The human in the radio announced this morning that all records for rainfall in the month of July have been broken. I could have told him that. And there are five times the usual number of flies for this time of year. A scientist measured them but Jack and I have bites on our legs that give the true scientific measure of the horror. We are waterlogged and bug bitten.
We have decided to hole up in the run-in until the sun shows it's face again. Doc has thoughtfully pulled down so many bales of hay that we have a never-ending buffet. The horses spend their time rushing in and out between showers and as a result Molly developped an affliction called mud fever on her heels. She is taking pills and has a special pink cream that the woman smears on her sturdy ankles. Molly is thrilled with the extra attention and looks very smug in the crossties while she is being fussed over. The woman does not help the situation by referring to the cream "Barbie's Fetlock Ointment". Who is this Barbie creature anyway? And why is everything in her orbit pink?
I am quite worried about the potatoes. What if they all drown? I know from overhearing the humans that potatoes are prone to something called THE BLIGHT if waterlogged for more than a couple of days. When the humans speak in capital letters it means something is very serious indeed. Jack says he will only begin to worry if and when he hears the carrot crop is in danger. He just isn't as committed to the potato inventory as I am. I've been told I must be a reincarnation of an actuary/scientist/detective. I can't help it. My mind just works that way.