Matilda the old donkey will turn nineteen this month and since she was used as a brood jenny for so many years, it is only fitting we celebrate her birthday on Mother's Day. She will picnic on Donkey Hill with her small little charges. It is hard to imagine any of these celebrations without Old Man Guinnias - he was always there to point everyone in the proper direction with his cane. But Professor Otis Littleberry is rising to these festive occasions and has been working on blowing up balloons all week. He insists on handling it himself - which I assume is why I keep hearing balloons popping in the barnyard.
There are so many mothers in my life- both human and animal. My real mother has the middle name of Matilda and is 86 and thriving. I wish I could see her more, but I have motherly affection from the sheep as well as the old donkey. I have women in my life that provide many nurturing, loving kindnesses on me - some from afar - but all make up my tribe.
On Sunday I will send love to all my mother friends and thank them for their hard work and nurturing. Nurturing is a selfless act and can leave the internal well a bit dry sometimes - this is when I turn to mothers of all sizes and species and just ask for...mothering. I always get it.
