You may have noticed some odd icons in boxes at the top of my blog. The woman is trying to figure out if more than a handful of people and donkeys are reading my blog. She's a bit slow and just discovered how to put an abacus like counting device on here. There are also some places you can go to let me know if my daily musings are of interest - I hope they are, I put in such busy days it makes my head spin.
My correspondents Fred and Ginger have told me about a shocking pseudo-sporting event where large humans climb on top of donkeys and try to throw a ball though an elevated basket contraption. The donkeys hate it and the audience laughs and mocks their dignified attempts to comply. First they steal our image for some unknown political party and now they mock us for our inablility to play a childish game. Anyone who knows donkeys knows the only organized game we enjoy is croquet. It has has a wonderfully slow pace and the playing field provides built-in snacking. A player can doze quietly in the sun while listening to the gentle click of wooden mallet on wooden sphere. These can also provide a snacking opportunity, though the surface is shockingly hard for whittling.
Our muck and mire has started to dry out, the cat came into the paddock and told us all off, and various birds are ransacking every inch of the property for building material. Molly's sheddings could provide housing for a few million avian friends, though I can't imagine what their houses would smell like when they got wet.