The poppies are the bloomingest things in my flowerbeds these days.

In the morning, my doggy friends wait excitedly for me to go for a walk with them. The people who lived at the new house left us their dog, and although we went over to feed and visit with him every day, he must have been lonely because he followed us home. He's gone from being the slinking-away, fearful creature he was every time I went over there to buy eggs over the past five years, to a beastie boy that whines and barks for my attention.

Like Fat Girl, the white dog who recently came to us, Buddy is another oldster. That's him on the right, at the back.

I am now a (thank you Peter for the term, which I get a kick out of) geriatric canine caregiver. Though the little sweetheart at the front left is only two years old. We'll be leaving her here when we move though; she belongs here, and I'm told she is helpful with the cattle so she has an important job. She'll sit at the gate when Scott's dad drives the tractor through to feed them, so that the cattle don't come out, and Ivan doesn't have to get off the tractor to close the gate until he's driven out again.

And finally, here sits Ralph the cat with Everett, who seems to love homeschooling.

*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,_,*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,

*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,_,*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,