds moved into immediately? Well, those bluebirds seem to have moved on, a pair of violet-green swallows have been checking it out, a black-capped chickadee was seen entering and exiting, and so has an LBJ (a "little brown job"). Finally I couldn't take the suspense anymore. Which little mother had actually moved in? I tapped the birdhouse to make sure no one was home, lifted the lid, held my camera up high, and snapped a picture. I eagerly looked at my screen to see . . . nothing. Some coarse twigs and a chicken feather, but nothing resembling a nest, no eggs or nestlings. I was flabbergasted. What gives?

Friday night we had an unfortunate incident here. Rick decided to take Jackson into the pasture to help move the sheep back to the fold for the night, in spite of my protestations. I knew one or both of the mama ewes would try to attack the "wolf," and I knew Jackson would not stand down if attacked. Sure enough, Vienna charged, and Jackson reacted. They locked head to head, running out the gate and across the barn lot. I screamed at Jackson and called him off, but not before he slashed a 5" gash on Vienna's head, barely missing her eyeball. It was ghastly, and took Rick a good, long time to sew up the damage. I think with stitches, antibiotics, Banamine, steroids and time it is going to heal okay, for which I am thankful. Poor Vienna; she was only living up to the fierce mothering reputation of her breed – and Jackson was simply defending himself against what he saw as an unprovoked attack.

Not that the lambs think they need their mamas to protect them.

Yeah, they are at that stage. Independent little snots, slipping under the fence and running off giggling while Sarai and Vienna scold and fret.

Not unlike my son and me, sometimes! I must say, however, that this year Brian gave me the sweetest Mother's Day card and gift ever. He told me last night he had an early morning errand to run and told me to stay in our bedroom until he got back. I was completely surprised to come out to this beautiful bouquet of wild and bearded iris!

When we went on a combo bike/horseback ride last week, I had stopped to admire the wild iris. So Brian got up at 6:00 this morning and went on a considerable trek to pick me some. He tried to dig up some of the rhizomes for me as well, but the ground was too hard and rocky. He said he found the bearded iris nearby, not in someone's yard; I'll have to take his word for it. ;-)

One of the roses my mother sent me is blooming now, too, in spite of being ravaged by black spot:

My mother blesses me in so many ways; these roses are a lovely reminder of that.

Lastly, today had me thinking of two grand old dames of the Boulderneigh flock, Inky and Annabelle. I never got a ewe lamb from Inky to keep, but my friend Jeannie has two of her wethered sons, Banjo and Bodhran.

She sent me these photos of them today; I can see Inky in their faces. And I could see Annabelle's fine, crimpy, lustrous fleece legacy as I scissor-sheared her son Benny this afternoon.

It's been a good day. I hope you had a good one, too!

That's it for now from . . .