It is my practice to take a nap in the afternoon. As soon as I begin to get in position on the couch and unfurl the quilt that will cover me -- the dogs are jockeying for positions. Now Truffle, my miniature schnauzer, is the oldest and my favorite animals on the farm. She gets the prime position closest to my head. That position is non negotiable. The other two settle in to spots further down with some negotiating. I love that they want to be with me.
Putting my seven chickens to bed at night, give me a great sense of contentment. I count them, finding six in a row, with Saffron on her usual post far away from the rest. Each night I thank them and tell them good night. I delight in their contented chirping and noises made by happy chickens.
My goats each deserve a greeting and a touch. I know that Morning Glory will want her belly rubbed. I know that Petunia will walk on my feet and push everyone away until I acknowledge her. Butterscotch will require a moment alone to crawl into my lap. Over with the bucks, they'll rub their heads on me to mark me as their own. Phin will snuffle in ear and touch his face gently to mine. Once they have greeted me, welcomed me into their space -- we can be content in spending time together. I love it when they treat me just like another one of the goats. I think that is a huge honor. I want to be one with them.
Then there are the birds that we feed, the barn cat that brings us gifts from hunting.
Then there is the house that is only ours, the property -- the land that I feel that I am now part of. There is a sacredness of place that I require. I don't want to be temporary, but I want to know this land, be part of it.
I share this home with my husband, Dave of 19 years. He is a driving force in gathering all that is on this spot we call home. We each have two grown children who come and are immediately part of this place when they visit. All of this -- the sum total of all these relationships -- is my tribe.
|Home, where my tribe lives|
|Playing with the goats|