|Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
I do remember what it was like when my huskies blew their coats (at least twice a year) - fur everywhere! In the air, on the floor, large tumbleweeds of dog fur for at least a couple of months no matter how often or much they were brushed.
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Sunday, March 22, 2009 My house faces due south and the upstairs hall connects the east and west bedrooms. At the equinoxes, the sunshine pours down the hall from LD's old bedroom to ours and lights up the whole upstairs. It's nice to linger in bed till that happens - around 7:15 this morning. It's always a joy when too, because it means a sunny day lies ahead – or at least a sunny morning. It also means, in September, that my birthday is nearby. But this weekend it gives promise of ....
laundry drying on the line
and dog hairs becoming visible all over everything.
Yes. It is dog brushing time. I will be grooming one dog or the other from now through mid-May. Socks is first this year - and usually is. Her fur is the thickest and it's particularly matted this winter for some reason. My dogs who need to be brushed the most are the ones who hate it .... Jack, whose fur is short and needs only a week of brushing, thinks it's fun and always tries to nudge his way in on a session with another dog. They lie in pitiful suffering, grateful if I turn my attention to Jack or anything else for that matter.
I don't indulge my sufferers though because if they don't get groomed, at least a little daily, they become un-pet-able. their fur is outdoor dog fur and it gets matted and greasy and then they don't understand why we don't love them any more. So. Beauty treatments it must be.
In the fall the abandoned bird nests will all be lined with Socks' yellow fur. Priss' is a dull grey brown that I once spun into beautiful yarn. She hates the grooming even more than Socks and is a little less submissive too. When either dog has gotten up and moved away for the third time I stop. It's a testimony to their trust in me that I can come back at them the next day with the same hated instrument. Thank goodness dogs, at least my dogs, don't hold a grudge.
Our Weekend With a Writer author, Martin Clark, was a delightful speaker and his wife was a fun guest to sit beside on Friday night. He entertained everyone, we had a full house, we sold lots of books. Saturday's event in the historic Federal Courthouse was equally delightful. He talked so comfortably with us it was like listening to a favorite cousin come to visit and catch up with things. It is amazing since I know he's made lots of book tours the past several years and talked with similar groups everywhere, but he really did make us feel like we were special.
If you get a chance to hear him speak, do take advantage of it, for you're sure to be entertained.
And speaking of entertainment – our Saturday night was a true entertainment and dining adventure, for last night was the Annual Hunters for the Hungry Wild Game Banquet. In my rural county, nearly all the men, and not a few women, hunt. Game is abundant here for there are some enormous tracts of land and equally vast spreads of forest. The men hunt in clubs, alone, sometimes even on horseback. The Upper Essex Baptist Church is a collecting station for Hunters for the Hungry, so if you have more meat than you can eat, and more than your neighbors can eat, you can take it to the church where they have several commercial grade freezers. The church's ministry involves not just donating their extra meat, but collecting it, storing it, getting it to the processor, and bringing it back to the community to share with food banks and social services.
Sometime after the hunting seasons all close, they cook this enormous feast and invite anyone and everyone to come celebrate. Free. Though donations are welcomed. Half the county, at least, half of this end of the county was there last night, in the warmest gathering you could hope for. There is always entertainment or a speaker after dinner and last night's star attraction was the barbershop quartet the church minister sings with. I'm wicked bad for forgetting their name, especially as it's a memorable one – but here is a photo. R is the tenor on the far left. His wife M is one of my best friends and his son C was my teenage help in the garden for years.
You may notice there is a paucity of knitting related chatter here – and of course, followers of TheQueen know that is because of my injured finger. It is healing in a fashion. It is certainly easier to care for than at first, but it looks simply awful and for some reason, though the break happened 3 weeks ago, it has hurt more in the past few days than it did the first 2 weeks. This may be nerves awakening from their stunned comatose state. I am believing that at least until I see the dr. on Tuesday. I suspect he will say No Knitting for 3 more weeks. I am praying the deformed nail-less tip will return to an esthetically acceptable state by summertime.
In the mean time – there are watercolors awaiting – so one is never completely without artistic pleasures. But thank you all for your kind concern and for continuing to ask about me. Your care is my best medicine. Thank you a LOT. posted by Bess | 8:27 AM