The farmer was leaning on the gate this morning chatting with the woman and right out of the blue he casually began to say that soon we will start to get warnings of overnight fffffff, frrrrrrr, frrrrrooooo, I'm sorry, I'm having a bit of trouble continuing.
There. I think I'm more composed now. What he said was that we would begin having FROST overnight. I haven't recovered from the horrors of last winter and the soul-destroying, ear -numbing, grass-killing thing is creeping up on us again. I'm feeling quite anxious - much like the woman when she saw those funnel clouds. Around here the phrase "We're having a bit of weather" is always a bad thing, especially for donkeys.
The woman returned home yesterday with a winter blanket for Jack. It is dark navy blue with burgundy trim and looks like a regimental blazer - highly appropriate for a dignified older gentleman. He will also be getting a raincoat affair for drizzly days, so at least one of us feels more hopeful going into the winter season. I still refuse to wear any clothing whatsoever - I find it restricting and somewhat embarrassing. Jack likes it just fine,and says he's at an age where virtually nothing can embarrass him.
This morning a foot man came and branded Molly's feet. It's a fascinating and smelly spectacle. He heated up a metal device, put iron hoof-shaped semi-circles on it and hammered out footwear for Molly. These hoof shoes are molten hot and he plunged them in a bucket of water, producing much steam and hissing noises. Then, amazingly, he pressed them on the bottom of Molly's feet and she said she didn't feel a thing. A cloud of acrid, pungent smoke filled the air, engulfed the woman, and sent her into a spectacular coughing fit. All this is so Molly will be more comfortable going off on those "girls only" forest rides with the woman. Molly was already quite smug about her special status and this has only made her more unbearable.
I don't care for clothing but I would like a pair of these iron foot covers so I can make metallic clopping sounds as I walk down the aisle of the barn. They emit a pleasant ringing noise and announce the arrival of someone important enought to sport hand-crafted foot wear. I believe it's called making a fashion statement but of course the woman must thwart my every whim, saying I already have cast-iron feet and don't need any embellishments. Pahhh.