popcorn

A long time ago, I vowed I would never, ever grouse about small irritants. I'm of the belief that big problems deserve consideration and a search for a solution, and small stuff is best ignored, or checked off with a shrug. Because really, there's a war going on -- homes, schools and hospitals are being destroyed, and floods are ripping structures apart elsewhere, and we're losing animal species to climate change each day, while I munch on popcorn and slide under a warm quilt at night. Honestly!

Take this day:

This morning, the clouds are dense. Peach, our old hen is stuck under the tractor. Who knows how she got there and why she can't get out. Pancake, the roaming feral 7th cat can't find food. I leave some under the writer's shed -- the only place where the chickens wont find it, but she doesn't go there. The other cats are all growling at her presence. Yes, cats make growling noises. I notice that the tree that fell during the storm is covering my seeded meadow. Outside, the dominant color is a dull brown. Inside, a cat has thrown up. I text with my daughter. Kids were crabby this morning and one was late for school. Their dishwasher is still broken. My mom writes her usual email of stuff. Ed comes for one second to breakfast and leaves immediately to attend to a Zoom call. So much for a leisurely start. I run out of cat food for the cat that will only eat at the farmhouse. After breakfast, I read an article that tells me I am not getting enough Vitamin D at the same time that is reminds us that all supplements are suspect. Other daughter texted me that her kid has hives and they suspect an allergy. The cat threw up again. Twice in one day. Assume something's bugging her. And don't get me started on my knee! Ha! Probably acting up because of Vitamin D deficiency! 

I wish I had gone out for morning croissants. I miss morning croissants. 

So, just the usual! Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that warrants anything more than a smile at the ridiculousness of it all.

And here's the more interesting and beautiful side, the stuff that usually does make it into Ocean:

I rescue the muddled in her old age Peach. (I can almost see the wrinkles in her face!)

Dance enjoys breakfast with me.

The kids are all finally at school. Well, except for one Chicago girl who still has a day's wait for the start of the new semester. 

One of the Bresse chickens keeps laying, despite the fact that it's January. 

The air is fragrant with wet leaves and soaking pine needles. 

I do not take a walk, but instead, I turn toward baking: a lemon honey cake out of my new gifted cookbook. The aromas out of that project are fabulous! 

And in the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop at school. We have a much needed exhale at the farmhouse. The girl was sick for a week before winter break and then plunged right into a whirlwind of activities. It's an adjustment just to get back to normal!

Her smile is buoyant, her appetite -- ravenous, her routines at the farmhouse -- predictable and lovely. 

A sprinkling of snow in the evening. Snowdrop says it feels more like rain, but then we note the gentle white dusting on the ground and she agrees: like powdered sugar sprinkled from a sieve. Delicate and pretty. 

So much to love about this day, about each day! So lucky to live in peace, in a warm house, with Ed asking each evening -- you want popcorn, gorgeous?