Celebrating Friday at Blackrock

What better way to celebrate the end of a long work week than with . . . more work. It is the Blackrock way, you know.

A. finished up in his office yesterday and decided to start a fire in the sap evaporator to burn up all the incredibly numerous junk pieces of wood that always accumulate with alarming speed around here. So he did. Before long, there was a towering pyre in the evaporator, which A.--and his bottle of hard cider*--monitored and replenished occasionally.

Meantime, I took the laundry off the line and Cubby did some serious pounding with the rusty old ball peen hammer his father had kindly offered him as a plaything.

After the MiL got home, Cubby and I joined her in an inspection tour of the daffodils in the pasture. As well as the very pregnant sheep, some of whom look ready to have lambs any day now. And they all look pregnant. So let's see. Thirteen ewes, several of whom will likely have twins, so that's . . . a shitload of lambs. Yikes.

Shortly thereafter it was time for Cubby's bath and retirement to bed, A. came in from outside, and the workday was done.

Not to worry though. We shan't be too leisurely. Today is a brand-new day, just waiting to be filled with many more tasks. No rest for the wicked, you know. And the inhabitants of Blackrock.

* Not his hard cider, of course. That's long, long gone.