Spring could slip through the ranch gate any time now. The pasture is sort of greening up. You know it’s coming when the town fire crew is out burning the weeds out of the main canal. Luckily the wind was blowing away from the cottonwoods yesterday when they did the ditch next to our property.
Slate is ready to get back to his farm job: hunting orchard voles. Last fall he caught 9 or 10 at the edge of the orchard, where R left a swath of pasture unmowed. Once R found him purring down a hole. Given the chance all winter, Slate would run to the orchard gate and put a paw on the latch to be let in, but it’s been too cold to park him out there.
Both cats are a little cabin feverish anyway, and I’ve only made it worse by inviting 9 baby chicks into the laundry room. (pictures soon). Mango is outraged that there are birds in the house, just on the other side of that closed door. Can’t I see she could solve this problem, if only I would OPEN THE DOOR?
Here’s proof that you can’t believe everything on the internet. I went to SLC for a couple weeks to have bunion surgery. I had put it off for years, having heard so many horror stories, and read enough scary tales on the internet to make a person run (well in my case, hobble) away from the surgeons forever. All that worry for not much: I walked out of the hospital in a boot, no crutches, and the pain was never as bad as some of my sprained ankles, much less…well nevermind. The doc removed two wedges of bone and screwed the remaining parts back together. You’d think that would hurt, but it hasn’t been that bad, so long as I keep it elevated and take ibuprofen. It’s been over three weeks and I can drive now, so I’m back at the ranch while R is in the lab. Somedays, I do too much, forgetting that I do have a broken foot, and then pay the next day. If I could find a shoe for my other foot that was the same height as the walking boot, I could do even more.
More would be good. Besides brooding chicks, we have a garden to put in and 50 trees to graft and 100 more to plant and…and…and. The chicks are fine, the grafting can be done in a chair and the rest of the trees won’t arrive for three more weeks. It’s good to be home. It’s good to be back.