Even if it would snow again, even if frost covers our fields at night, even if we're still coasting through the iffy month of March, it no longer feels like winter. I step outside in the morning, feel the squishy mud of a ground that's no longer deeply frozen and smell the wonderful smells of fresh growth -- still mostly hidden from view, but the juices are flowing. You can feel it! And sometimes even see it.
Our day is very calm. I take care of the animals in the morning and that's really not a chore -- just a pleasant romp from one place to the next, watching the kitties venture out just a little...
... and the cheepers venture out somewhat more bravely.
Happy, the rooster is crowing now and we love his emerging voice! So far, we feel his temperament matches that of our girls. He's pretty mellow and he seems to fit in with the pack well. Pecking by anyone of anyone has mostly gone by the wayside.
Breakfast, lovely, because I had done the shopping and so everything was as we like it to be. (Well, as I like it to be. I'm sure Ed did not eat a single breakfast meal while I was away!)
We talk like real seniors! In going through our basement stuff (discarding most anything and everything that seems unnecessary), I came across an old cooler. Out it goes! -- I say. After all, when was the last time either of us wanted to drive great distances for a picnic? Still, a few hours later Ed asks -- do you want to pack a lunch and go out to our favorite Ice Age Trail segment when the weather warms up? We could take some bread and cheese...
He has sensed far longer than I have that our orbit of pleasures, with age, rests increasingly closer to home. And that making time to do something magnificent, something that we would have done when we were, say, in France, but have made little effort to do here (picnic with bread and cheese...) is important, especially when you've passed 65 and are by any measure a senior.
In the evening, the young family comes for dinner. They arrive straight from the airport, having spent a handful of days in D.C. Snowdrop is at an age where a family trip somewhere far is nothing short of exhilarating. (She is so excited to come and tell me about it!)
(... and to tell Ed about her various museum trips)
Sparrow liked the excitement too, though I am told he missed his jumparoo! Too, he is at a squirmy age and I'm sure both parents are happy to be done with the travel portion of their mini vacation.
Dinner, of course, is lovely, just because all family dinners are lovely.
(oh how fast they grow!)
The routines of farmette life: I'm not the only one who loves them. Snowdrop is excited to help Ed put away the cheepers.... Here she is, running back and forth, wanting to tell me that they're resisting going to sleep tonight -- possibly because her lovely voice carries them right out of a dozy state straight into total wakefulness.
(Sparrow is amused. I should note that he is, these days, very much amused about any of life's perturbations and peculiarities.)
The evening ends in the way it so often does for me these days: my eyes close far too soon... You want to linger, even as your whole being tells you it's time to go to sleep.
Our day is very calm. I take care of the animals in the morning and that's really not a chore -- just a pleasant romp from one place to the next, watching the kitties venture out just a little...
... and the cheepers venture out somewhat more bravely.
Happy, the rooster is crowing now and we love his emerging voice! So far, we feel his temperament matches that of our girls. He's pretty mellow and he seems to fit in with the pack well. Pecking by anyone of anyone has mostly gone by the wayside.
Breakfast, lovely, because I had done the shopping and so everything was as we like it to be. (Well, as I like it to be. I'm sure Ed did not eat a single breakfast meal while I was away!)
We talk like real seniors! In going through our basement stuff (discarding most anything and everything that seems unnecessary), I came across an old cooler. Out it goes! -- I say. After all, when was the last time either of us wanted to drive great distances for a picnic? Still, a few hours later Ed asks -- do you want to pack a lunch and go out to our favorite Ice Age Trail segment when the weather warms up? We could take some bread and cheese...
He has sensed far longer than I have that our orbit of pleasures, with age, rests increasingly closer to home. And that making time to do something magnificent, something that we would have done when we were, say, in France, but have made little effort to do here (picnic with bread and cheese...) is important, especially when you've passed 65 and are by any measure a senior.
In the evening, the young family comes for dinner. They arrive straight from the airport, having spent a handful of days in D.C. Snowdrop is at an age where a family trip somewhere far is nothing short of exhilarating. (She is so excited to come and tell me about it!)
(... and to tell Ed about her various museum trips)
Sparrow liked the excitement too, though I am told he missed his jumparoo! Too, he is at a squirmy age and I'm sure both parents are happy to be done with the travel portion of their mini vacation.
Dinner, of course, is lovely, just because all family dinners are lovely.
(oh how fast they grow!)
The routines of farmette life: I'm not the only one who loves them. Snowdrop is excited to help Ed put away the cheepers.... Here she is, running back and forth, wanting to tell me that they're resisting going to sleep tonight -- possibly because her lovely voice carries them right out of a dozy state straight into total wakefulness.
(Sparrow is amused. I should note that he is, these days, very much amused about any of life's perturbations and peculiarities.)
The evening ends in the way it so often does for me these days: my eyes close far too soon... You want to linger, even as your whole being tells you it's time to go to sleep.
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