Blogging without adventuring

My world. 

I wouldn't call it writer's block, per se, but I am facing a bit of a dilemma: how to go on blogging about a life which is now being passed in a field, 132 feet on each side, a paddock, forty feet long, and a 16x32 foot barn? How many ways are there in which to tell you that I bray for my breakfast? That I whicker softly when FarmWife passes during the day, that I trumpet loudly when FarmWife comes out at night, and that I live beneath the migrations of the snow geese? That I have a chihuahua who is fatter than she ought to be, a goat who is thinner than she ought to be, and a flock of chickens that are more colorful than clever? That the mail comes six days per week and that some small portion of it is usually addressed to me, Fenway Bartholomule? That the hay comes once per year and that the vast majority of it is positively scrumptious? That I was a good trail mule once, and that I am a good pet now and forever?

I'll keep telling you these things, but I'd like to tell you something else, too—I need your adventures to supplement my own newly limited ones. This fat hock, which is not painful but which is limiting, says that I can't regale you with tales from the trail unless you send in YOUR stories. Can you help?

I'd like to begin running a guest post once a week . . . we'll call it Friendsday Wednesday. Hopefully, you'll share with me your own scenic vistas, wilderness adventures, showring sagas, and stories from the sound-of-limb. Email photos, text, and a URL if you'd like to share one to fenway at brays of our lives dot com. Horses, mules, donkeys, goats, dogs, ducks, and humans—all are welcome to apply.

Thanks, and Ears to You!

Fenway Bartholomule