The best remedy for my heart on the days when grief rolls in like morning fog and refuses to burn off with sunshine is hard work.
If weather permits I go outside and move hay bales, pick up limbs, cut weeds or do anything that requires large muscles to accomplish the task. The goal is exhaustion so I can sleep.
If the weather doesn’t cooperate, I’ll try to tackle jobs inside that I otherwise tend to ignore. If you ever see me cleaning the bathroom or kitchen sink fixtures with a toothbrush, just leave me alone-I’m working something out.
So these past days leading up to Dominic’s birthday, that’s what I’ve done.
I sheared sheep, raked out a hay shed, moved hay, medicated horses, dogs and goats, picked up limbs brought down by rain and high winds, vacuumed, washed clothes, cleaned bathrooms and organized (sort of) my closet.
The ungrateful sheep and the silly cat kneading his paws while I’m bent over shearing her.
Skinks are some of the happier surprises when moving hay. Snakes and ants not so much.
The good thing about so many critters that eat grass is that I rarely cut it.
Now I’m worn slap out!
I think I’ll hit the sack.