I've decided to leave it up to each of you to try and make some sense of this post.
I like to encourage your creativity.
The Moonflowers were all a'bloom at the farm this week. They open up at night (MOONflowers) . But because I (unlike vampires and other assorted creatures of the dark) like to sleep at night, I don't have any photos of them fully open.
I see in this picture that some are beginning to unfurl.
And just to enhance your general knowledge of plants, you might find it interesting/scary to know that this species of Datura is considered a member of the classic "witches weeds" and contains toxic hallucinogens.
This patch has been blooming in the area by the barn for many, many years. We try to keep all the really dangerous plants in one area. We're very careful like that.
All about safety and plant security.
No, I'm joshin'. It's not a fire, it's the sun. There were some really spectacular sunsets in which the sun resembled just a huge, red, fiery ball.
And I suppose technically that's exactly what the sun is.
I am nothing if not technical and science-y.
Technically speaking, of course.
It's too bad that our view is blocked by acres of trees. Oh yes, and an attractive gas compressor on a well site.
Please avert your eyes if you don't like snakes.
The Chief and I (well The Chief, since he was driving) ran over this 5 foot long chicken/rat/generic snake when we were on our way back to the house from a drive in the Mule.
But for general excitement purposes, let's just call it a COBRA, and my tale will be even more fun.
He was stretched out across the road until we accidentally ran over him (or I suppose it could be a she) but I don't think that matters to my story.
The whole being run over thing must have either 1) hurt or 2) made it mad (I've decided to go genderless) because it immediately curled into the classic defensive position. If you'll notice all those rocks around it- I rolled all those ever so gently to hit it to see if it would stretch out and pose for a picture.
*A note to those of you looking to find a bowling partner - you probably don't want me unless we are trying to strike something the size of, oh let's say a barn.
Anyhoo, after a while it got tired of me asking it to smile and say cheese and it heard the word "gun" from The Chief and it changed to the classic "Lu probably shouldn't be doing this in sandals" position.
I mean, after all. A COBRA.
One evening the Weege and I ventured off in the Mule to take some pictures. We went to the field where most of the cattle hang out late in the day.
All the players were there, and we soon attracted a crowd of curious youngsters.
The calves always like to check out Weegie.
They don't know what he is.
Some of them speculate amongst themselves.
Others try to get a whiff of him...
Their Mommas watch from a distance, and as long as we just sit quietly in the Mule and don't seem to be bothering anyone, they're OK with things.
(And yes, it takes a lot of work to get one's ear hair to look that groomed.)
You've always got to keep an eye on this one. She's one of the offspring of our deceased Longhorn bull, Blue.
She can be, well, scary.
It was just about this time that the Weegster, in a fit of poorly timed "short man syndrome" decided to hop out of the Mule and run right through the middle of all the calves barking like a banshee warrior.
And "she of the pointy horns" did not like this one bit.
Her IMMEDIATE GOAL was to get between her precious calf and that obnoxious little barking thing, and unfortunately, without the aid of Mapquest, her chosen route took her right through the cab of the Mule.
Well, with my lightning-quick reflexes, and some pretty impressive gymnastic-type moves, I avoided serious injury by ending up in a Spiderman-esque pose hanging from the roof of the Mule.
The Weege darted this way and that and wreaked havoc for a few more minutes before bounding back into the Mule.
Believe you me, I gave him a stern talking-to all the way home.
He was devastated.