Early morning here meant 35 degrees.
Two nights ago it was 77 at midnight. Night insects were singing to one another as I stood on the porch, listening and thinking. Knowing it’s time, maybe even the last time, for pleasant night warmth.
This morning I pulled out coats and hats and boots before kids headed to the barn. Grandpa and Grandma’s cows give off lots of heat, but I’m a natural-born bundler. I dress them in layers — T-shirt, sweatshirt, barn coat. If they get warm and discard something, so be it. At least they began the day with enough to keep them toasty in my estimation — except for their fingers.
I noticed many missing mittens. I need to replenish.
I think I’ll make a big pot of soup.
Nothing like a simmering pot of bubbling goodness to start the weekend off right. And I’ll pick up a loaf of sour dough bread and some apple cider. Maybe I’ll build some brightness in the fireplace this evening. Grab my fuzzy blanket and a good book. Light some candles.
Or maybe we’ll just have soup for supper … and they’ll all wander off to do whatever it is we do around here on Friday nights. It isn’t much, but it’s usually entertaining. Like when Farmboy sneaks his bike in the front door and rides it around the house. Or middle child brings a live salamander to her room, keeps it in a fish tank for a week without my knowledge, and then announces she can’t do her chores because she needs to find a worm to feed Sammy.
Yeah, it’s a regular barrel of monkeys … laughing … around here.
Last week one of Farmboy’s lessons focused on being attentive. “Listen with yours eyes and ears and heart,” I repeated again and again. Then we did an art project and talked about it some more. This week when his attention was clearly not focused on reading sight words or paying the least bit of attention to me, I said, “Farmboy! You must listen to me. Look at me when I’m talking!”
And he calmly replied, “Mommy. I’m listening with my heart today — not my eyes and ears.”
Uh huh … there it is …
Listen with your heart.