Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Four eggs

It's been a quiet day. Did the usual chores. C. has taken a cleaning streak so I'm laying low, lest I get drafted.

I hiked to the barn and loosed six bales of hay for the big animals. When I say "hiked," I mean crept along the snowy path, stabbing my snow cane every other step. Fell a few times, got back up. Took a while.

I'd like to say the animals were grateful. Or helpful. Or gainfully employed. But no.

Instead, they were smelly and rather impatient. Smelly in a good way, though. Walking into the barn zaps me back to my grandparents' sheep ranch at shearing time. I like the smell of sheep.

Just finished a rather disturbing mystery, Murder at the Marais, by Cara Black. It's about the lingering ugly legacies of the Nazi occupation of France during WWII. It's complex and interesting.

I'm off to do some minor tidying.

1 comment:

  1. I love the smell of sheep too. My partner looks after the animals, which means I can enjoy having them on the farm but don't then have to do the heavy work of sorting out hay and straw for them.