Sometimes I liken the BLBP to a red balloon – as it gets bigger, it could get harder to blow up. It is nowhere near capacity, but in time it will be. I am not sure then what my role will be. I’d like to pass the torch on to another individual; however, this individual has yet to materialize.

Tomorrow we are going to get the remaining newspaper boxes in place at the fairgrounds. Two more appeared today, in the former banquet room of the historic Eagle Hotel. It is as if they are like the rabbits at the end of Sybarite – they are multiplying. A few days ago, I thought we were short a few – now we have more than enough.

The first year we did this, we had two boxes in place. Now we are going to have eight or so. I don’t right now know the logistics related to how they will be filled. Pete will have some insights about this, which he will pass on to me when he gets home.

Pete took our guests to the airport. They are taking the red eye to LA and then driving back to Ojai. They got in late last night after spending a few days in Talkeetna. They slept in, then went and took naps.

It was overcast this morning but not rainy, which was a good thing. Pete was beset with an urgent situation. I went into the horse pen and a cursory glance indicated that the mesh fence, which was attached to a log, had detached, and was curling upwards. I looked more closely, and further noticed that a horseshoe was stuck to the mesh. Oh oh. I quickly figured out that one of the mares had gotten her hoof caught on the wire, and in the process of extricating it, pulled off the shoe.

I walked over and checked the horse that was nearest to me. This was Tyra who was chowing down on the morning hay. The other two mares were still outside the enclosure, grazing. Sure enough, the shoe belonged to Tyra.

Pete called Josh. I had to head to town, so I do not know when he’s coming to put a new shoe on Tyra.

I was going to go for a ride on Tyra, but I had to forego this because riding a four-legged horse missing one shoe can cause lameness. So I instead rode Hrimmi. She sees the immediate environment right now as being like a giant salad bowl, with many, many kinds of greens. She (amazingly) does not go for Monks Hood, which is toxic and in abundance. I think that this is because Monks Hood is bitter. Now watermelon berry vines, they are the best because the horses can grab them and chew them as they walk. Perhaps I should give her a long sting of licorice. Something tells me that she’d like this.

Next: 221. 8/14/24: Intimations of Fall