Gnomesane?

One afternoon Coby was here with Grey for a playdate with Fletcher. I asked Coby to stand by the crape myrtle, to give some scale to its massive bloom, and he started improvising like an Old Dominion blue hair, but Fletcher interrupted.

Oh we fickle citizens!

Recently, a fellow rescued-Anatolian-owner remarked, upon viewing some images of my backyard, that it was a relief to see some one else's "desperate grass" - a phrase which so efficiently describes my yard that I continue to repeat it far and wide.

Here is the main reason for all the desperation:

Friday, we went out to the farm, and after a few introductions, almost all of the dogs were released into the main yard. Fletcher's brother Prince was near me and I missed the first burst of freedom from the gate. You can see him run from me over to the rest, who have all gone to greet the 'mama' - Stormy; seen flying to the right on the other side of the fence at the beginning.