Saturday Slight

 

They are not exactly bosom buddies cuz Bridie usually covets all the attention, while Foster's blindness demands personal attention in addition to the loving.  

Still, they have a respect for one another, which is pretty necessary when they spend their lives together, often in the back seat of a vehicle. Plus, Bridie does watch after Foster. 

When they actually choose, for no reason, to be in close proximity, it's worth noting.  

So, that's what I did yesterday, as Bridie decided to lie down next to Foster. 

And, this is what Bridie prefers to do more than anything. 

There are horses to be watched, and, for her, it's serious business. 

Bill and I were talking yesterday about how rich our retirement experience is here on the farm. 

We now have the time to see the patterns, especially of animals, because we are here so much of the time to have our "aha" moments about the birds and critters who share our space. 

That discussion came after my observation that possibly Mr. Crow or Missus, has been a regular in the same spot every year.  

Time spent sitting on the fence along the front pasture  is followed by time spent under the yellow bird feeder or inside the garden. 

Occasionally, a squirrel will take up room in the crow's territory, and sometimes there's even a tussle as the two different species vie to dominate. 

Bill also commented the day before yesterday that he thought he saw a swallow near one of the bird houses in the garden. 

Sure enough, yesterday I saw a swallow perched on the pink bird house where swallow couples have come, prepared the bird house, had their young, fed their young and when the young could fly disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. 

Same is true with the flycatchers who have a nest in the beams under our deck roof. 

I always know the flycatchers have arrived, the instant I hear a distinctive chirp outside my window while posting on my blog.

 

It's a fun and enriching life here watching the life patterns of all the other beings which inhabit this place. 

 All species, including humans, adopt their individual routines, and it's neat to have the time and place to watch those key moments unfold.

I've got lettuce.  

It will be a while before it's harvested, but it's off to a good start. 

Yesterday was transplant day for the bulk of my tomato plants.  So far, they're still alive, thanks to the heaters in the greenhouse. 

I took a few photos this morning, specifically to illustrate how COLD it is outside.  

It's so cold that most of the spring flowers are drooping this morning. 

Hopefully, they and all the shrubs and trees leafing out haven't been harmed by the heavy frost. 

from the New York Times Morning Newsletter

It’s spring cleaning time, if you’re the sort to partake of such things. I used to think “spring cleaning” as a concept was some marketer’s gimmick to sell Windex, but the more springs I rack up, the more I understand the urge to dust and scour and air out once the sun’s out all the time, casting its withering gaze on my winter hoard.

This year, I’m taking the very good (and new to me) advice of Christina Fallon, a professional organizer. “People get lost in the different chapters of their lives,” Fallon told the Times.

Her map to freeing her clients involves acknowledging the emotional freight that objects accumulate. 

She begins her decluttering in the bathroom, because people are less attached to old bottles of NyQuil than they are more cherished possessions. 

“Once they get used to saying ‘toss it,’ and they’ve started to build a purging muscle, we move on to harder things,” she said.

For those of us who don’t have the means or the desire to hire an organizer, I think just being aware that deaccession is hard, that our relationships with our things are sometimes more powerful than our desire for an uncluttered dresser, can be helpful.

I’ve blamed my own laziness for my apparent inability to get rid of the bag of clothes that has been sitting in my living room for six months. 

But if I acknowledge I’m also holding onto it because I fear there’s something meaningful in there, I allow a little self-compassion into the equation.

Then I can tough-love myself with Fallon’s maxim: “We only use about 20 percent of our wardrobe, so if you haven’t worn or used something within six months, you’re probably not going to use it.”

The bag is going to Goodwill this weekend.

👚👚👚👚👚👚👚

Twas this day 251 years ago, that Paul Revere rode the roads. 

 

I loved what Darrell Kerby from Bonners Ferry wrote about his first experience in Ireland, which ends today with him and his group moving on to Scotland.  

As is customary for Darrell, he nailed it. 

We’ve traveled roughly 1,400 miles around this Irish island — north, west, south, and east — beginning and ending in Dublin. Every mile has been beautiful. 

The weather, of course, was classic Ireland: rain and shine, often trading places within minutes. And “charming” is a word you simply can’t overuse here. The people, the landscape, the history, the stories — all of it fits comfortably inside that one word.

Included on our way back was a small but memorable stop: the area where President Obama’s mother’s family lived. When President Obama visited Ireland during his presidency, he stopped at the local service station that had just been completed — and the place now proudly bears his name. 

It’s the kind of detail only Ireland can pull off: history, humor, and heritage all tucked into a roadside stop.

Today we say goodbye to Owen. We’re about 150 miles outside Dublin now, and a quiet melancholy has settled over all of us. Owen has been our ambassador to this noble people we call the Irish, and though none of us had been here before, each of us will leave a piece of ourselves behind — and that piece will be our hearts.

We’re not sad. We’re grateful. Grateful for the people we met, for the craic we shared, for the music and the drink we enjoyed together. On Saturday, when the wheels lift off from Dublin and point us toward Edinburgh and our first visit to Scotland, I’m sure we’ll feel a small pang of loss. 

But the memories we carry now — bright, warm, and green as the island itself — will soften that feeling with a smile and a wink.

☘☘☘☘☘☘