It has been an incredibly satisfying day to me. House, laundry, garden, yard, chickens.
Mr. Moon and I sat outside and watched the baby chicks venturing outside the coop. We saw Flopsy hear something, freeze, utter a sound and her babies froze as well. She listened so carefully, then made another sound and they ran to get under shelter. Another sound and they ran up the ramp to their nest.
And then. Then. We heard the hawk.
Don't tell me chickens can't communicate. Don't tell me that chickens can't be incredible mothers.
I picked pinto beans and Mr. Moon is shelling them. I am making soup of corn we took to the island and never ate, a piece of venison sausage, onions, celery, peppers, asparagus, mushrooms, carrots and potatoes I just dug up.
I picked green beans and I found a cucumber in what I was sold as a cantaloupe vine. I know. I'm an idiot.
I weeded. I swept. I mopped. I watered what the rain couldn't reach.
I've got one more thing to say:
Time to set the table.