Well. The two would-be mountain climbers are back, no doubt leaving the Adirondacks pulverized into gravel and all those cold mountain rivers drained dry. I can only wonder at the judgement of the authorities that let them return year after year.
Our in-house help was quite satisfactory and Sally had her convinced that her food bowl must be filled to brimming at all times. This woman is unfortunately a seasoned horse person and never let down her guard enough for us to slide into the barn or tack room unnoticed. Other than that, she was most pleasant. She did pronounce my body shape to be"astounding", which I choose to take as a great compliment.
The pears are now so over-ripe that the legions of crows - I believe it is rightly called a "murder" of crows - spend their days becoming inebriated and falling from the branches. Once on the ground the most terrible brawls break out, lowering the tone of the entire neighbourhood. Tsk tsk tsk. Where is the Ladies Temperance League when you need them.
PS I almost forgot to mention that our food supply for the year is being prepared, right here in our own fields, even as I write. Acres and acres of the finest hay, I assume all for me (I mean us). It is being packaged in small squares and large rolls and Jack and I have inspected each and every unit. The woman was quick to assure me that the large rolls are destined for cattle feed but we shall see, we shall see. I think one of those units would make for a sensibly-sized donkey breakfast.