The maple tree says it's time. The past few days have been our hottest of the summer so it's pleasant to think that fall is on its way.
The chicks that Josie and I purchased back in the spring are all grown up and have been moved in with our laying flock's old girls. Some discussion of pecking order has ensued but John says he expects that the Speckled Sussex (above) will emerge as top
These pretty girls are Buff Orpingtons --known around here as Buff Orphans, as a friend's neighbor once called them.
Did I mention that it's hot? And our county is hot too, full of anti-vax, anti-mask people. It's depressing. And scary. We are being very cautious and limiting exposure--and wearing masks in the grocery store--where too many are not. I've again postpone some routine healthcare appointments and reluctantly decided against getting my hair cut by a professional. I know she's vaccinated and wears a mask--I don't know if that's true for her other clients. So I take a mirror and some scissors out on the deck and have at it.
A year and a half of this. The isolation and bad haircuts aren't a problem. Worrying about my family contracting the Delta strain is the problem. And I'm getting pretty hard-hearted--finding it impossible to muster up even an iota of sympathy for those folks who gasp through their ventilators as they are dying that they should have gotten the vaccine, should have worn masks. . .
We can have herd immunity or we can have thinning of the herd--Live Free and Die.
