I'm looking forward to tonight.
Tonight, like every night for the past month, I look forward to collapsing on the Adirondack chairs out in the pasture to watch the sunset.
Yes, we actually dragged my favorite chairs out to the pasture. After the first snuffles and rounds of pawing over 'what are these new things in our yard?' the mini horses pretty much leave them alone. Jay and I sit on our chairs with a bug candle flickering between us, with the newspaper or a book, a cup of tea, and read or watch the sky as Burren happily bounds about. The whole neighborhood can drive by and see us sitting there in all our flat-lander hillbilly glory, while our hound dog races buggies and bicycles to the corner of the fence.
Sounds lovely and it is. But, sometimes I'd rather be kayaking or hiking or sitting on the beach or exploring the Grand Canyon or visiting Maine.
Growing up in a large family, I knew work. Weeding, gardening, endless preserving of fruits and veggies, babysitting siblings. My sanity came from breaks to the shore or the cabin. We did both routinely; even in the winter we went to the cabin. My hubby also knew work early on. He grew up on a farm. Work was farming; farming was life. He loved the farm enough to stay. Forever. Always. Day after day. He doesn't need breaks if you catch my drift.
It makes me a little insane.
If I want to do anything, I often have to go myself. Or bribe someone to go with me. Since I strongly dislike driving, this turns into more of a problem than it needs to be. I have stretched in my willingness to drive away by myself about as much as he has stretched in his willingness to go on vacations. So we're stuck with each other's issues.
At times I'm grouchy about our lack of adventure, but I'm leaning into making the best of it. Not everyone has a partner who likes sitting side by side, not saying or doing much, just watching the stars come out. Not everyone has a cool hound dog. Not everyone has a farm. Not everyone has grandchildren who think it's the cat's meow to run around after a dog running around in a pasture while Nana and Pawpaw watch and grin. Not everyone has such privileges. I can choose to be content.
Last night, the stars were taking extra long to come out. So I sneaked a peek on Facebook in between chapters of my kindle book. I found a link to an article about 'glamping' in New York City. Glamor + camping = glamping. For $1000 a night you can sleep outside and watch the stars come out in the middle of the city, on a roof top or secluded balcony with a luxuriously made bed, a soft chair or two, a fire pit to roast marshmallows, and room service.
I laughed out loud. Literally. I can have all of that for free here! Minus the luxury bed and servers, of course. (oh my...sounds exactly like something the farmer would say)
Anyway, Burren, our cool part hound dog, is anticipating going out to the pasture tonight too. She's hovering near the door. She demands a walk first. It's our agreement: she will walk nicely on leash if she gets to RUN out in the pasture.
Burren seems to be adjusting well without "Jeff" to her "Mutt". Since Massey's gone Burren doesn't even bark when she chases buggies and cars to the corner of the fence; most don't even notice her as she races silently through the tall grass. What I thought would be horrible is actually rather nice. There is a level of crazy that has dissipated from our place. I miss Massey every day, but I do not miss his hyper-bad-energy vibes. I'm utterly grateful that Jude is healing well, and has no dog trauma. And, Burren is much gentler, much more attentive to us than she was with Massey around.
She howled only once at being alone, and that was after I left her for 8 hrs and then took too long to take her for a walk. So, we're all adjusting. There are perks to having only one dog. Cheaper. Less training. Less filling of the water bowl. Less canine sibling squabbles.
I may really like having one dog.
I may really like not spending money on vacations.
I may really like how life unfolds.
Reminds me of a note from God I got in the mail one day. It said:
"Growth comes from change.
Happiness comes from acceptance.
Merrily, you're built to do both, at once."
2 Point Oh, baby -
God
PS: Good thing you have fast reflexes!
Joyfully,
Sharon
(Note from the God is and adaption from Notes From the Universe - the wit and inspiration of Mike Hooley)
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