I spent a lot of time knitting today. I mean A LOT. So, you might understand my great angst when my needle slipped out half of the row when I was over halfway done with the hat. Yes, Lorrie, I hear you. Pick up the stitches! Ummmm, I'm using fuzzy boucle and eyelash yarn--2 strands. SOOOO not within my area of expertise. Ribbit, Ribbit, Ribbit. (Frogging is unravelling your project for you non-yarn folks.) At least I was watching The Hunt For Red October so I had Sean Connery's numminess to gaze upon while I demolished a day's work.
Yep folks, I can knit, and I can crochet. I don't do either one very well. Basic skills yes, fancy stuff (like straight edges) no. I think if I tried to make one of those fancy shawls or afghans, my brain might implode. I'm sure my aunt Darlene (who used to run a yarn shop when I was a little kid) and Lorrie (one of my twin sisters who DOES run a yarn shop--check out Oh Yarn It in McPherson cos she's got some AWESOME stuff) are cringing right now.
Luckily I do better with critters. My lovely horses are fuzzy in their winter coats, and it's always a joy to hear them nicker when I come close. If you haven't had a horse nicker at you, you're seriously missing something. Even hearing Stewie chuckling to the hens about nummy greens I just picked for them warms my heart. Now that I think about it, his chuckle and a horse's nicker sound a lot alike.
And imagine a day spent knitting. Sitting in the sun, with Nami (the Sheltie/Aussie Shep mix) snoring on my foot, Riley (our Great Dane) lolling on the other couch, and Twinkie nestled up next to my leg. Twinkie is the ULTIMATE lap cat--she adores snuggling, but she was contented today to curl up next to my leg (not bothering the knitting needles or the sparkly yarn!!!!!) and chill. Yeah, even with all the frogginess, it was a good day.
We took Twinkie into the vet to get her booster shots today, and the kiddos got an extra special experience. They asked me if I could come in a little later because Doc was assisting a cow in labor. Of course! Well, when we got there, the calf had been born moments before. The little guy was still all wet and still had the chain around his hind hooves where they'd had to pull him out. No wonder mama cow was having trouble! The kiddos got to see the techs dry off the calf, and see him raise his head for the first time. They were hoping to see him again, but by the time Twinkie had had her shots, mama and baby were loaded up on the trailer, ready to go home. GAWD, I wish I'd been on my feet that soon after having a baby! Of course, there were many questions about the blood on the calf and the chains, but I think I explained them well enough without going into detail about the birds and the bees. When I told the kids about how they had blood on them too when they were born, everything else was cake.
I've always thought it, but now I know it. Farm kids learn about the important things (namely: life and death and bodily fluids) sooner than city kids. Miracles of birth don't always have a happy ending. That doesn't mean they're any less of a miracle. Each egg we crack open (and yeah, I'm pretty sure they're fertilized!!! Stewie gets AROUND!) is a miracle--not just for the potential to hatch a new chick, but for the amazing nutrients we get from it. My horses are miracles--we got them both for free, but they like us as much as we like them, and they're willing and smart, not to mention gorgeous. Our dogs are miracles. Both of them rescued, but in a warm, loving, forever home. Even Twinkie--if you've read her story, she's a miracle in and of herself. The grownup chookies can always make me feel better by hanging out in their coop. Having Stewie look out for me and defend me is pretty cool. (He's a Rhode Island Red roo, well known for being one of the most aggressive out there.)
Each day seems hard, but when you look back and try to find beauty, you will.