Hip-hip, hoo-rain!

Sunday's load of firewood before the showers started

Monday's sunrise

Monday morning rainbow

My view from work during a downpour Monday

Ahhh; EVERYthing is breathing a sigh of relief. We're on our third day of cool temps and on-and-off showers. The dust of summer has been rinsed off, the air is clean and fresh, the plants have all perked up – fall is on its way. And the clouds – oh, the clouds!

With this respite, we can endure whatever summer has left up its sweaty sleeve.

Brian is playing soccer this year and has had two games (one away, one home) so far. He hasn't played since his freshman year and the improvement is remarkable. It's not like he's been practicing, so chalk it up to greater confidence, coordination and strength (I'm sure being on the basketball team every year hasn't hurt).

Today I had a sheep visitor. It looks like my ram Blake will get some action this fall, which I'm sure he will appreciate. A couple nearby vineyard owners use Babydoll Southdowns to prune their lower grape leaves and graze the grass and weeds, and are interested seeing if Shetland crosses would do as good a job with better wool. The plan is for them to 'rent' Blake to cover three of their ewes. We chatted about whether purebred Shetlands would be even better suited to the job, since they are smaller and already have the better wool, but a concern arose – literally. While we visited next to the Sheep Sheraton, Bridget put her front feet up in the feeder (the better for us to reach her to pet, of course!),

something the stubby-legged, heavy-bodied Babydolls wouldn't think of attempting. By keeping all four of their short legs on the ground, they eat just the lower leaves the vineyards want cleared from around the fruit. (Shetlands just might eat the fruit, too; hmmm.) So first things first; they are going to experiment with the cross this fall.

And if it all works out, maybe a couple of my girls will be off on a honeymoon at another fine-fleeced Shetland breeder's farm at the same time. The pitter-patter of little lambie hooves again next spring, anyone?

That's all for now from . . .