Some notes. There is grass now, and at 5 p.m., as the chickens are making their way to the roost, Simon and Lulu and Fanny head up the pasture to the top of the hill, where they spend most of the night. No more hay from the barn, and this is an especially easy time to have donkeys. Their hooves have been trimmed, they have their rabies shots, their teeth have been floated and filed. All they need to do until October is graze and come down for water and attention. I am thinking of my next children’s book, which I am calling “Simon Says Good Night.”

Maude, the speckled gray and white hen, was found dead in her roost this morning, she died while laying an egg, which happens sometimes. We went over to Jenna Woginrich’s for a really great dinner, met her new goat Bonita, and got another Hen, which Maria promptly named Shirley Partridge. Fran is holding her own. It is a treat for me to talk to Jenna. I think I move pretty fast, but I am standing still next to Jenna, who has mastered yet another farming thing – goats and their milk and cheese – in what seems like a few hours. We have a lot in common, including the fact that we are both strange.

Tomorrow, we are thinking of going to see the Farrelly Brothers interpretation of “The Three Stooges.” I remember them well.