The horses are driving us nuts. Blossom, the ringleader, is methodically taking the fence down: she leans over the stretched field wire, and then kind of hoists her chest up onto the top, and then leans all her weight on it. She’s bent two posts, and the wire is looking pretty short and mangled. Grrr!

The most effective way of dealing with the situation—at least until we get the strand of electric wire up—has been to run out there with a closed umbrella, and open it. This sends them running and bucking in paroxysms of either terror or delight—-I’m beginning to suspect delight, unfortunately—-and keeps them away for, oh, ten minutes or so.

Yesterday we bought all the accoutrements for the electric fence, but today it’s pouring a cold forbidding rain, and—call me a half-assed farmer—I just can’t seem to make myself go out and string up all that wire. Maybe later…