Kill tomatoes-Eat undesirable men

Yesterday was a day like any other. Wake, be sorry that you have, have coffee and, voila!, suddenly be filled with fool's optimism. Make something yummy for things 1, 2, and 3 for breakfast - head down to the barn to do chores. This scene repeats itself every day, rain or shine because, to my dismay - sheep are not willing to go without food and water just so we don't have to get wet, be hot, or freeze toes off. The selfish gits still expect the rythm to repeat. Sometimes, though, you get a surprise. The variation of types of surprises can go from elated happiness, extreme, hilarity, or brutal fact. Two lambs were kept from the lambing season. Both are lying down, one's leg is looking hurt....ram is walking around beating the tar out of everything. Good morning, it is breeding season! The previous owner of our herd claimed this ram is so gentle he helps with the care of the children. I am now frightened as to what this meant. Most of the time, he's a rock that lies around eating all day and doesn't cause much trouble. But, I don't know how to say this eloquently - he is a brutal bastard when his hormones are ruling his wee brain, savvy? Lesson Learned: remove young lambs from the pasture when breeding season is in tow. So, we took the two little dears, fed them, put them in a shady spot in the yard where they can munch that grass that nobody will mow anyway, gave them some electrolytes and vitamins, and all seems to be getting better for them. I don't know how the ewes put up with Ram Rufus, though. He is the kind of guy that, in a room full of women, would have his eyes scratched out just before they all commence to remove every inch of his flesh...slowly....with exhilaration. Every breed has a different type of ram. Our old Icelandic ram, for instance, could care less about the younglings and left them alone. HOWEVER, he celebated his 'scores' (for lack of a more tactful term) by banging his head into the wall - sometimes until it bled. Real bright.

You will notice that shepherds and shepherdesses do not like to converse about rams. This, my friends, is because rams are a thing we must tolerate. You really begin to understand after having one, that only one is ever necessary. The primitive peoples solved this problem by eating the surplus rams. This ancient tradition is still in practice.

While poondering this as my chores went from 20 mns. to 2+ hours, I headed over to the garden to get some fresh corn for my little lambs. I was surprised to find this delicate flower moldy thing growing out of the top of one of the ears. I would have run inside and called the ag dept. or looked it up online but, why bother when you have a 13yr. old living encyclopedia in your company. She determined it to be corn smut, a delicacy in many native american cultures but a fungal pest in the world of American Agribusiness. She was right. Another benefit of the feminine design. Things 2 and 3 are being very helpful so, clearly, we will want them to thrive and be kept in the circulation of 'wonderful guys'. BUT - as I pass the three inner rows of the garden and shiver, I harken back to a series of conversations in the early summer about some damned volunteer tomatoes that the hubster felt sentimental about and insisted we keep. They became trees, towering over my broccoli, killing off most of my cabbage, and fruiting a bunch of tiny cherry tomatoes. I have a deep and abiding hatred for cherry tomatoes! Surely, they are cute and taste sweet - I might add that the same could be said about some roasted ram. But, if you are of the 'preserving your own' variety of gardener, the cherry is a curse. To make salsa, ketchup, pasta sauce, etc., you have to remove the skins of the tomatoes, otherwise you bite into your sauce and get little bits of skin - which our civilized minds cannot handle. After skinning a pack of cherry tomatoes because the volunteers that hubster waxed sentimental over were ALL CHERRIES and you have no others planted, you could let your mind contemplate possiblities you'd maybe not be best to entertain. What would the world be like.....wait, what would the population be like, if the male animal not only DID NOT rule the world, but could be turned into November's dinner menu if he displeased you? Aha aha aha ha ha! I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good....