Don't forget the flashlight

I got sidetracked with a project and didn't get out to the pasture to move the goats until after dark. Not fun when that overgrown pathway is surrounded by thorny locust tree trunks and saplings like this. The goats were most displeased by my tardiness and displayed their tempers in various ways. Once again, I was reminded that there's not much on this earth more stubborn than an old goat. Except me.

Another hard frost

Frosty mornings are more the rule than the exception at last. It's been an unusually arm fall here. That's been nice, considering how much settling in I've left to do here at the farm. Today the projected high is 55 degrees F. I'll be moving a dozen blueberry bushes from their heeled-in spot in the garden to their permanent places in the new orchard.

By the way, the puppy has a name. She's Bebe aka Isabelle (slurred 'It's a belly'). She acquired the second name during a cuddle session at the lumber yard while we waited for pipe to be cut. Bebe Isabelle made new friends at the lumberyard, the service station, the park . . . and then there's the deer hunter and his six-year-old son . . . .

Dixie? Annie? Lucy? Josie? Bebe? We haven't picked a name yet for the new farmcollie pup. She's 7 weeks old and just arrived at the farm yesterday evening. She's met the livestock and is only intimidated by the guineas, the rooster gangs, and Speedy, the mama hen. No shame there, even the 80 lb. English Shepherd steers clear of Mama Speedy and her brood. Miss Puppy-Without-A-Name joined me and the 3 grown farmcollies for a long walk through the woods and fields, then snuggled up with me for a nice long nap. Life is good.

Many, many thanks to Clark, who picked up our little girl in Texas on the way back to college Sunday. Thanks also go to the guys in #14 for letting her spend the night at their apartment while she waited for her ride to the farm.
Photo by LauraP