I wouldn't call it frost exactly, more like ice skating rink, as in a solid sheet of ice instead of lovely crystals reflecting the rising Sun's rays. This is a good thing. It means the bloody grass is growing slower. This is less work for mother. Mother in this case, being me. (See antepeel Avengers.)

It's Friday. In former days, when my work wasn't wrapped around the Mon-Fri 0800-1600 pattern, the glee of Friday, as in TGIF, was lost on me. Now that I have worked in this pattern for over two years, with only one week off recovering from broken ribs, I understand. I feel sad that I understand, but it's true.

Now that I've hopefully settled the format of the Field Grazing blog down, I hope make more of these inane morning musing entries than the "oh gee, look at this WordPress feature I have found!" This will bore you to tears, I know, but it is the nature of the beast.

=30=