My grandson persists in the firm belief that Grandma can learn to work border collies and herd sheep.  I’ve tried to explain to him that the ability to tell your right from your left is a Really Big Help when you’re trying to direct your dog — not to mention learning the different commands.  “Come by”, “Away”  “Bring ’em” “Walk up” — it’s all too much for me. 

I’m pretty good at “Down”, though.  But the long-suffering expressions on the faces of both dogs and sheep is beginning to get to me.  And believe you me, it’s pretty hard for a sheep to have an expression of any kind.

Anyway, both dogs and sheep are getting plenty of exercise as I try.  The weather’s been nice, but the dogs still enjoy a nice dip in the sheep trough when they’re done.

Of course, some of the dogs take a little more persuasion before they think this is a good idea.  Don’t worry; Andrew rinsed out the water trough afterwards, so the sheep didn’t have to drink dog-flavored water.

Little lamb Friday (for the day of his birth) continues to do well, and is much tamer than the first lamb.  He doesn’t seem to mind being held and petted.  Here he is with Courtney.

The weather is warming up.  Soon it’ll be too hot to work the sheep at all, except in the early mornings.  Maybe that’ll get Grandma excused . . . after all, I have to fix breakfast.

With so many horses on the place, you’re bound to lose some occasionally, but it’s always hard.  Last night, a very old mare turned up choked.  Her esophagus was blocked, probably with a wad of hay.  Old horses with worn-down teeth are more prone to this kind of problem, but it’s still rare.  She could breathe with her blocked throat; but of course she couldn’t eat or drink.  The vet passed a tube past the blockage, but couldn’t dislodge it — difficult to do without rupturing the esophagus.  He gave her painkillers and muscle relaxants, but she didn’t respond, and her owners made the difficult decision to put her down this morning.

Billy always takes the loss of a horse hard.  He was up and down last night checking on her, hoping that she would manage to clear the block, but no such luck.  I keep reminding him that there’s no way he can make them live forever — but he would if he could.

It’s always hard to write about something like that, but with life comes death.  It wouldn’t be a realistic picture of life here if I just skipped over the losses.

It’s been a busy weekend anyway, with a barrel race, and some of our people (including son Scott) off camping near Cuyama.  Everyone’s trying to take advantage of the nice weather before the Bakersfield heat kicks in.

And my amaryllis are blooming.  It’s hard to remember that this display started with one lonely Christmas bulb years ago.  I counted twenty-two flower buds coming on.

Also in clear view is the storm damage to our patio cover, from last winter.  Maybe we’ll get it fixed soon . . . maybe even before next winter!