Simplicity

It's been a long week. The last few days have been difficult, but each moment has been tempered by the soothing salve of a simple life. Each morning my day starts with a view of the sunrise right off the back porch, and a view of the garden. Walking down the steps of the porch, I can breath deeply and soak in the sights and sounds around me. There is no pressure or stress in these moments. The goats munch grain on the stanchion while I sit next to them, looking out at the small mounds of dirt in the pasture where a very industrious squirrel has been storing its winter food. There is the clean smell of hay and sweet grain. The air is clear and clean.

No matter what faces me in the day, the foundation on which it is built, is good. A simple kind of good. And then as the sun sets, the same sorts of things embrace me once again. That simplicity of nature, that rhythm of life that is so calming is mine at least twice a day.

Tonight after feeding the animals, I went to the garden, bowl in hand to pick a couple kinds of lettuce, some spinach, rosy red radishes, juicy tomatoes and long yellow banana peppers for a salad. The task of picking the nights food, was like a holy experience. Emotional in a way that is hard to explain. Part of today I was thinking about how worn out I feel, so spent, so used up. So much to do each day, so many more things I want to accomplish, but then these moments of farm life, of homestead sort of activities give me strength and purpose. There are buds on the lavender plants. Roses still in bloom and eggs in the nest boxes. There are round heads of cabbage growing bigger each day. There is homemade soap at each sink and laundry flapping in the wind. There is wool in piles next to the spinning wheel and yarn waiting to be knit into something useful. There is lamp light on the table and silence that is so golden. There is strength building peace that fills the spaces of my day and I love it.