Flapping slow

Em suggested that I try to give the cows a brush, get them used to being handled, used to being around people. I was giving Bessie a pat yesterday as she ate her breakfast, checking for ticks. She didn’t seem that keen and turned and wandered away. Then whack! A quick kick that just missed me and got her feed bucket. If it had got me it would have really hurt. I’ve been explaining to Noah lately that brave means being scared of something and doing it anyway, so this morning I gave Bessie a brush. Not that I was that scared, but I noticed I moved pretty quickly when she started to turn at one stage.


Mum and I worked on the architraves again today while Noah alternated between helping and playing with his new stencil that Nana gave to him this morning. She’s been here for nearly four weeks and she’s still pulling presents out of her case. I started the tricky architraves after lunch, denailing and dressing the dirty grey timbers. I really enjoy dressing old timber, making it straight and square with the thicknesser and jointer. I also get far too much pleasure out of the shavings from these. I collect them and put them in a bucket next to the composting toilet, carbon to balance the nitrogen in our humanure. They’re quite soft, although sometimes crunchy, and make cool little swirls and patterns. Reusing what we have, reducing waste. I also quite enjoy showers after a day thicknessing timber, finding out how much sawdust ends up in my nose.


I caught little snippets of Pema Chodron as I drove back and forth between Sue and Rob’s and home. “Come back to the present moment.” “Look at the sky.” “Wake up.” Late in the day I was hunched over outside, chopping wood, when a distant screech made me stand up and look at the sky. It was black cockatoos, calling to each other up the valley, flapping slow and flying fast.

“I’m grateful that I did that vacuuming and had a nice day.”
(Confused? Look)