Eating In During The Spring Thunder Storm

Even with the rain it’s warm out. I’m walking towards the barn and  a hot-white jagged thread cracks the sky.  The thunder is a low throaty rumble I can feel.

I can’t remember the last time I fed the animals in a thunder storm, if ever. I always wait for it to pass.

I hear Constance’s demanding  Baa from the barn.   Too much lightening for metal gates and feeders.  The donkeys  wouldn’t want to come out in the rain anyway.

I grab three leaves of hay and carry them through the barn and into the pole barn where the sheep and donkeys are.

There’s little manure on the ground, they must have spent most of the night outside.  I scatter the hay in three piles on the hard packed earth.

The donkeys find their pile and push the sheep away.  They all settled, the rain loud on the metal roof.   Kim and Lori stand at the gate to the stall waiting for their grain.  I open the gate and they walk in, the other sheep don’t seem to notice.

We’re dining in today, I say out loud.

A flash of lighten turns the gray sky yellow for a second, thunder rolls behind it.  It feels like a  spring celebration.