Bad Frost and another Loss.

This morning we have a bad frost.  I still have so much in the garden not quite ready to harvest.  So it is bad luck. 

Last night before we drove up to meet eldest son’s bus from the airport, we covered the frog garden with a tarpaulin. And other favourite tender plants with blankets. Especially the eggplant, capsicums, tomatoes and chillis.

Stalker’s Garden with its many tomatoes and zuchinnis has a sprinkler going on it that our John turned on at four before he left for work. The rest will have to take their chances. Sad to have such a hard frost so early in the autumn. 

My son is fast asleep in the room upstairs, John’s son is fast asleep in the cloakroom, the Big Dog is sleeping under blankets in the barn, the cow and sheep have frosty backs and I am shivering in my downstairs summer study.  We cannot light the fire until the chimney has been cleaned of the summer nests. 

There is some sad news too. We have lost another cat. Thing 2. The day after the big coyote night, you remember, when they were howling from three sides. He was here for the morning milking and absent for the evening milking. 

So we are now down to two cats. I try to keep them inside at night but they always get out. They are not inside cats.

But as we said before. A short life does not mean a bad life. It is the cycle we are in when we live amongst wild animals. We have to expect and take the losses right on the chin I am afraid.  You and I both. Part of being a grown up.

Sad, aye.

Today Eldest Son and I will take a tour of the projects I have lined up for him. Most especially the inside winter home for the pigs.  Once we have made a list of everything we need, we will call the junk yard man and hopefully go there for a visit.

But first he will have a sleep in and I will get busy with beginning the day.  Then French Toast for breakfast?  What do you think?

Last night I made him a Big, Tall, Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato sandwich, on home made bread, home grown tomatoes, lettuce  and bacon, etc,  and handed it across to his eager open hands.  Then I washed out the cast iron pan, wiped it with oil, turned around and he was looking at me wide eyed from an empty plate. I dropped my head to the side and grinned at him as his eyes did the Oliver thing.  Ah, I said. Cake.

He nodded enthusiastically as I uncovered the pound cake and passed him the knife.

Caaaaake, he said, as he dived in.

Tired hungry boys love cake. I love to feed hungry kids. And tired hungry sons.

Have a lovely day.

celi