This is my least favorite week of the year, because where I live, the Fourth of July is cause to celebrate for at least a week.

That means lots of BOOM!  Not only fireworks — official (on at least two days of the week) and unofficial (whenever the neighbors feel like it).  Along with target practice at unusual hours.  Gunfire can be heard as late as 11:30 pm. Target practice round these parts is usually limited to the weekends, but not on the week of the Fourth of July…when it’s party, party, party.

A young bear chose this week to make an appearance on the property, knocking over the trash cans and lumbering hither, thither and yon.  My retired Thoroughbred thinks that a bear means the end of life as we know it. The other horses just raise their heads and look alarmed, try to comfort him and fail.

Several days ago, two Herefords and one Black Angus cross appeared at the fence of the sacrifice paddock, took a tour of the pastures and settled in to eat the Grand Prix field.  It took us a day to find the owner and the owner took another day to find the cows, who had then moved on.

This week, we also got a present of a new, mutant bug.  Of course, it bites. It’s one I’ve never seen before.  Has anyone else in the Northeast seen what looks like a huge (over 1″ long) fly?  What ARE they?  

And why do the bugs and the bears and the BOOM! and the stray cows have to converge this week, along with the rogue thunderstorms and temperatures in the 90s?

Maybe, if at least some of it goes away, I will be happy, next week, that it all came at once.  At least I won’t have to wait till the cows come home.

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