Sunday, December 7, 2008

mornings like these

Woke up to a bed of fur and teeth - which sounds kinky, but I just live with Siberian huskies. I love waking up in this super-warm pile of wolves and quilts. Jazz and Annie sleep like the dead, generating heat and sighing heavy all night. When they dream they curl their lips and wimper or growl at their nightmares. So I'm used to this morpheous pile of fangy sleep that occasionally wakes me up with a paw in the face or a growl in my ear. Regardless, I like it.

Outside there's a fresh light coating of snow, and the weather report says an inch or two is on the way. On a Sunday morning, this is poetry to me. Mornings like these are why I live like this. To walk outside into the snow, with hay in my arms and to the morning bleats of the sheep, is nice. It's just plain nice. Today I'm baking bread, lighting the fireplace, and making new straw beds for the animals. When the flock's fed and chewing their cud on clean warm straw - it feels good. I love taking care of them. It even feels good enough to justify indulging in some overly-caloric pepermint mocha coffee back in the cabin. Or that's what I'm telling myself. Don't judge.

The chickens and geese aren't as aloof about the snow as the sheep. They walk out into it when it first comes, and then their little dinosaur feet get cold and awkward and they go back into their large coop. In there is fresh straw, water, and feed. I don't blame them. Dinosaurs and snow do not mix.

Right now, the farm is quiet save for the four roosters- Rufus Wainright, Chuck Klosterman, Sussex and Winthrop - who are crowing from the coop. Or they were until the great horned owl started to call and then they shut up. Chickens are made instantly quiet by birds of prey. I'm not worried.

Last night I was in the Northshire bookstore in Manchester. I picked up a pamphlet of the Indiebound Next List. I knew I was in it this month, but standing in a bookstore reading about your own book was a sureal moment. I picked it up as an emotional souviner and shoved it into my magazine. I was holding the new issue of BUST with Jenny Lewis on the cover (if you're not familiar with her, think Neko Case light for indie kids who are still too scared of liking anything quasi-country. I like Rilo Kiley though, and It's a Hit, still makes me smile whenever I hear it). Anyway, I finally read in all it's glossy glory, the review their editor, Debbie Stoller wrote about my little book. Here's the quote that made my weeked.

"Maybe you can stitch together a skirt. Perhaps you prefer to shop vintage. You might even manage to grow some of your own food. But whatever it is you do, Jenna Woginrich can kick your earth-friendly, DIY, recycling ass."

Thank you Debbie. And now I'm going to make an unforgivably large pot of coffee and spend the day working on some design freelance. I have the NEBCA newsletter to finish today. Which is bittersweet since I don't have a border collie anymore and just found out from my landlord I never can. Two dogs is the limit at the cabin. Oh well, what can I do? And now I have something to bite the bit on for the future right? This demands I keep moving forward with it all. I also have some fun goat logos to whip up for one of you fine readers. My day is packed. The snow is falling. Jazz is already back to sleep. Life rolls.

I also think a farm breakfast is in order before I fire up the mac, and right now quiche has my ears perked. Or maybe pancakes? This is a good problem to have, and I'll eat them with gusto. Have a great Sunday folks.

2 Comments:

Blogger Carrie and Justin said...

What a wonderful Sunday you have in front of you! Glad to know you're always living in the moment and aware of how glorious your life is. You do kick some serious ass girl, and are a constant inspiration.

December 7, 2008 at 9:28 AM  
Blogger kwogi1124 said...

OMG, Jen, that is so cool! There are 4 little bookstores in the area selling your book - and that is the best quote ever ever ever!

December 8, 2008 at 7:31 PM  

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