I made roast chicken for dinner last night. Don carved. Lydia did her best to look as soulful as possible, hoping for a piece. (It didn't work.)
(Click to enlarge and appreciate the full depths of her mournful attempt to convince.)
Last leaf of the season.
Younger Daughter and her friend Miss Calamity watch the snow from a safe location.
Someone asked about Matilda because she's seldom seen by the feedboxes. Spoiled Matilda is getting fed and bedded in her stall at night (along with her calf Pearly) because (a) she's a less hardy breed than the sturdy Dexters, and (b) she's lowest on the totem pole of the herd hierarchy, so she wouldn't get enough to eat if I didn't feed her separately. Here's she's snacking alongside Don as he feeds the rest of the beasties in the afternoon.