Dragons

A week ago Sunday we were at the farm. (We volunteer every other Sunday morning. Used to be every Sunday morning, but then we adopted Boo, our 70 pound Aussie / Collie mix with I think a pinch of Lab thrown in, 3 years ago -- who is basically another child, hyperactive & neurotic -- and, so, it is too much for my wife to care for Boo and our four-year-old son, Wyatt, without someone ending up in the hospital, namely, my wife, under sedation... "Mommy needs to rest.") So, we were at the farm a week ago Sunday. It was mostly pleasant weatherwise, if I remember correctly. Did the usual chores. Tegan bottle-fed a lamb -- which, of course, left her grinning from ear to ear and is better than Disney World. We tossed and hauled hay. I'm always amazed at how Faith, my 14 y.o., can carry the awkward-t0-carry 40 pound bales. Then, Tegan jumped in with a little visitor friend to wrestle some bales onto the sleigh. We also mixed some feed -- Tegan doing the scooping and weighing -- me doing the supervision and any heavy lifting -- while Faith was off grooming the horses. At one point in the horse barn, Tegan asked to pet Annie -- I escorted her into the stall, and she bravely reached up to pet Annie's side. I say "bravely"because Annie is an almost 2000 pound animal with sharp talons and breathes fire (in my eyes), and Tegan could almost walk under her without bending over. Girls and horses! I still keep a healthy terror under my belt when dealing with the work dragons. Somehwere in there we took a break, and I enjoyed some of Wayne's wonderful 1890's style coffee and some 1890's style popcorn. A good time was had by all. (We listened to country music on the way home.)