Friday night was interesting to say the least. The owner of the '73 shovel ( if you read my motorcycle blog ) came over. I went out side to met him, when I saw my neighbor running in from her field. I turned and saw flames. So I turned back and ran into my house to retrieve the fire extinguisher. But I was a little late to help. As I ran to the fence, her husband came running out of the field as smoke billowed behind him.
They had just corralled the horses for the night. The fire was too close, so they ran back and pulled them out. They headed over to our property so that we could hold the horses.
It took about 20-30 minutes for the fire department to show up. Longer then that for the Sheriff to make an appearance.
Yes, that is my husband, sans hat.
After an hour the flames were finally doused, and here is the aftermath.
She had got hung up and uneven ground and hay. She tried to back out, but couldn't. The dry hay caught fire, spread into the engine and soon the truck set off a series of explosions.
But wait, you aren't here, to hear all that are you? You're here to read that Saturday morning, the storm blew down the gate and our cows escaped. I found them 1/2 mile down the road, and had to lead them back.