You may have thought nothing could top the shearing yesterday morning. And you'd be right, because I really can't express how happy it made me to have someone come with a nice little machine and whip those fleeces off in an hour, with no participation by me other than catching the sheep and bagging the wool. I'm not sure sheep wrangling is on my doctor's list of approved activities for five weeks postpartum, but I never actually asked, so he never actually forbade it. Plus, I would a hundred times rather chase sheep around a pen and catch them than chase them, catch them, AND hold them down for hours while A. shears.
Back to the afternoon excitement. Which was probably only really exciting to me. While Cubby was sleeping off his latest milk glut, I dropped him in his car seat and hauled him outside with me to work in the garden. Well, HE didn't work in the garden--he slept. I, however, planted lettuce (Black-seeded Simpson, Harmony, and mesclun mix) and radishes (French Breakfast) in a little bed A. had kindly dug for me earlier. And then, just for fun and because I was out there and dirty already and Cubby was still sleeping, I proceeded to dig up dock plants. Which is actually not at ALL fun, because did you know dock plants have taproots that reach to the center of the earth? Yes. Or at least, that's what it feels like when you're trying to dig those sumbitches up.
Then Cubby woke up, ready for more milk, and that was the end of the gardening. But the planting season has officially started. And we're off to the races . . .