Kindness deserves a reciprocal kindness. Reward for reward. A good act for someone elses generous impulse.
These are my thoughts as I go out in the near dark to chase the cheepers into the coop. It's Ed's task, but he did me the favor of opening the coop in the morning (far easier, though with the downside of having to be up before you want to be up) and so I offered to be the one to shut the cheepers up for the night.
Java, the big black hen, is always in the coop by nightfall. The rest? Sprinkled around, high in trees, dozing, but not asleep.
I can't reach you, you dumb hens! Can't you come down a bit???
Eventually I get them inside and I latch the latches and I think -- you are one pampered set of cheepers!
You'll know from this story that I was not the one to open the coop this morning. I thought about it, worried about it, woke up for it, but then, miraculously, Ed took on the task and I stayed in bed until 10:30 in the morning, which is possibly the latest I have stayed under covers since I had the flu forty plus years ago in grade school.
Hey Ed, are you ready for breakfast? -- I ask at an hour that dangerously threatens to put us into the afternoon.
Morning flowers to admire? Annuals!
I do a quick run to Snowdrop's home after. It's a pick up/drop off kind of trip, but it does give me a few minutes with the little one.
She is in an intense mood.
Dreamy at times...
Ultimately, as always, playful.
I tell her -- your mommy is cooking lunch for you. She's off!
Are my cheese tortellini bathed in pesto sauce ready yet?
Lunch over, energy level restored.
Totally.
And now I'm back at the farmette, assessing what work I need to do once the mosquitoes disappears, taking mental notes, liking this, wanting to adjust that., appreciating the totality...
In the late, late afternoon, Ed and I admit to each other that we are lazy. Or at least that we can be lax. Or perhaps that we are slow to move on something.
We had promised each other that we would hike today, but as the hours pass, our reluctance to set out becomes obvious. In the end, rather than giving in to our slothlike inclinations, we set out for the county park that's just five minutes down the road from us.
It's buggy out there! We are amazed that there could be a place that has a higher concentration of mosquitoes than that at the farmette, but there you have it -- the park trumps us in this regard!
But here's something new: the small silo (standing at the entrance to the park) has been completely revamped. There is now a set of steps inside and you can climb up to catch the view.
And it is a wonderful and bug free view. The golden prairie below takes your breath away!
And this recalls an idea Ed has had for a while: might not we be able to convert our tall, really tall silo to an observation deck?
Ed studies the construction.
I could do this... he mumbles.
I know those words. It does not necessarily mean "I will do this" and it certainly does not mean "I will embark on this project in the near future." Many of our crazy ideas have come and disappeared. But others have hatched and come to fruition.
Time will tell if some day we will have an observation deck at the top of the farmette's old silo. Right now, we've simply shifted this project a little. From the "wild and crazy" to the "I can do this."
Our walk in the park is brisk. Before the breeze kicks in, the mosquitoes are dancing! We walk as if in training for a marathon.
And it is a beautiful walk, full of prairie flowers and swooping swallows. (This is the place where we most often ski if there's snow. I cross my fingers for that event. We've had pretty tame snows last year and the year before. It would surely be nice to have a solid snow cover this coming winter.)
(Prairie flowers and forest trails -- is there a better balm for our stress filled life styles?)
Dinner is late. And that's just fine. It simply means that we were lost in projects and adventures. Big or small, projects and adventures keep us alert to the possibilities. And that's such a good thing!
These are my thoughts as I go out in the near dark to chase the cheepers into the coop. It's Ed's task, but he did me the favor of opening the coop in the morning (far easier, though with the downside of having to be up before you want to be up) and so I offered to be the one to shut the cheepers up for the night.
Java, the big black hen, is always in the coop by nightfall. The rest? Sprinkled around, high in trees, dozing, but not asleep.
I can't reach you, you dumb hens! Can't you come down a bit???
Eventually I get them inside and I latch the latches and I think -- you are one pampered set of cheepers!
You'll know from this story that I was not the one to open the coop this morning. I thought about it, worried about it, woke up for it, but then, miraculously, Ed took on the task and I stayed in bed until 10:30 in the morning, which is possibly the latest I have stayed under covers since I had the flu forty plus years ago in grade school.
Hey Ed, are you ready for breakfast? -- I ask at an hour that dangerously threatens to put us into the afternoon.
Morning flowers to admire? Annuals!
I do a quick run to Snowdrop's home after. It's a pick up/drop off kind of trip, but it does give me a few minutes with the little one.
She is in an intense mood.
Dreamy at times...
Ultimately, as always, playful.
I tell her -- your mommy is cooking lunch for you. She's off!
Are my cheese tortellini bathed in pesto sauce ready yet?
Lunch over, energy level restored.
Totally.
And now I'm back at the farmette, assessing what work I need to do once the mosquitoes disappears, taking mental notes, liking this, wanting to adjust that., appreciating the totality...
In the late, late afternoon, Ed and I admit to each other that we are lazy. Or at least that we can be lax. Or perhaps that we are slow to move on something.
We had promised each other that we would hike today, but as the hours pass, our reluctance to set out becomes obvious. In the end, rather than giving in to our slothlike inclinations, we set out for the county park that's just five minutes down the road from us.
It's buggy out there! We are amazed that there could be a place that has a higher concentration of mosquitoes than that at the farmette, but there you have it -- the park trumps us in this regard!
But here's something new: the small silo (standing at the entrance to the park) has been completely revamped. There is now a set of steps inside and you can climb up to catch the view.
And it is a wonderful and bug free view. The golden prairie below takes your breath away!
And this recalls an idea Ed has had for a while: might not we be able to convert our tall, really tall silo to an observation deck?
Ed studies the construction.
I could do this... he mumbles.
I know those words. It does not necessarily mean "I will do this" and it certainly does not mean "I will embark on this project in the near future." Many of our crazy ideas have come and disappeared. But others have hatched and come to fruition.
Time will tell if some day we will have an observation deck at the top of the farmette's old silo. Right now, we've simply shifted this project a little. From the "wild and crazy" to the "I can do this."
Our walk in the park is brisk. Before the breeze kicks in, the mosquitoes are dancing! We walk as if in training for a marathon.
And it is a beautiful walk, full of prairie flowers and swooping swallows. (This is the place where we most often ski if there's snow. I cross my fingers for that event. We've had pretty tame snows last year and the year before. It would surely be nice to have a solid snow cover this coming winter.)
(Prairie flowers and forest trails -- is there a better balm for our stress filled life styles?)
Dinner is late. And that's just fine. It simply means that we were lost in projects and adventures. Big or small, projects and adventures keep us alert to the possibilities. And that's such a good thing!
