Heavy Grey Skies and Warm Rain

The peepers are really waking up this evening after a nice long warm rain.

My favorite sound.

I guess I am going to have to sleep with the windows open this evening. I am getting accustomed to having the house be a pleasant 70 degrees.

Yesterday I tackled many out of the house tasks, meeting with different folks, speaking with a tax lady who will help me initiate the steps needed to make our business a real business. She suggested I spend some time playing around with the Quickbooks tutorial.

Play around?

I don't think it will feel like playing.

My brain is being stretched, but it makes me feel a bit less unstable to take steps to make our farm more efficient. I have been wishing to be more organized and accountable with our bread/meat/produce business and now it is time.

Several of our close friends believe that we have a viable plan toward self-sustainability. Philip and I dreamed this vision for several years. We worked together, step by step, because he believed that the bakery and our farm would be the way towards independence. We don't plan to get rich. We don't need vacations at Walt Disney World. What we hope for is to live a decent life. Simple. Real.

I know that I have memories of Philip and that his imprint is on every aspect of our farm life. But I grieve that we don't have his warm self and mischievous grin in real live person. It still feels like a crazy dream.

But this is real.

We chose to live a real life and that involves pain, sorrow, messiness and death.

And friends, community, joy and spring time peepers. And little calves and lambs and kids that dance with joy at the pleasure of spring. And children who learn to ride bikes. And girls who type letters on old typewriters. And friends who bring us food and hugs and flowers and helpful hands to serve our farm.

Wow.

Today we had several folks come out to look at stuff that needs to be fixed. Electricity that needs to be rewired. Leaks in the barn that need to be addressed.

I can't even believe all the cards from friends, family, even blog friends. Never did I realize how valuable a card would be to me. Gifts and prayers and warm air.

This morning the sheep found their way out of our pasture again and into the neighbors field. Patrick and I had a nice long hike through the fields, working out our strategy to get those nervous nellies back home. We located the hole, maneuvered and drove the flock home. At first I was agitated that with all my other chores we had to add one more. But striding over field, stream and up and down hills made me feel alive.

Weird.

I don't really know how one is supposed to grieve. It is quite confusing for me. Moments I ache so badly I want to sit down. Other moments feel almost normal, as if Philip were off to work or something. I wonder if I am bad for being able to function? Don't get me wrong. Things are definitely half speed. Or maybe ten percent speed. We are letting many things go. Caring for the bare minimum. School hasn't started up again. Too many people around. No garden plans or seeds ordered. But the laundry is washed. The cows and goats are milked, the other animals are fed and watered. At least for today.

And today I have had the opportunity to hear a full chorus of peepers. If we didn't experience winter we would never fully appreciate their return.

I wonder if there are places in heaven where one can go to listen to peepers and whipporwills?