One of Those Kind of Days- Murphy's Law

I awoke this morning feeling great. I'd actually gotten eight hours sleep. I said good morning to my two cats, Lil Bit and Patches, who sleep with me on my twin sized bed. I dutifully gave them pets and rubs. I said good morning to Herbie, who again is sleeping in my room, and ruffled his ears.  It was a beautiful, sunny day although chilly (46 degrees). Yes, I had slept in a bit and the sun had already risen. I stretched my old bones and was greeted by the usual breakfast cereal-- snap, crackle and pop. Sounds great, right? It goes downhill from here.

I had a full day ahead of me, so I threw back the covers and thought I'd get started. I got my customary growl from Patches because she had to move so I could get up.  She jumped off the bed in her usual morning snit. I noticed that I only had one sock on. I searched the sheet and quilt for the wayward sock. It was nowhere to be found. I opened my sock drawer. It was within easy grab of my bed. None. Then, I saw the clothes hamper by the door. Fuming at my shortsightedness of not putting my clothes away the night before, I grabbed my pants from the end of the bed. Putting on my leg brace, the undeniable urge to urinate hits me. I hurriedly put on my shoes and headed to the bathroom half dressed.

I just barely make it. I reentered my bedroom and grabbed my flannel shirt forgetting to do up the buttons before I put it on. Grr! I take it off, do up the buttons and slide it on over my head. As usual the night's fire had burned out. The house was a wee bit chilly. I can hear the gusts of wind whipping around the trailer outside. I go to the wood stove to start a fire.

My digital thermometer reads 52 degrees inside, but my computer tells me it's 46 outside. It wasn't supposed to hit 60 until noon. A fire was definitely in order. I loaded the paper, kindling, and a few smaller splits of wood into the fire box. I no longer use matches but a bbq torch for better access. This was a new one with the child safety feature of a button you have to push before lighting the torch. I hate these. I can't light them, but I tried. After two attempts, I grabbed a cigarette lighter.  Before I could even close the door, the flame went out. I couldn't even catch paper on fire! I tried five times before I finally got it lit. Oh boy, I thought, today's going to be one of those kind of days.

I went into Mel's bedroom to wake her at 10 AM. I got a muffled, "I didn't get to sleep until 6 this morning." She wasn't getting up to do her chores so it was up to me. Now the rabbits and penned chickens have been without food since 8PM except for hay. They needed to be fed so I dutifully went out to do Mel's usual chore. As I exited the porch I was immediately swamped by chickens yelling at me about how hungry they were.

"Okay guys, follow me." I made my way to the rabbit barn where the trashcans of feed were kept. The wind had blown wet leaves onto the porch and ramps. I slid down the first ramp barely keeping my balance. It was the longest ramp at 10'. I reached the bottom unscathed and thankful. I stepped onto the landing by the food storage building. More leaves but I was careful. At my scream while sliding, the chickens scattered so I didn't have them to contend with. I reached the ground which was a muddy mess from the rains we'd had the day before.

I made it safely the ten feet to the bunny barn. Everyone was glad to see me. The rabbits rushed to and fro in their cages, Gimpy and her sister, Gimpy too, were squawking loudly, "I'm hungry!" I petted each of the chickens in turn as I opened each of the J feeders for the rabbits.I told them, "Just a minute, girls" as I made my way to the feed bins. We empty the feeders at night because of rats. I toss the chicken feed out of the bunny barn to the waiting chickens and pour a scoop of feed into Gimpy's feeder. Then I proceed to the rabbits. I filled all the J feeders with a cup of rabbit pellets. They'd have to wait on their greens. Since I was doing this chore, I wasn't picking their "salad" of weeds and grasses. Now, it's getting to be pretty slim pickings.

I do the cursory glance at everybody's waterers and then, the fun part of this chore begins. I begin by opening each rabbit's cage. They'll pop their heads out because they know what's coming. It's lovin' time. I'll pick up each rabbit and pet their heads, ruffle their ears doing an ear mite check. Give each big, loud smoochies on their noses while I check out their bellies, and my hand will run across their bodies and paws checking for problems. Then, it's back into their cage and on to the next one. Usually this is a two person job making it a quick chore. This morning it's just me.

I make my way up the ramp to the landing and make my way up the big ramp. I'm halfway up when my braced leg goes out beneath me. This time it was chicken poop under the leaves. I fall down hard landing on my functioning knee. A wave of pain traveled up to my hip. I knelled there for a few seconds, and finally sat down for a few minutes until the pain dissipated. The wet from the leaves soaked my jeans to the skin. I pulled myself upright and hobbled into the house.

The welcoming heat of the wood stove was absent. The fire had gone out. The whole stove was warm at best. I could put my hand on it. Growling, I repeat the process of earlier and relight the stove. Now, I'm checking it every twenty minutes to make sure it's still going. I doctored my skinned knee and put on another pair of dry underwear and pants. The fire is still going. It's almost as warm inside as outside now...somewhere around 60 degrees.


It's 1PM and Mel finally is awake, but tired from not enough sleep. She's going to be hung over the rest of the day. Meanwhile I still have my chores to do.

About 3 PM,  I'm still pulling up plants in the garden to put it to bed for the winter. There's so much to do before putting it to bed for the winter. I pulled at one of the tomato plants to put it into the compost bin. It couldn't be rooted that deep. It was planted in a straw bale. I pulled and it wasn't budging so I pulled harder. BOOM! I was on my butt in the garden when the roots finally gave way. Another pair of jeans soaked through to the skin by the time I finally got up. This time from the wet straw and compost I covered my garden with.

Ah heck, it'll wait until tomorrow. At this point, all the good feeling I had from the restful night's sleep fizzled. I limped inside the house to change yet again. The fire had died so no warmth to warm my aching body from two hard falls. I'm letting Mel fight with it this time. I'm fixing Pasta e Fagioli (one jar didn't seal properly)for supper with some sharp cheddar cheese toast. I'm keeping it simple. The way my day has been going, I'll just blog the rest of the day. Nothing can go wrong just blogging, right?

Y'all have a blessed day!

Jo

Coming Home

The early rays of sunlight tickle me into wakefulness as it filters through trees outside. I throw off the heavy quilts that snuggled me with such warmth against the chill of the night. My clock at my bedside pegs the inside temperature at 52 degrees. A bit nippier than I'm used to in April, but this is the mountains not the coast. I don my flannel shirt over my pajamas and walk out of my bedroom.

Whitie, the rooster, crows as I enter the living room. He's standing in front of the picture window looking in. "Good morning to you too!" He cocks his head to one side and blinks as if concentrating on every word I say. He's called Whitie because of three white feathers at the top of his tail.


First things first. A fire needed to be made in our wood stove heater to chase the chill out of the house. I lay the intricate pattern of paper, and small kindling twigs into the old coal burning stove. Then weave larger and larger pieces until I have a goodly stack of kindling for the initial bed of hot coals before putting the first split log in. There's a definite art form in building a fire. Too little of this or that, and you end up having to do it all over again because the hard wood just won't catch. In this old coal burner, it can be very tricky and finicky, but it works. It does tend to burn wood faster.

I do dislike having to re-lay the fire so I pour on the kindling. The fire catches with just one match. Wohoo! Success! A roaring blaze. My cheeks feel rosy with the warmth. I will have to walk the property for more kindling, or maybe Mel will when she goes out with the dogs, Nnyus and Herbie, later on down to the creek. Of course, the cats (Dervish, Devon Angel, and Logan) and chickens will follow her for a farm yard procession. She'll talk to each and every one along the way. There is no shortage of dead fall on our land. It has stayed abandoned that nature started to claim it back.

Now, the warmth of the fire fills the room as I type. I put a kettle of water on top of the heater for our morning tea. No sense in wasting the propane for heating the water. The water kettle starts to whistle as one of the hens cackle her announcement that she's laid an egg. I named her Henny Penny, of nursery story fame. She will always lay her egg behind the storm door on the front porch and absolutely refuse to use her nest box. No bother for me. It's closer than the coop. Every morning she'll wait for me to open the front door for extra wood. There is a wee bench that she perches on.

I hear the fire dying down in the stove. Soon the Spring sun will warm our side of the mountain. The light is already bathing and it's life sustaining warmth filters to earth through the trees. With a mug of English Breakfast tea, the morning routine begins. There's breakfast to prepare, bread to bake, and the evening meal to plan. I think I'll roast chicken breasts with new potatoes. I planted the transplant vegetable in the seed trays last week. I can almost taste those succulent veggies. But I'll have to wait for mother nature to do her thing first.

As I walk to my bedroom to change into my work clothes, I realize I'm overwhelmed by a sense of peace in my life. It's hard to believe I've only been here a couple of weeks. This simple lifestyle is what I've been craving for over half a century of living around the world and in the urban life. This choice is not for everyone, but it suits me. It's some mighty hard work even without disabilities. I've finally come home.