Spring Snow

It continues to be cold. Snow continues to fall. My social media peeps are griping and growling about it, but it doesn't bother me. It IS only March after all. Whatever happened to, "April showers bring May flowers?" In these parts all the spring flowers are usually over a done with by Easter it seems. So, I'm looking forward to spring weather starting in spring and not before. 

I know. I'm weird. But I did live in northern climes for a while. We couldn't plant our gardens until June and had snow in October. 50 degrees was short sleeve weather. So this mid-America hatred of snow is a bit foreign to me.

Besides, snow is pure and lustrous and fills the air with reflected light. Those are good things, right? Here's today's example. This morning, the view out of the living room windows toward the woods was spectacular. The sparkling, shimmering, and shining snow showers slowly sifted and swirled through shafts of sunlight that seeped between the swaying trees. It was mesmerizing and marvelous. The glistening, gleaming, and glinting crystals circulating in splendid spirals lifted my spirits. 

Briefly I imagined being 7 again so that I could enjoy a few, self-absorbed and blissful minutes. I could picture it: I'd be whirling and spinning in the whorls of snow, my arms outstretched, my face upturned. Then I'd fall backward onto a cold and faintly crunchy carpet of luminescence, holding my breath in order to hear the faint and feeble whispers and sighs of the snowflakes as they softly struck the surface of the snow around me. The flakes would alighted on my cheeks like tiny, wet kisses, and I would smile. 

This is what people are complaining about? No, I think that they are complaining about their inability to take time to enjoy the snow. And I think they are complaining about the cold. I've been taking note lately, and people in this part of the country don't seem to know how to dress for the weather. What is it with the thin jackets, no gloves, and nary a hat? Of course winter weather in that is miserable. But as the saying goes, "There's no such thing as a bad winter- just bad winter clothes." It's a little like wearing a sweater to the beach in July and complaining about summer. 

Let's bundle up and just let the slow slide into spring begin and not rush things. Besides, the earlier it gets warm, the more we'll just need to mow.  So let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow!

Pileated Woodpeckers

I snapped this picture of a pileated woodpecker from our dining room window last week. (It's pronounced pill-ee-ated, not pile-ated, as my old neighbor used to say. :) We have a pair of them that forage about the homestead.





A Pileated Woodpecker pair stays together on its territory all year round. So we see these two together quite a bit. When we don't see them, we often just hear them. They are loud and make these repeated "wuk" sounds that are pretty monkey or jungle-birdie sounding. (That's a very technical description, I know. :) 

I snapped this picture of the pair last summer.

I spied these out of the window.

Yup, I'm pretty sure that's a carpenter ant on my stone house.
(Did I mention that the eaves, window and door frames are wooden?!)

Pileated woodpeckers are LARGE, at least crow-sized. And they are striking... and I mean that in both senses of the word. Their black and white coloration with their red crests make them stand out from their surroundings. And they make some impressive drumming, which creates some impressive holes. The enthusiastic drumming that creates such holes sounds like a loud, fast hammering, and is audible for a great distance. (Woodpeckers also drum to attract mates and to announce the boundaries of their territories.)

You can tell a pileated woodpecker hole from other woodpecker holes because it is usually square-ish. What the birds are after is ants and larvae... specifically carpenter ants. (You can't live by the woods without carpenter ants about. I'm trying to remain calm and to remind myself that my home is partially stone.)

I headed out only 4 wks. postpartum to show these
to my kids.

Pileated woodpecker excavations can be so broad and deep that they can cause small trees to break in half! The holes these birds make offer crucial shelter to many species including swifts, owls, ducks, bats, and pine martens. They often attract other birds as well. Other woodpeckers and House Wrens, may come and feed in the same place.

I once bought a cedar pileated woodpecker feeder (similar to the one in the link) that held suet cakes when we lived at our old house. It was distinctive because it had a big "tail board" that enabled the large birds to cling to it. I am SO glad it didn't attract a pair of pileated woodpeckers to nest in the yard back then because at the time I had no idea just how destructive they were! I would have been heartbroken to have the 150 year old trees attacked and damaged/killed. Here it is not so worrisome. We could lose some of our trees and be none the worse. We are practically in the woods after all!

Syrup and Chickens

The day before the baby was born, snowdrops were spotted blooming in the yard.

Now, 5 weeks later, crocus are blooming as well. 

The maple trees, forsythia, and daffodils all have buds. Because of this, I can see a bit of a red aura along the maple limbs and a golden glow about the forsythia boughs through the windows as I rock my nursling. Spring is definitely here.

The snows have been frequent and heavy. But the snow doesn't "stick" for long. We've had lots of nights below freezing and lots of days above: perfect for maple syrup making. As tapping time came, I noted it with wistfulness. We've been here almost 2 years now, and have still not made maple syrup. There are plenty of real reasons, but it's still sad. 

Also, driving home from Mass the other day, one of the farm stores (Yes, we pass more than one.) had their chicks sign out. We have yet to construct a chicken fortress impenetrable by all the many predators that we have to contend with here. (Just the other day, during dinner, we saw a fox trotting across the upper hay field in that funny, springing way that foxes move.) So we won't have chickens this year either. I miss the chickens. So do my children. What's not to like about a farm animal that gives you pre-packaged, high protein food every day while eating your table scraps and decimating the insect population? 

Although I didn't spy the first blossoms of spring, (or photograph them- the pictures are from last year) I'm watching my oldest boy bloom into young adulthood. I'm not sugaring off the maple syrup, but I am experiencing my baby boy's first sweet smiles. And although I'm not carefully tending little chicks and watching their noisy antics, I am anxiously tending my growing brood of 5 and watching their frolicking. I can't have it all. I shouldn't. And I can't complain.

"It takes special people to have a big family", an elderly man told me after Mass this past Sunday, giving me a wise look. I was slightly embarrassed. Maybe my willingness to trade my expectations and desires for life with these beautiful little people is what he meant. He had come over to see the baby, whom he thought was much bigger.  Next he razzed my oldest a bit about his continued growth spurt. (I had to buy him size 32x34 overalls this week!)  

"They're all growing so well. What are you giving them?" he teased. "Lots of love." I joshed right back. He smiled and nodded knowingly. "It certainly shows," he replied. And like the snow showers that blanket the ugly rawness of March only to melt and foster the flowers, soften the lawn, and fill the lake to the brim, I hope that the love I shower upon them covers the defects in our characters, fades the flaws in my parenting, feeds the needs of their souls, softens their struggles in life, and fills their hearts with happiness. It certainly fills my heart with a bittersweet aching.  

And this family of seven? It's melting my pride. It's washing away my selfishness. It's stretching my limits. My children are giving me more than I could have ever clawed out for myself. What's not to like about that? 

Deer Antics

Deer have been overrunning the place recently. This morning there were 7 does foraging along the drive across from the house and next to my bedroom, as well. We've had a lot of snow, so they have been coming particularly close to our home in order to find food that isn't buried. They paw through the snow and eat the tender new grass that I planted last year. They come for the ivy growing up the trees in the "yard" and the bushes in front of the house. 

Yesterday, unbeknownst to me, a deer was between the bushes and the house. When I walked into the bedroom she must have heard me. She raised her head into view and turned to look at me. Her nose was practically touching the window. She looked decidedly like a "peeping Tom" and it was mildly surprising. After a stare-down, she reluctantly decided to move.

The day before that the children and I noticed a deer outside of the window. She was standing on her hind legs for intervals in order to pull down ivy leaves.  She saw us, and although she kept a wary eye focused in our direction, she was not deterred. I actually managed to snap a photo of her because of this. Even my 3 and 5 year old watched her for quite some time despite tapping the window, pointing, talking loudly, and squealing in delight.

It was quite comical, for in her effort to pull down foliage, the deer also knocked snow onto herself. This caused her to snort and shake it off. Plus, the lunges, flailing legs, and circus-style walking was amusing too. 

Owls

It was a long day. I made cornmeal mush (the old fashioned way- by sifting cornmeal through my fingers into a pot of boiling water as I stirred it) only to have kids grumpy about breakfast. They didn't like it. That's odd because they love fried cornmeal mush. Perhaps they thought that I should have just doused their bowls in maple syrup, like they try to do with the fried version.

a photo from a previous bath

The baby had the biggest diaper blowout of his to date- so bad it required an immediate bath- which he screamed through. My 3 year old wanted to help and kept getting in the way, and there was really no way for him to be able to help, so he was mad... and loud. He also had a backslide in his "potty training" today. He wet through 3 sets of clothes. He was unable to play peacefully with my 5 year old too, and his new habit of either whining and arguing about everything or collapsing in a melting heap of tears whenever he doesn't get his way was really trying. He's taking the baby's arrival a bit hard now that it's sinking in. (Although from the backseat of the car the other day I heard him announce to no one in particular,"The more you see babies, the more of them you want!") 

I made my 5 year old take a nap so that she would be able to handle her choir practice better tonight. She fell asleep fine (unlike my 3 year old- who wouldn't today) but had a hard wake-up before choir and got out the door late with her dad because of it.

My 9 year old was caught in a couple of lies today and was also mean to her little sister- unashamedly. Plus, she and I had an unpleasant math marathon this afternoon. She hates math. She wrote, "Nasty, nasty, nasty" all over a sheet of corrections. I'm not sure if she meant that I was nasty for assigning her the horrible math or if the math was what was nasty. In my mind it was her behavior that was nasty. Maybe nasty was just her "mantra".

My 14 year old "lost" a printed study guide I made him and all the electronic docs we accumulated for some research he is doing, was stupid about looking for said lost articles, and was subsequently obtuse concerning his history assignment today. We butted heads all afternoon. When I tried to scan and print him off another one, the all-in-one kept giving me an error about the yellow print cartridge when I was trying to print in black and white. Then it kept shooting out blank sheets of paper. Eventually it gave me an error message even though it hadn't done so for the first few attempts and "refused" to do anything. That machine gets to me every time.

The pizza I made from scratch for dinner got overcooked, as I was busy with the baby at a critical time and my hubs was late due to having stopped for office goods on the way home during chauffeur duty. Of course the kids quibbled about inanities all through the meal. And they complained about my pizza crust being too thick and "bready". And they had horrible table manners. Sigh.

These were just the bigger things that I dealt with today. Really, it was not that much different from any other day in regard to busyness and frustrations (although the kids were more out of control than usual due to recent circumstances.) But in my over-tired, hormonal state, I was getting testy. I wasn't handling it gracefully.

After finally getting the kids to bed (requiring multiple attempts) and while in the midst of rocking and nursing the fussy baby, I kept hearing weird noises. At first I thought it was the girls, still up in the room above me, chatting. But the noise seemed musical and regular. "They must be singing," I thought. So I listened more closely. It was nothing I recognized. I kept hearing the same note repeated over and over with regular pauses between. "Was one of the notes resonating with something in the house causing me to hear it more clearly?" I wondered. Finally, I was able to tuck the baby in his bed for a few minutes. I flicked off the little space heater I was using for white noise and listened, prepared to make another trip upstairs to quiet the rowdy kiddies. 

Owls! It was owls calling back and forth forcefully. After listening for a bit, I smiled and turned the heater back on. I had expected another negative- girls up too late, wound up and disobedient, who would be tired and badly behaved tomorrow. But it was loud owls.

Even when it is dark, even when the windows are down and the shutters are closed on this stone-faced home, even when I'm wrapped up in my own worries, nature has a way of seeping into everything here at the homestead. I find that reassuring and healing. It always points me back to the author of nature, the king of all creation. This centers and calms me. And because of nature interjecting itself into my evening unasked, tonight I remember that Paul wrote that God's grace is sufficient for me "for power is made perfect in infirmity. Gladly therefore will I glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may dwell in me. For which cause I please myself in my infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ. For when I am weak, then am I powerful." 

Nope, I can't be perfect. Yes, my children will be a little wild or badly behaved sometimes. Yup, I won't be able to maintain perennial order in our home. But God's plans are bigger than my priorities. God's plans include and use little, flawed me. "WHO? Who? who?" ...ME!  God chose me to parent these children and sent these children to me... the most recent one healthy, beautiful, and amazing. He gave me this vocation and orchestrated things such that I am in this location at this time with these circumstances. I just need to keep persevering and trusting. Those owls reminded me to be grateful, to lighten up, and to roll with it all... with joy and peace. 

Four Weeks

Four weeks?!

A month has already passed since our son was born! In some ways it doesn't seem possible. In other ways, a lot has happened in that short time.

First off, we had our son baptized when he was 5 days old. This took some doing as our parish priest was to be absent for 2 of the 4 Sundays following his birth, had seven people scheduled to receive the sacrament of Baptism on 1 of the 2 available Sundays, and the remaining Sunday not only fell in Lent, but was too late to for our comfort and too late in order to submit the baptismal certificate as proof of existence when filing for our son's social security number (which we needed in order to enroll him in our healthcare plan.) We had to settle for a visiting monsignor to administer the sacrament. Also, hosting overnight guests and providing food for visitors and for a baptismal party is a bit difficult only 5 short days after a birth too!

In the end, we discovered that our new county's health department will file for a social security card for you when you file for a birth certificate. Bonus! In part I suppose this is because our county does not have a social security office, and perhaps the fact that there is a large Amish population. But it turns out the statewide system for recording birth certificates is down, so we haven't received either. Thankfully, my husband's employer accepted an affidavit of his birth on a temporary basis so that he will still be covered by our health insurance. Whew!

My sister, who had been staying with us in order to help out, left two weeks after our son's birth. We are grateful for her help and the three weeks of her time she sacrificed to spend with us, etc. She washed a lot of dishes and folded a lot of laundry while here. She also entertained my children, who adore her.

The baby is doing well. He's a handful in more ways than one, but sweet and pretty mild mannered all in all. (After the infancy of our oldest son, most babies seem mild mannered to me!) He's given me a string of worries though. First there was the fact that he lost 10% of his body weight the week he was born. That's the high end of normal, but 10% of 11 pounds is pretty substantial (as compared to 10% of 7 lbs.) and therefore takes longer to gain back. After a month he is finally a half pound heavier than he was at birth. And it was doubly concerning for me, as my other children didn't lose weight initially and packed on the pounds right away.

Another worry was that it took him 8 days to pass his first bowel movement (not counting multiple meconium diapers, of course.) He's doing well in that department (so to speak) now. Then there was his back-to-back 3 minute nursing sessions. Thankfully, although he still has periods of demanding this, his snack-nursing/cat-napping is no longer continuous. But it was frustrating for both of us, and exhausting too. Then his umbilical stump dried up and fell off, but left one vessel protruding from his belly button that looked as if it might have healed that way. Ugly. With lots of care and a little more time, it has dried up too though, and his belly button is now normal. 

In other news, my husband was told by a doctor today that he has a small hernia and has scheduled an appointment with a surgeon next week. He's worried about how taking care of it may disrupt his new job. He's been assisting a local order of Franciscan friars with their network. They run a radio station and record T.V. shows at their friary. He found an office space to rent within his small budget and moved in. His business cards arrived. He's been purchasing equipment for his office. And unfortunately the computer he just got for his new job is acting flaky. The monitor is going black at random. He'll have to take it to the big city about an hour away for service. He's been on quite a few conference calls for his new job, and has had several meetings with the man appointed to replace him at his old place of employment as well. He also found out that not only will he be in California for his first week on the new job, but he will be going to Taiwan in April.

Then there's all the random stuff: my oldest daughter got a cold and ran a low fever one weekend, so we had to split shifts for Mass and worried about the baby getting ill. We were notified of a recall on our washing machine. I'm supposed to get a service person to replace something because it will throw parts if you wash something waterproof. That's not good, considering I want to launder water-proof diaper pail liners and waterproof diaper covers. There was also a recall on the transmission of our new van, so that had to be taken in for service. My husband had the tire with the slow leak looked at at the same time. Of course the tires were not under the new vehicle's warranty. Speaking of vehicles, the check engine light had come on in the truck one day. Luckily an oil change that included replacing the air filter took care of that. (We park the truck in the barn and a mouse had made a nest in the air filter.) Yuck. We had a repair man come out to fix our inoperable garage door. My 3 year old finally decided that he wants to use the toilet, so we're in the midst of "potty training"... again. People came to visit in order to meet the new baby, etc. etc.

Then there's all the normal stuff. That kept us busy before our little man arrived!

Hoof It

(If you're not familiar with the ongoing stray horse story, you should go back and catch up on old posts if you want this one to make much sense: Horsin' Around, Gift Horse, Sorry, Charlie, Charlie, Suzie, and Zebo, Horse Trading, The Horse Saga.)

My husband took advantage of the only snow/rain-free day this week to head out and pick up fallen branches and sticks. What with the storm that packed 50 mph winds, the heavy snow, the myriad of trees near our house, and the fact that we've not picked any up since mowing ended, there were tons. He made a dent in the job and got some fresh air, accompanied by our 3 year old. While engaged in this task, he noticed the hoof prints of a horse in our side yard and by the barn on the other side of the house.

He told me about seeing them later that night. At first it crossed my mind that the men who had come looking for their horse had followed the tracks here and thought I was lying when I told them we didn't have their horse. Then my husband pointed out that the prints were fresh and would have been blotted out by the heavy rains we had. As well, there was lots of snow on the ground the day they came looking for him, so there wouldn't have been any prints in the mud, only the snow. I was relieved about that.

But now I am wondering. Was Charlie/Cy here recently because he is still on the loose (since the beginning of January?!) Or had he gotten out again since then?! And how on earth had we not seen a big, dark gelding when all of us have been home for 3 weeks straight? Perhaps he was here in the night. And why does he come here? There is only the drive and the small unfenced portion behind the house that he could easily get through. The rest of the perimeter of our property is fenced.

Well, wherever the horse is, we wish him well. And if he survives, it seems that we are destined to cross paths often, even if the only proof we see of our crossing is hoof marks in soft mud.

Labor Day

After the infamous Saturday, I was a little gun-shy concerning mentioning contraction variations or the possibility of labor to my husband. For another week and a half I continued to have the short but regular contractions at intervals at night (which I had been having for weeks) longer and stronger contractions at random during the day, and persistent low pelvic crampiness. (The crampiness was new. The strength of daytime contractions was new.) It was exhausting on top of everything else. It was also distracting. 

While all this was going on, my sister arrived to help. My "due date" came and went. And my husband started working from home. You see, although my first labor was a multi-day marathon, each of my labors progressed more quickly than the last. He wanted to stay close so as not to miss the arrival of our newest family member.

We planned to have another "home birth" this time. (I know, some of you think that's dangerous, selfish, and stupid. Believe me, I've thoroughly researched this choice and compared the risks and outcomes associated with home births and the risks and outcomes associated with hospital births. So please spare me any judgmental comments you may feel inclined to make.) The idea of a birth at home was extra comforting this time around, knowing that I'd probably not have time to get to the hospital (and the fact that I have a friend who delivered a child of hers in her car on the side of the road en route to the hospital without the help of a qualified attendant or any supplies because she and her husband couldn't get there fast enough.) Given our new location, we even opted to work with a different midwife than usual, picking the one nearest us who lived about 20 minutes away at most, given traffic conditions and stop lights.

After my oldest daughter was born after a mere 3 hour labor, I purchased a laminated, "When Baby Comes Before the Midwife" sheet with my next set of birth supplies. It started out as mostly a joke, but it soon became a serious item for my husband to review. After all, my last labor lasted only about 45 minutes!

And then on the 5th of February I felt "funny" again. The nighttime contractions remained short and regular, but seemed more intense, and they still came and went. The random contractions during the day seemed even stronger too, although completely irregular. I messaged my midwife to let her know that I was having stronger and longer contraction, although still at random. I went about my normal business, trying to ignore the random contractions.

Then in the mid-afternoon, I was sitting on the couch in the living room with my sister and husband and a couple kids chatting when I experienced a particularly strong, random, distracting contraction. Then it crossed my mind that theoretically my "water" might "break" at any time. I figured I'd better not let that happen on the new couch, so I went to lay down for a nap. (I'd already put a chucks pad under the sheet in case my water broke during the night.) I also figured that if it wasn't labor, the contractions might subside if I rested. 

Well, I had a few long and strong contractions. And I lay there wondering at what point I would know it was "the real thing" since I seemed to have been laboring in slow motion for weeks. My husband came into the room. I told him about the contractions and that the closest the contractions had been together was 10 minutes. He went to tend our 3 year old and whatnot. While he was gone I got a REALLY strong contraction and my amniotic sac broke. I called out for him or anyone, but no one answered. (My sister happened to be playing board games in the "stone room" with the kids and didn't hear me.) I waited for what seemed like an eternity for my husband to hear me, for the contractions were instantaneously back-to-back and killer, and I didn't want to get up and cause them to increase in intensity. After learning of my water breaking and seeing the level of the contractions, my husband immediately called the midwife. Then he crawled onto the bed next to me.

Soon my contractions changed, and it became clear to him that things were progressing quickly. He called the midwife again and learned that she was stuck behind a slow driver not too far from our house. Soon she called back, asking if he wanted her to stay on the phone as labor progressed. But he quickly realized that she was not going to make it in time for the baby's birth, and set the phone aside and focused on the arrival of our newest blessing.

So anyway, my husband had reviewed the aforesaid mini instruction manual recently. I had pointed out to him where the cord clamps were, the umbilical scissors, the newborn hats, etc. In the end I'm not sure that any of that helped him at all, for this child arrived in a grand total of 28 minutes- a few minutes before the midwife arrived! He placed our third son on my chest, covered him up, and put a hat on him. He had the bulb syringe to suction the baby if he needed it. And then our midwife came in- in time to take the 5 minute APGAR score, and to tend to everything necessary. Our youngest child was born at 4:30 pm, weighed in at 11 pounds even, was 23 inches long; he was perfect and healthy. Praise God!

Pre-labor

Part of me thinks that I have been "overdue" with each of my babies simply because my husband and I get so out of synch before births. His jobs have always been stressful, and he has never seemed to be able to wrap things up before births. He also gets really anxious before births, and deals with his worry in a completely different manner than I do. I think that this lack of unity and psychological readiness must impact the start of labor to some small degree. 

Here's the latest example. There is a 4 week window for the arrival time of a baby, basically 2 weeks on either side of a "due date." (For example, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) says that an induction of labor should be considered at, but not before, the completion of the 42 week mark, unless medically indicated.) On the 26th of January I was feeling distinctively laborish. I was well over a week into that 4 week window. I had the usual steady, strong, but short contractions on and off through the night, and had longer, really strong, isolated contractions at random that morning after getting up and moving about too. I also had really painful mentrual-like cramps. And somehow, something felt different. I felt like things could really take off at any moment. I tried to tell my husband, but he was preoccupied with a deadline he had for his new job. I sent a message to my midwife to alert her, just in case. Then, when I found my husband on the recliner in his PJs with his laptop a short time later, I informed him again that today could be the day, that I was feeling pretty labor-ish. I suggested that perhaps instead of working on his new job stuff, he should get ready for the day first, just in case. 

His response? "Give me an hour." For a second I thought he was joking. I could deal with levity. I appreciate humor. Our last child was born in about 45 minutes after all, despite his weight of well over 11 lbs. But a look of panic swept across his face that was very real, and soon he was dressed and back on his laptop typing feverishly. I quickly realized that he was "dead serious." I thought, "Like I can just put the arrival of a baby on hold for you for a specified amount of time?!" After all these years and 5 births (one of them over 2 weeks "late") he knew that I had no intentional control over when the labor process starts or when a child was born! "How could he say something like that?" I thought

I also got mad. Running through my head were thoughts like: Work was more important than our new baby?... and on a Saturday too! And on our oldest son's birthday? Although the first week of that 4 week window had come and gone, he wasn't ready yet? He wasn't prepared to drop everything when the time came? I know that providing for a family of 6 is a big responsibility. I acknowledge that he does so very well. I know that the weight of a decision to take a new job weighed heavily on him and that he wanted to start out on the proverbial "right foot." But I felt rejected, demoralized, depressed, and angry. 

I refrained from bothering him, and bottled up what would have probably turned into a sitcom-like scene wherein the pregnant woman turns into a hormonal lunatic while a dumbfounded husband is taken completely by surprise. Instead, I informed my kids that I was feeling weird and that maybe the baby would come today, but that Daddy was busy and I needed to take it easy until he was finished. I also talked with my oldest in more detail. Then I laid down in bed so as to stave off anything, in case labor was actually imminent. Small, short contractions came and went as I worried and fumed and while the kids got a little wild and cavorted upstairs and then took advantage of the lack of parental oversight to have a DVD marathon. In the end, the contractions eventually subsided by late afternoon.

Anyway, I'm glad our baby wasn't born that day after all, even if my husband's unpreparedness did help to postpone the birth. It was the birthday of our oldest son that day. He would have had a great present, but in a way his birthday would have been stolen from him. Besides, how would we have handled the pick-your-birthday-dinner tradition on future birthdays with a shared birthday?! Needless to say, our oldest got less attention than usual this past birthday, although we did manage to pull off his birthday dinner, cake, and presents that night anyway. Hopefully he is old enough to understand the unusual circumstances of that day. And in the future, the phrase, "Give me an hour" will run through my head whenever my spouse and I aren't connecting and I feel ignored by him or angry with him.

The Horse Saga

The Friday after Christmas was eventful. My parents left that morning, as the roads were finally clear enough. My husband's family was slated to arrive around noon. (They actually didn't arrive until that evening.) I was busy washing linens, setting up beds,  preparing food, and tending children. My husband was on the tractor getting more plowing done.

The doorbell rang in the early afternoon. I opened it to see three scruffy men outside. There was the doorbell ringer, who was the guy I described in a previous post who came to get Cy/Charlie the first time. (If you're not familiar with the ongoing stray horse story, you should go back and catch up on this thread for this post to make much sense: Horsin' Around, Gift Horse, Sorry, Charlie, Charlie, Suzie, and Zebo, Horse Trading) Then there were two more gents strung at intervals down the front sidewalk. They all seemed rather ageless. You may know the type: thin hair, missing teeth, scruffy face, thin, pale and haggard looking. I couldn't tell if they were young and had been living a hard life or if they were older.

"Do you have our horse?" the man on the porch asked me. I told him we didn't. "You don't?" he asked incredulously, looking surprised? I explained that my husband had been out on the tractor all morning and would have seen him if he was around, and that the tractor noise would have probably kept him away anyway. I noticed that I couldn't hear the tractor anymore and told them that my husband was probably in the barn now if they wanted to ask him. They shuffled their feet and frowned.

I saw that there was no vehicle parked on the drive as I looked past them. So I figured that they must have walked. Glancing back at them, I noted that they weren't dressed for so much snow. Two were wearing sneakers and a third was wearing those tan construction-type work boots with the dark brown padding around the ankle. Oddly enough, their feet didn't look snowy though. None had gloves or scarves. The hats they wore were bill caps. They didn't even have coats, just layers of quilted flannel shirts, sweatshirts, and jackets. I told them I'd keep a look-out for the horse and that I was sorry it had gotten loose again.

"Well, give us a call if you see him, okay?" The first man said. I agreed. As I closed the door, I wondered if they were related and living together or just friends. Then I thought that perhaps I could offer them a ride. And I was curious. Did they come through the woods or up our drive? I looked, but couldn't see them anywhere. They must have disappeared into the woods... just like their horse.