There is a certain rhythm that we dance to here are the farm. Every morning, before we do anything, we let the dogs out, and then bring them in and feed them (have I told you about the dogs?), feed the inside cats, let the dogs out again, feed the outside cats, let the chickens out of their coop and make sure they have food and water. Then we sit down and have coffee. There. Probably more than you would ever want to know about two 50 somethings with a pretty boring life.
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| Oliver, King of the Pride |
One could find the routine mundane, but I am reminded everyday why I married this man that I now share my life with. He sees the wonders in small things and shares them with me, and I with him.
In this daily morning routine we are sung to. Every morning. The outside cats, our worker cats, greet us at the door and sing. Eight voices, always in unison, never on key. It is glorious.
They sing for their supper and we gladly oblige them.
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