Homestead Goodness

Gray skies reaching down to the green grass. The air so chilly it feels like it could snow. Maybe that's just a wish after all it was in the 40's this morning.
I stood outside bringing in clothes off the line, catching a whiff of woodsmoke while I worked. Crows flying overhead, hungry for their morning treat. Cats under foot, wanting a gentle touch and some attention. In the distance a train sounds its horn. I can tell just where it is, what crossing it is approaching.
The neighbors pony whinnies loudly. A hen cackles after laying an egg in the hen house.
With the wind blowing through the trees, bending branches and sending leaves flying through the sky like little boats sailing on the sea.
It all felt so perfect outside this morning. Corn bread baking in the oven, filling the house with a home-style goodness. I know my dad was sitting by the stove, book in hand, enjoying the warmth as he rocked in our old wooden rocker. How nice it would be if he lived with us. What a joy he has been this past week.
Everything seems so right, so put together like a puzzle that has been worked on for a long time.
The garden looks so healthy, lettuce full and green, peppers heavy on the plants. Collards with curling green edges begging to be picked. Smokey the cat curled up in a corner of the asparagus ferns, large and feathery.
I hate to leave this place, not even to go the store. But rather spend every moment on cooking, knitting, sewing and just laying on the sofa, afghan thrown across my legs, book in my hand. Loosing myself in a tale from long ago.
It just feels so good to be home, to be glancing at the bright yellow sunflowers catching the late rays of the sun. To be smelling woodsmoke and listening to the kettle hissing wildly on the stove.
Its just so easy to live this life. Good health, vigor and strength cursing through my veins. Fresh air filling my lungs and natures song in my heart.
Homestead goodness, nothing beats it.

my dad sitting by the woodstove.