Dear Butterfly

http://www.braysonart.co.uk/  Art by Ashley Brayson

To whichever far-off butterfly flapped its wings and started the chain reaction which culminated in the disruption of the tradewinds and a cold wind here in Wickersham: fie on you! You've ruined everything.

Last weekend was supposed to be for sheeting and roofing my barn. This weekend was supposed to be for siding and for moving in. Instead, we spent last weekend slogging through two feet of snow under a ribcage of exposed new rafters. We spent this one clinging to the walls, trying not to get blown away by 50 mph wind gusts.

Instead of building, FarmWife spent the day remodeling her tack chest (success: it now contains a saddle rack, four tuna-can bridle racks, a shelf, assorted hooks, and a two-tiered harness rack made out of one gallon cans) and FarmHusband spent his watching the Patriots win the playoffs, jogging down the lane and back, and playing Operation. The latter is a game in which the humans try to perform surgery without getting shocked by the electric fence, or some such nonsense. It's not entirely clear to me and I think it requires thumbs.

I spent my day eating, gamboling, and mistrusting everyone and everything. The wind does that to me sometimes.

Ears,
FenBar