Tonight after work my boyfriend went to the store for us while I got leisurely for a minute after my hectic day. Then he mixed us each a Sazerac cocktail* and we cooked together: tiny, perfect marinated grilled lamb chops; red and yellow beets with balsamic and mint; a simple salad and mashed new potatoes. We tidied up together and took an almost psychedelically beautiful night walk on the farm. I nuzzled and petted the gentle new lambs;** we remarked on how high the water in the creek was and talked about the changes in the weather and what is to come with the evolving season. We checked in on the Canada Goose we've had our eye on as she patiently waits on her eggs, then visited the "dinosaur colony," as we've taken to calling the little creek beach and sandbar that have become home of late to so many
velociraptors geese it's like walking into a doll-house-sized seventy million years ago. (Recently we were thrilled to discover the first family of tiny, green puffball goslings there in one of the more thrilling, unusual wildlife viewing episodes I've experienced.) We stood on the bank, holding hands and squinting into the darkness, counting aloud and pointing, trying to distinguish the white breasts of upwards of forty geese from light on the water. Walking on past the wetlands we heard our first frog call*** of the season, along with many tiny rustlings that may or may not have been lady frogs closing in on his alluring lover's ballad. We came upon a tiny wild white rabbit, then a slinking black kitten- one of the many cats I see regularly on the farm- who walked a long way with us, weaving between our legs and across our path to incite us to pause and stoop for frequent urgent petting. As we walked the rainclouds blew off, revealing perfect clear oceans of dark sky and the moonlit tops of our nearby glorious Wasatch mountains and we talked about how happy we've been in this house by the farm, how lucky we are to be able to spend significant amounts of time there, observing the changes through each season. We talked (about how we're essentially Victorian naturalists and) about how great the farm is for kids- how spectacular it will be for our kids to be able to come and visit their grandma here, and how spectacular it will be for us to enjoy it with them.
Now, back in the house, we are listening to Andrew Bird, with the good smells from dinner still lingering. Stan is on the couch behind me, trying to read, and I am trying to write this, but in truth neither one of us is getting much done because we keep stopping to talk and laugh with each other. In a minute we'll make our way upstairs to tuck in to the middle third of our gigantic aircraft carrier bed where we will fall asleep, intertwined, in joy.
* Sazeracs and madeira= drinks of the moment! Get on the bandwagon while the season is young!
** Remember those chops we just ate? Mmm.
*** We can't see the suckers, so I have no idea what kind of frog (or toad) it is, but it sounds a lot like this.