Weary Farmer

Last year my sister found some bath herbs called Weary Farmer that came in a tea bag.  You just added it to the tub and soaked and all the muscles were happy.  I REALLY NEED SOME NOW.  I can't find it here, so if anyone knows where to get some, I'll pay big baks.

Ugh.  Very busy day.  I got all of the irrigation in and buried and tried out the system.  I had to do some spot repair for leaks at the front end with a punch (Judy Judy Judy) that was too small, but it was the only punch (Judy Judy Judy) in a 30 mile radius to be had.  Gotta love the country.

I mailed the taxes and spent about a half hour in the post office in Ivanhoe (about as big as a postage stamp) jawing with the post mistress.  Gotta love the country.

An interesting phenom.  All the post offices around here are run by women.  And they all know what's going on.  Best news source in the three counties (I live at the corner of Sampson, Bladen and Pender county).

Eating at the picnic table

Came home for more gardening and a power nap.  Then more gardening.  Then walkies.

We did short walkies today since I was kinda weary and Muskett had dire rear.  He ate grass the whole way so his system is screwed up.  Probably too much chicken poop.  I have TRIED to break him of this habit, but so far am unsuccessful.  I don't know what is in the poop he loves so much, but what are ya gonna do?

Then one of my aunties showed up with blessed bread and flowers so we porched it for a while and got more news.  And watched the bat show.  They swoop on the pond at dusk getting bugs.  Gotta love the country.

Finally, dark thirty and chickens are shut up.  A quick bite to eat and to the tub, without my Weary Gardener, but I'll make do.  There's a nice breeze so I'll open the french doors during the bath.  

Tomorrow, PLANTING!  Gotta love the country.

Bak Bak