We survived last night’s storms unscathed and even with little sleep are delighted with that. More storms are forecasted for today, but they are not supposed to be anything major. Some areas were not so fortunate and my thoughts are with them.
On a lighter note, Mike was able to drive through the creek yesterday to get to the calves. After two days of not seeing him, they came running from the back of their pasture to meet him at their feed shed. Big Mama was the first at the trough, of course. Even with all the fresh grass and alfalfa to munch in the field, they apparently really like the pellets.
We managed to get the last little part of the lawn mowed before the weather turned foul, but looking at it this morning, it needs mowing again up around the house. Likely, it will be a day or two before it dries out enough and they are forecasting high temperatures this weekend. Remember me grabbing a jacket last week to walk the dogs? Well, we’re looking at heat indexes of over 100 degrees early next week. God bless the man that invented air conditioning!
I can only imagine what our foremothers dealth with in their long skirts, corsets, slips, and long bloomers in that kind of weather, though I do remember stories my mother and aunt told about their elderly great aunt Ada (they also had an Aunt Ada, their mother’s sister, who was named for this one). Seems they came to visit Kentucky in the 1940s from Indiana and wore fashions current to their day: a peasant style blouse and cotton ‘overalls’. Aunt Ada came down the road near the bottoms (land near the Cumberland River) and they politely said hello, commenting on how hot it was. Aunt Ada, in her long black skirt and blouse with multiple slips beneath almost snapped back when she replied, “Well, you wouldn’t be so hot if you’d put some clothes on!” Sixty years after her death, they still laughed at the comment.
Like Aunt Ada, I prefer dresses in the summer and find them much cooler than shorts. I wear neither when I go with Mike to feed the cattle. I can’t imaging climbing a fence in a dress, let alone having exposed legs in the pen. It’s bad enough that I hopscotch through the field to keep from stepping in their excrement. I certainly would not run the risk of slipping and landing, perhaps with my dress tail up around my waste, in a large pile of poop! That would just be a little too icky.