My summer evenings are treasured. We have the front porch room, then the lower garden room, the under the arbor area for shade, and the under the firs in the grass when it's really hot.
How graced I am, I realize it. The blog makes everything a dream like state - without me even trying to make it that way. It is because I focus on the positive here. I could write a blog that shared every intimate detail of the farm and my life but I choose not too. This is not the same thing as being dishonest, it is being selective and focusing on the stories of the animals, my inner voice, my inspirational moments, and capturing the essence for readers, and for myself. It's to document my time here. For some reason, I'm compelled to do that - all the time.
It does however create a persona of me, I realize that. Nobody can ever fully know someone just by reading their blog or conversing with them - even for years - on Facebook. I have some friends I've met online that have become real life friends, and I have others that have fizzled out - perhaps because they got irritated with what they perceived as the perfect persona - the woman that always seems grateful and never screams, and her dogs are always obeying and she walks elegantly in a flock of sheep. This does occur quite often, or sometimes on a very blue moon...but I also kick buckets. I cuss. If I told you my favorite string of swear words some of you might just die. I scream in the barnyard when I'm inpatient. I yell at God sometimes. I love the Wind but sometimes I yell at it. While I am humane, I can snap like anyone else on a hot day after bucking hay or mucking stalls and make comments to the animals just like I'm twelve and I'm talking to a bully in the playground - sometimes it helps get a goat to move.
I haven't written short stories for awhile. I think I will work on some this summer. I miss talking through The Head Troll and haven't even explored conversations with Moose and Goose. The Pig has so much to say.
Enjoy these photos of my perfectly perfect evening last night. While it fits into my perfectly perfect persona, these photos are all an honest view of the essence of that front porch on a summer night. There was no cussing or bucket kicking, just a breeze, two beautiful dogs, a husband cooking in the kitchen [I know, I know] and a garden movie that needs no soundtrack.
