Friday, April 6, 2012


I don't hear voices.  I hear music.  I usually wake up with some song or other playing in my head.  That cerebral radio is tuned to a music station all day long.  Looking at this view to the east from the as-yet-unrepaired barn door yesterday, I could hear Harry Belafonte belting out "Great Gettin' Up Mornin'."  That small dark speck in the grass just under the top bar of the gate is a ground squirrel who was also enjoying the scenery.  (Click on the photo to enlarge it.)

Kellan and William arrived to pick up milk, eggs, and a load of poop.  (Some shopping list!)  They came bearing assorted baby salad greens, sprinkled with edible flower petals, and bok choy (pak choi) from their organic garden.  They also had a proposal for my consideration.  They raise pigs on their farm.  They know I go grocery shopping but once a month.  In return for any extra milk and old eggs (I cannot use or sell all that the girls produce) for their pigs, Kellan and William would bring me a weekly supply of fresh vegetables.  The words were barely out of their mouths before I said yes!  I could really get into this barter thing.  I always feel so guilty when unused milk goes down the drain or eggs go into the trash.  I get ravenous for fresh vegetables, gorging the week after a shopping trip and doing without the rest of the month.  Talk about a win-win situation, I'm drooling with anticipation.  ("Anticipation," Carly Simon.)

The day had been sunny and bright, but darned cold.  I don't know what it is about sundown or why there is just that one band of clouds, but again there are those visible isolated areas of rainfall.  "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head," from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  I never know what I'm going to hear next, but I like what I hear.

1 comment:

Kathryn said...

Seems like we should call you "Juke Box Judy!" And what a fantastic trade you have worked out - yay for bartering!