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  • So much to do

    Gathering rocks is easier said than done, but I drove down to the old fishing hole, where it is a short distance to the creek's edge and large flat rocks are plentiful. I knew not to get wet rocks, as they would crack with the fire heat, so I gathered rocks that were far from the water and had been dry since the last big flood.
  • Puttering around
    Perhaps one of these days, we will have a self-operating farm where Greg’s gadgets keep everything running smoothly, and then we will both be able to travel together. Or, perhaps, we will just sit on the side deck and do nothing as the farm takes care of itself.
  • Food for the bees
    It has been cold the past few weeks, very cold. On the few warm days that the afternoon sun did shine down on the beehives, and the bees did venture out to fly, I was worried. I had not seen any sign of creek wildflowers; yet the bees were out, hungry and thirsty, after the long winter. Quite simply, they were in search of food – but there was none.
  • A gray day is OK
    Chores done, Greg and I headed back across the yard to the cabin. I had just packed the wood stove tight with logs before we headed outside. Gray smoke wafted up from the cabin's chimney and headed north to the edge of the woods before it dissipated into gray of the day. I knew that the gray smoke signaled the warmth of the cabin inside.
  • The creek wore white
    I noticed on our walk yesterday that the daylily shoots were close to four inches tall. The plum trees were covered with swollen pink buds, and several of the daffodils that I had planted along the road had already flowered. Spring was starting to awaken
  • Sweet dreams
    The day was gray and cold, but it was warm by the fire. We fell into the rhythm of adding logs to the fire and sap to the pan, as we skimmed bubbles off the boiling surface. By mid-afternoon, we had poured 10 gallons of sap into the stainless steel evaporator gallon pan, and the three and a half gallons boiling liquid had begun to turn a light brown. Wafts of maple scent began to rise with the steam.
  • The tortoise and the groundhog
    Later, it occurred to me that both the tortoise and the groundhog had erred. Only two weeks before, the groundhog had not seen his shadow, and had clearly predicted an early spring. Perhaps the two of them should get their heads together and better figure out this matter of forecasting.
  • What about Bob?
    It is that time of year when the kids are dropping to the ground like spring rain. It seems as though every time we turn around, there is another one jumping about the goat yard as though it had springs on the bottoms of its perfect little feet. Baby goats seem to be about the most happy creatures in the world, and they certainly seem to know how to make me smile. But Bob is different.
  • It is winter
    The white-gray day is starting to grow dark. I feel ever so content. The rabbit water bottles have been thawed for the second time, the chickens are closed up for the night, and soup simmers warmly on the cook stove. I light a beeswax candle. It is winter.
  • Going for a walk

    Finally, we came to the gate at the end of the road and turned around to head home. There, laid out before us was the story of our walk. Greg's larger footprints and mine, sometimes close together, other times farther apart.

  • Crystal clear
    What a joy it has been to see clear blue skies for the past two days! I had almost forgotten what the color blue looked like.
  • Dogs
    I ran my hand down her forehead, between her eyes, and along her nose. She looked up at me, tilted her head just so, as if to ask me what I would make for breakfast, and then resumed her watch out the window. They sat by the table, a dog distance back, as we lingered and drank the last of our morning coffee.
  • Footprints in the snow
    As I stood on the porch, the new year dawning, it occurred to me, that our tracks across the snow clearly mark the pattern and habit of our lives. The weather forecast calls for continued below-freezing temperatures. I promised myself that when I do the chores tomorrow, I will step outside of the path, just to see how it feels.
  • 388 square feet

    I feel as though everything is in its place, but I also know that I look forward to the return of our young'uns, as they stretch the walls of our 388-square-foot world just a bit. Such stretching is good for the soul.

  • A gray day
    Our walk was longer than expected, as I frequently stopped to photograph our creek valley world. The weather was warmer than expected, and even though I did not wear a jacket, I was amazed that I managed to work up a sweat in mid-December.
  • My father's hand
    It had been only a few months since I had seen him. I called when I was just a few miles away, and as I pulled up in the driveway, I could see him waiting just inside the front door. I parked and got out quickly, trying to rush inside before he came out into the cold to greet me, but I was not fast enough. He met me at the curb with a warm hug.
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