Raining, soft patter, falling sweetly. Spring rain, the kind that has plenty of time to soak in and nourish all that grows. I cannot complain about that. It is a blessing.
The chickens have not yet come out of their hen house and Elvis is quiet but the wild birds are out and feeding. The redbud's shocking pink stands glory against gray sky.
How fortunate I am to live here, to have this back porch to sit on, to be able to observe the out, even as I am in. Porches are magical places of transition.
The boys are coming over today. They slept in bunk beds last night. The same bunk beds their father and his brother slept in as children. Lily sent me a picture this morning.
Then she called to tell me about the near-death experience which had just happened. The boys slept fine all night in their new beds. Owen woke up early and must have woken up Gibson because all of a sudden, Lily heard Owen call out, "Mom! Some help here!"
She ran into the bedroom to find Owen holding his brother by one leg, upside down on the ladder. I guess Gibson decided to explore his brother's bunk. By himself.
Owen is such a good big brother.
How any of our children survive is beyond me.
Ah well. It is morning in Lloyd. I haven't had my smoothie yet and wish that instead of good yogurt and fruit I was going to eat eggs and bacon and fried potatoes. With all of my heart. Strange, isn't it, that the heart wants what is so bad for it sometimes?
Well, Elvis is finally crowing. I guess I better go free those beloved chickens of mine.