Unfolding...

 Chris has a saying about certain days. Days when nothing is precisely planned. "Let the day unfold." This was a blank-slate weekend. Perfect for unfolding. There was nothing on the calendar that had to be done. No social engagements. No appointments. Of course, I had a long "to-do" list, but nothing was pressing. On Saturday, I ran errands with Chris, accompanying him to the bank, grocery store, and other weekend chores he usually does alone. We also grabbed a fun little lunch out at a favorite haunt. The Owlet had a spend-the-night with us as she often does on Saturdays, and it was sweet. I don't sleep a lot when she is here, mostly because I spend a lot of time checking to see if she is too warm or too cold or if she's breathing. But I don't care a bit because I get to look at the curve of her cheek in the dim light, the shadow of her eyelashes, the shape of her little hand flung out in repose. I hear her soft breathing and enjoy every second of just being with her.  I especially love to watch her wake up. She starts by moving restlessly, then her big, beautiful eyes pop open, and she looks around to gain her bearings. Then she stares at me, and her face lights up into a giant, happy smile. Her whole body gets in on the joy.., arms flailing, sturdy little legs kicking. She begins to babble and coo, and her entire demeanor says, "Let's get this party started!" Time with her is pure happiness.

Her mama retrieved her early Sunday morning. Chris and I had breakfast and read quietly for a while, enjoying a morning without rushing. Later I puttered in the backyard, putting things away and getting ready for winter. I cleaned the little chicken coop and the goat cozy. Grace goat came to investigate what I was up to. She let me stroke and cuddle her, then leaned in, very close to my face, and stared deeply into my eyes. "We are bonding," I thought happily. And then she belched. A mere inch from my face. In case you have ever wondered, goat burps do NOT smell like roses. 

While I was puttering in the yard, I heard the local murder of crows calling out in alarm. I kept an eye out because this usually means there is a predator about. Within moments I saw something trot into the pasture from the woods. At first, I thought it was a fox, but as it came closer, I saw that it was much larger. Its thick, grey fur undulated as it boldly approached. A coyote!  In broad daylight and up close. I waved my arms and yelled a little. It paused only a moment, eyeing me,  then kept approaching. As I pondered what to do next, it lowered its nose to the ground, sniffed, and veered toward the road. It disappeared into some brush, and the crows ceased their screaming. 

Today I was home alone. I started out listening to music but turned it off and relished the quiet. The house has its own sounds. The soft hum of the refrigerator, the washing machine's happy chugging, and the dryer's whir. It was a rainy, foggy morning. Not cold, but the house felt clammy, so I set a fire. Add the pop of burning wood to the house sounds. I cleaned the kitchen and straightened up the downstairs rooms. I took a break and read a few chapters of my book uninterrupted. 

Upstairs I cycled laundry, made the bed, and folded clothes. Simple chores at my leisure. Though in general, I am not a fan of décor that announces things like, "Wash, Dry, Fold" in the laundry or "Eat" in the kitchen, I confess to being delighted with my nifty enamel dust pan that boasts, "Spotless." It makes it almost fun to sweep. 

Lately, I've been reading a string of novels that include a lot of recipes. I had earmarked two that looked interesting, one for pumpkin muffins and another for honey oatmeal bread. Both required milk, and I have lots from the goats. Since I had a little free time today, I looked them up, made a tray of mini muffins for the grooming studio this week, and then mixed up the dough for the bread. 

The kitchen smelled of yeast and cinnamon as the rain spattered down. It was cozy. Tomorrow my day will be structured and scheduled again, but it's alright because I had a long weekend of gentle unfolding.