like old times...

Today it was our turn to spiff up the farmhouse. It's a major cleaning job (made major by the fact that we haven't done it in several weeks) and I am super glad to have some help from my co-conspirators.



(I must admit I was surprised; Isie boy almost never enters the bathroom)


Note what a tremendous view we have from the toilet! Visitors from urban places always draw the curtain. They miss out on an opportunity for a reflective moment...






Okay, I get the seal of approval!






But breakfast is very very late again.






Though here's a pleasant weather fact: we jumped into the low forties (F) today!

Consequently, yes, you guessed it, the cheepers stepped out!






At first, I thought they'd merely hover near the sheep shed. I brought them stale bread and seeds and we chatted for a while. Scotch let me know that whatever bothered her yesterday was history.






But when I returned to the farmhouse, I noticed that the cheepers were on parade! Their first port of call -- the garage.






And soon after, they are at our front door. Hey, cheeper, step aside! I just bought a new welcome mat! You're not exactly the cleanest bird around!





Still, it felt like old times -- the cheepers ringing our sensor bell again and again, waiting, scratching and eventually settling for a nap under the bushes.

And speaking of old times, one reason to feel delightfully happy is that friends drove up today, all the way from Florida! You may remember them from Ocean -- Diane has traveled with me (sometimes with spouse, sometimes without) more than anyone else (family and Ed excluded). Too, you'll remember them from previous visits to the farmette. They come, as always, with their sweet faced Karma.




(Though I bet Karma doesn't do such a good job cleaning the toilet as Isie boy!)

My friends used to live in the Twin Cities, but that's in the past tense as well. They've gone south, as have all my good pals from days of yore -- lulled by the balmy winds and year round shorts weather. I remain rooted to the seasons, to the Midwest, to the farmette.

We do what we always seem to do the times we come together: we open a bottle of rose and let the evening unfold.