Me and mine woke at 5:30 today, and because it's now 12:43, and I'm home alone and for the first time inside at the table in front of a window caressing me with breeze, I thought I'd share my morning to-do list with you.
-strip sheets off all beds, wash sheets
-bake the sourdough that rose in the night
-read 2 chapters of The House on Plum Creek with somewhat sick daughter
-make kiddos sourdough toast with butter & honey
-hang sheets on line
-wash clothes-plant second planting of carrots and beets
-weed whack around peach tree
-move large stone in front of new chicken coop for step
-hang clothes on line
-transplant a wayward spirea from yard to next to new chicken coop step
-hang diapers on line (no more line)
-begin cleaning out my old cabin, the one that was once my refuge, then my studio, then my home, and, for the last year and a half, has been home to mice, bicycles, tires, pots, tools, mattresses, carseats, etc. It is a disgusting, toxic job (vacuuming mouse shit and flaking lead paint). I come inside to deposit some things and instead of going back out to that horrid, toxic job in that structure that was once a cathedral of light I sit down and the table and think holy. Shit. I am so tired. Motherhood is so crazy. And good. Someday. I will have a desk. In that cabin. But not today. No. Not. Right now. Right now I am just going to sit here. At this table. In this breeze. And maybe. It's possible. Fall. Asleep.