Wife, writer, tinkerer, grower of food. I'm happiest outside our rambling farmhouse with a basket looped on my arm, picking dinner from the garden. That's joy right there. Please follow along; I'm so glad you're here!
Yesterday was a good day to be a chicken. It was a good day to be alive-- I took the Pete and settled into a lawn chair situated on the south side of the garage, where it was a good 60 degrees, at least, and we basked. The chickens came, the chickens went.
I walked. It was really the first moments of spring-- that first assessment of things that need doing and encouraging along. I pruned my blueberry bushes, and cut down my brittle forest of dry asparagus stalks.
Life is going to be alright. The car is out of the shop, and the repairs were mercifully half as expensive as we expected. That's the first good news, the first lucky break, we've had in months, so I'll choose to take it as a sign the tide is turning. Either way, spring is coming, that is a surety, and there is nothing a little sunshine can't improve.