Animal Farm

4 Apr

It’s so pretty here.  Everything is green so green and the weather is an ever persistent 70 degrees.  I’m not really one of those people who appreciates nature too much (I went to Alaska once and couldn’t figure out what was so great about giant chunks of melting ice), but it is absolutely gorgeous in Napa.

My grandpa (I like to spell it “grampa,” because that’s how I say it), my grampa owns a little farm up here.  Surprisingly it’s a walnut farm and not a vineyard.  He’s got sheep (they just had 7 little lambs, and we’re expecting two more), a donkey named Ofelia, and a little flock of chickens (I’ve named every single chicken Henny-Penny, makes it easier to get the names straight).  It’s so picturesque the way it’s nestled between two hills.  I don’t know, maybe I’m biased.

I used to be a pretty big tomboy.  I loved playing in the mud, and there was one summer where I stepped on so many bees that the sting didn’t affect me at all.  When I came up here as a kid I’d chase the chickens all over and then get “yelled at” for giving them bloody eggs.  The one really big rule on the farm was not to chase the chickens.  It was probably also the only rule we (my brothers, sister, and cousins) broke constantly too.

Anyway, I went up to look at the lambs when I saw two giant rams guarding them, I backed out of the barnyard very cautiously and returned to the house where my grampa and aunt got a kick out of me mistaking milk-sacks for balls-sacks.  Hey, they look EXACTLY the same, and I’m no vet.  What do I know?

I braved the sheep again, and got some cute pictures of the livestock (Ofelia is not very photogenic).  I even caught a Henny-Penny (actually my aunt caught a Henny-Penny, but I’ll take full creditJ)!!


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