where the winds blow

The winds pushed their way through, retreated, came back one last time and if predictions hold true, they'll be gone just as I take off after them. We'll be heading east, the winds and I -- in a race to get past the Great Lakes, over new and distant landscapes.

But in the morning, when I let the cheepers out, I am struck by how pretty the day is, what with the sunlight, the shoots of green, the nearly cloud free sky.





Or is it that everything appears especially pretty on days when I pack my bags and take off? As if demanding an answer to the perennial question -- why leave all this beauty?

The old hens turn possessive over the seeds I throw down for them, but I get my foot in and nudge the two old girls to make room and for a minute at least the four of them look like they are part of one harmonious pack.






Be good, be kind, be productive, hens!


Breakfast in the sun room.





And there are leftover fruits in the fridge, but you have to take out the mango a day ahead, and maybe some of the berries could be used for a smoothie and of course, don't forget there's a pound of spinach...
He looks at me indulgently.
And water the plants on Monday -- six pitcher-fuls total and...
He's heard it all before. So many times.


I spend the morning with Snowdrop to give the young parents at least a few hours to do their work. After, they'll be hustling her between one office and the other.

The little girl begs to go outside. I had mentioned idly that shoes are good for when we go out and boom! She is at the door, pointing, coaxing with her soft, pleading voice.

So we go out. The wind is no worse than yesterday and the good thing about it is that it pushes us home on the return.






And then I have to get back to the farmhouse and finish packing for a late afternoon flight.

Be good, be happy, little girl!






And where to now? If all goes well, my next post should be from Normandy. May the winds stay on my back, may the weather there show the gentler side of March, may the two days I'll be spending in this northern corner of France be quiet and contemplative in the best of ways.

Woosh! Off I go.