Notes on Rural Life

It's been raining now for 3 days, and the crew is getting surly. Bill and I planted daylilies on his newly-cleared slope, a cherry tree down by the pond, and poked down all the peas that have popped to the surface, but these activities are just a holding pattern for when the sun comes out, hopefully today. Echo emits great sighs of boredom. Bill is even tired of watching the History Channel.


We found our pilfering rodent in the tree yesterday, presumably looking for "his" glove:

This is one of those strange "white-nosed" squirrels that we've only seen since we've lived here. He has a great bushy tail, hidden in this photo, that he flicks imperiously at us, while scolding us noisily for some imagined outrage.

Down the road, the cows have staged a coup, tipping over their steel hay corral. I actually saw one yesterday, shouldering the offending barrier up and over his back, while munching contentedly on the exposed hay.

And then there was the birthday. I am so glad we stayed home and ate lobster I cooked myself. Whenever we go out for lobster, I always feel like there should be more, as in "where's the rest of my lobster?" I ate lobster until I couldn't lift my fork anymore. Bill bought me a cake that says it all:

It was a very happy birthday.

Add to that several days that have been nearly pain-free, and I'm a happy country girl.