If we had one I wouldn't be able to hear him over the cardinal chorus, the Carolina Wren, and the chicken clucking of the Red-Bellied Woodpecker anyhow. But I keep listening.
There is a warm spring rain, so light that when I went up to the stove, I didn't really get wet, but I could smell its soft goodness and feel it if I turned up my face.
Caring for the stove. So easy. There is split wood right up next to it. I walk right up in the weather, which has been extraordinary, listen to the birds, thousands, and love being out. There are so many geese down along the river they are like a waving curtain when they get up to fly.
Then I open the door. Carefully, because that is the right way to open a boiler. Let the hot gasses escape before I fling it wide and fling in wood. Ten pieces or so mornings. The same at night. The men split them big enough to hold a fire for eight or ten hours if I put in a goodly pile, yet small enough that if I am careful I can toss them. You were right, Alan, I am getting biceps. I have always been willing to do this job, but there was never wood....
We all, except the boss, who is housebound for obvious reasons, took the baby up to the horse pond yesterday. So sweet to watch this little flower bloom. She is all farm girl, striding along in her boots, chattering about the trains across the river, "Choo-choo train, choo-choo train!"
And the geese. We were looking at a big skein waving in, but she stomped her boot and pointed straight up, not off at the horizon where we were watching. (Oh, yeah, she has a temper.) "Goose! Goose! Goose!" Sure enough there was a pair right over our heads that we hadn't seen. She knows.
We are doing okay and thank you, every one of you, for the phone calls, visits, and kind words here. By noon I will probably be snarling at insurance companies and their ilk, but for now, peace and plenty. Plenty of firewood, plenty of good food, plenty of good people, and plenty of cardinals, enough for any feast of comfort.
|When only grandma's hand will do|