I’ve been remiss in posting to my blog. I’ve been remiss in writing anything, as a matter of fact. Busy, busy, busy, but those are only excuses, aren’t they?
I hope to get more writing done while I’m house/dog sitting for Stephen over the next several weeks. The farm was always a good place for a little peace and quiet. But, after my first night there, I began to think about the things I miss and the things I don’t miss.
I’m not sure how long this will go on, especially since I’m always pretty tight-lipped when it comes to putting personal things out into the blogosphere. But, at least for now, my reasons for missing or not missing feel pretty safe. Also, this is one of those topics that I think to myself, “Why would anyone even care?”
But I’m going to write it anyway, even if it’s just to “unplug” my stopped-up writing. At least it’s writing. Right?
So, here goes:
Reason #1 I Miss the Farm:
I’ve missed my dear, sweet dogs, Jubie and Bear. It’s strange to me sometimes, how much we love our dogs. Some people have asked me why I didn’t take at least one of them when I left the farm. There are a couple of reasons:
- I didn’t want to separate them. They play together all the time, and although I’m not sure if dogs are capable of love, I think they love each other.
- The farm is all they know.
- It wouldn’t be fair to keep a dog that’s used to 27 acres in an apartment with no yard.
But this morning, when I woke to the sound of Bear’s tail pounding the bed next to me, I had to stop myself from crying…force myself to enjoy the moment.
Reason #1 I Don’t Miss the Farm:
Michel the Rooster. I’ll admit, I’m not completely comfortable feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs. The biggest reason is because of Stephen’s warning that Michel may attack me, and to be wary of him. But also, we’ve found big, black snakes in the coop, and I don’t like snakes.
This morning, Michel came into the coop as I was collecting eggs. Scared me to death. Obviously he came in to protect his territory. I tried to shoo him out, which only made him more aggressive. All I could think was, “I’m about to be attacked by a rooster. I’ve never been attacked by a rooster. How long will a rooster keep up his attack? Will he bite?” Seriously. He might as well have been a Great White Shark.
Fortunately, with enough shooing and yelling, “Get out!” he finally retreated.
Face it. I am not a country girl.