Winter managed to subsume my Spring Break. Snow fell, wind howled, rain is blowing sideways, and I had to order hay again. And, like the rest of my theory class, I spent the week sleeping off a sinus infection and cold. So much for the To-Do List I was set on accomplishing.
This week has been the eye of the storm, a busy yet eerily silent space in my life, which is once again measured in semesters. I won't recap what's gone before, but after this week I have in succession: playing in performance class, accompanying for a regional vocal competition, singing tenor in the choir for Mozart's Requiem, singing in studio, page turning for the last concert this season, lambing season, So. In. Music and Fiber Festival, finals, juries, KY Wool and Fiber Festival, Shearapalooza, Worldfest, First Vineyard Festival, 1st session summer classes, and hopefully the National round of aforementioned vocal competition. There will be no time to think, breathe, or plan. The few moments of respite I've gathered in between coughing and mouth breathing have to last me 3 more months.
It's a time of expectation outside, where between 7 and 19 sheep to be swim in amniotic slumber. They are due any moment and I am a particularly anxious shepherdess this year. I've never delivered any of these ewes and I have two maidens. The Icelandic girls aren't due for a month but their sides protrude like bowling balls! The sheep are averaging 5lbs of hay each per day, a truly astounding amount of consumption. They are waiting for pasture.
Waiting for the results on Champagne's tumor was somewhat ameliorated by the news that my music scholarship has been renewed and increased for next year. I am thoroughly shocked and humbled, and of course have doubled my resolve to do better.
I have one less fan.
Bean's toes fell off a couple of weeks ago and she suddenly gained a personality! She decided eating from my hand was far preferable to eating out of a dish. She started peg-legging to the front of her cage every day to see what everyone was up to. She hopped down and wandered around my bedroom a few times. On the few sunny days I took her outside and she cooed and chirped on the back deck. This morning I woke up and said, "Hi Bean". Fed the dogs, sheep, ducks, turkeys...came inside and poked Bean. She didn't move. Bean died in the night, head folded under her wing, eyes closed. Her supporters advocated my building a separate coop for her this year. Detractors said I should have put her in the stew pot the day I found her frozen on the ground. I think it worked out exactly the way it was supposed to. Bean's death was neither painful nor violent. She was happy and well loved. She was keen on Beethoven and Hamentashen. She will be missed.
I came across a mixed media collage this week with the following message: "Dear Soul, you are on a remarkable journey. (You're doing a great job.)" It was just what I needed to hear at this rest stop. Bean has finished her journey. Champagne is doing a great job teaching me. Zeke is doing a great job learning. And I have reached the end of this break. Time to journey on.
This week has been the eye of the storm, a busy yet eerily silent space in my life, which is once again measured in semesters. I won't recap what's gone before, but after this week I have in succession: playing in performance class, accompanying for a regional vocal competition, singing tenor in the choir for Mozart's Requiem, singing in studio, page turning for the last concert this season, lambing season, So. In. Music and Fiber Festival, finals, juries, KY Wool and Fiber Festival, Shearapalooza, Worldfest, First Vineyard Festival, 1st session summer classes, and hopefully the National round of aforementioned vocal competition. There will be no time to think, breathe, or plan. The few moments of respite I've gathered in between coughing and mouth breathing have to last me 3 more months.
It's a time of expectation outside, where between 7 and 19 sheep to be swim in amniotic slumber. They are due any moment and I am a particularly anxious shepherdess this year. I've never delivered any of these ewes and I have two maidens. The Icelandic girls aren't due for a month but their sides protrude like bowling balls! The sheep are averaging 5lbs of hay each per day, a truly astounding amount of consumption. They are waiting for pasture.
Waiting for the results on Champagne's tumor was somewhat ameliorated by the news that my music scholarship has been renewed and increased for next year. I am thoroughly shocked and humbled, and of course have doubled my resolve to do better.
I have one less fan.
Bean's toes fell off a couple of weeks ago and she suddenly gained a personality! She decided eating from my hand was far preferable to eating out of a dish. She started peg-legging to the front of her cage every day to see what everyone was up to. She hopped down and wandered around my bedroom a few times. On the few sunny days I took her outside and she cooed and chirped on the back deck. This morning I woke up and said, "Hi Bean". Fed the dogs, sheep, ducks, turkeys...came inside and poked Bean. She didn't move. Bean died in the night, head folded under her wing, eyes closed. Her supporters advocated my building a separate coop for her this year. Detractors said I should have put her in the stew pot the day I found her frozen on the ground. I think it worked out exactly the way it was supposed to. Bean's death was neither painful nor violent. She was happy and well loved. She was keen on Beethoven and Hamentashen. She will be missed.
I came across a mixed media collage this week with the following message: "Dear Soul, you are on a remarkable journey. (You're doing a great job.)" It was just what I needed to hear at this rest stop. Bean has finished her journey. Champagne is doing a great job teaching me. Zeke is doing a great job learning. And I have reached the end of this break. Time to journey on.
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