Indian Summer is that time in the fall, after frost, when we get a few days, or even a week, of warm weather. We're experiencing that right now, but, since it's winter, I'm calling it Indian Spring. You can call it whatever you'd like; it doesn't matter, because it looks like we'll be below freezing again by the weekend.
The warm makes for a nice break. I loved going out to chores this morning in just a sweatshirt. On the other hand, I came in all wet and splattered. The mud is horrendous, and, out there, it's not all mud, if you can grasp that thought. So my clothes were a disaster, and were changed quickly.
I need to get outside with the camera. Jr. is growing up nicely, as is Four Socks, our "little" kitten. He's not so little anymore!
Just have to say something, too, about one of the bravest men I know. Bill Morrissey, our vet, not only ventures to our silly place, but also handles our animals. Yesterday he had to take some blood from April, who may be going to a new home soon. He said, "Kick me and die," and then stuck a needle into the underside of her tail. Not. In. My. Lifetime. She stood for it, very nicely, and didn't even get a treat for her troubles.
Such is life during Indian Spring on our farm. Hope your day goes well!