In the best of best worlds, we all look out for each other, lending a hand when needed. In reality, though, our days are full, we're stressed to the max and extending ourselves even more is tougher than tough. But I think most of us would pause to help a little one. Young and vulnerable, not yet able to fend for herself. They tear at your heart.
And so when I go to feed the kitties, I naturally reach for Little Gray and Yo Yo, making sure they aren't nudged away from the bowls as the big cats dig in. All eating is in the sheep shed now!
The morning is cool but gorgeous. I take an hour to tidy a bit of the yard and to snip seed pods from spent flowers. Bee's Balm, Black Eyed Susans, False Indigo. Rudbeckia cone flowers, Echinacea cone flowers, Milkweed. All into a bucket for winter sowing. It's part of a plan we have t transform the remaining patches of green grass to meadow land.
(This is why I love Phlox: its repeat blooms are tremendous!)
Breakfast.
Oh, those little people in our lives! I certainly have one that is in need of special care. Snowdrop can't go to school today and so I break up her hours at home by bringing her to the farmhouse.
She has just enough energy to get up and show me how the lights on the stairs are really just smiley faces... (You know how it is when you're sick: small things stand out.)
Mostly though, there is lots of couch time.
Still, the young ones in our midst have a lot of strong healing mechanisms propelling them toward good health. One little kitten had the sniffles last week. This week he seems better.
Snowdrop, too, gets a bit of her oomph back in the course of the day. I had to carry her into the farmhouse -- she was that limp. This is the sick one when it's time for me to take her home:
In the late afternoon, Ed takes on the task of replacing my car's front brake pads. I am so very grateful: I cannot afford to let go of my car for even a day. I cook up a pot of good soup for supper. Sometimes we play out the most traditional gendered roles. (Other times we do not.)
The cats watch him work on my car. They've come up to the garage again to let us know they're hungry. It's the perfect moment to start training them on the tilted board that leads up to the window (and thus the cat door) of the sheep shed.
I have no problem in getting Dance to come into the shed this way. Once she does it, the others follow. Well, not the babies. I work with them for a longer while, pushing them through, inside, then out. In you go! Come on: jump here, then here! This is the way out again!
Yes, we do look out for the little guys. It's that protective instinct kicking in. However little time or patience we have for the rest of our fellow travelers, we do look out for the little guys.
And so when I go to feed the kitties, I naturally reach for Little Gray and Yo Yo, making sure they aren't nudged away from the bowls as the big cats dig in. All eating is in the sheep shed now!
The morning is cool but gorgeous. I take an hour to tidy a bit of the yard and to snip seed pods from spent flowers. Bee's Balm, Black Eyed Susans, False Indigo. Rudbeckia cone flowers, Echinacea cone flowers, Milkweed. All into a bucket for winter sowing. It's part of a plan we have t transform the remaining patches of green grass to meadow land.
(This is why I love Phlox: its repeat blooms are tremendous!)
Breakfast.
Oh, those little people in our lives! I certainly have one that is in need of special care. Snowdrop can't go to school today and so I break up her hours at home by bringing her to the farmhouse.
She has just enough energy to get up and show me how the lights on the stairs are really just smiley faces... (You know how it is when you're sick: small things stand out.)
Mostly though, there is lots of couch time.
Still, the young ones in our midst have a lot of strong healing mechanisms propelling them toward good health. One little kitten had the sniffles last week. This week he seems better.
Snowdrop, too, gets a bit of her oomph back in the course of the day. I had to carry her into the farmhouse -- she was that limp. This is the sick one when it's time for me to take her home:
In the late afternoon, Ed takes on the task of replacing my car's front brake pads. I am so very grateful: I cannot afford to let go of my car for even a day. I cook up a pot of good soup for supper. Sometimes we play out the most traditional gendered roles. (Other times we do not.)
The cats watch him work on my car. They've come up to the garage again to let us know they're hungry. It's the perfect moment to start training them on the tilted board that leads up to the window (and thus the cat door) of the sheep shed.
I have no problem in getting Dance to come into the shed this way. Once she does it, the others follow. Well, not the babies. I work with them for a longer while, pushing them through, inside, then out. In you go! Come on: jump here, then here! This is the way out again!
Yes, we do look out for the little guys. It's that protective instinct kicking in. However little time or patience we have for the rest of our fellow travelers, we do look out for the little guys.
