A suprising week...

With age comes wisdom. At least, we hope that's the case. Certainly, age gives us the kind of "I recognize this because I've seen it before" kind of insight that sometimes means even the worst of times can be viewed as a temporary hiccup in the otherwise rhythmic pattern of life. Weather and the seasons are just one example. It gets warm, we get excited; cold returns and we get crabby. I've seen this before. It's called March.

But every now and then, like you, I am struck by something I hadn't expected. Like on Tuesday, when I looked at the rippled landscape and saw diamonds glistening where for months, there had been nothing but flat, gray ice. Tuesday was ice-out day on the lake. Its arrival, so early in Spring, was a surprise to be sure and a welcome one I hadn't seen coming.

Also on Tuesday, hubby came home from volunteering for Habitat for Humanity to tell me his buddy wanted to give us his mini-horse. I'll tell you, folks. Here's one I hadn't seen coming. The horse, standing about 36 inches high, would be a great pet, its owner said. He's very lovable and hardly any trouble at all. (I've heard THAT before!)

Now, I admit that while I've been in mourning over Farm Dog, I have been entertaining notions of another pet. The when, what and how haven't formed in my mind yet, but I was sort-of thinking that my next pet (call him Farm Dog II if you want) might be more of an outside, kennel kind of dog and less of a couch potato like the original Farm Dog. I even figured, if I was patient, a stray dog would eventually wander in and I could tempt it to hang out on the property. Or maybe, the next pet wouldn't be a dog at all, but a lower-maintenance cat.

But never ever could I have dreamt or imagined (and I can imagine a lot!) that my next dog might be, well, a horse! And a mini-horse, at that! At least it wouldn't track mud into the house.

Hubby's buddy said the mini-horse is low maintenance and would just quietly eat up the grass in the pasture. Yeah, I've heard that before too. Remember the obstinate sheep?

Hubby has a soft spot for animals, to be sure. Farm Dog used to get a share of his morning toast, bread that now finds its way to the chicken coop. I'm recognizing all the signs; I've been here before. This issue is far from being settled, and I sense that I will need to throw up a lot of objections to mini-horse moving in, because if I don't, this may be chomping grass in the back pasture by May. Maybe if I agree to more baby chicks, this idea will fall by the wayside. Chickens may not be as pettable as mini here, but at least chickens are edible!

Postscript: The mini-horse debate is being shelved until after our vacation, which we are about to embark on. I'll return to minding the blog after Easter. Until then, remember that Resurrection doesn't just happen once a year; it can happen anytime.

One things leads to another, then suddenly...

This is how it goes around here some nights. Especially when I'm alone.

It's Friday night but I'm working. Mostly because I'm alone. Tonight, it's video.

And then I get an idea that I need something else. And so I go in search of it. Tonight, it's music for the video.

And so I start rifling through a file folder of songs that, for some reason or another, I'd set aside. I don't remember when, or for what. And so I sift through mp3s. I find I have a dozen (at least) clips of animal sounds. Mostly pigs. They were a for a video I did two years ago. I never used them. I hit the delete key at least a dozen times.

And then I stumble upon The Airborne Toxic Event, which is a group I saw on Letterman in January. They sang a song titled Sometime Around Midnight and soon after I got the mp3 of the song. (Don't ask how.) And so I double-click the icon and it plays. And something inside of me stirs.

I still haven't found a tune for the video, but for a moment or two, I've stopped caring. I just listen. And then the song gets going and I get out of my chair. I've now forgotten what it was I was looking for. And because I stood up I get to I see this ...

And then I remember why it is I'm here, away from everything and everyone, happy, even though I'm alone. So I hit the mouse again because the song has stopped. And I listen again while I watch the ball of fire sink.

And then I remember that someone, just last weekend, asked the question that so many others also have asked, the how and why that led me here. And I recall that my explanation last weekend sounded more convoluted than normal. And I wish that I could freeze this moment so every time I hear the question I can simply point out this window and say, that's why... .

Marching toward Spring...

It has been said you can't have Easter without Lent. Likewise, you can't have Spring without Winter. I prefer to reverse the logic and say you can't have Lent without Easter, and you can't have Winter without Spring. Such an existence, afterall, would be devoid of hope.

Outside, the evidence points to Spring's arrival: the snow is gone; the ground is firming; some of the trees are setting buds; there have been Robins hopscotching from post to post in the vineyard; and geese, ducks and seagulls are migrating in full echelon. Just moments ago, a flock of white and black gulls numbering near one hundred crossed overhead in J-formation.

And so I sit convinced that Spring, the greatest tease in nature, has called for the end of winter. God bless her.

Follow up on thoughts on Chef and "pork" ...

A glance at the syllabus son-in-chef's-training carries around gave me some insight into the validity of the statement made recently by one of his cooking instructors (see previous post).

Article 1: Chef is right.

Article 2: Chef is always right.

Article 3: Even if subordinate is right, Article 1 applies.

So, if Chef says we taste like pork, we taste like pork. There's no arguing with this guy. (He has to be French!) (Or Lebanese!)

Setting aside ethics and morality (because we're just having fun here), only one point remains to be argued. And that is, which wine should we serve if Aunt Mildred, instead of coming for dinner, becomes dinner? I'm going with Spätlese.