Morning Inspection

It's the morning after.

Yesterday was the big hail storm.

We slept all night with no boomers to wake us.

Patiently, sort of, we wait for our people.

We're ready to go inspect the damage.

The first words we always hear when we first go out every morning are,

"Go potty in the rocks."

And this is the first thing we saw when we turned the corner by the side of the house.

The bush above the poor little Lazy Susan took a beating, too.

(Some of these biggify. Others don't. This one does. We don't know why. )

Lots of the flowers got hit.

Including Moma's only rose.

(The deer ate the rest.)

Leaves were down from the trees.

They were already starting to get crunchy.

(That's how dry our climate is.)

This one biggifies. You can almost hear Fergi in the leaves.

The Russian Olive trees took it the hardest.

We searched for edibles.

(Notice Fergi's tail! You can catch a glimpse of it part way up.

She didn't know Moma was taking this picture.)

But we decided to leave them for the crows.

Instead we came home to our own breakfast.

On the deck. In the sun.

With Rocky Ford (Farmers' Market) cantaloupe on the menu.

Not a bad way to start the day, wouldn't you say?

(This picture is worth zoomin' in on. I've got a pretty impressive tongue.)

If we're lucky, an occasional treat or two might find its way into our deck-side bowl during the day.

Awwww. We're happy again.

Fergi's editorial comment:

"I'm happy, if Moma'd only leave that camera on the counter."

Fergi's additional comment:

"Thanks, everybloggie, for welcoming my Farfel to blogland.

He's told me he's happy to be here and loves all the comments and all the doggies.

But he appears to be taking an extended nap right now.

It's a terrier characteristic, I guess.

I'll try to wake him up.

Or Lacie will."