a two step day...

Yesterday was a two step day, one step forward, two steps back, a dance that ended up back where it started. On paper, my day looked fairly simple with huge amounts of time available for preparation for my two new classes starting today. I went to feed cows and cats early so I could make my rewiring appointment without rushing. So at seven thirty I drove down the hill in the mule layered in many layers against the twenty four degree weather. The cows were in the barn so I threw down hay for them. The hay I am using comes in big rolls and we do not have a spear on the tractor, so all that hay must be thrown with a pitchfork. The hay we bought this summer in Lincolnton is dirty hay and hard to work so I opened a roll from daddy’s farm. It is sweet clean hay and the smell of it reminds me of summers long past spent in daddy’s hayfields. I think the cows must remember, too, because they stick their noses deep in the hay as they gather up mouthfuls of the dried grass.
Two tom cats were yowling, promising to do terrible things to one another. One tom, a yellow and white one, was a stray living on the farm when we bought it. The other tom, Henry, is tabby and white. They are both huge grizzled veterans of the outdoor life and their faces are marked with scars from past battles. Helen and Hattie the Horrible were waiting patiently for food so I fed them before I carried more hay to the field. As I drove back to the lower pasture, Junie B came running. She wanted her carrots and oats, in that order, please. I left her munching her hay and oats as I filled the hay ring with more hay for the day. Then on to the chicken barn for the last cat feeding station where the oldest cat on the place, Patches, and her son Barn Bud Cat waited for their breakfast. As I drove back up the hill, in between shivers, I saw the crisp outlines of distant mountains and smelled the cold clean winter air. Winter has its own smell, sharp and tangy. The hillside below the high barn was full of birds feeding and they scattered as I drove by.
I shed my many layers and walked up the basement stairs to the warmth. The clock said eight thirty so I had time for breakfast and some hot tea. At nine, I began to dress and left at nine thirty for my ten o’clock appointment. Afterwards, I went to the bank to make a deposit then met a young woman at a coffee house for conversation.
At our pot luck dinner Sunday, I saw her sitting alone with her children. Her face was one I recognized having seen it in my mirror in years past, sad and angry and frightened. I was holding baby Elliott so I sat down next to her and we began to talk. Later she found me, tugged on my coat tails and we went to the stairwell to talk some more. Tears and laughter, anger and sadness... she needed her mama and her mama was in Brazil. I was her stand in mama yesterday and we began to get to know each other in that coffeehouse yesterday. It was and hour and a half well spent.
I called Janet to see how the Midnight in Mountains panels were coming along. She has borne the brunt of the construction of these beautiful pieces so I am the support team. I come and help with color layout and draw the initial pattern outline. She had run out of three fabrics so I bought them and brought them to her. We shared hot tea as we reworked the layout, looked at the location for the moon, talked about the stitched highlights on the mountain river, anticipated the hanging of these new additions to the autumn panels we finished before Christmas. It was another good well spent hour and a half.
On my way home, I swung into Eric’s Automotive to see if I could get the oil changed. He was slammed so I will have to go back today after class. It was three thirty so I headed home. As I walked in the door, I grabbed my to do list and began calling. I gathered up bills for Michael, talked to Jeannie and Leisa about their days, walking around the house as I talked picking up and cleaning up. At four, Dianne came to help with the afternoon feeding and as we drove down the hill, all the dogs (except Zeke who always rides) ran along behind. An hour later, I came in and loaded the dishwasher, cleaned the kitchen, put on a load of clothes, pulled out chicken for supper, and began to think about my new classes on Tuesday. After thirty minutes of trying to settle, I gave up and began supper preparation. As the meal cooked, I checked e-mail and did my focusing exercises. Michael called around six forty five, on his way home so the evening began.
One of my rituals for the recognition of the transition to evening time is the lighting of candles. Something about the fragrance and flame helps me leave the day behind. I can remember and give thanks for all the day has brought as I move around the house lighting candles. It is another way to pray, I suppose. The act of lighting all my candles and oil lamps slows and settles my soul, gives me a gratitude and beauty break between the day time and night time. In Leviticus, Moses is told to keep a light burning continually as a reminder of the presence of God. I like to imagine my connection to those light bearers long ago in the wilderness. I will keep my candles lit as I move through the darkness of Lent and my two step days, remembering all that has been and giving thanks for all that is to come. It is more than enough. Thanks be to God. Peggy Hester