Tonight, as my friend Erin drove away, I walked the goats and Pyrenees pups back into their pen. Locked them in for the night and left them to the evening ritual of hay sniffing, table jumping, and grass rolling. Heading back towards the house, the long shadows from a fingernail moon fell everywhere across my path. I finally looked up at the thing and caught the weight of the night pulsing down on me – a liquid velvet canvas draped against something so bright – the stars appeared as pin pricks – light from behind the velvet night shining through each little hole. Before she left we talked for just a minute about that feeling you get underneath a big sky on a dark night. The reality of those stars, their death so many millions of years ago, their light only just coming here now – trying to think about it makes your mind bend a little and give up. We spent the evening making a quick cheese together and eating the one I’d made last night on the front porch with good crackers and pungent wine. She heard the frogs sing in the pond down below the house and watched Willy Boots play king of the mountain (no one else cared) on top of an overturned trough.
|Photo courtesy of the fabulous Erin Negron|
So it follows that keeping some basic things in order here will maintain balance and peace so the goats can be goats, the dogs can be dogs, the chickens can be chickens and together they’ll be our version of a scrappy little farm.