She’s been picking rose hips.
My mother grew up poor. Would not have survived without wild food sources poor. Rose hips were her candy. They grow everywhere on the property. She would be happy to see her grandchild here.
(Speaking of grandmothers, Demona gave me a great photo op of her new calf when she came in for grain today. I do believe we have a young bull, and that’s his grandmother Betty in the foreground:
Betty and Demona are as bonded as two living creatures can be. I’m glad we’re able to keep them together here. Demona is showing every evidence of being every bit the devoted mother Betty is, and they’re both lovely girls.)
She’s also been getting interactive with Kenneth Anger.
And I’ve been painting chickens.