The Chore of Wednesdays….And Other Complaints
For almost two years now I’ve made a trip to the land every Wednesday afternoon. I have missed only two Wednesday trips; the first of which led to a fairly traumatic cow illness. Rest assured, it was more traumatic for me than the cow. The second missed Wednesday led to nothing in particular except more gas in the tank and, therefore, extra money in my pocket. Oops – does that make it sound as if I’m complaining about my Wednesday trips to the land? Does it?!
That’s because I am.
Don’t get me wrong, being at the land is the only place I want to be in most situations. I love the look of it, feel of it, smell of it – but I don’t like leaving it. In the middle of a day that falls in the middle of a week, hopping into the car down the long roads that point towards country, I feel more trapped than free. It’s another commitment that I fear I’ve half-a$ed because I’m fitting it in between things, peeking my head over a fence, patting a donkey head, and waving goodbye before I’m out of the car. Another example of the dual life dilemma that hopefully does, in fact, have a happy ending. But ’til then I feel guilty driving all that way just to count animals and check pulses, only to turn around and leave again. This doesn’t rival the magnitude of natural disasters and federal economic crises – but on a personal scale – it’s a responsibility that feels more chore than privilege. So today I made it more privilege than chore. I spent some extra time giving the animals treats so I could walk around undisturbed. Followed a path down to the “pond” (transformed back to dust pit). Watched as woodpeckers hammered into dead trees, their red mohawks gleaming in the sun. Walked to the homesite and back to the animals where I found the cows had chased the donkeys off into the pasture. Wandering makes Wednesday less of a chore. But it doesn’t make the leaving any easier.
While there I snapped a shot of one of the many doors that needs to somehow get sanded, primed, and painted (hardware replaced, cleaned, blah blah). I like this one an awful lot for some reason, which just figures since it’s in the worst shape.
I also found the most unusual and stout berry/grape type of plant growing in the middle of the homesite. Let me know if you can identify the thing. It seemed to bloom and wither in a matter of 48 hours. Is it poisonous? Medicinal? Delicious?
But now it’s the end of Wednesday. And it’s cold outside. I know this for two reasons. 1) Jeremy made a fire, and 2) Simon the cat is glaring at me through the back door. See, we’ve decided that our cat Simon only appears on the back stoop, quietly mewing (Not to be mistaken with a meow. This version is waaay more pathetic) – if it’s at or below 45 degrees. The cat doesn’t tolerate chilly weather. As I type, I see the glow of 2 little eyes peering through the door. And I hear him too, “meeewwwwww. sniff. meww” Yes Simon, it’s cold. Thank you for the weather update.