This morning I wasn't in the river. I slept in, and then after morning dog-time I walked over to the coop. Inside Cyrus and Saro (my goslings, who are now as large as the rooster) were chasing the hens around the coop. Great. That's what I need, stressed-out birds that won't lay for a whole day because of some smart ass posturing geese.
I shooed the pair outside with the duck into their special waterfowl hotel next door and went about the business of scooping grains, pouring fresh drinking water and letting the hens into their outside pen. Within moments I heard the "kaPlop" of a fat gosling jumping into the metal tub to swim and clean off his chest feathers from the night on hay. The hens were cooing happily with their scratch grains in their beaks. Rufus Wainwright crowed a mighty crow. All seemed back to relative calm when I turned to the garden.
The gardens are looking good, with a few exceptions. My onions and eggplants seem to be drooping and not growing much at all compared to the other vegetables. But they are the only crappers. Other veggies are going gangbusters. The snap peas, lettuce, and broccoli are all ready to harvest - and harvest I have. I've already enjoyed stir-fries, quiche, and salads from their spoils. The pumpkins and watermellons seem to be vining just fine. The corn is knee-high. The zuccs have big fat orange flowers. Life rolls.
But now I'm back inside, and the way the rain's been coming down, looks like I'll be in most of the day. It's thundering and the coffee's hot. So I'm going to get back to the very important business of doing nothing. Y'all have a fine Sunday. Don't pull anything.