The dismal grey wet is growing tedious. Yes, I'm whining about the weather again. True, the snow is nearly all gone, and daytime temps are in the high 40s. We occasionally get a sunny afternoon, and then it's glorious (in a muddy sort of way). But the last few days have been full of rain.
Monday was almost sunny and we hit the garden, c. to dig artichokes and me to plant shallots and garlic. I pooped out first and came inside, but the rush and pounding of hail soon sent me out to help C. haul in the buckets of sun chokes. Yesterday she dug another bucketful, and Earl and I drove to the barn to loose hay for the big buttheads, and fix the fence where Bambi, the really annoying sheep, was getting out. I was getting tired of encountering Bambi on the front porch or the chicken yard, demanding grain and scratches. I have to be sure to latch the door or she'd be in the house. Again. Then I tweaked the grow lights and heat mats, and read more of Blue Horizon, by Wilbur Smith.
C. has given up on fixing the chainsaw. We'll have to take it in to the shop. Em has our backup electric one – we'll get that back so C. can cut the last of the logs up. We usually have a fire in the evenings to take the chill off, and the woodpile is down to a few sad bits.
Six eggs Tuesday, five today.