Random Observations

The winter calves are dotting the pasture now, little dabs of orange and white lying in the grass beside their mothers.
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Men write with their gonads.  Women write with their hearts.  Men write sex as porn.  Women write sex as romance.
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The cedars along the road leading to the Gucci HEB are in full holiday bloom now, their branches laden with ornaments and tinsel garlands.
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Fiorella is always singing in her head, even if her vocal chords are not cooperating.  Fa-la-la-la-la-- la-la-la-la.

Autumn Chainsaws

Summer is over, at last. Temperatures are dropping, shadows are reaching across the road, and the voice of the chainsaw is heard in the land. Time to harvest summer's dead hardwoods to provide next winter's firewood. Time to cut cedar to protect against next summer's wildfires.

When Fiorella and Husband first moved onto their five and one-third wooded acres seven years ago, Fio wanted every tree to remain in place, but the drought has changed her mind.

Husband is sharpening the chainsaws.