Rainy Friday.

It's been raining on and off all day long today. Not hard enough to bring the cats in, not hard enough to need an umbrella, just wet enough to be annoying. Mickey Kitty was walking around the gazebo this morning when it started to drizzle, and he ran back to the porch at lightning speed when he felt the raindrops on his face. What's this stuff? Why didn't you tell me that I could get wet if I came outside?! He sat there on the porch shaking the rain off, and then he proceeded to lick his paws and wash his face. Mickey will be five years old soon and today's raindrops are the first ones he's felt on that shining black fur of his.

Mickey hasn't wandered off since last weekend, and now if he does-- I have discovered two more of his hiding places so I will know where to look. I found out that he likes to curl up under the mint leaves, and he's so small and the patch of mint is so big that he can easily disappear in there. That hiding place was a dead-giveaway, though, because he came out smelling like mint just the other day.

The other hiding place is shared with Sweet Pea. Now that the wildflowers are more than knee-high and the wild grass is also growing that high, both cats have been chasing one another through the field near the house. When you look down at the field from the balconies, you can see their tunnels going in circles and figure-eights around the pasture. Thankfully, they haven't gone too far away from the front courtyard. If the cats can become invisible in that field, there's no telling what else is hiding out there as well. When the two younger cats are chasing one another, Gatsby just sits on the porch and watches. The Gray Gatsby is far too sophisticated for that sort of game.

We know one thing for sure--- there must be a million birds out in the fields now, feeding and/or nesting in the tall grass and wildflowers. We can hear them every day-- it's like a symphonic blast of birdsong as soon as you open the doors in the morning. Before the end of next month, it will be time to cut down the gone-to-seed wildflowers and the tall wild grasses. The tractors will come to cut everything down, then the balers will come and magically turn everything to huge 1200-pound bales. Our wildflower-filled pastures will soon be feeding the local livestock. One of our neighbors has already offered to cut the hay for us, and pay us for the bales he collects. "Too soon.... too many birds still out there," we told him. I don't think he was interested in saving the baby birds; he was just interested in feeding his horses, cows and goats.

The barn swallows who nested on our porch last year came back weeks ago and built nests on the porch columns again. We have five nests now, two of which are filled with soon-to-hatch eggs. The birds fly back and forth all day long, flying so low to the cats when they're near those columns that both Mickey and Sweet Pea have run away from those parts of the porch. Gatsby has been smart enough to just stay away from the nests. Last May, we had five baby barn swallows. This year, if they all survive, there will be ten little baby birds for us to watch. I already have the binoculars ready and have been watching the adult birds taking turns sitting on the eggs and guarding the nests. When the nests were being constructed, they would fly back and forth all day long with stems of grass and bits of mud. The nests they built are amazingly secure and wind-proof.

Scarlett is back to laying eggs...... one egg every day, just the way she did before she went "broody." She clucks a bit as she walks into the coop to get into the nesting box, and then clucks loud enough to be heard throughout the hills after she has laid her egg. No more lingering in the coop for Scarlett...... out pops that egg, and out pops Scarlett, off to find the other hens and get on with her day.

The corn we planted is growing visibly taller every day. The stalks are about as thick as my index finger and they're nearly two feet tall now, if not higher. Neither of us has grown corn before, so we are watching the plants carefully to see how they change from day to day.

The temperatures are getting warmer..... shorts and cotton shirts are the "uniform" of the day, and the jeans don't go on unless we visit neighbors or go into town. I have only worn high heels twice since we moved out here, and I don't think I've worn a dress even once. At this rate, my dressy clothes will last me the rest of my life....... my good jeans won't need to be replaced unless they start to fade, and my city shoes will stay in the closet unless we drive into Houston. However, I've worn out at least half a dozen pairs of flat-soled shoes, and I have an ever-growing assortment of clothes that I wear just around the house and the yard, all of which are chicken-proof, cat-proof, and garden-worthy. A lot sure has changed in a year's time.

"Green acres is the place to be......." (as that theme song goes).