Just a few days ago Jack and I were standing in the shade, swatting flies and now this. It has been snowing sideways all day and is now accumulating on the ground. It's the terrible wet stuff that trickles into a donkey's ears and soaks them through. Jack galloped off snorting and bucking this morning when the woman got out one of his new blankets. Now he says he might wear it afterall.
The woman continues to battle the huaman version of heaves, which has provided us with some excellent comic moments. She has let us onto the lush side of the paddock now that the grass is dying down, with the condition that we must come back up after a couple of hours. I wait till the other three are up there and drift back down to the far end of the lush paddock. Now she has to reinstall the electric strand to contain the others while she cajoles me up towards them. I allow myself to be led, slowly, the length of the field. When we get near the wire, I pretend to be a wild stallion who has scented a large predator and gallop off again, nose stuck in the air, tail whirling madly in circles. Beads of sweat pop out on her brow and she makes noises like an old steam radiator. On Sunday she got so dizzy she had to go back to the house to enlist renforcements. I had a most enjoyable afternoon and feel it makes up somewhat for the muzzle outrage. Now she carries a long, long whip with her and makes phlegmy growling noises at us while honking her nose into a white paper thing. Not at all attractive and enough to make us run for cover.
And now...all is doom and gloom. Jack says he personally knew the old farmer who started the almanac book and all the signs point to a long, hard winter. He bases this on the circumference of the woolly caterpillars, the quantities of food being stored by squirrels and the extra layer of fur that has sprouted in his own generously-sized ears. Not sure about the last one, afterall, he is ancient and extra ear hair seems to be one of the hallmarks of the truly aged. I do know that Voltaire called this country "Quelques arpents de neige" (a few acres of snow) and for that alone he is one of my favourite philosophers. The man knew whereof he spoke.
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4 comments:
Sheaffer, how wonderful that you are quoting Voltaire.
Snow! My goodness! We have had blankets out one night so far but nothing remotely close to snow down here. Stay warm and dry and keep the woman busy supplying hay and other tidbits to keep you and Jack happy.
Redford is here! And none too soon, as Rafer had more radiographs and has a hairline sesamoid fracture, apparently not uncommon after full castings. Sigh. He is brave and it will heal, but it has felt like a setback to us humans. Redford is keeping all of us from sinking into a slump. He jumped over a 3+ foot stall wall to be with Rafer Johnson! Thus his new nickname: The Flying Donkey.
There will be photos as soon as my internet gets fixed. The uploading just isn't working right now!
Which reminds me - your barn photos look so peaceful. Can you imagine the ruckus that would be ensuing if TJ were there? :0
Well Jack looks like he is in a human hot tub - could he be living the life of a rich donkey? I have never seen a stall like that - looks like mom's hot tub - perhaps Sheaffer you need to look into this.
How is Molly - love of my life???
XXOO
Sheaffer, despite quoting Voltaire, you have depressed me immensely with the thought of snow. Scotland has remained in the forefront of autumn rainfall levels, but the temperature fell to zero last night & the woman is talking ominously about having to keep us in at night- I prefer staying out & being able to play.
Where did your woman get the wonderful donkey silhouette on the side of Jack's box? It is very impressive & I want one for my own bedroom !
billie - Redford "Flying Walenda" has arrived?! How ickciting as a friend of ours says. He sounds like a resourceful and intelligent young man. He knew where he had to be and he took the straightest line. Poor Rafer - he has suffered much for one so young. Redford sounds like just the right tonic. Of course, if you really want to distract Rafer, I can have TJ courriered over immediately...
buddy - the woman is what you could call, ummmm, rather obsessed about the state of our barn. When it was built she had a white metal ceiling put in and had all our rooms lined in white metal. She's one of those light, bright airy fanatics. Also, the white metal helps her with chambermaid duties. She scrubs down the walls with pine smelling liquid - not a bad thing, as Jack has certain intestinal repercussions that require major cleanup. Tell me, does your woman let you in the hot tub thing? I'm quite interested in that whole concept. Molly is more Rubenesque than ever but is now covered in a velour-like fur coat. She feels she looks like a super model, we feel she looks like a tweedy couch.
ahhh young dougie, my heart goes out to you. We donkeys belong on the Mayan Riviera, not in some godforsaken, sleet-infested nordic wasteland. The woman brought us that donkey likeness from the huge Equine Affaire thingy. She is going to another one next month and I will ask her to get information. Apparently they come in three sizes and of course we got the small one... Doc tried to pry it off and eat it but got his bottom smacked.
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