Boasting retracted

It is raining.

It has been raining all week, and it is expected to continue raining.

There is mud five inches deep in front of my shed—where the gravel was, and where the woodchips were, and where the landscaping fabric was laid down in order to keep things sort of dryish except in the rainiest months.

You might recall me having said, back in February, "neener neener! We have crocuses and you don't!" or words, kinder words, with that same taunting message delivered more gently. I take it back. Any boastful statements about the superiority of my weather over yours I take back, unless you are dealing with tornadoes and floods and terrible droughts. In that case, I'm sorry and I do know I shouldn't complain.

If you are in New Zealand or Australia or South Africa, dear reader, let me clarify one point—this is a summer day, smack dab in the middle of the only two weeks that are usually hot around here. July 5th through July 20th or so . . . that's when we break out our bathing suits here in Wickersham, and that's when we get a little color on our otherwise pallid limbs (except me, Fenway Bartholomule—always short, dark and handsome). We need these weeks. We need them in order to stock up on vitamin D, without which we all might die or at least become irritable and morose. We need them in order to go riding, because there is only so much adventuring a mule and his woman like to do in this eternal downpour.

Sigh. OK, I'm done. I'll stop my whining, and count my blessings, and give thanks for my safety and my health and my green, green grass (so green! You wouldn't believe it!). And then, dear readers, I will stand here, in my shed with my goats, and listen to the rat-a-tat of water on metal.

Ears,

FenBar

P.S. Don't try and tell me this will pass, and that we'll get a proper summer after all. I don't believe it, and in fact I'm so convinced of the coming of Autumn that I've begun to earnestly shed my summer coat. How's that for sad?

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Here are the Cloud Dog's X-Rays

Here, for your edification, are the X-rays of dear Paisley's leg. There is, apparently, no new break (since his Monday siezure) but there is, of course, a great deal of abnormality caused by years of living with a shortened ulna. His pronounced lameness, the vet says, may temporarily improve. Unlike me, Fenway Bartholomule, poor cloud dog can't expect much in the way of a full recovery. Not having the $$$$ for surgery to fuse the joint, we are working on making some sort of rigid splint to support the limb and prevent further degeneration. That is, the humans (with their space-age material inventions and their opposable thumbs) are working on making a splint; I am working on giving cloud dog brayful looks of support and encouragement every time he totters into the yard to relieve himself. As always, he fears me (me?!) and keeps his distance. Ears to you, Fenway

Continued . . .

Vegan Spring Rolls

I, Fenway Bartholomule, am a vegan: of course I only eat plants, not people! My human is too, so I'm sharing my blog with her today so that she can participate in the 2014 Virtual Vegan Potluck ! When you're done perusing the recipe for these delicious spring rolls, click "back" or "forward" for the entire potluck experience! Virtual Vegan Potluck: Spring Roll Appetizers Beautiful? Check. Healthy? Check. Delicious? Check. Easy? Check. Fancy? Check. Quick to clean up after? Check. Vegan? OF COURSE! If you're looking for something portable, colorful, and crowd-pleasing for your next potluck, look no further than these simple vegan spring rolls! The best part? You can substitute ANYTHING. I never make these the same way twice, so play around with cilantro, kale, cabbage, scallions, or whatever you think sounds good! Ingredients Veggie mix: 2 carrots (grated) 4 oz mung bean sprouts 1/3 cup chopped peanuts (raw, or roasted and salted) or ...

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Mowers and raccoons and steers, oh my!

In my informal Facebook survey I learned that the majority of Friends of the Muleness want more stories—All the Stories!—and that the story they want most of all is the story of the raccoon. Farmwife says it's hardly a story at all, and that it would be something to talk about had the raccoon been in my barn, or touching my body, or gesticulating at me with it's bizarrely human little fingers to indicate that it would like a little snack or help with its homework. Alas, this is not that kind of story. Before I tell you about the raccoon I have to go backwards and tell you that I am feeling very good in my body these days. My track through the forest has been expanded, my laminitis is at bay, and my health has been very largely excellent since I came here to the Atomic Ranch in December. I am feeling so good, in fact, that I have been cleared for long walks around the neighborhood! Puck, Farmwife, and I sometimes make the long loop up Saratoga and back around Fox Spit, which ...

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To Boot or Not to Boot

There're boots (FarmWife's, pictured) and and then there're boots (mine, below) and boots (suspensory). And THOSE—suspensory, support or protective boots—are what I want to talk about today. (And yes, I know that there are a million other kinds, too, but a mule has only so much time.) I love my Easyboot Epics, and I would gladly wear a second pair on my hind hooves if the opportunity presented itself. So far, it hasn't, but it's only a matter of time until a mule of my caliber starts seeing the corporate sponsorship love. All in due time! In the meantime, FarmWife wonders about protective or supportive boots. You know, the kind that make a mule look very fancy, ready for anything, and primed for tremendous athletic accomplishment? Really, I would love to have some. I think they'd look sassy. The arguments in favor of wearing something like a Sports Medicine Boot are thus: I love to a...

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BRAYS OF OUR LIVES

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