Everyday sounds that I love: the song of the sandhill crane calling to its mate, the song of any bird really, the wind moving through any leafy tree, but especially a birch tree, the slow boil of a soup on the stove, the rain coming down on the skylight. But not a truck honking incessantly just by our house at a very early morning hour. What's going on??
I look outside. The cheepers, whose coop door opens automatically some time just after sunrise (which in Madison falls on 5:52 today), have made their way to the front flower bed -- a place that appears to have an abundance of flavorful stuff for them. They always head that way early in the day and they do get awfully close to the road. A truck driver was trying to scare them off. Successfully, I might add. They find car horns to be distressing. Might they step out on the road? Sure, but it's a theoretical worry. In all the years we've let them free range, I have never seen them do it. Still, the trucker was understandably worried. There must be a reason why the joke about the chicken crossing the road is so popular.
It was a loud beginning to a wet and cold day. (But pretty! End of April is always pretty!)
And yes, breakfast is in the kitchen. Ed sleeps in and looks like he could do with another handful of hours when I finally tell him I cannot wait for that first cup of coffee any longer.
It's a day for paying bills -- mine, my moms. Isn't it terrible how we take a day that's already pretty miserable (weather wise) and we add fodder to that misery by doing stuff that is hugely unpleasant?
No matter. Bills must be paid, monthly budgets adjusted. All is now tidy and ready for May.
In the afternoon, Snowdrop is here. I would have loved to spend even a few minutes outside with her, but who are we kidding -- the walk from the car to the farmhouse door is long (and cold and wet) enough.
We use our afternoon for reading, playing, drawing. As usual these days, she starts off working on another page of her Super Pigs book...
...but switches to adding color and detail to my Family of Five pictures.
And the winds howl, and the rain comes down, and we stay inside and we draw.
In the evening I bring in today's haul from the driveway (where deliveries are made): a bag full of mixed mushrooms from local mushroom farmers. On the one hand, mushrooms are so, well, nonessential. A luxury really. On the other hand, these farmers have been deprived of a market this year. Oyster mushrooms, shiitakes, growing. Unsold. So we sign up for a drop off. This week's frittata will be spectacular, that's for sure!
But not today. Instead, we have an easy dinner: leftover chili. Lots of beans, lots of spices. Lot's of tomatoes from last summer's market.
You know what's a good sound? The muffled pop pop pop of corn popping in an otherwise very quiet house.
I look outside. The cheepers, whose coop door opens automatically some time just after sunrise (which in Madison falls on 5:52 today), have made their way to the front flower bed -- a place that appears to have an abundance of flavorful stuff for them. They always head that way early in the day and they do get awfully close to the road. A truck driver was trying to scare them off. Successfully, I might add. They find car horns to be distressing. Might they step out on the road? Sure, but it's a theoretical worry. In all the years we've let them free range, I have never seen them do it. Still, the trucker was understandably worried. There must be a reason why the joke about the chicken crossing the road is so popular.
It was a loud beginning to a wet and cold day. (But pretty! End of April is always pretty!)
And yes, breakfast is in the kitchen. Ed sleeps in and looks like he could do with another handful of hours when I finally tell him I cannot wait for that first cup of coffee any longer.
It's a day for paying bills -- mine, my moms. Isn't it terrible how we take a day that's already pretty miserable (weather wise) and we add fodder to that misery by doing stuff that is hugely unpleasant?
No matter. Bills must be paid, monthly budgets adjusted. All is now tidy and ready for May.
In the afternoon, Snowdrop is here. I would have loved to spend even a few minutes outside with her, but who are we kidding -- the walk from the car to the farmhouse door is long (and cold and wet) enough.
We use our afternoon for reading, playing, drawing. As usual these days, she starts off working on another page of her Super Pigs book...
...but switches to adding color and detail to my Family of Five pictures.
And the winds howl, and the rain comes down, and we stay inside and we draw.
In the evening I bring in today's haul from the driveway (where deliveries are made): a bag full of mixed mushrooms from local mushroom farmers. On the one hand, mushrooms are so, well, nonessential. A luxury really. On the other hand, these farmers have been deprived of a market this year. Oyster mushrooms, shiitakes, growing. Unsold. So we sign up for a drop off. This week's frittata will be spectacular, that's for sure!
But not today. Instead, we have an easy dinner: leftover chili. Lots of beans, lots of spices. Lot's of tomatoes from last summer's market.
You know what's a good sound? The muffled pop pop pop of corn popping in an otherwise very quiet house.
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