Monday, January 04, 2010

A morning...

Waking to the darkness of the room. My watch glows 4:25 when I press the button. I grope for the glasses on the nightstand, do the morning bathroom ablutions, and get dressed. It's cold this morning, and I put on my sweater.

I check the emails, read the online comics, then work on some knitting. I have been trying to get caught up on UFO's, but so far, not too much luck. I guess it would help A LOT if I would stop starting new projects. But I have actually finished one, so that's something.

I let Rudee out, and he bounces and bounds around, sniffing all the deer trails, steaming the air like a hyperactive freight train. I find one of his toys, and he scurries over to make sure I don't get it first. Buzz kitten makes the mistake of walking by right then, and gets bowled over, letting Rudee know with growls and toenails how displeased she is by this. Rudee, being the happy, fun loving dingaling that he is, thinks she is playing, and steps on her. Deciding she's had more than enough, Buzz streaks across the yard, and bolts up a tree, with Rudee running along behind, wondering what fun she is going to lead him to. He looks so disappointed when he watches her go up the tree and he can't follow. I watch the sun rise, it is so dim for so long this time of year. I listen, and hear something. Walking around, I hear it again, a squeaking door sound. Rudee trots up, and he cocks his head, he hears it too. I nearly hold my breath, waiting to hear which direction its coming from.

Creeeee-ak. Crreeeeeee-ak. Suddenly, a tiny spot of green hops across the dead grass, and goes into the safety of a creavice near the house. Rudee noses around a bit, and deciding that a tree frog isn't a good play mate, wanders off to another trail. Tuxedo shows up, and I pick him up to a satisfied rumble. He purrs all the way out to the barn, where I put out feed for the kitties. Buzz is always in a hurry, she pushes Tux out of the way to see what he has, then runs over to her bowl to make sure she doesn't miss out on what I put there for her. This is always amusing, as they have the same amount of the same thing... I gently tweak Buzz's tail, a habit I have performed since she was a kitten. She of the glutton gut, will, in fact, stop eating and look at me if I don't gently give her tail a pull before I leave.

The llama walk into the chicken yard for breakfast, and I go in the hen pen. Going from dignified, stately walking llamas, to a flock of slightly kooky, very active Rhode Island Reds, that seem to think any loose strings on my jacket are fair game, can be a bit of culture shock. I feed the chickens, scattering the food loosely around, so no big fights break out. After a check for eggs, and that everyone is healthy, (watching with amazement some of the geriatrics still managing to wander around and get food, I know that in person years, some of my birds would be at least in their 80's or 90's).

I get the llama chow out, and put some in Lama's bucket. She grumbles, and sniffs the bucket, then dives in, reminding me of someone in desperate need of coffee in the morning. Lorenzo looks in the door, watching to see if I am getting his chow, and walks in tiny circles waiting for me to put it in his bucket.

After checking water for all the animals, I make sure gates and doors are closed, and walk Rudee back to his kennel, and then head back in the house.

It's a nice morning.

8 comments:

  1. You have written a blog oh so similar to one I have written a while ago....
    lovely to be thinkful cat
    x

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  2. To John:

    I might have, I write these every once in a while, I just so love where I am, and my 'farm family', I just want to share.

    Thank you!
    Cat

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  3. To Joanna:

    It is a very happy routine for me.
    (The frog, however is a new one, this time of year!)

    Thanks,
    Cat

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  4. Thankful, thinkful. You know, I like both! :)

    Cat

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  5. I love your morning routine. It sounds so peaceful.:-)

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  6. Some mornings it is. I could write about the mornings that feed buckets get dumped, I manage to spill water on myself (I have to carry water to the animals in the winter, we have to redo the pipes, or they will freeze if we didn't empty them), getting spit on because the dog was jumping around the llamas, and so on. But these kind of days more than make up for that. And if I am truthful, those days can be looked back on with laughter. (Usually looked upon with much aggrivation and swearing when it happens, however...)

    Cat

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