Sometimes one can get SO in the flow that it an unmistakable "religious experience" regardless of your path. Most times, though, we dip our little toe in and wonder "is that really where" or worse yet, splash across a tributary to the main river and never notice.
Yesterday I was in it, but something was awry. I am still not sure what, but it was. There was work and seeing a friend/delivering eggs/picking up pots and planters. There was a nice sit down with a group of ladies who spin and knit and embroider and some raise goats and some raise sheep... at the home of a lady I just got introduced to (initially virtually) by another friend/client/healthcare provider. There was home, and rest, and a brief flurry of worry over deer in the garden (they had not been there to eat... yet...but had walked through) and an intense lecture on meteorology followed by a late supper of salad and biscuits. And in each part, it felt right but somehow it didn't quite fit together. Hummm...
|Usually, two RI Reds and one of the Aracanas fly the coop.|
|In the tall grass, finding eggs is fun.|
|New duck pen encloses the old one, which will remain until |
the eggs hatch or the moms give up trying.
Along with the gardening, there are as always, hex signs to complete. The two-sign order will be delivered locally once their owner returns from vacation and plywood has been brought home to cut the next orders, two 3' signs of different designs going in different directions. I only have the room to paint one of that size at a time, so cutting and sanding will begin soon as well.
Breakfast granola has been eaten while I write and the outdoors calls. It's wet but not raining... muck boots and jeans (which will be covered in mud by days end, I am sure) await. ... and I am off...