the tiny details of Saturday

If the weekend is a time for me to take stock, then I fulfilled my weekend obligations well today. In reviewing what's what, I was, in fact, filled again and again with feelings of enormous gratitude. To start with, all younger family members are feeling well (it had been tricky earlier in the month). And the skies -- they are as beautiful as they always are in the Midwest, even and perhaps especially in the less beloved colder months.



(a wintry sunrise)




(beautiful clouds)




(the stunning fields to the north, dusted with frost)


Then, too, the golden tones were still evident around the farmhouse and it looked so very lovely to me in those early morning hours. (I also couldn't help but take note of the very visible and very awesome patio door.)






Oh, and the cheepers are doing very well!



(these are Scotch colors!)


Before breakfast, I did some farmhouse cleaning, testing my new theory that splitting this over the two days of the weekend will make it less odious. [Ed commented that I ought to learn to develop, nay, worship my inner mess. I told him I already confronted my inner mess every time I stepped into his sheep shed in the morning to feed Isie boy.]

Breakfast was lovely.





After, I did some solid writing and when I could write no more, I did the "running around town" kind of chores -- return this, repair heels of city boots (for future travels), and finally -- purchase warm knock-around shoes. I have only shoes from days of work and they are too fine and too awkward to put on for farmette winter work or even Snowdrop strolls. Time to fill the void.

Here, I truly felt my one pang of guilt: I bought Birkies, which perhaps you know are a tad upwards of $100. That's a lot for me to spend on anything, let alone shoes. When you're retired and insist on traveling as much as I do, you can't go around buying things. It's all about choices.

The clerk tried to convince me that it would be a fine investment to also buy waterproofing spray. I pointed out that I would never bother spraying (especially since Birkies are a rather open shoe concept -- you don't wear them to keep the wet out). He offered to put on an initial coat for me. I gratefully accepted and only later realized that he was going to charge me for the cost of the spray ($12). I did not have it in me to say that it was a mistake, that I never intended to purchase the damn spray.

I mention this because after, Ed sprung for a new "welcome" mat for the farmhouse (without the "welcome" word on it) and I was so enormously grateful for that. Even though he doesn't travel, still, you wont find Ed buying new things if he can help it, but here we are -- proud owners of a new mat, one that cost me nothing at all!

So often our days are like that: generosity steps in just when it's needed, when it makes the path just that much smoother. Small details? Maybe. But days are made of small details. They are what make for grand days and poor days.

I've had a string of very grand days.

Because my sweet guy had work related meetings today, I was on my own for a walk and I kept it short -- in and out of Owen woods (close to all those chores I wrote of). The colors are all in the sky right now. Well, almost all in the sky.






A hawk swept down to the ground and I wondered if he had caught a mouse. We've caught four so far this season at the farmhouse (last year we set a new record at twenty over the winter months). I suppose I ought to have hostile feelings toward predators, given our cheeper vulnerabilities, but I don't really hold a lot of good feelings toward mice and so I hoped the hawk ate well today.






I didn't see Snowdrop at all. I almost offered to take her for a walk or to play with her for a bit while the young couple did whatever it is that they had to do, but I decided that a day of no Snowdrop makes the future days of many hours with Snowdrop more precious and valuable and so I held back, concentrating instead on the beauty around the farmette. And there was plenty of that. You get the rare frontal photo of the farmhouse today. Typically it is not anything we would want to brag about, but the front trees (mostly maples) are the last to shed their leaves and right now, near dusk, the vignette is absolutely stellar.





For supper, Ed has been suggesting that I take a break from a week of daily cooking ("want to go out for a seafood dinner? or better yet, get subways for home?" "No thank you!"). Honestly, it is a perfect day to make chili. The amount I make is good for three days' of eating, but more importantly, the flavors and scents of chili match perfectly the hues and colors of this November day.

A fine Saturday. Really a fine one!