Tuesday Twitterdee . . . .

Well, fingers are crossed.  Melissa hasn't called.  She said she might be calling me as soon as yesterday afternoon.  

I said I would stay away from the phone.

Well, I have do have caller ID, and so far her name has not appeared in the window.

Melissa has agreed to ride Heather for me whenever she can over the next month.  I told her that all Heather needs is some miles.  She concurred that a few wet saddle blankets should do the trick. 

This chapter is the ongoing story of Heather, the horse for sale---or maybe not.

I fluctuate nearly every day on whether or not I really want to part with Heather.  She's done a good job of getting under my skin over the past three years.  I truly love her.

But this is a crucial year for both Heather and Lefty who have had the basics from trainers.  Now,  they need miles under a saddle to avoid being horses that just stand around and eat.

My sister Laurie is helping me out with Lefty.  Melissa is a former riding student/youth horse judge who spent a lot of time around the Tibbs place while growing up.

We all love Melissa and have great confidence in her abilities to do just about anything.  

When she said she'd take Heather for a while, I was ecstatic.  

Yesterday I took Heather to Melissa's place,  by herself in the horse trailer.  She was a little uptight and did scratch her chest somehow on the ride over.  She did not stand calmly when I turned her around to exit the trailer. 

In fact, she exited the trailer before I did.  

"Has she ever seen chickens?" Melissa asked while watching Heather prance circles around me. 

"No," I said.

Chickens were the least of Heather's concerns at that moment.  The resident whinnying horses took center stage.  

They continued to maintain center stage all through the bites to Heather's rump over the electric fence and the subsequent Heather kick-backs, which sent two boards flying.

We fixed fence.  Melissa moved the resident horses further away, and things settled down.  

I'm thankful she has not yet called, telling me to "come and get this horse."  I'll also avoid the phone today.

The week with will tell a lot about Heather's future as a trail horse.  The irony is that if we get good news, Heather may secure her permanent housing here at the Lovestead.

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Today I'll take Lily and Lefty over to the Tibbs ranch.  Laurie will ride Lefty, and I'll plod around the arena on Lily.  

I've decided to enter the "walk-trot" class at the fair horse show in August.  That's the extent of my speed at horse shows.  Lily never yet has offered to buck at the walk or the jog, so I think I'm safe.

Laurie will be riding her young horse Scout in his first-ever show and in the "walk-trot" class.  It should be fun for both of us.  

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I was pleasantly surprised yesterday while thumbing through my Envision magazine from the University of Idaho College of Education. 

There was a photo of Cori Bromley!

Well, she's now known as Cori Mantle-Bromley.  We at Sandpoint High School knew her as Cori Bromley years ago when she taught Spanish on our staff.

Now, we can say we knew her when. . . . 

Cori now serves as Dean of the College of Education.  Pretty neat, if you ask me.  I'm sure she's doing a wonderful job, as I clearly remember her dedication as a high school teacher.

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In the category of "Damn Deer Eating My Garden," I've never seen the likes of it.  They've had a feast this summer.

When a few random tops started disappearing from my potatoes in the front-yard planter, I didn't stress too much.

Now, the only potatoes of the many patches I've planted around the place yet to survive the overnight onslaughts are located in the manure pile next to the barn. And, the front rows show signs of nightly nibbles.

They've eaten cucumbers right off the vine.  They've massacred my beautiful lettuce----including a major attack the night after I'd promised Ann Gehring a big bag of lovely lettuce.  

She got her lettuce, but I had to do a lot of traveling around the place to find the few unscathed plants that remain. 

What really rankled me during that search was lifting the heavy leaves of the broccoli, which had been hiding the swiss chard, only to find every single chard plant chomped off cleanly at the roots. 

"Deer like chard," Bill announced when I told him of that brazen thievery.  

Over the past few nights, I've run an extension cord and a light out to the bean section of my west garden cuz the creeps have been eating the bean blossoms too.

I don't mind sharing, but this year the deer are winning out. 

I finally took the netting off the strawberry plot, figuring the robins had probably given up on stealing this year's crop.  

In the case of strawberries, one has to decide which is better:  robins eating some or all of the berries or having the berries rot under the netting which allows weeds to grow so high you can't find most of the berries.

After removing the netting, I found several pockets of beautiful berries deep within the thistle patches which have taken over. 

So, I'm guessing those few stickers in my probing fingers will heal quickly with the knowledge that those extra berries which survived the robins will taste mighty good.

Now, I'm wondering just what is happening under the ground to carrots and potatoes.  The field mice and moles haven't shown their cards just yet.  

Fortunately, so far, the nocturnal garden thieves are leaving the tomatoes alone.

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Guess that's garden babble enough for now.  Happy Tuesday. 

One last note:  Jean, please check your Facebook messages and let me know if you received one from me in the past few days.  Thanks.