In this blistering heat, there isn’t much to tell about the garden.  Weeds in some places are being mowed rather than pulled to simply survive to do battle when the heat wave breaks.  Articles all across the internet detail how the heat and drought are ravaging the farms across the country.  The wonderful advantage of living in Washington is that while on the eastern side we might not see an abundance of rain, we do have quite a few rivers.  In Prosser, we operate off the Yakima, in Burbank, the Snake, and farms up and down the state draw off of the might Columbia.  When people talk about alternative energy to coal and gas, I have to shake my head.  Most of my life has been spent on water power from dams.  I have heard about the plight of salmon, but not that of the pollution of “clean coal”.  Instead, these rivers that never cease to flow, keep us here in Washington going even while others falter.  I have to count my blessings to be so lucky.  Our garden is thriving, even if a few plants have taken a need to be watered twice a day.  The corn, the crop of the Midwest, here is thrilled to be baking.  It helps differentiate between the plant we want and the weeds around it.  The weather people promise a break, but that hasn’t been coming.  When it does, maybe I’ll be back out there battling weeds with something other than a lawn mower.  Until then, weeds remain the enemy, but I’ll wait to fight another day.

Been a crazy busy couple of days, so other than bemoaning weeds, there is nothing more on the farm or sewing front.  I really need to buckle down and get to designing clothes for Rambo.  Don’t ask.  However, I’m running around this week, cleaning stalls here and teaching lessons over there.  When that settles, I can finally sit down with some fabric and my sewing machine. 

Speaking of teaching lessons, and this blog is called Ramblings for a reason, let me just say that “lesson moms” are far worse than hockey or soccer moms.  There is a rule at most horse shows that mothers and coaches cannot coach from the rail.  This rule exists for a reason, but it doesn’t stop some mothers from coaching during lessons.  Memorably, last week I met the worst of the worst.  There comes a time in every person’s life that they want to say something but cannot pull their jaw from the ground.  That was last week for me.  Please, “lesson moms”, if you’re going to all the effort to bring your kid to a lesson, let the instructor teach.  If not, then get a horse of your own and save us all a lot of heartache.

Sorry for the detour, readers, but if you have any similar stories, feel free to share. Misery loves company, and I have to prepare for battle with the same “lesson mom” again.  Wish me luck, regardless.

BlytheLea L.E.

Published by L.E. Gibler

Writer, rider, and future crazy cat lady

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