rain.

So, at first we loved the rain. The line-up of storms was just what California needed. We felt thankful that God was watering the fields and flowers and all that baloney. Now? Now, we have humongous pond-like puddles of water standing everywhere. Our wonderful soil is totally saturated. That or the ground is full from the hard pan on up - holding it all like a big bowl. And it's not just the rain... we've had monsoon-like winds that have been blowing for days. Days and days. The kind of wind that wakes you up all through the night, and you have to go out and check to see if the roof of the barn has blown off and the goats are swirling around the pasture.

Seriously, there have been days of rain. The animals have been standing in their stalls staring out at the weather just like we have thinking, "Great. More rain."

But this evening, after a quick thunderstorm passed, the sun came out - sort of - but we'll take it. I quickly put Tessa out in the pasture and had the pleasure of cleaning stalls without being poured on. Tessa walked around in the puddles while the goats just stood in the way - still in the stall - and watched me. Violet, or rat dog as she is affectionately known, waited anxiously outside of the gate for me to be done. I could barely pull the cart full of poop and shavings over to the compost mountain we have going - the water was so deep. But as it turns out, not as deep as the garden soil...

Violet had trotted down the fence away from me as I was wrestling to dump my cart. When I had finally righted the thing and turned to leave I called Vi and she darted towards me right into the tilled, soaked, deep garden dirt. She got about four strides out into the soil when she stopped and actually appeared to be stuck. She had sank up to her belly and couldn't pull her legs up high enough to get them free. Rat dog stuck in the mud. And the first thought that crossed my mind, being the compassionate dog owner that I am, was that I was not about to trudge through that dirt to pull her out. So, instead I laughed and watched her struggle and stagger around. She would wobble one direction then the other, looking at me with pleading eyes. Not a chance... She finally made it across to freedom where upon she ripped around in a few puddles ridding herself of the major chunkage stuck to her undercarriage and legs. The rest would later be washed off in the kitchen sink.

Good rat dog.

But please, no more rain...