After yesterday’s brain-dump, I had great intentions for today’s blog but, in that way real-life has, all that had to be put on hold

It’s grass seed season at the moment. Those nasty little barbs get caught in frollicky pups ears and eyes, in their armpits (legpits???) and especially in between their toes. Eek! Having been duly cautioned by our vet, various vet nurses, those on the clinics front desk as well as our very own Princess (I guess they’re all allowed to lay it on a bit thick as they have been spending a large portion of their working days removing them from unhappy animals) my thoughts turned rather bleak. I’ve made it my habit to check Colin and Shirley over during my morning coffee break and have found a couple of potential problems –

It was not ideal this potential problem presented itself, in the guise of a puppy not keen on using her left leg, when the only Homesteaders on site were Farm Girl and myself. Neither of us would claim to be blessed in the eyesight department. But needs must and, while one held her in a supersnug embrace (those puppy teeth are worth avoiding), the other carefully parted her toes and peered.

What do you reckon? Does that look like something? Nothing looked like the horrific images Dr Google offered up but seeing as it’s Friday afternoon…

Which is why, when I should have been seated at the laptop regaling you with Esme the Sheep’s obsession with The Bean Counter (complete with hastily snapped illustrations – it really is very cute) I was instead a visitor-without-speaking-rights at the Shirley and Various Vet Personnel branch meeting of their Mutual Admiration Society. Of course, one glimpse of such a collection of her favourite people in the world all under one roof rendered the limp practically imperceptible. Lucky these folk are professionals.

Their verdict? Maybe a bit of a twist or a hint of a sprain caused while she was annoying the sheep, something she has been well-and-oft warned against, through the back fence. The remedy: rest.

We’ll give it our best shot.

But whilst I’d been waiting for playtime the consultation to be over at the vets, something had been niggling at the back of my mind. That tree over the ute’s parking space had grown so much that some pretty substantial branches had clunked and scraped on the cab roof as we roared off, late for our appointment because Colin required a detailed explanation as to why his presence wasn’t required.

On our return, Shirley back in the care of her concerned big brother, I headed back out with what are known on The Homestead as The Clompers (tree loppers thus named by toddler Farm Girl) in an effort to preserve what is left of the ute’s paintjob. That tree had really grown an awful lot in a short period of time.

Or had it. So, that’s a weekend job for The Bean Counter and his trusty chainsaw but the goats were pleased with what I came up with

which is really what I’m asking of you. I tried to get the job done and offer a sparkling little story of sheep whimsy – but then Shirley came in limping.