It started off like the kind of day that maybe needs some oil squirted on it to take the creaks out. The tiny issues, the kind that aren't really much of anything but can be annoying nonetheless, were piling on. The cold and brittle landscape. The chickens, all fleeing the barn, why? Because we have another opossum hounding the coop. (This time we catch him before he gets inside to do damage.) Then there's Ed on the couch, still feeling lousy, insisting that "it's just a cold" even though I remind him he's been at it for nearly four weeks now. Then, too, more appointments to make, knee to wrap up, I mean -- come on! Let's start again, on a better foot!
Okay, I dump old bread pieces for the cheepers. The hiccuping hen is still hiccuping, but she is eating robustly along with the others so we will continue to monitor her and see where this is heading.
Then breakfast. Dance is prancing on the table (grrr!), but she is merely a little hungry for affection so I do a pet-and-eat routine that seems to keep her nose out of my food.
And so contentment sets it. And then my sister calls -- it's been such a long time -- and it's really good to talk to her again and now contentment is rising.
And the snow begins to fall.
I mean, we cant fool ourselves -- it's not a snow cover worth beans, but it reminds us that patience will be rewarded. Some day.
In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop and we zip through her farmhouse routines...
... and I get her ready for dance...
And now she is at ballet and I am sitting back, enjoying my kindle and I think -- wow, what a perfectly lovely day!!
In the thick of this moment of bliss, Ed calls and tells me he can't find Peach.
Good old Peach, emphasis on the "old." We got her off of Craigslist in 2017 and she was already laying eggs then, so who knows how many years she had behind her. We sure do know she is old. She moves slowly, doesn't go far. Today, she came up to the house, but only because the opossum freaked her out. I don't know that she ever went back.
We searched everywhere. Maybe she's just laying low, too feeble to hobble back to the barn. Maybe she was snatched. Maybe she died of old age. Maybe none of that. We'll have to see tomorrow if she somehow shows up, magically, as if nothing had transpired, as if it was just one of those squeaky days where everything didn't go exactly right, even though, in the end, we all were just fine.
