I dropped a piece of firewood on my foot yesterday. It fell out of the log carrier and crunched down directly on the terminal joint of my big toe. You know, where the bone is right there under the skin and is therefore in a position to cause maximum pain when crushed. Yeah, that one. It hurt. A lot. It hurt so much, I was afraid I had cracked the bone. I don't think that anymore, but it still hurts some. And I'm ready for woodstove season to be over.
Also yesterday, I helped A. move the sheep from the paddock near the house to the upper pasture where there is a bigger barn they can all fit into to get out of the forecasted snow. You would think lambs would just follow right along with their mothers, right? Wrong. We spent a good ten minutes chasing and herding three particularly stupid lambs that didn't know where they were or where they wanted to be, but did know they didn't want to go where we wanted them to go. Stupid lambs.
I am seriously involved at the moment with the BBC2 series Edwardian Farm, for which I can thank Ohiofarmgirl for mentioning it on her site. It's on YouTube. You should watch it. It's awesome. There is also one called Victorian Farm, which I will, of course, have to watch. The time suckage is off the charts. But oh so entertaining.
The forecasted snow did indeed arrive and is even now coming down. Which means the lettuce is a no-go for awhile. As is any chance of getting outside. Oh well. More time for Edwardian Farm.