The Farm Journal

I forgot to post this photograph when I took it!



Throwing fire wood across the yard to the woodpile. This becomes my seasonal morning routine. I am deeply satisfied that we've traded two cords of wood for one deer. Chris came with his bow and got one deer. I don't know if it was a buck or a doe, though.

So I get up and throw poplar and pine logs across the yard, hoping I will be okay with the winter creeping up the holler. Any winter would be better than last year, with all the sadness and loss. So happy winter here we come. It is okay to love another. It is good. I repeat this as I count up the deaths on my left hand and begin
on the right. But that was then. That was then, and this is now. It's simple says the guru, says Jesus says my neighbor, as she sews little squares into a quilt.