It's turtle time here at Falling Downs. The snappers are coming out of the marsh and crossing the 20th Concession to lay their eggs. That one I saw crossing the road the last week in April was definitely an outlier. Maybe had some circuits mixed up in her turtle brain.
Some enterprising do-gooder has for the past several years posted "turtle crossing" signs along the road, and people are stopping for them. It's a beautiful thing to see. I got the snow-shovel out. That's a handy way to help them across the road.
This is also the time of year the first cut of hay is coming off. There's nothing like the smell of fresh-cut hay.
When I was a kid, pretty much all of the hay went through a baler that pooped out a little rectangular bale. Every June there'd be plenty of work available for young guys (mostly) on local farms, stacking those bales. Then bale-throwers came along. And haylage. And round bales... ain't hardly nobody doing those little bales anymore.
But they're still pretty popular among the horsey crowd for some reason. There's a local guy who buys up the small bales over the summer, and then trucks them down to Florida horse farm country in the winter. Doubles his money every trip.
Where are we in this never-ending coronavirus adventure?
The longer this drags on the more I suspect that none of the experts know what they're talking about, and everybody is just making up shit day by day.
That's what things look like from here.
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