Saturday was my best day yet since my little mishap with the
earth which disconnected my ankle bone from my leg bone.
You know what I did last Saturday? Nothing
– absolutely nothing, but enjoy the great outdoors, sitting next
to my loved one enjoying the fruits of our labor.
Saturday was my best day yet since my little mishap with the earth which disconnected my ankle bone from my leg bone.
You know what I did last Saturday? Nothing – absolutely nothing, but enjoy the great outdoors, sitting next to my loved one enjoying the fruits of our labor.
There we sat, me with my leg propped up watching our herd of animals and genuinely appreciating what was before me.
All week long my wonderful mate waited on me hand and foot, caring for me doing the best he could and, yet, he still wanted to sit with me to enjoy a moment of quality time. Lately, it seems the only meaningful conversations we have had are on the telephone.
My guy has been running back and forth from work to home checking in on me making sure that I’m fed and comfortable. What more could I ask for?
Nothing.
Ever notice how we work and slave to attain an ideal world in which to live in. It’s a world we envision for ourselves as part of the happiness of who we are as individuals.
For my sweetie and me, it’s living in the country on a ranch surrounded by critters and the only noise is the sound of nature playing out its song of survival. I discovered we had a batch of new chicks that hatched and another brooding hen disappeared down in the valley.
Jim teased me because I could do nothing to stop the brooding hen from slipping away into the valley of predators where she will lay her eggs.
What I do know is worrying about something I have no control over is a waste of time.
As the blue jay gave warning of an army of hawks bounding toward earth in search of tasty morsels like one of the new chicks, mama hen gave a warning cluck of her own, prompting the brood to make a dash for cover under the trailer.
“We can’t do this in the city,” I said stripping down to the bare necessities for comfort.
At one point in my life, my world was a 36 room mansion, which I lived in with my four children in Grosse Pointe, Michigan. But it’s only in the country where one can one truly enjoy the freedom of privacy, enjoy the fact the neighbor’s house isn’t breathing down your throat. Think about it – people pay a half a million bucks for a piece of property so their neighbors can see inside their home.
My lifestyle at the mansion cannot be compared to the lifestyle at Linda’s Last Chance Ranch, which I prefer.
Daisy Mae, our great big lovable ass, pleaded with me to bring her a treat as did Junior, the 1,200-pound quarter horse who looked at me intuitively – I’m sure because he acted like something was wrong with me since I didn’t respond to his big brown eyes with a carrot and a pat on the nose.
Behind Junior, a pair of bellowing sheep continued to taunt our patience.
“Can you say, barbecue?” Jim bellows back.
While in my little predicament, I have read until my eyes hurt and I have become a “pro clicker,” with the remote control. I am woman, hear me click!
There are many things going on around me that I have no control whatsoever. What was sparking the attention for a flock of chickens to turn on their squawk box? Even so, in my current condition, there is not much I can do about it if it is a bobcat or a coyote deciding to stop in at Linda’s Last Chance Ranch for lunch except shout “OOH-RAH” out my window, give it my best battle cry in attempts to convince any predator in hiding that his cover was blown.
Ironically so, doesn’t it seem that once we have achieved our dream world that we allow ourselves so little time to enjoy what we have created.
There are deadlines to meet, bills to pay – everybody is running around with a daily list of 20 things to do.
If not confined to a chair and a pair of crutches, I would have taken last Saturday for granted and done something like go food shopping or taking a trip to the video store and doing other routine chores.
My limited movement has caused me to curse at the perfectly good days that I wasted away when I had both feet on the ground. Feeding my animals is part of what I envision, but instead of enjoying the experience connecting with these wonderful creatures, it became routine – unnoticed. Now I wish I could feed them.
Yes, there is plenty of time on my hands to philosophize. What I noticed is how giving people have been and their kindness has found its way to my door. Cards, bouquets of flowers, e-mails, dancing stuff chickens, home-cooked lasagna, baked pies and a great pizza pie personally delivered by a colleague of mine – these are a few of my favorite things. Not the list of 20 things to do that don’t mean a thing.
Linda Lee King is a staff writer for the Free Lance. She finally has a laptop and an Internet connection, and will be working from the Last Chance Ranch for the next few weeks keeping her chickens company. Her column appears on Wednesdays.
