The goats are in the littlest pasture now (It's contrary to the worm plan, but the vet said they shouldn't be in with the ponies until Poppy is one month old. They stress her out and she'll get ulcers. Really.). There isn't enough browse in there to keep them fully fed, so I have to let them out for an hour or two every day to munch on the abundant blackberries and various weeds growing in my yard.
The lawnmower has been broken since approximately April so the grass is all over waist high. I'm thinking maybe I can get my neighbor to come and hay it. That lawnmower is the worst piece of junk in the world. It's a Murray; I recommend that you buy anything else. My poor husband spends about one tenth of all his free time fixing the lawnmower. I want to get a new one (some other brand, duh) but Homero keeps saying "we've replaced almost every single part. It's all new inside! It'll work now." Ten minutes later.... In the meantime, the goats are enjoying.
Of course I can't just let the goats out and go inside the house. I need to follow them around with a long stick to beat them off the fruit trees, away from the garden, and off the road. It sounds simple but when you have eight goats it really isn't. I have to run back and forth, yelling and waving my stick or throwing rocks, and even so, they have eaten half the garden and killed three fruit trees between this year and last. They are faster and more nimble than I am, by an embarrassingly large margin.
Still, I like being out with the goats. In fact, I love it. It makes me happy to see all my animals - children included - enjoying themselves and being natural out in the world.
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