The cool of Fall comes in pulses. The rabbits are digging. They efficiently eat the yard, and their range expands accordingly. Thistle popped through above ground, and I used a wire grid to patch that hole. Her wee warren stretches under her cage and out the other side now. Gypsy and Zero are future mates, and sleep next to each other all day, separated by a fence and a few inches. Scent and familiarity will grow over the coming months and with Spring he will be ready.
We lost Ichor to fly strike. Horrific as it was, she went in my arms after hours of tender care, and she seemed to know we had done all we could to save her. Ichor and Thistle are too old to breed now. She went so fast. The day before she was peppy and eating, looking fine. When it comes, it comes with a vengeance. The name is apt.
Zero is enjoying his expanded pen, and I continue to play with pasture scenarios. My plan is to master this skill and share the results.
The kids and I walked Screech Owl and Bynum today. A nest of seed ticks got Rufus at Screech Owl; I so despise them. The mine was loud, and the road was being dug up as we entered. Always in pain, never beautiful, I struggle to find a way to embrace that place. Bynum is covered with pawpaws all along the road. We walked to the festival site. The bridge is covered with graffiti: profanity and politics; the underbelly of Bynum showed itself and we all felt better going home. As they dragged their feet to their desks, I added a post script to the trip that if either of them decided not to go to college, they could become farmers with me! They declined and got to work on Algebra.
