There comes an evening when you are so tired that thoughts stray only toward the couch where you will soon position yourself and, if all goes well, not get up again.
Those are not good blogging times. I bring up the photos for the day and hope that there aren't many to look at. I wish that the post would write itself and leave me alone. Preferably on my lumpy but oh so soft bed pillow.
You've guessed that this evening awfully resembles just such a time.
Even as the day was wonderful! The wake up was effortless. Though on the earlier side of dawn.
...when everything looks beautiful.
Even the chickens look beautiful.
The sky is blue, the breakfast is sublime...
And the flowers? Ahhh, the flowers...
All that loveliness! Too much! Too much!
After breakfast, we proceed with the usual and indeed, it's one of those times where no one great task stands out. We did not build the Empire State Building nor the Golden Gate Bridge, not even a glass roof for a porch. We just did little things. Oh so many little things! Until the last rays of the sun filtered in through the trees, we worked and paused and played with chickens...
...and then worked some more. And when another break was in order, we went to Farm and Fleet to get new work gloves because every last work glove at the farmette has holes in it. When there, we looked at seeds and decided watermelon in the yard would be nice and so we picked up two packets and planted those even as there was almost no sunlight left.
And when the time comes to write a post, you always hope -- I always hope -- that an idea will have formed earlier and now you are going to merely release it and watch it develop into a sentence. Sort of like a garden that forms out of your many separately acquired plants.
That doesn't happen on a tired day. On a tired day, you let your fingers type and you hope that they have enough cerebral matter guiding them that what comes out makes sense. Nothing more than that. You just want to make sense.
If you're lucky, afterwards, you'll have enough oomph in you to crawl upstairs and turn out the lights. If not, well, there are worse fates than falling asleep on the couch and letting your someone else turn out the lights for you.
Those are not good blogging times. I bring up the photos for the day and hope that there aren't many to look at. I wish that the post would write itself and leave me alone. Preferably on my lumpy but oh so soft bed pillow.
You've guessed that this evening awfully resembles just such a time.
Even as the day was wonderful! The wake up was effortless. Though on the earlier side of dawn.
...when everything looks beautiful.
Even the chickens look beautiful.
The sky is blue, the breakfast is sublime...
And the flowers? Ahhh, the flowers...
All that loveliness! Too much! Too much!
After breakfast, we proceed with the usual and indeed, it's one of those times where no one great task stands out. We did not build the Empire State Building nor the Golden Gate Bridge, not even a glass roof for a porch. We just did little things. Oh so many little things! Until the last rays of the sun filtered in through the trees, we worked and paused and played with chickens...
...and then worked some more. And when another break was in order, we went to Farm and Fleet to get new work gloves because every last work glove at the farmette has holes in it. When there, we looked at seeds and decided watermelon in the yard would be nice and so we picked up two packets and planted those even as there was almost no sunlight left.
And when the time comes to write a post, you always hope -- I always hope -- that an idea will have formed earlier and now you are going to merely release it and watch it develop into a sentence. Sort of like a garden that forms out of your many separately acquired plants.
That doesn't happen on a tired day. On a tired day, you let your fingers type and you hope that they have enough cerebral matter guiding them that what comes out makes sense. Nothing more than that. You just want to make sense.
If you're lucky, afterwards, you'll have enough oomph in you to crawl upstairs and turn out the lights. If not, well, there are worse fates than falling asleep on the couch and letting your someone else turn out the lights for you.
It's 5:23 AM, I'm up with a stuffy head-ache, up because I feel better getting vertical, and I'm hoping you are comfy and getting some well-deserved sleep. Hope today is a good one for both of us. We'll do our best to make it so.
ReplyDeleteA bit of a back ache creeping up on me and a restlessness that comes from over-thinking the next few weeks. But fine otherwise and especially so when I flip open the laptop and read your comment. Always interesting and always smile inducing, Thank you!
Delete12.30am here in Melbourne and I am still up watching the Giro. Tonight is the time trial. Jean
ReplyDeleteA restless night for us all!
DeleteI have to say, Nina, that it's all your fault! I had a dream in the early morning hours today about chickens... My mind invented a whole storyline about chickens and the question arose, in my dream, "what happens with your chickens when winter hits Wisconsin?"
ReplyDeleteNow that really bothered me in my dream because I could not come up with a good answer to it - and whenever I have an unanswered question going on in dreamland, it festers. It finally woke me up with no good answer having revealed itself.
So I come here, on bended knee, begging you to give me that answer - what happens in winter with the chickens?
I'm assuming you plan something like a heated coop, lots of path shoveling all the time so they can roam free... but I am seriously hoping that you don't plan something like roast chicken for Christmas dinner!
So what's the buzz?
xxxx
Admiration. Envy. That's just a couple of things I feel about your dedication to getting out that daily blog. It's not easy. I keep wishing I'd manage to do smaller bites so I wouldn't feel so daunted and sleep overtakes me instead.
ReplyDeleteI saw some very glamorous chicken coops online the other day. I wasn't looking for them, but think they may have been in a Wayfair ad for pet furniture where I was looking at the cat trees.
Will your June or July ocean crossing include any Provence in the latter part of June or early part of July? Would be fun to cross paths sometime.
Oh! Almost, but not quite. An overnight in Paris in July is the closest I get. This year I'm trying to steer clear of southern France -- too many sweet memories of Sorede (which has been shelved for a while)... But given the number of times you and I cross the ocean, I'm optimistic that our paths will indeed intersect one of these days!
Delete