of hunting season.
I'm going to try to get out for more and better pics during the week. For now, this is all I have.
Already this morning, while feeding the chickens and letting the sheep out of the barn into the field, a shot rang out in the distance .
C is away on a several day backpacking/hunting trip with a friend/neighbor.
You couldn't pay me to camp in rainy weather with freezing nighttime temps like this,
but I know he's enjoying it.
The larch are at their peak of fall color.
Two days ago, the boys were helping their papa move piles of lumber when the stirred up a yellow jacket nest. Much screaming and running and stripping off of clothes ensued, and squishing and untangling of wasps caught in hair, and wailing and crying, baking soda and baths, benedryl and tylenol. Our neighbor is a talented herbalist, and her "stinger zinger" worked as well as anything, if not best, to ease the pain. Then smoothies and waffles before a movie and bed.
Poor E saw the worst of it with 15-20 bites on his legs, arms, hand, chest, back, neck, and head, it was hard to tell how many there were under his hair. C had 5, and R got away with only 2.
Ouch. Traumatic pandemonium at the time. Now, just a story to tell and retell.
Yesterday afternoon, E sat calm as can be at the picnic table while a yellow jacket circled around him, checking him out.
Yesterday evening, while driving the boys to spend a couple of nights with their cousins,
it felt as if we were travelling within some hazy and slightly moody painting.
Returning home again after dark, the ewes were being stubborn, and so I had to round them up by the light of the full moon. I was too tired and rather irked about it at the time, but
if they hadn't made me come out into the field and chase them, I never would have seen that shooting star streak clear across the sky.
Today, the boys went to the pumpkin patch with their aunt & uncle and cousins.
On my way home I saw that this afternoon's drizzle had turned the grasses a bright golden and the damp weather had made for for wisps of fog and mist across the landscape. I had no camera with me.
Tonight, after work, all the sheep filed happily into the barn for me. Thank you.
It's so quiet, I have't wanted to spoil it by turning on the radio, putting in a movie, or even answering the phone.
A fire is crackling in the stove. The kitchen sink is dripping, slowly, one drop at a time. No one else breathing inside this house. The occasional whir of the laptop fan.
I've pulled an armchair right up next to the fire in the middle of the room.
Back there, to my knitting, my cup of tea, and cinnamon toast...
then a long and deep night's sleep,
while he sleeps, cinched up tight and warm in a sleeping bag within a tiny tent on the other side of the mountain.
I can know he's been contently snoring away there for awhile already.