Around midnight I awoke to a crashing, flashing storm. After running downstairs to unplug the computer and tv, I went back to bed, where sleep was slow to return, besieged as I was with thoughts of the horses out there amid the mayhem. My daughter appeared at the door, just like in the Sound of Music, and I was grateful for her company as we snuggled down under the duvet.
Finally, as the booms of thunder grew more intermittent and distant, I drifted off to sleep. Only to be woken by a mighty wind howling and lashing the house, its fury persisting unabated until morning. Not much sleep to be had with the gale whirling around outside my head and thoughts of the horses agitating the inside.
The wind is still blowing this morning - it's not a cold wind, though, as I discovered when I stepped outside. The horses were grazing, and as so often after a storm, the light and the clouds were particularly pretty.
Although the horses were jumpy in the wind, Rose was calm when I administered her eye treatment. This morning, the pendulum said no to the banamine, so it was pretty easy. Her eye looks the same as yesterday.
Well, the pendulum didn't actually say no. I take a counter-clockwise rotation to mean no, and a clockwise rotation to mean yes. But sometimes the pendulum swings side to side or back and forth; I don't know what this means. For the banamine, the pendulum swung side to side, which may mean something like - it's not actually counter-indicated, but there is no need at present. I am a rank amateur at this and am kind of making it up as I go along. I've heard that you can "program" the pendulum to swing whichever way you choose. If you prefer counter-clockwise to mean no, then that's what it means.
I believe the pendulum's ability to diagnose is simply a mechanism of nature that science has yet to understand. But lawks a mercy, it sounds like voodoo.