Wind Makes Me Nervous ...

Not sure why, but it does. The up side to wind: it dries up mud.

Mud. Everywhere. In shoe-sucking proportions. The cows hate it as much as I do, so to be kind, I decided I’d deliver their breakfast in the shed where they were hanging out to stay away from the muck. They seemed to like the idea. The problem came when I had to fetch the feed dishes back to prevent them from being pulverized by hooves. In maneuvering around “droppings,” I got myself wedged between the barn wall and a very large animal. Thinking I was trying to jockey for position at the feed trough, he started putting his weight on me to nudge me out. Ugh. My only recourse was to step into the muck. I didn’t realize that there, at the door opening, the rain had puddled and created a vile soup. Yow! I was rapidly sinking and had visions of being stuck up to my waist until help could arrive. Okay, so I have a wild imagination and it goes haywire at the slightest provocation. But when I pulled my foot up to take another tenuous step, I lost my boot. It had gotten slurped right off my foot. Ohhhhhhh no! I then had to make a decision. Did I need that boot badly enough to reach into the gluck to fetch it out? (It was sunk do deep it was filling up with the semi-liquid, disgusting slime.) If I were to pull it out, how would I ever clean it up enough that I’d be willing to put my foot back into it? But if I didn’t get it, how would I walk back through the barnyard to the house? In my socks? Oh, why me?!? I retrieved the boot, but couldn’t make myself put my foot back into it in that state. I flung it down on the barn floor and walked back to the house for a shower and a different pair of footwear.

I’ve been very busy in the quilting studio. As fast as I can finish quilts, more come in. That’s a good thing! But it leaves little time for other things.

One thing I will always make time for is to play in my garden. You might think it’s a tad early for that, but I am happy to report I got some spinach planted in a cold frame. And there are the babies in the cellar under lights:

I’m being called to duty by the fax machine, so off I go!