I was out hanging out with the animals and I let them go out for some better grass. The geese and chickens came in and the chickens were settling for the night. Sitting on the well head, I was reading and waiting for the sheep to come back. Cirrus came to see what I was reading. He all but asked me to read to him, so I began reading to him of golden rod and asters from Robin Wall Kimmerer's book, Braiding Sweetgrass. He listened intently until my articulation became flat and dull and he went back to eating. It was just as well because it was becoming too dark to read. That expression, as I read to him,-- is why I love my roll as a farmer.
The way the animals all follow me; ready for an adventure. The way we dance together through familiar routines. Responsibilities that place me in the spot to be in awe of an almost full moon hiding behind an evening cloud. For moments like these, I choose to be a farmer.
There is a grass, or perhaps a hedge, that the animals leave uneaten in the pastures. On the part of the hill that I don't feel comfortable mowing, it remains tall and dry in the spring. It is in their way as they try to eat the new grass, so yesterday, I weed wacked the big patch and raked it into piles. This morning, as I headed out the driveway, Eloise was considering the potential of the piles for future nesting materials or perhaps just a place to take a morning rest. She really appreciated the gift.
Can you say it is "quiet beyond belief" when all the night critters are in orchestra. Does that count, or must one instead proclaim "PEACE" instead of quiet? It IS for moments like this that I say, "Thank You God."