Routine

When we first moved in, our neighbor, Sarah in the cottage had asked if we had a routine. I had replied, ‘the only routine I have is coffee first thing in the morning,’ and this was true for many years.  Caring for the vegetable garden and now chickens (yes, chickens!) has flipped our old habits on their head.  Though we still sleep in until eight or nine, we’re out the door shortly after to begin our day, gardening and taking care of the chickens.  I think it’s pretty safe to say that we both feel lots of pressure to keep things alive and to be responsible about the new lives, both plant and animal, that we’ve taken on.

Everything has been moving in inches.  People walk slower here.  The plants grow in literal inches, and there’s no such thing as same day service unless you’re at the coffee shop ordering. It’s both relaxing and frustrating at the same time.  It’s a big cycle of the delay in the delivery which made the guest late which…  I’m also slower.  And even though it seems like nothing is getting done.  I’m okay with that.  Because this newer relaxed me is worth it.  I’m starting to realize that that remaining city girl ‘now now now’ part of me is still still slowly releasing her grip, and once she’s calmed down to sit down and look around, the improvement in the garden will be a bit more obvious.  For now I’m reminding myself by seeing photos from when we fist moved in and comparing that against what’s going on now, and man, that corn did get way tall didn’t it?

It’s about lunch time now and everything’s been watered, the chickens fed and put into their respective ‘pastures.’ I’ve had my coffee and breakfast and am ready to just pass out for a little while.  Making mental lists of the projects for the afternoon while being lulled to sleep by the dripping faucet that my city girl side is impatiently waiting to get fixed.

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