...Like no day has been

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alma horses.JPG
photo credit: Alma (this is one among dozens of staged horse photos I found on the camera)

The sun is rising slightly north of due west. That means we are really starting the time of year where the sun’s intensity warms the earth. A pink blaze comes through my kid pawed dining room windows and with the sunlight at this angle I can see all the fingerprints, lip and kiss marks.

What a wonderful Saturday. It was cold enough to slow the flooding of Fargo—but that sun angle made the south facing porch sunny and warm. I watched the soil on our farm giving off steam and make ground fog clouds. And then about 6 pm waves and waves of 10 of thousands of snow geese made their way from south to north across our farm. The sun was low enough in the west that it shown on their white undersides—they look like clouds of white sparkles filling the sky. I was at a loss for words. Stunning/magical/breathtaking.

The kids and I moved the table and chairs out of the kitchen to make room for a dance party. Alma is at the age where we are listening to both Disney tunes and Jonas Brothers. We danced until our sides ached. The weekend also included grinding wheat, making our first batch of hard cheese- some Monteray Jack, and a plush toy parade around the farm.

Late Saturday night I realized that I had forgotten to put in the chickens (Mike was out of town for a Blues Fest). So I walked into the dark night (yard light off) and through the dark barn to our chicken coop. Happy was too afraid to go in the dark barn- and I don’t blame her. My flashlight was about out of batteries. Having locked the chickens in the coop, I all but run back past the empty cow stalls towards the door. I stand on the concrete slab outside the barn door- the house lights a couple hundred yards away, the sound of geese honking in the dark all around me, a half moon in the sky. I hear a large metallic clunk from inside the steel barn ceiling and am propelled towards the house.

As it turns out, in putting the chickens to bed in the dark, I locked a skunk in the coop with them. None of the chickens were killed, luckily. But what a shock to find a skunk in the corner of the coop the next morning.

9 Comments

a long day . . .
my tears of joy
rolling down

Haiku, written in 1825

It was one of those days.

You are so brave to be out there in the dark! I recall a long-ago entry in your blog when you confessed to a fear of the dark...which I can readily relate to. Guess that skunk appreciated a cozy night with the chickens!! Glad they were none the worse for that experience!
Your Saturday sounds like a lot of fun!

You should have taken that solar flashlight with you!
I also have a skunk around we can smell it but can't find it. The darn thing sprayed out front of the house last week and man oh man It was bad the house strunk for 2 days and the cats wouldn't go by the front door. Happy is a good dog, she knew the skunk was in the barn thats why she wouldn't go in. Good dog.

I like soooo totally forgot about the solar flashlight. Such a great idea to have one, unless of course you forget to use it. "Doi eeee" as the Mundy boys would have said.

ohh…nice post but really?/? :P

Haha, nice post - I bet finding the skunk was a shock! :p

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tut tut for forgetting about the cghickens in the first place lol. It's lucky the skunk didn't kill any of your chickens!

Well done for walking to the chicken coop with a dodge torch, I would have been scared to the bone as i'm afraid of the dark, but shame on you for forgetting them in the first place.

I'm glad to hear the skunk didn't harm any of the chickens and was only after a cosy nights sleep.

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This page contains a single entry by Kathryn Draeger published on April 7, 2009 5:04 AM.

Ringing our own Bell was the previous entry in this blog.

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