What can happen, will.

"So, see you next week."

"But what if the ducklings come in while you're gone?"

"They won't get here till Monday."

"'K, well, bye."

[Half an hour later]

Phone rings.

Goes well

The Annies (Anconas) check out their new pasture

We had our first couple of days of the year over sixty (F). In that time Risa did some barn repair, weeded, built fence, converted the creek bridge into a duck bridge (with hardware cloth "railings," to keep the ducks out of the creek), mowed, and spread grass clippings. While she was mowing the pasture, with the Annies doing much the same down at the other end, a dark cloud boiled across the landscape and began dumping small hail at what looked like a forty-five degree angle. Risa hid out in the Scriptorium, where she writes book chapters in better weather, and watched the ducks, who went right on about their business as if nothing were happening. The advantages of a down jacket and a hard skull!

The nice weather thus came to an end, and today, inside activities are in order. There have have been complaints from the peanut gallery of late about the relative coarseness of the stove-top bread, so it's back to the kitchen for some of the more usual variety:

Goes well with the chicken soup.