I had a full, eventful, and sometimes emotional day. My cold is contained, and I’m trying resting and some Vitamin C, and a friend has me rubbing my gall bladder (don’t ask.) I’m seeing a chiropractor soon to help straighten my poor side and back out, and chewing on some Vitamin C tablets.

I communed with donkeys sitting on my new applewood stool; there is nothing more healing than this for me, they were loving and sweet, then I had lunch with Maria (chicken soup, as potent as my grandmother), had a successful half-hour on the gym treadmill (they didn’t throw me out), no one called me any nasty names online for the first time since Saturday. I had a long talk with Flo, sitting in the driveway today, and she almost got in by a UPS truck.

In the morning, I stopped by the Miller Farm to buy some strawberries for a friend and got to chat with  Barbara and some of the girls. We were glad to see each other, that felt real and good.

Barbara had heard I was sick and wanted to know how I was. I told her flowers would be coming weekly soon.

 

It was time for Flo and me to talk. I looked out my study window to see Flo dozing in the driveway again, and out of the other window, I saw the UPS truck turning into the driveway. I made it out the floor door recklessly, shouting and waving my arm, scaring the poor man half to death.

The poor driver, who we know well and loves Flo dearly, screeched to a halt, alarmed at the madman rushing at his truck. I got to Flo in time, shocked her by picking her up and tossing her to the side. She seemed bewildered and a little bit annoyed. It wasn’t close, about 10 or 15 feet, but I didn’t know if he would see her.

The signs go up tonight.

(The sheep and the donkeys have entirely ignored the fallen limb from the maple tree, downed last week by a strong wind. They seem to know what is good for them, and the leaves have all died in the interim and lay on the ground awaiting removal.)

Our UPS driver, a great animal lover,  delivered his package, and I explained to him what was going on, and he told her where the best place to put a “Caution: Deaf Cat” sign would be. Then I picked up the disgruntled Flo and sat her down.

“Listen,” I said, “we are both getting older and must make some changes and compromises. I don’t want to call Maria and tell her you got flattened by some truck because you’re deaf and losing it. We’re putting a caution sign up tonight, but help me out here. Stay off the driveway.”

Flo stared at me the whole time as if she was riveted by what I was saying. I think she sensed I was trying to tell her something, and I think she was trying to figure it out.

But Flo is awful smart and has survived out there a long time. If any animal can figure it out, she can.

I scratched her neck for a while, which she loves, and she was purring loudly, and I put her back on the back porch, where she usually is. I think the driveway is the warmest place around when the sun is out, and that, I think, is what draws her. As she gets older, she gets colder.

 

(I find it hard to stop taking photos of this hanging flower basket, the colors are so vivid, and the Leica 2 loves to capture them.)

Tonight is the summer solstice, and Maria has been gathering wood and sticks for a fire for some weeks. We’ll go out when it gets dark. I’ll cook and bring the food outside; we’ll eat it by the fire. This is one of the rituals we have picked up on the new farm.

It gives meaning and dimensions to the changing of the seasons.

 

Liam, our gentle wether, is grown into an easy, calm sheep. He is very comfortable around us and loves to sun himself by the side of the big red barn. Nothing seems to rattle or disturb him. He was afraid of Red and moved when he saw him, but he paid no attention to Fate.

I keep telling her she should be embarrassed, but she isn’t. She is happy with herself.