Happy birthday to my Kacy, who is anything but a Killer Canine. It’s hard to believe that she’s already 12. I don’t know what the pack will do when she is gone. She is the true grandmother-dog to the others; a warm and mothering ear-washer.
Her vision and hearing are somewhat impaired and she has run into the closed sliding-glass door on several occasions. That has not abetted her desire to chase sheep.
But some mornings it’s not worth the effort.
I can’t decide if this picture looks more like Julie (the head) or Huxley (the body and position).
It has been cold the last few mornings, as it often is in April. When you step outside you first think that the black helicopters must be overhead. The orchard to the northeast of us uses wind machines to protect the pear blossoms from freezing.
Many of the orchards like the one down at the corner use sprinklers. This has the effect of creating what I can’t help but think of as beautiful ice-fairy trees.
I am glad that the days of smudge-pots are gone.