i was going to write a few things, but i if you do not mind i will share with you something from my journal about morning on the hill.
i shall get up any minute, get up i say to myself and i do. i look out the window above my bed across the pasture to the orchard and the writers cabin, no turkeys today. I run to the other window and there they are tolstoy and splash- we have made it through the night and we are all well. the dogs and i leave my bedroom the cats are outside the door and everyone is trying to make it down the stairs first as if we are secretly having a race. I turn my espresso machine on as i pass the kitchen on my way to wash my face and brush my teeth. jeans, shirt muck shoes it is time to let everyone out, dogs first, sophie than grace. the chickens and ducks hear me now and they begin to make a racket. i fill all water buckets and feeders and i opened the door for my feathery friends who spill out like water, this scene always makes me laugh and yet it is beautiful. then off i got to feed the horse who are waiting patiently, drop the grain in the bucket and i stand between splash and tolstoy for splash likes to steal from tolstoy, i play with his mane and sing to him our morning song,( i love u and you love me) it is our thing and he leans his cheek to my lips when i say with a big great kiss. i love this rituals and now i almost hear k laughing but he is miles a way in boston and thinks this singing stuff is funny. i have now carried this ritual over to the ducks and chickens when i close them in for the night, i sing the same song, poor feathery friends they must endure my voice. i want a cello or a base i tell k. at jazz night, he simply says perhaps you can play for the animals instead of sing.
before i head in for my mocha and book i pick dandelion greens for the chicken and ducks they love it so and i do it all day long.
* the pictures of sophie and K. are one my favorites i have taken here. k eat his coconut french toast and sophie who never begs, approaches him in a kind manner.