Spring snow...

An enormous brush pile has been growing for the past two years in the pasture. Two dead pine trees that were cut last summer were stacked there, along with a few Christmas trees the goats and donkeys had been nibbling on all winter. Then we had a apple tree taken down, (it was dying,) so all of its smaller limbs and branches were mounded up. The pile was 6 or so feet tall, and I was tired of looking at it. I wanted it gone before some sweet migrating song bird built a nest there. Sunday evening was chilly and rain or snow was in the forecast. Good weather to burn brush. Rachel and Evans came over to help.Evans is a pro at playing with fire.

 Chris grilled some chicken and Rachel cooked up a family favorite dish of pasta with vegetables. We dined outside, in warm coats, watching the flames. They shot up into the evening sky 20 feet or more to start, then settled down to piles of screamingly hot embers with a nice manageable flame. Evans jostled logs into position to help things burn more efficiently. We pulled chairs up around the glow, our fronts hot from the fire, our backs cold from the chill evening air. We toasted marshmallows and feasted on sweet, sticky, s'mores. Opal the pug raced around the pasture in the gathering gloom, stretching her city dog legs, visiting goats, sniffing lustily all the farm scents. She ran and played and finally, after a few hours, tried to dig a little hole under a chair and curled up, exhausted and shivery. We brought her inside.

Around 11 PM, long after Chris and I had claimed our favorite couch positions, the "kids," put the fire out. A cold rain had started about an hour before and wind was whipping up. All night it screamed around the eves. The brush pile was reduced to just a few of the larger logs, now blackened and diminished.

All day  Monday a cold rain came down, and gusts of wind tossed the trees. My neighbor was going to walk down to get some eggs, but chose to drive instead. The goats and donkeys stayed in their clean shed most of the day. Mid afternoon I went outside to check on all the animals. I started with the 40 new baby chicks in the garage. When I opened the door it was too quiet. Usually they are making sweet, soft, peeping sounds. When I looked in their heat lamp was out, and they were in a miserable pile. The bulb had burned out, and though I thought I had a replacement, I was mistaken. I rushed to the hardware store and came back as quickly as I could. Baby birds have trouble regulating their body temperature, and I had no idea how long they had been cold. I screwed the bulb in with trembling hands, and they quickly moved under its red glow. After just a few moments they began to chirp happily, and scurry about to eat and drink. I was relieved. Apparently there was no lasting harm done, because they are all fine today.

When I woke this morning and looked outside I was dismayed to see a layer of white covering the greening grass.

I am yearning for spring, for budding trees and flowers and grass growing so fast you can almost see it. I want to plant things in the garden and smell the incomparable scent of warming earth. Instead I am home fretting over the Covid lockdown, watching the snow fall and pulling my warm gloves out of storage. It's disheartening.

Focusing on good things helps, of course.  The new floor in the studio is lovely, and dreamy to mop. The old wood floor required vigorous scrubbing and still never looked clean. A quick stroll with a damp mop and this floor is perfect. I've taken care to only put back the things we really need or love, and the place looks fresh and tidy.

I splurged and bought a huge stack of new towels for the pets. Petal pink, looking soft and cuddly in the old wicker basket.

While we had the tub disconnected and out of the room, I painted behind it. That wall takes a beating with dogs shaking shampoo and shedding hair all over it. Some elbow grease and fresh paint made a big difference.

I don't expect to see a soul today until Chris comes home at supper time. He had to go to Yarmouth and Portland, but will work from home the rest of the week. Still, I have showered, fixed my hair and put on makeup. I'm going to tackle a project or two and work on an article.I have tidied the house and planned supper, now I will try to enjoy the quiet time, hush the worry that crowds my mind, and create a bit.

Masks and distance and more...

 I had to zip out to buy a quart of paint for a project on Friday. On my way home I saw this masked shrubbery and laughed out loud. I had to pull over and snap a picture of it. It's wonderful when people share their sense of humor with the passing world. 

The local store has this sign on the door. Mainer humor delights me. 

Talk radio was playing while I drove, the man was postulating that he believes there will be food shortages in the coming months. Normally I order broiler chicks every spring and raise them to put in the freezer. Because so many people are home and not at work now, lots of people are buying chicks, and the company I normally order mine from is sold out. I was regretting that I had not put my order in a few weeks ago. No sooner did I arrive at home when Marion pulled up and dashed to the door. "Tractor Supply has broiler chicks, but not many. You should get over there and grab some."  I didn't have anything set up to house chicks, and I didn't want to leave home because I had a contractor here working on a project. So I called Rachel. She and her husband had hoped I would raise some birds for their freezer this year, too, so she agreed to drive to the store and get the chicks. This left me time to rig up housing for them. I went out to the pasture and pushed, pulled, dragged, hauled and muckled a heavy, awkward, calf hutch across the paddock, out one gate, through another gate, up over the lawn, through a third gate, and into the garage. Then I found our heat lamp, feeder and chick water container. I got the feeder and water container cleaned and arranged the heat lamp so it was safely affixed. Then I put a thick layer of pine shavings down and waited.  After a while Rachel appeared with a peeping box. 

40 downy chicks were snuggled in the box, and we tucked them into their new home and sat watching a while as they explored, ate, drank and settled into an adorable pile under the warm, rosy glow of the light. New little faces at FairWinds. 

The contractor I mentioned was here laying a new floor in the grooming studio. The old floor was original wood and I hated to cover it up. When we first turned the porch into a grooming studio we painted the floor. It was badly weathered and had dark water stains that couldn't be repaired. The paint looked nice, but had to be redone every year or so, and that was a project. It was also nearly impossible to sanitize, and if a nervous dog urinated, the liquid would vanish into the cracks of the floor. So I made the decision to put industrial grade linoleum down. It was early when he arrived, "I'm Guy," he said, and went right to work. First he laid a sub-floor of plywood. Then he used thick paper and made a template of the space. He rolled that up and took it back to the shop. After an hour or so he was back, with one, long, perfect sheet of flooring. 

This is what the floor looked like before.

 Here is Guy, on the newly installed sub-floor. Before he left to go back to the shop I asked him if he thought they  might have an remnants there. Our ducks live in a calf hutch in the hen yard. There is no floor, it sets right on dirt, and that makes it tricky to clean. It occurred to me that if I had a piece of flooring under it removing soiled shavings would be much easier. I explained what I wanted to him and he nodded, thinking.

When he came back he was all smiles. He had a perfectly sized piece of linoleum for my ducks. "Look at the pattern," he said, proudly. "It looks like rocks, they will feel right at home. There was another piece but it had black speckles on it and I thought that might drive them crazy, thinking it was bugs to eat." It's hard to know who was more pleased, me because I'd scored a nice duck floor, or him for choosing such an appropriate pattern.

I puttered around doing things, nervously waiting until I got to see the floor. Choosing it was tricky... looking at tiny samples and trying to imagine what the pattern will look like covering an entire room was a real challenge.  Finally the time came, and I was delighted to see how light, bright and clean the whole place looked.

The dogs checked it out and seemed to approve. Now I need to get everything back in and nicely arranged. I'm itching to redecorate a little while I'm at it. Perhaps the end results will show up in my next post.

Full disclosure...

I got my first camera when I was a teenager, and have loved taking pictures for as long as I can remember. When I was in college, my dad, who was financially supporting me, and I were walking together one day. I was happily snapping pictures of... everything. He chastised me for wasting money on film and developing. My reply was something along the lines of, "I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't do drugs and I don't have a boyfriend." He got a $20 out of his wallet and told me to go buy more film.

When Rachel was born, her adoring father and I both took ridiculous numbers of pictures of her. Partly because we were enchanted, and partly because most of our family lived far away and we wanted to share the cuteness. The end result of this is (gasp!) 9 enormous storage totes filled to the brim with photographs. There are so many I don't know what to do with them all, but I do want to get them under control.  I have had them stashed in an seldom-used bathroom, and since they were covering almost all of the floor in there, it was easy to toss other items we didn't want/know what to do with on top of them. I am too embarrassed to share a picture, but the end result could have ended up on the TV show "Hoarders."  Last week I took every. Single. Item. out of that bathroom. Only the permanent fixtures remain. And then I devised a rough plan to start organizing.

I got out several large paper grocery bags. I labeled one with my name, and all photos of my family and of me before marriage go in there. There is one just like it for Chris and his family of origin.There are a few of us before we had a baby, and my favorite wedding picture.

Then I designated one bag for pictures of the years we spent in our first home in Memphis. There were lots and lots of pictures taken then, because Rachel was new and Chris worked for a photo developing lab. Another bag was to hold pictures taken during the years we lived in our second Memphis home. One bag is for pictures of us before we had a baby, and another bag is for pictures that need to be thrown away. At this point I have managed to go through almost two of the totes. I am taking a needed break to have a little lunch and write a blog post.

I've found some serious treasures. Infant pictures, Halloween costumes, sweet times in our little home.

There are dog pictures, some of dogs that were grooming customers and I have not seen in 25 years, but I remembered their names! Images of parties, times the house was full of laughing (and sometimes crying!) kids, and recordings of family visits. It's a bit emotional seeing my nieces and nephews when they were little, or coming across a picture of my parents looking healthy and vibrant.

(my mom, Rachel, niece Elyse, dad and Sam the pointer, taken on the front porch of the home my dad built and I grew up in.)

 Here is one of me with my sisters taken in the early '90's.

My plan of what to do once all the pictures are sorted into rough groups is a little vague. Judging by how my old photo albums are beat up and in disarray, it may be best to scan all the pictures and store them in some sort of digital file. I need to do a little research. If you have ideas, please share them with me.

My goal is to get all 9 (!) tubs sorted by the end of the week. Then I will take each bag, one at a time, and do more stringent filtering. Duplicates can be tossed, as can images with red eyes or people caught with an unpleasant expression on their face. After that I will work on the final storage plan.

(Rachel, second from left, with my friends three kids and my two English Springer Spaniels at our first home in Memphis.)

This project is daunting, a little emotional, and embarrassing, too. Why didn't I keep these organized? I will strive to do better.

This week I will spend steeping in memories, and sorting till my eyes cross!

"The spring will come..."

Thursday afternoon Chris needed to go to Staples to buy something for work. I went along for a ride, just to get out of the house. The weather forecasters said we should expect rain with a few inches of snow starting that evening. Sure enough, heavy rain started just about the time we headed out. There was some snow mixed in, but as we got closer to the coast it was all rain. We poked around Staples for a few minutes, then headed home. About half way there we saw a vehicle coming towards us with several inches of snow on it, and the rain turned into huge, wet flakes. By the time we turned onto our road there was quite an accumulation of slushy snow, and the road was what Mainers refer to as "greasy." Chris drove very slowly, and we were relieved to pull into our driveway. 

Several chickens were under the picnic table, wet and miserable looking. They had been out scratching around in the rain, and when the snow started they took shelter there. We flushed them out and towards the coop, they were not enthused about being in the snow. Two went under the coop and refused to come out. One went in the duck house and also wouldn't budge, so I left her there for a sleep over with her friends. Chris laid on his belly in the snow and tried to poke the hens under the coop out. Bravo tried to help.

I got the other animals all fed and situated for the night, and we went inside for a bit, hoping the hens would smarten up and get in the coop. A nasty wind was whipping up and the wet snow was coming down at a rapid pace.

A hot shower seemed like a great idea, we were both wet and cold. Chris went upstairs first, and called down suggesting that I should fill up some water jugs because with this weather we could expect to lose power. I did as he advised, and topped up the goat and donkeys water tubs while I was at it. I went out to check on the birds again, and only one remained, sodden and forlorn, under the coop. A well placed poke with a long stick was finally the incentive she needed to vacate her questionable digs and head up the icy ramp to join the flock. Triumphant,I locked the door and headed in for my turn under the hot water.

We settled in for the evening, warm and safe, the spring storm raging outside. The lights blinked and then went out. We lit a few candles and read by the flickering light for a while, then went to bed early, falling asleep listening to the wind whistling under the eves.

It was still snowing when I woke up, and I was surprised to see a plow truck, crusted in snow, stalled in the road in front of our house.

We were still without electricity, but the wood stove kept the house reasonably warm.

The goat kids peered out at a world that looked very different than the one they had played in the day before.

The wild birds waited in line for me to fill the feeders. 

The ducks explored the yard, looking unhappy. 

Bravo doesn't mind the snow at all. 

 Flirt prefers to stay inside, as close to the wood stove as possible.

 For the next 40+ hours we all spent a lot of time near the stove. I made a pot of chicken Florentine soup, finished a book I was reading, started and finished another, and began a third.

Puttering around, I redecorated a couple of shelves.

I boiled water to wash dishes, made frequent trips out to check on the animals, and we both fretted a bit. The world is odd enough on Covid lockdown, having no electricity made us feed edgy. The house is weirdly quiet when the background sounds we hardly notice go silent. No quiet ticking of the baseboard heaters, no hum of the furnace in the basement. The refrigerator does not purr in the kitchen, no water rushes in the pipes behind the walls.

We were happy to see crews of tree cutters driving up and down the road. The heavy snow sent many trees crashing down onto wires. Contractors for Central Maine Power were out in force, and we were glad.

Our moods elevated considerably when the power returned. On her death bed, the last words my aunt Mary Lou spoke were, "The spring will come..." and it will. This last gasp of winter storm will make it seem that much sweeter.

Small frustrations, big wins...

Yesterday morning, after all the animals were fed and cared for, I came inside for a bit. After about an hour, I heard a strange noise and went to investigate. All 5 of the goat kids had managed to get into the back yard. They were having a fabulous time hopping on the little Silky chicken coop. It has a slanted, hinged roof covering the nest boxes for easy egg collecting. The kids thought it was the greatest play toy ever. I can only imagine what the poor, dim, birds thought about the sound of all those hard little hooves dancing overhead. It took some wrangling but I got them all back in the pasture.

After that I decided to clean out the goat cozy and donkey dorm. Bad weather is coming, and this job is far more pleasant on a fine day. Because we now have 7 goats where 2 normally live, the bedding was quite wet, and heavy to move. Goats waste a lot of their hay, picking through for the choicest bits, and tossing the rest on the ground. The hay, mixed with shavings, sodden with urine and well trampled, was a bit of a challenge to shift. And because the donkeys are bored and locked up away from the goats, they all jammed into the small space with me. It was nearly impossible to work the pitchfork around them and I ended up using some colorful language before my work was done.

Once the goat room was all fresh and clean, I lured the mama goats in with some hay and treats. 4 of the 5 kids hopped in with them. My goal was to let them have a snack and a nap, giving the donkeys some pasture time, and getting them out of my way for the second step of the project. That one loose kid gave me a merry chase. I spent a stupid amount of time trying to catch her, and finally had to resort to using a large net. My frustration level was in the red zone. Once she was tucked in with the rest of the herd, the donkeys happily took over the pasture, and I was able to clean their room with little trouble. Next I raked their entire paddock, filling the barrow with spent hay, sticks and manure.

I felt quite satisfied with my work, and was heading inside to take a break, when one by one the naughty kids scooted through the tiny gap in the fence that allows the poultry to go from their yard to the pasture. Then they couldn't figure out how to return, and cried piteously.This alarmed their patient mothers. That is when I heard the gate rattle. Our normal latch works very well, but one of the fence posts that holds half the latch settled over the winter, and needs repair before the hook properly fits into it's home. I've been wedging the gate shut and looping the hook over some wire. If the animals work at it, they can swing the gate open about 10 inches. The mama goats did just that, and let themselves into the back yard, trying to reach their kids. It was then that they saw the garage door was open. Leaving the kids to wail and cry, they headed for the open door at a dead run, their huge udders swaying comically. Once inside, they began to gorge on cracked corn and chicken food, things a goat should NOT eat. They are big, strong girls and were determined to gobble the contraband food. I have a riding crop by the door, and picked it up, smacking them smartly, and trying to herd them to the door. Game on, they nimbly danced away from me, over to where we store the hay. The hay is stacked on sturdy wooden pallets, with gaps between the boards. I froze in horror as slim goat legs slipped between the cracks, terrified one would snap a limb. Back and forth we went, between leg breaking pallets and stomach wrecking food bins, until they finally tired of the game and headed back outside. The babies were still wailing in distress, and I had 7 goats in spaces they didn't belong. So I gave up and came inside for a glass of water. The does were in the back yard, happy to check out unfamiliar surroundings. The kids were in the poultry yard, alternately exploring and calling in distress. A sturdy gate separated the two groups.

After I'd caught my breath, I went back out and scooped up a little goat grain. The mother goats happily followed me back to the pasture. I left the gate ajar while they ate, and hustled back to the hen yard to open that gate, hoping the kids would file out and head for their dams. No such luck. By the time I got to the kids, the mothers had finished their snack, and were back in the yard. I ignored the whole group for a while, and finally the errant babies figured out how to walk through the hen yard gate and joined their mamas in the back yard. For the next 10 minutes they took turns tripping along the top of the picnic table, sliding down the metal bulkhead, and running amuck. A flake of delicious alfalfa lured the ever-hungry does into the pasture, and to my relief the kids following along, skipping happily.

By this point I was late to put the roaster chicken in the oven, so I took care of that next. Then I convinced all the goats to tuck into their clean room for the night, let the donkeys out of the paddock and fed them supper.Almost done with animal chores,  I locked the Silky chickens up, and headed to secure the ducks and laying birds. The layers were all on their roosts, crooning softly and planning the next days events, but where there should have been three ducks there were only two. I didn't see the third, but assumed she would be back soon, and went back in the house to finish dinner preparations. Chris soon arrived home from work. I was busy in the kitchen and asked if he would go lock the ducks up, the final evening chore.  He came back and said, "There are only two." I joined him and we hunted. No duck under the coop, or in the pasture. No duck dabbling in the vernal pool. She had not slipped into the chicken coop, and was not in the back yard. The drake was calling for her, we didn't hear her quack in response. Chris went out and walked all around the pasture. There was no sign of her, and no pile of feathers, but we both suspected she'd been turned into fox food. We were sad.

This morning, early, the first sound I heard was a duck quacking. I hustled outside and sure enough, there was our "lost" girl, complaining loudly, wanting breakfast. After some detective work, I deduced that she had decided to nest inside the burn pile, and when I poked around a little, I found where she had spent the night.

After breakfast and a drink, the lady ducks headed through the fence to the pasture, leaving the poor male to pace and call. I decided that today was the day he was going to learn how to exit the opening in the fence. He never did figure it out last year, dumb drake. I left the chickens locked in their coop to minimize distractions, and put a pile of food just through the exit hole. He glanced at it, but was too concerned with where his ladies where to eat, so kept on pacing. Exasperated, I grabbed some wire fence. I tucked it up on one side of the exit hole, and then herded the drake towards freedom. Once he was in range I looped the fence around him, so he was trapped in a very small spot, with the gateway to the pasture and lots of good treats right in front of him.

He poked his dull head through all the holes that were too small to allow his body to follow. I went inside to let him work things through, and after about 15 minutes, EUREKA! he finally figured it out. I never saw a duck waddle so fast, out and away, to join his beloveds in the spot we call Puddle Pond.

It was an auspicious way to start the day. After yesterdays animal frustrations, we now have the ducks united to explore the big pasture. Now we will see how long it takes the drake to understand how to return home!

Spring clean up...

 Yesterday we spent most of the day outdoors, and it was good for my soul. Chris cleaned out one of the bird houses, and found last years Tree Swallow nest. Tree Swallow's love to add white feathers to their nests, and they hit the jackpot around here because between the chickens and ducks we have a great many feathers for them to utilize. It is a delight to see the swallows swooping through the air to catch a breeze-blown feather and carry it triumphantly back to their nest box. It's an annual spring chore to remove the old nests so returning birds can  have a fresh space to build this seasons version.

 Bravo was most interested in this nest, and gave it a through investigation before Chris tossed it on the blaze I had started in the fire ring.

 While he carefully assembled two of the wonderful outside chairs he had bought for my birthday, I began raking up lawn debris from the back yard.  Hay gets spilled or blown in, and the winds we've had lately deposited bits of debris here and there, and it all had to go. After the fire got a good start I began scooping armfuls of dead grass and such into the ring. In no time I had the lawn ready for the grass that is just barely beginning to green and send up hopeful shoots.

 Here is one of the gift chairs. New, but vintage style, and oh-so-comfortable. I took a rake break and Flirt hopped up to test drive our new favorite spot. We both approved.

 One fun thing about working outside is all the animal watching that goes on. The goat kids played hard, then as the afternoon wore on they piled up in some spent hay for a little rest. Their patient mama's settled nearby, too.

In my last blog I posted about hanging bandanna curtains in the coop to give the ladies a little privacy. Our efforts were rewarded the very next day. The girls have rarely laid an egg in these boxes, but with the added security screens I was rewarded with a pile of eggs. I'm calling this a win.

It began to get a little chilly as the sun went down. Chris grilled us a couple of burgers from our stash of grass fed beef, and we came back in to the welcoming warmth of our little house. We managed to "social distance" perfectly all day, never seeing another soul as we puttered about.

Many more outside clean up chores await, but I am pleased with today's efforts. Perhaps tomorrow some flower beds will get the attention they need?

Adventure chicken and more...

Several years ago we had one hen that refused to stay behind the fence with the rest of the flock. She preferred to hang out in the front yard, and made nests in interesting spots that we would have to look for. More than once she came in the pet door and laid an egg in the guest bathroom. Chris dubbed her, "Adventure Chicken." Since she left the safety of the fenced area so much, some critter finally turned her into chicken dinner, and we missed her. 

The latest flock also has an Adventure Chicken. I first noticed that her white feathers had greasy stuff on them. After a while I realized it was because she's been hanging out under the cars. Then when a neighbor friend was pruning my fruit trees she found a pretty little nest under a kayak she had to move. (photo credit Cheryl Denz.) 

She hops the fence early in the morning, and putters alone around the front yard until mid day, then rejoins the flock. I find her to be wildly entertaining. Today we found a new nest nestled in the hay bales in the garage. People think chickens are stupid, and don't give them much credit for having big personalities. I disagree. It's interesting to see them interact and notice their individuality. 

What makes one out of a flock of 21 decide to be a loner? 

 Speaking of eggs... the chickens are  not terribly fond of using their nest boxes. Mostly they lay their eggs in the duck house, and a few renegades sneak into the Silky coop to lay in there and eat all the food before running off.  It occurred to me that the girls might like their nest boxes more if they were a little less open. They seem to prefer a some privacy when they lay. So today Chris helped me staple some bandannas up to screen the spaces. Ever curious, the girls quickly investigated.

I am anxious to see if our experiment works. It looks cute, at any rate. 

While I was messing about with the bandanna stash, the goaty girls got a little spring decorating. Don't they look jaunty?

After many grey and rainy days, today was bright and the sun felt warm on my skin. Chris got the garden hoses working for me last week, and this makes my life ever so much easier. Instead of hauling jugs of water out to the birds, I can just turn the hose on and fill containers to my hearts content. The ducks are overjoyed to have their pool thawed and back in commission.

The pasture is showing hints of green breaking up the expanses of dull brown, there are frogs singing in the evening, and this afternoon the little goat with back trouble fell asleep in my lap. Despite the strangeness in the world right now, there is much to be grateful for.

Dumb clucks and more...

Cold April showers have been raining upon us, with gusto and high winds. The animals don't like it.

I open the chicken coop doors almost every morning, unless the weather is extreme, so the chickens can decide if they want to be in or out.

The big laying chickens have some sense. They go out in the rain for a while, but once they are good and wet they head back to the coop to snack and dry off.  The wee Silkie chickens are a different story. They might decide to go out in the rain, and their fluffy, soft feathers don't repel water a bit. Once out they seem to totally forget that warmth, shelter, food and water are mere steps away. Sometimes I go outside to find them huddled, shivering and sodden, just outside the coop door, looking lost and confused. I pick them up and pop them inside. I swear they look amazed at the change of scenery. It's like everything is new to them, every day. My neighbor friend would call them "dumb clucks."

The donkeys will go out in the rain, but dislike wind and would prefer if I provide room service. They took advantage of a break in the weather yesterday to really race and romp. Often two will play together at once, but this time all three were involved. Donkey play involves biting, rearing, bucking, mounting each other, running and more biting. It looks rough,but they clearly love it. It's fun to see them interacting so joyfully.

Goats detest rain. The last 24 hours have been hard for them, especially the kids, because they have energy to burn. This morning when the rain stopped for a while the kids came out and raced as fast as their little legs could carry them all over the pasture. The mama goats came out to observe, drank deeply from the water tank, and headed back to the cozy before the rain began again.

Their new door is such a treat. It took them about 3 seconds to figure it out. Now they can roam around all day, going in and out as they please. At night I lock them up for safety sake. A friend told me the best goat quote the other day. It went something like this, "Goats spend the first hour of their life trying desperately to survive, and the rest of their life trying to kill themselves."  Seems accurate to me, at least with the kids. My adult goats are not terribly reckless.

Here Spirit and Hope enjoy a sweet moment between rain bursts.

 Flirt poodle has a little bed in the grooming studio. It's the bottom portion of a small wire storage shelf. We were delighted the other day to see she was nicely sharing her space with Opal. The heater blows warm air on the bed and it is a cozy spot. Both girls looked adorable as they enjoyed their lair. Clearly Opal got the best pillow.

We will all be glad for warmer, dryer weather and hope some is headed this way soon.