A drop of ink may make a million think.
George Gordon Byron (Lord Byron)
That first sip of the day, where the heat warms my lips and the rich smoothness rolls over my tongue tripping my taste buds; that is exactly what I needed.
So close to home, so far from home. My thoughts drift to the city where my girls may possibly be sipping their first sip of the day. Are their memories drifting, drifting home to the farm while mine drift to the city?
Sitting on a patio in the sun surrounded by the noise of the city watching the people that pass by, there would be giggling, the sharing of stories always knowing the time we have together will end and everyone will once again return to what they do every day, returning to the lives they have chosen the lives they love.
I drift to those memories mostly on days like this; those dull overcast rainy days, those lonely days when no one is around, those days that I am not going to be able to work outside on the farm and be too busy to drift. I keep those memories close for these days when I need them. The soft jazz music floats through the air surrounding me like a big hug from my Dad this was his kind of music and oh how that makes me happy with all those memories that go with it, I love that.
My mind drifts far from home to the city but physically I am sitting in a café in town where I have just left the Co-op store and two blocks of salt along with groceries are now sitting in the back of my Jeep outside in the rain. My reality and my memories blend together, mixing, swirling, churning…. Here there, here there.
I look down at the red itchy scratches on my arms reminding me of the trip to the bush and those horrible prickly ash bushes where I pushed myself through the thick of them to find a calf that did not need me as much as I had worried it might, finding it protected and safe, surrounded and sleeping. Those bushes ripped at my bare skin telling me to turn around and trying to warn me that cows hide their calves all the time and we need not worry but I did not listen, I had forgotten that. I stubbornly pushed through the pain and the drenching heat and his Mom ‘Girl’ followed us wondering why we were back looking for her calf when she knew exactly where it was and no doubt wondered what all the fuss was about. When will we learn?
Oh this coffee is so comforting mixed with those memories of the city and our girls, that soothing music holding me tight and a delicious muffin its perfect companion. So close to home, so far away, drifting, drifting. I wonder why I worry about things I have no control over and why I cannot just live in the moment, moments like this one.
The busy haying season is coming and there will be very few of these moments with all the hustle bustle and worry about crazy weather, the outrageous price of diesel fuel averaging a $1.38 a liter, and the information Paul at the Co-op shared about the price of baler twine now at $50 bale (two rolls), not to mention the breakdowns that are more than likely going to happen and the cost of fixing them.
I think of My Hero who works so hard to fix those minor problems before they become bigger problems. On Canada Day in the horrible heat of the day I watched him rip apart a hydraulic valve on my tractor, the one that opens the door to drop the round bales from the baler, the sweat was running down his brow and he did not stop till he fixed it because he wanted to make things easier for me, I am so lucky to have someone that cares like that.
Moments like these help to keep me sane before the craziness begins, memories of those moments spent in a café with those girls so far from home yet so close to home, drifting back and forth, and a man who will always be My Hero.
Oh that last drop of smooth goodness slips over my tongue…… I best get back to the farm those cows will be looking for their salt. The rain has stopped.
I do hope this haying thing starts soon……. we have a wedding to get to.
Happy Birthday M. Enjoy those drifting memories, I know I will.
Happy 4th of July to all my American friends. Enjoy.