Smooch and I drove out to the back 40 last evening on a multi-tasking mission.
We would pull locoweed, take pictures, listen to an audiobook, and otherwise enjoy the extra daylight.
It didn't go as smoothly as planned.
Lucy couldn't wait for me to fill up the yellow pail with snacks,
Hank wouldn't leave us alone until he had finished vacuuming the hay out of the Ranger,
and George and Alan had to play with Smooch's leash, a few dead fly masks,
and everything else that wasn't tied down.
Smooch: We're not getting many weeds pulled.
I'm happy to report that there aren't that many left...I think. The locoweed invasion is
much less dense than in previous years, and I've been able to cover a lot of ground in the past week.
Everyone else finally got bored with the Ranger and its contents, but Alan stuck around to talk to Smooch.
Smooch growled at Alan.
I growled at Smooch.
Alan thought it best to remove himself from the situation...
...and walked off to pose for next year's calendar.