It's only June...

It's hot. I've been been as still as possible the last few hours, trying not to break a sweat IN the house with the fan running. We only get a handful of nights – at most – every summer when it doesn't cool off at night; to get one this early is worrisome. It's not even officially summer yet!

Before I chose inertia, I got the last fleece of 2018 harvested. Bernadette was rooed – mostly. The fleece on her neck and shoulders was pretty tight, so I scissor-sheared her there. What a luscious, dark chocolate fleece! Between the glistening lanolin and the camera trying to let in more light, the close-up shot doesn't show it; the full-body "after" shot does. She looks extra-fuzzy because I combed her after she threw herself on the ground and rolled around in the leaves and debris. 😖

I'm feeling Oreo's absence keenly; she's left a hole that I don't see filling easily or quickly. Thank-you for your comments and condolences; it does help to be able to share. All of us who choose to share our lives with animals know this pain; they just don't live long enough....

That's it for now from . . .

Coming in for a soft landing

It's been a rough weekend on the heart. Saturday morning Oreo was much worse, which didn't make sense until I learned that Rick had given her some steroid with the sub-cu fluids on Friday. Once that wore off, there was little left in her but breath. Rick finally ended her suffering today (a rotten job, especially on Fathers Day), right after I learned that Sara had lost her little lamb on Friday. When I looked up and saw a hole in the clouds, all I could think of were the holes in our hearts....

I did manage to get Bridget sheared this morning. No 'before' photo, as I didn't take off her coat until I had sheared off her trashy neck fleece. I was expecting her to be difficult (she's loud, pushy, and spoiled from being a short-term bottle baby) but she was actually very good – and easy to shear.

There was no time to harvest the last waiting fleece (Bernadette's) before I needed to get my horse ready for a dressage lesson – but my student didn't show up. 😒 Then Rick and Brian wanted me to go with them to try out a little fishing boat they had borrowed, and I didn't feel I could say "no" with it being Fathers Day and all.

It was a beautiful day to be on Henry Hagg Lake (said a LOT of people), but the boat itself was a little nerve-racking. I managed to knit a few rounds but mostly just hung on – and took a few photos.

Rick wasn't entirely comfortable with the boat, either, but Brian loved it!

The sun was setting on as we neared home, and the sky put on an amazing show. Reveling in such beauty crowded out all other trauma for awhile; it really was a balm to the soul.

That's it for now from Gilead . . .

Before I fall into bed...

Against my gloomy expectations, Oreo is still with us. Our plucky little barn cat, as thin and weak as she is from not eating and dealing with probable renal failure, still responds to attention. Today Rick started sub-cu fluids and oral antibiotics, and I'm praying those will turn her around rather than adding torture to her final days. She wants out to drink from the hose (even though she has the same well water in a dish in the tack room), and last night she shocked me by finding enough strength to jump up on the hay!

Today, our final cool and cloudy day for the foreseeable future, was going to be perfect for getting the last two sheep sheared. But Rick really wanted me to go with him to the American Association of Woodturners International Symposium and Trade Show in Portland, so my to-do list went undone. I saw lots of pretties and some strange works of "art;" Rick bought some new tools – and a watch for me!

Tonight's "fire in the sky," no enhancements needed:

That's it for now from . . .

Belly full of berries and a thistle in the sack

(With apologies to Mel McDaniel and "Louisiana Saturday Night")

Last night a neighbor brought us strawberries. They were a sweet treat after the guys got the last load of hay in the barn (for a total of 299 small squares of orchardgrass and orchardgrass/rye mix – put up at the perfect stage, according to the horses and sheep).

Foreground hay is 4th cutting orchardgrass left over from last year

The gifted berries were a strong reminder that our own little patch needed to be picked. Thankful for a cool, cloudy day to work outside, I headed to our garden this morning, snapped a progress picture, and went to work.

(The box was so full that the six berry boxes weren't visible; you can see what a dent we made in them!) Then I tackled the thistles and tansy again, this time cleaning out the middle pasture and the beds near the house.

there were only a few of these big, bad bull thistles

My yearly efforts have made a big difference in the number of noxious weeds on our property, which is gratifying. Unfortunately, the yearly battle will continue as long as the lot to our north is left to grow up in all manner of nasties:

tansy and thistle on the other side of our fence

Grrr.....

After checking two tasks off my list I rewarded myself with a break to ride Lance. We startled an adorable fawn that must have been bedded down right next to the arena fence; it darted under the firs where I snapped a dim photo.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

I left a post-appointment update in the comments of yesterday's post. If you didn't see that, the news on my eye is that I experienced vitreous detachment, a harmless and common occurrence as people age (thanks, doc 🤨). I go back in four weeks just to make sure it isn't pulling on the retina; if the floaters and flashers change or get worse before then, I'm to call the clinic. In the meantime, I just take my little flock of bugs (inside)/birds (outside) with me wherever I go; the doctor assures me my brain will eventually tune them out.

As for Oreo, the news isn't as encouraging. After searching and calling for her last night, she finally showed up and Rick looked her over. She doesn't have a fever or visible injuries and her gums look okay, but she is thin and weak. We offered her some canned food; she licked the gravy off the top but that was it. We ensconced her in the tack room with food, water and a litter tray so we could keep an eye on her. She welcomes attention, but hasn't touched the food, has consumed quite a bit of water, and has passed a lot of urine but no feces. Rick is afraid her kidneys are failing. 😔

That's it for now from . . .

Everywhere I turn/spinning in circles

Sunday offered a pleasant diversion in honor of our anniversary and a gentle, soaking rain. That meant Monday would have been the perfect time to pull weeds from the softened ground, but I only managed to pull some from the gravel driveway before going to work, then visiting a laid-up friend, then taking Brian to his violin lesson. When we got home, he and Rick unloaded a trailer load of hay they had picked up earlier in the day and then picked up the last load.

While they were working on hay, I did evening chores. I didn't see Oreo, our chief hay inspector, anywhere, though I called for her. A vague concern that has been niggling at the back of my brain crawled around to the prefrontal cortex.

It took a bit longer for another – not concern, more like a little anomaly – to march up and knock on that prefrontal cortex.

For a couple days I had noticed a small flock of floaters buzzing around the upper left side of my head. I had to consciously process that they were floaters, they looked so much like little bugs or occasionally stray hairs. Last night while doing chores, I noted with surprise and a little amusement that the black insects had turned into lightning bugs darting by my peripheral vision. It wasn't until after I got in the house and asked Rick to look at the outside corner my left eye, which now felt a bit dry and irritated, that I remembered something from friend Adrienne's blog. She has dealt with a torn retina several times, and mentioned floaters and flashes. This morning I sat down at my laptop and read her posts, then checked my preferred website for medical questions, mayoclinic.org. My search revealed this:

I have an appointment at 2:10.

No time to sit and fret; I went down to do morning chores. I saw Oreo sitting on the driveway so I walked over to check on her. She let me pick her up and hold her without struggling, NOT normal for our social but unsnuggly little barn cat. She's also lost a lot of weight. I called Rick and told him we have a compromised kitty on our hands, and asked him to bring home suitable meds and some canned cat food to tempt her. Then I gave her lots of loving; touch can be healing, after all.

Worrying about my eye and Oreo's health wasn't going to accomplish anything, however. Time-sensitive tasks are everywhere I turn. Strawberries need picking, weeds need pulling, hay needs procuring, fence needs fixing, sheep need shearing, fleece needs skirting. BUT – the rain had flattened the grass enough to make the tansy and thistles obvious and I had room in the trash bin, so I grabbed two feed sacks and a shovel. I got the bottom pasture cleaned out, then finished filling the sacks, packed down and overflowing, with weeds from the arena. Now I'm going to get in a quick ride on my pony before the arena footing dries out completely before heading to the ophthalmologist's office.

That's all I know for now at . . .