chance and slumber
Outside isn't as welcoming... The wind chill is supposed to drop to -10 and a steady light snow has been falling since I left the office. During my night rounds I tied an old blanket to the coop's chicken wire door, creating a windbreak from the snow. Winthrop watched me from his roost like a benevolent dictator as I struggled to do this before my hands went numb. That chicken always makes me feel like he was once Canadian Royalty. I guess it was nice of him to allow the help.
When the birds had fresh corn scratch and the door safely shut, I walked over the the sheep to make sure the defroster was earning its keep. The water wasn't frozen and no snow dared to set on it's rim. I felt like I won something and gave the flock their hay.
I used to get really stressed out and I'd call my friend Raven to talk me down. The best advice she ever gave me was this. She'd say, "Jenna. There is nothing else you can do about it tonight. You can't fix all your problems, or even begin to fix them, in one day. Just know that you're moving forward, did what you could, and nothing in the next twelve hours is going to change. So go make some tea, read a Harry Potter book, and breath."
And that is exactly what I'm doing. Well, almost. I'm reading that Five Acres book, not Rowling, but you get the drift. Sometimes you just need a friend to whack you over the head with the obvious so you can get a decent night's sleep. My teapot is on the stove heating up as I write you. After this long day, I'm resigning the next twelve hours to chance and slumber. This is what it must feel like to be a cat.
Jazz is with me, breathing heavy and asleep. He seems more tired lately. I try not to think about him growing old. I know how foolish that sounds. I only try.