We’ve had quite a bit of rain, which put a stop to seeding but we needed the rain badly and no one is complaining.
The wind’s cold this morning so I haven’t been able to sit out on the step, but the sun’s shining. It might be perfect for a brisk walk once I get moving. Instead I’m reading. Tsk. But hey. Reading does me every bit as much good as walking. If I couldn’t walk I’d miss the exercise, but if I couldn’t read … oh lord, that would be a tough loss to deal with. Thank goodness for talking books. I’d better not ever go deaf.
In job interviews I’ve been asked “What do you do to manage stress?” and I always say I walk or do yoga, but really the best stress-buster is probably reading. It relaxes and centres me as well as, very often, making me excited about life and people. There’s an endless supply of fascinating stories, many of them true. Those that are fictional still contain a lot of truth. One thing I admire about authors is the way they can sometimes put something into words that I was only aware of as a feeling but had never articulated, or even tried to. Like this:
“Here is a lesson I never seem to learn: Whenever you say something unkind about anybody, it is as if you have said something unkind to Uncle Thoby personally.” –Come, Thou Tortoise, by Jessica Grant.
Yes! That is sometimes how I feel when I hear someone badmouthed: as if the unkind thing has been said to me personally; as if my aura has been rent.
This morning the boys are moving a few of their cattle over here. Calves, I believe I heard Scott say, though they would likely be last year’s. Usually the boys include at least one old cow with the small herd of about 10 that will keep the grass down in our 32 acres. She’s the one that keeps the rest sensible, that doesn’t freak out over nothing and stampede through the electric fence. As long as she remains calm, so do they.
Apparently more rain is in the forecast. That, we don’t need, and if we get it there will be complaining.