I am so very, very glad that I got to see Paris and Rome and Florence and the Alps when I was eighteen but now, it is the far-less dramatic events that make me so very happy.
Today was filled with some of my favorite of such events. A small chain of one lovely thing after another all added up to a sort of beautiful necklace which graces me.
That breakfast, eaten on the porch with my husband and he even washed the dishes afterwards!
Letting the chickens out, feeding them their scratch, watching and listening as they bawked their pleasure.
Fooling around with the old man in the middle of the day.
Finding a place where I hope we will be able to stay when we go to Cozumel. Thinking about what it will feel like to stand on the balcony the first night to watch the sun set over that water of blue, green, and purple.
Shoveling the rest of that horseshit out of the truck into the garden on this beautiful day which was warm enough to bare my arms. All right, the part where I dropped the huge piece of plywood which Mr. Moon had placed in the bottom of the truck bed directly onto the top of my foot hurt like hell and it's swollen but it is not broken and it barely bothers me now.
Picking fresh camellias. I know y'all must be tired of my camellia pictures but they bring me so much joy.
They will be gone soon but they will be here for as long as the blog exists. That thought makes me happy.
And then, and then...to top it all off, inspired by Kathleen's blog post here, Mr. Moon and I drove to Monticello and went to the Tractor Supply store and bought eight new baby chicks.
Oh my. I KNOW how hard it is to keep the babies alive. I KNOW the tragedy of losing some. I KNOW how difficult the decisions are when some of them turn out to be roosters but...it's spring. I wanted babies. We got them.
As soon as you enter the store, you can hear the peeping. They had six or eight huge stainless steel watering troughs with peeps in them. There were red ones and brown ones and yellow ones and mixed colored ones and we picked out eight, the Tractor Supply guy obviously not thrilled with the job of chasing chicks around a tank.
"This isn't your favorite time of year, is it?" I asked him.
"Not really. And they're thinking of doing it twice a year," he said, obviously not thrilled at the prospect.
We brought our babies home along with some electrolytes and pro-biotics that you put in their water to help them with shock and digestion and a bag of chick starter and I'd already washed out our old baby feeder and waterer and we set them up in a nice big box with a towel in the bottom and a little hay and a light. Such goodness to have that peeping in my house again! Such sweetness to have these little fluffy creatures living under our roof.
After we got everything settled, Mr. Moon took off to go change a tire for Lily and then to proceed from there to go hunt but before he'd left the yard, one of the yellow chicks had already made her way out of the box and onto the floor and was peeping furiously by the time I found her.
I changed out the box for a bigger ice chest. New towel, new hay, the waterer, the feeder, the light. I put a towel over the ice chest to keep the heat AND the chicks in.
Here they are. And chicks are about as camera shy as is Gibson so...
I'll get better pictures but I am trying not to disturb them too much today. I want them to acclimate to their new home. They are from different baby flocks so they have to get used to each other, as well. Of course I am checking on them about every fifteen minutes, timidly pulling the towel back to do a headcount, to make sure everyone is happy. They have all eaten and drunk water so I know that for this moment, at least, they are fine. I haven't even started to think of names for them but I will. It occurs to me that I might name them all for women singers. A Janis, a Tina, a Joni, a Loretta, a Patsy.
We shall see.
Aren't they beautiful?
And hasn't this been one of the best days of my life?
Yes. There has been love and light. There has been work and play. There are babies. Soft, tender, usually incredibly tough little babies whom I shall get to know, whom I shall hopefully raise. I am so grateful to Kathleen for bringing me baby chicks all those years ago, knowing my heart better than I did myself. Chicks and a bag of starter feed and something in my DNA kicked in and I knew that I was supposed to have chickens and a part of me was fulfilled and soothed and thrilled in a way it had never been before.
And then, to add to the embarrassment of riches, I checked a nest on the outside of the hen house that I haven't checked in awhile and found four blue eggs and one green one.
It is spring and I am alive and so happy to be a part of it all and the sun is going down and my big chickens are going to roost and I have seen Michelangelo's David and I have birthed and welcomed four babies to my breast and I have danced not fifteen feet away from B.B. King as he played and I have gotten a backstage pass from the Neville Brother's bass player, sent out by a sound man (I didn't use it) and I have been to the top of the Eiffel Tower and I have married my true love and I have climbed the tallest pyramid in the Yucatan (and honey, that was the LAST pyramid I'll ever climb) and I have been there when both of my grandchildren were born and I've had moments so filled with ecstasy that I can't even begin to describe them but this day- this very, very plain day of light and love and new baby chicks has been one of the best.
THIS is what is delicious about getting older. That you can remember all of those amazing True Adventures, those Grand Events, those Holy Moments, and you can have the most mundane of days and it will hold up, still, as one of the best because the days are not numberless now and you know it.
Prairie Home Companion is on! Mr. Moon will be home soon and I need to cook supper!
The baby chicks are still alive. I just checked and breathed in the scent of their tiny bodies, the hay in their home, their poop. On my way out to close Elvis and the sister wives up in the hen house, I noticed the first knobby buds of the wisteria swelling against the darkening sky.
Goodness. Grace. That's all I can say.