Do you think I will ever remember to take a hammer and nail out there and tack this sign to a tree? I've only been meaning to for about two years.
There. The hammer is out of the desk drawer and onto the bed. Next: find a nail.
When you pull out of our driveway, you barely look, thinking it's safe to go. But long grass in the ditch can surprise you when a speeding vehicle streaks out of it. And if you had pulled out, you'd'a'bin T-boned.
Don't risk it.
I walked across the road yesterday afternoon and took a very pleasant hike around the perimeter of the field where Scott was making bales.
I am particularly fond of this quarter-section of land; don't ask me why. Maybe because it makes for a very private walk. Maybe because, to my knowledge, it has never, ever had a drop of poison sprayed onto it.
These were my happy and excited companions.
There is just the right amount of open field mixed with bush and sloughs.
|Look! Yonder a ship appears on the horizon. The earth is round!!!!|
|I wonder who has been sleeping here. It looks like a comfy spot.|
There are hobo spider webs all over the stubble, in certain areas. Hobo spiders build a funnel web and lie in wait at the bottom of it for their prey. Look closely and you'll see the spider there.
|Click to enlarge.|
When I got home, I cracked a chilled can of Palm Bay, the vodka/juice cocktail Karen has wafted under my nose and given me a taste for, and plopped down into a chair on the back step.
One reason I don't walk often over my favourite quarter is that I don't have ankle-protecting boots. I need to make a trip to the city to try on the Blundstones I believe will fill the bill.
|Meanwhile, these leather shoes Cathy gave me are just about right.|
Before long, Scott drove into the back yard and started baling up the swaths behind the house. I went in and got a can of "pop" out of the fridge to take out to him; he'd be thirsty.
Something was up with the baler, though, and when he called it quits and pumped out the last one, it was a baby.