I'm slow to report on the weekend. It's been busy since I got back, but I confess the hard part about writing this post is putting into words what the weekend was like.
First let me say, all animals are still living. Phew! There was an if-fy moment on Saturday morning when Jacques the 15-year-old Jack Russell Terrier started terrorizing a chicken, had it trapped against the coop, leaving it lying motionless on the ground. I chased Jacques away and picked up the chicken to see that it appeared to be breathing poorly. I checked it for wounds, but found none, so I put it back on the ground. She jumped up immediately and ran away in a squawk. Damn chicken! Damn dog! I think they cooked up the plan when they found out the city girls were coming. You know, like you did when you were a kid and a babysitter was coming for the evening. Sheesh.
I milked a goat on Friday evening, but I was slow. I will say, however, I was thorough and every drop went in the bucket. Caring for the chickens became my "specialty" though, and I took to it like a champ. I even stuck my hand under a resting chicken to check for eggs. She pecked at me the first time, but I was quicker the next time and managed to do it without injury. Pretty gutsy, no?
Everything was slower at the farm, but it felt like we worked hard. We did chores and cooked. Oh, yeah, we took naps too, and played games, but there wasn't much time for anything else. The thing is, I liked it that way. The work we did felt purposeful. And the time spent together was great.
On Saturday night, we stood outside and looked up at a sky full of stars and later watched a spider weave a web. It was good to slow down. Maybe I'm wrong, but I really feel like I could get used to that kind of life.