Ray's Next Thoughts

This is miserable. Red is a cruel taskmaster. When's lunch? That dang grapevine keeps branch whippin' me. I'll fix it. Whoa! There go a bunch of sandhill cranes. Let's rest up fer a minute and watch the cranes go bye. They are headed out, hopin' to find greener pastures up north, for there are none, greener pastures that is, in these parts. Very dry, very hot and few winter weeds apparent. So next month fer the calendar, February 18 to March 17 of the Julian, will be: I Am Cotton fer Spit and the CB Tree is er, er. Maybe, I better wait til I'm calmer and less activated to determine what the tree for the new month will be.

Red! Caint Lomo and Crumby hep me with this dern grubbin'? I am much a-wearied and terrible sore.

No Ray. Git to work!

Oh Goddess. Please, please send me some respite from these terrible labors. Oh, lookee here. I scratched my arm. Red, Red, I'm bleedin' to death.

Ye'll be all righty then Ray. But try to drip on the deservin' perennials. They need the moisture.