Sunday, April 27, 2014

What the Wind Says

This is what's happening at my house:

1) We're putting up fencing.  (Phil and me, mostly Phil.)

2) We're making barn doors.  (Phil)

3) We're helping our friend make a movie.

4) Gretchen is the co-star.  She's playing a boy dog named Barnaby.

5) I am Gretchen's handler.

6) I am nursing two new cats,  ensconced in a room upstairs.

  • One of them has a partially amputated tail that got infected.
  • The other has a goopy eye.  
  • One of them is feral. I have to throw a towel on her and swaddle her in it to give her her medication.  Then I sit with her on my lap for about fifteen minutes afterwards, with the towel loose around her, until she seems quiet and comfy. This is part of her psychological rehabilitation. 

Our nascent pastures are growing and greening.  Fence posts are in place.  Art is happening.  I'm surrounded by animals--typing with a cat cleaning herself in my arms.  Outside, the wind is blowing hard and the trees are bending.

Phil and I took a bunch of old rusted fence wire and barn debris to the town dump yesterday. We ran into our neighbor farmer there.  I hadn't met him before, we'd only talked on the phone.  He looks like Richard Dreyfus.  Height and age about right, too.  Does anyone know where Richard Dreyfus is?  Is there any chance that he's actually driving a combine in a cornfield here in Wisconsin?

Someone left an armload of curtain rods on the ground, next to the metal waste dumpster--some were new in their original packaging.  I took a bunch.  And a young guy put an antique brass chandelier in another dumpster.  Phil helped me fish it out.  When we thanked the young man before he left, he said, Wait a minute, and gave us the original bezel (if that's the right word) for the chandelier, which he still had in his truck.  I'll take it to the lamp wizard in Madison Monday morning.  He'll  tell me how old the lamp is and fix it up good as new.

I'm looking forward to the horses coming this spring.  In August, an exchange student is coming to live with us from France.

The XBox is gone--temporarily.  I've agreed to re-install it with the understanding that strict time parameters be followed.   But I dread its return.  The noise from those embattled worlds infuse more chaos into my home than all of the concurrent activities of real life combined.

A quiet living room, however disordered, and with sleeping dogs, is a peaceful place.  As is time spent with two special-needs cats warming on my lap.

The wind says, rake the leaves tomorrow.  Rest today.  Let art happen.  Nurse cats.  Rejoice.

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