Well what a glorious retreat from the predicted rains and storms! We wake to a day that announces brilliance: prepare yourselves, it's going to be a good one! The weather gods have relented.
This confuses us all. The mindset for glory isn't there. We planned on a slow moving inside day!
(Here's a surprise: every single photo I take today is taken outdoors!)
I feed the cats and go back to bed to mull things over. Ed snores, oblivious to the gift outside.
I go out again. Hey, where is everybody? Not a cat in sight. No chickens either.
I make my way to the barn. Well, now -- they've gone on an adventure. I haven't ever seen them spend time in the barn. Certainly not as a pack, yet here they are, nine cats, acting like real barn cats!. I take some photos. Remember this space, kitties -- there will come a time when you will like it here. (Ed and I are worrying about winter: how do you offer warmth to nine outdoor cats? We struggled with this last year when there were just three.)
The chickens are in the thick of their own dusty adventure.
Cats and hens, rooster and kitties, all acting as if summer is with us once more.
Breakfast? Oh, on the porch for sure! It's just heavenly out there today!
We tell ourselves that this cannot be a farmhouse day. Whatever we do, it better be outside.
At noon, we take out the bikes once more and pedal over to the disc golf course.
(en route)
It's not all triumphant exuberance. Somehow my bike veers too close to the edge of the road. I overcompensate. Ed is biking next to me. I crash into him.
He bears the brunt of the fall on his arm and leg. Me, I soften the fall by tumbling onto him before bouncing off with my head on the pavement. It's the second time in my adult biking days that the helmet saves me from trouble. We stay still, dazed for a minute, then get up, inspect the damage and pedal on, me apologizing the rest of the ride over (and then some).
We weren't going to play a full game, but we need the period of calm recovery. The barefoot ramble. The look out onto the fields and fauna.
It's a good game, followed by a good ride back.
And then I hurry off to pick up Snowdrop, who is, for the first time in months, not wearing her rubber shoes. (Instead: boots, from Target. $11. Just like my friend's! -- She tells me proudly. Clearly said friend also shops at Target.)
Yes, we go to the playground by the lake. Of course we do!
She gets wet.
And who cares! It's warm enough for it.
Happiness is a surprise of this kind: sunshine and a chance to play outside without limits, without reservations.
The warm weather will be fizzle away tomorrow. But hey, it surely lifted us up today! Thank you! We are grateful.
This confuses us all. The mindset for glory isn't there. We planned on a slow moving inside day!
(Here's a surprise: every single photo I take today is taken outdoors!)
I feed the cats and go back to bed to mull things over. Ed snores, oblivious to the gift outside.
I go out again. Hey, where is everybody? Not a cat in sight. No chickens either.
I make my way to the barn. Well, now -- they've gone on an adventure. I haven't ever seen them spend time in the barn. Certainly not as a pack, yet here they are, nine cats, acting like real barn cats!. I take some photos. Remember this space, kitties -- there will come a time when you will like it here. (Ed and I are worrying about winter: how do you offer warmth to nine outdoor cats? We struggled with this last year when there were just three.)
The chickens are in the thick of their own dusty adventure.
Cats and hens, rooster and kitties, all acting as if summer is with us once more.
Breakfast? Oh, on the porch for sure! It's just heavenly out there today!
We tell ourselves that this cannot be a farmhouse day. Whatever we do, it better be outside.
At noon, we take out the bikes once more and pedal over to the disc golf course.
(en route)
It's not all triumphant exuberance. Somehow my bike veers too close to the edge of the road. I overcompensate. Ed is biking next to me. I crash into him.
He bears the brunt of the fall on his arm and leg. Me, I soften the fall by tumbling onto him before bouncing off with my head on the pavement. It's the second time in my adult biking days that the helmet saves me from trouble. We stay still, dazed for a minute, then get up, inspect the damage and pedal on, me apologizing the rest of the ride over (and then some).
We weren't going to play a full game, but we need the period of calm recovery. The barefoot ramble. The look out onto the fields and fauna.
It's a good game, followed by a good ride back.
And then I hurry off to pick up Snowdrop, who is, for the first time in months, not wearing her rubber shoes. (Instead: boots, from Target. $11. Just like my friend's! -- She tells me proudly. Clearly said friend also shops at Target.)
Yes, we go to the playground by the lake. Of course we do!
She gets wet.
And who cares! It's warm enough for it.
Happiness is a surprise of this kind: sunshine and a chance to play outside without limits, without reservations.
The warm weather will be fizzle away tomorrow. But hey, it surely lifted us up today! Thank you! We are grateful.
