Ferrying Farmers

I never did get that relaxing second cup of coffee out on the step yesterday morning, as a ride from the field was requested. The coffee was poured into a travel mug, leggings were pulled on under the oversize T-shirt worn to bed, bare feet were slipped into sandals, and out to the road I went.

new sandals

The two pairs of new sandals

They were preparing to seed oats and the rush was on, so would I pack a lunch? Of course I would, but made of what? A trip to town for sandwich meat would be necessary, which meant washing up and hopping into Little Green again upon returning.

This morning I slept late for some reason — not a good one, either, as I was in bed listening to the end of “Quirks and Quarks” by 11:30 last night, although still awake by the end of “As It Happens, the Midnight Edition” at 1 o’clock. Maybe there was dozing through some of that; there must be a way to have the CBC Radio iPhone app, and the phone, shut off automatically. Right? Now if only I could figure out how to make the earbuds remove themselves … .

At 5:30 I made a trip down the hallway to the bathroom, and considered suiting up and heading out the door. There is no more beautiful time of day for walking three miles (which I’ve not been doing consistently and am trying to get back into the habit of). But … warm cosy bed beckoned me back. Till 10 o’clock. I know! That’s ridiculous. Oh well, it is what it is: a waste of perfectly good morning time, but also an appreciated luxury and freedom.

My sweetie was long gone by the time I stumbled to the kitchen to make coffee.

“At least leave me a note when you leave before I’m awake,” I’d said to him the other day. “Then I have some clue where you are, and know whether I need to make enough coffee for you too.”

This is what I found on the kitchen table this morning:


Not as welcome as a goodbye kiss … not as direct as it could be … but I get the message: “I’ll be starving! Bring food!”


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