I Ain't No Conehead!

This is Witty, our eldest buck.

"Why is his face and beard yellowish brown?" says Virginia.

Dear woman, have you no sense of decency?

You probably can't see the rain that's spraying from his raincloud, but that's what he's catching in his mouth.  Some gets on his beard and on you, if you get close.  This time of year, when the does return to their 21-day heat cycles (sort of like global warming on a small scale), he gets frustrated because they're two fences away.  He snorts and stinks more than usual and bounces around enough to make a man wonder if that's what he looks like, downright embarrassing.

So much for caprine passion.  Now for an update on mine.

The October (horticultural) beans I planted and surrounded with the yellow fence are coming along nicely, unbothered by the birds that hassle the rest of my seedlings.

This is the time of year for these guys.  We always seem to have a bunch that don't ripen before the first frost.

Likewise, our sweet peppers.  Fortunately they taste good any size.

Today I transplanted my pomegranates, some of which were nearly root-bound.

Here's Olga, who seems to be shrinking rather than growing, and her guardian Boxerplants, Lex and Rosie, who now are as old as Adam's first dog, Casey, was when it died of cancer.

Talking about pets, here's our smartest turkey, who decided it was time to cozy up to Karen.

Do you think she watched Karen working on her latest project this morning?

"I ain't no conehead," she squawked.