Saturday, February 20, 2010

See A Little Light

I see a little light, I know you will
I can see it in your eyes

-- Bob Mould


It seems the spider plant on my desk is taking a big, start of the day stretch as it takes in a big yawn full of sunshine. While I’ve been reveling in the increased amount of daylight for the last couple weeks, nothing in the Shack is happier for the sunlight than the houseplants. The Christmas cactus remains impervious to new growth, but I can almost hear the spider plant and philodendron squealing with delight as they stretch and grow.

I have the weekend off and it already seems as though I’m squandering my free days. Despite the fact that I have my third load of a gazillion loads of laundry going (I thought I’d been staying more on top of laundry . . . apparently not) and there are three loaves of bread rising on the off-peak heater downstairs, I also have a stack of research books from the library that I need to devote some serious attention to and a bunch of miscellaneous other writing stuff to focus on. Because the internet had one of its pathetic days yesterday (we have satellite wireless internet which comes with tight 24-hour broadband restrictions. Whenever internet usage goes over the allocated broadband, the internet feed slows down to a snail’s pace or ceases completely until we roll into a new 24-hour usage cycle), I didn’t bother to check my gmail and as a result have spent the majority of this morning so far, when not kneading bread or running back and forth from the laundry room, responding to emails.

I stopped to fill up the bird feeders on one of the trips back from the laundry room. It crossed my mind that it’s been a while since I’ve bothered to count the birds for Project Feeder Watch. I’ve also been out of suet for the woodpeckers for the last couple weeks, although they’ve been complacently nibbling on the sunflower seeds.


I may not be able to keep up with the laundry or the bird feeders, but for some reason I continue to harbor a desire for chickens. I’m really not much for birds as pets so it’s not as though I harbor a desire for the squawking and guano that comes with chicken ownership. But I can’t shake this feeling that the eggs I buy at the grocery store shouldn’t be such a pure white shade and I also can not afford to buy organic eggs on a regular basis. The answer to this dilemma? Chickens. It’s a slippery slope though, I think, that starts with chickens and ends with a cow. I’m not really sure that’s the direction I want my life to take (Farmer Ada?) and I should probably focus on finding a place to plant a garden this summer before I get too swept up with chicken dreams. Might be time to "see the light" when it comes to that cockamamie notion.

I have a couple freelance articles that need some attention, but I think they’re being put on hold until the weekdays, especially since I have some of the preliminary interviews done already. Now that the housework is slowly getting caught up with and the birds have been tended, I’m devoting my attention to research, a chapter revision and some queries. I feel better about things after I've had some uninterrupted work time which means I need to resist the temptation to stick my nose back in the Ruth Reichl book I started yesterday while on a short, after work, ice fishing expedition. I actually caught a fish while Andy was off setting up a tip-up in another hole. To be honest, I felt the wiggling and tugging on the end of the line and said, quietly, "Uh. uh, Andy? Something's happening."  Andy continued on his way to other hole. "Something's happening," I said, a little louder. Andy came back and reeled up a lake trout about the size of a water bottle. Needless to say, we had tuna melts for supper last night.

Have a happy, restful weekend wherever you are and no matter how you plan to spend it.

1 comment:

  1. Don't feel bad about your chicken dreams, Ada. I secretly fantasize about quitting school and finding my own "shack" in which to garden, craft, cook, and basically pioneer my way through life. Perhaps us bookish, writerly, crafty types are the most susceptible to simple dreams?

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