Today marks the beginning of a new era, a good era, filled with happy children and healthy farm animals and coyotes who know their place in the world, i.e. not in our farmyard. I feel it in my bones.
First of all, it is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day, light-speaking, of the year. For the next six months, it can only get brighter from here. I love those days when the light lingers far into the evening, bringing out the badminton set and the archery equipment. Not that I am good at either of those things, I am about as coordinated as an amoeba. No one stands anywhere near the target when a bow is in my hands for fear of looking like Steve Martin in his early stand-up routines. It’s still fun, though.
Today also marks Seinfeld’s “Festivus for the Rest of Us” so those of you who don’t participate in any of the myriad holidays that not-so-coincidentally fall at this time of year can pull out that aluminum pole, air your grievances, and display feats of strength. I’m a big believer in celebrating as many events as possible so, although we have no pole to set up (thankfully) and we air grievances on a daily eye-twitch-creating basis, we do have a family wrestling match which takes care of displaying those feats of strength (or weakness if one is referring to me). Hunky Husband always wins, of course, but he teases us enough to make us believe we could take him down before he puts the final kibosh on us all. Yup, not only is he handsome, the man is as strong as the proverbial ox.
The final and most convincing-to-me reason that a new positive era has begun happened early this morning as the Pint-Sized Farmer and I were doing our farm chores. (David is serving jury duty. When I told him he could probably get out of it, he told me it was his civic responsibility which made me feel like a gutter crumb for suggesting he skate in the first place. If you’re keeping track, that’s handsome, strong, and ethical. I did well.)
Pint and I were spreading scratch for the chickens, both astonished at how large the now-pullets-and-cockerels are getting, when one young bird looked right at me and crowed. It was a small crow, almost silent and very high-pitched, but it was a crow nonetheless. I haven’t heard one of those since the Great Coyote Massacre of 2007 and it was sweet music to my ears. Our little farm is reawakening to a better-than-ever time and I am blessed to be a witness to it. Once again, life is good.