This, my friends, is why I generally wear shoes in the garden. Have you ever seen feet that dirty? I had to wash them outside in the hose with the dish soap. They were that bad.
I hadn't really thought to work in the garden. I was having the absolute most lazy day and hadn't accomplished one damn thing after making those pancakes.
Which is fine.
My husband and I shared a little quality time and I took a nap that was like sinking to the depths of the Mariana Trench and when I woke up, I would not have been surprised to discover that Owen was now in college and had a beard and that Chelsea Clinton was the president of the United States of North and South America.
I sat on the couch for a little while and moaned that possibly I was NOW getting sore and I didn't know what was wrong with me and played a little Words With Friends with Mr. Moon who was sitting two feet away from me, happily ensconced in his new chair watching golf on the TV which to my mind is like watching napkin folding only not quite as interesting.
And then I decided that I really needed to go and clean out the hen house and so I went outside and gave the chickens fresh water and realized that one of my waterers' valves is broken and I have to buy a new one and I forgot to clean out the hen house and started weeding and there is something just so incredibly enjoyable about weeding to me while listening to an audio book. Especially this time of year when the weeds are large and easily pulled and the result of my work is so much more quickly apparent. The feel of the plant as the roots lose their grip, the tossing of it into the old canning kettle I use to collect them in. I fed some of the weeds I'd pulled to the goats next door and they were happy. I figure that by October when it will be time to plant the lettuces and the greens, I will have the entire garden weeded and that thought fills me with great joy.
My wrist and my CD gave out at about the same time and as I was walking back to the house I suddenly remembered the poop in the hen house and so I did that little chore and spread out the old poopy straw on part of the garden and then came in, shed myself of my overalls, scrubbed my hands and arms down feeling like a surgeon, took that picture, washed my feet.
Mr. Moon and our neighbor are out in the twilight time, shooting arrows at a target and I am going to make what has become one of my most favorite meals which is the bastardized Eggs Benedict from eggs gathered this very day.
So. It has been a very, very fine day and not just for a Sunday, either.
A day of rest. A day of love. A day of laughing and of appreciation and tomorrow will probably be a good day too. The boys are coming in the afternoon and I can't wait to show them the box they can play in which the new chair came in. Owen was just saying how great a big box was to play with.
Let's face it- I am a simple woman and it is the simplest things which make me happy. Dirt and chickens, love and sleep. Eggs with spinach and cheese and mushrooms. My house, my trees, my flowers, my grands. I'm almost through listening to the Jonathan Franzen novel and as it ends, the characters think about their many regrets and I feel so very lucky that my regrets are as few as they are. I have them, of course, as every human being must, but overall, I can consider them in the light of the vastness of the universe and I can live with them. I will have more, no doubt, as time goes on but if I can remember to look up at the sky, the oaks, to look out upon the oceans and down to the very dirt and out to the very stars we come from and return to, it'll be all right.