farmette life 12

But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little boat...
(William Wordsworth)

I woke up thinking that it shouldn't be terribly hard to locate a small boat out at sea these days. We have satellites. Ed's sailing with a registered crew of sailors. They leave a trail.

But I didn't set to the task of finding out more straight away. My sniffles have fogged over my entire brain and it seemed ambitious enough to go out and deal with the animals. [All of them managed just fine in my absence, though the cheepers were worst off: I left them plenty of water and feed. Or so I thought. Everything was dry and empty last night as I shined a flashlight into the coop upon my return.]

After the laborious hike to the barn, shed and back again, I climbed into bed and thought more about whether I really want to know where Ed is, especially since I'm not positive I can track the correct wee boat of theirs. And what if they are making slow progress? Do I really want to know that? Strong winds would have put them in Puerto Rico tomorrow, but I'm fairly sure there are no strong winds now over that part of the Atlantic.

Nothing like stirring the bug of curiosity: once you pose a question (where are they?), you want an answer.

And I think I found them! Terribly far from any shore. Like, not anywhere close to P.R.

Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps they will have made it in record time. I remind myself that I really do not understand nautical charts well and that it could be that my days of cleaning the sheep shed after seven rambunctious cats may be drawing to a close.

I thrive on optimism.

Breakfast. Very late. It's a droopy dreary day. We're anticipating snow again and then a blast of coldest yet air. An insane November, weather wise! And I know that after breakfast comes farmhouse cleaning. So why rush breakfast!?






I stay indoors, move slowly and neglect my to do lists. By the afternoon, I know I'm spiking a fever. I can't afford a fever. Please go away.

The day passes. My woodsy soy candle burns brightly, music coming out of my computer is fabulous. I will myself to get over this bug quickly. Tonight, I have the young family here to feed.

A rest: that's always good! By evening, things improve. And by the time the young ones arrive, I'm more or less back on track. Kids have a way of bringing you out of your own misery.












Our evening is lovely. They want to hear all about my visit with Primrose and her mom. I want to hear about their own weekend adventures. All over a warm meal that will give me plenty of leftovers for the week ahead.






(Post supper exhale. On the couch.)






I do think the powers that be should address the problem of curing the common cold before taking on more glamorous projects, but, since this wont happen in my lifetime, the best we can do is ignore the menace, rest, and hold on to the belief that someday soon this too shall pass. Boats come back to shore, sniffles go away. Thank goodness.