We live on the outskirts of Charlottesville, on a hillside in the woods. Our water comes from a well. We need to go for a short hike down the hill to pick up the mail.
We've had a lot of rain lately. People around here say we need the rain. They have a way of shaking off the dreary weather. For me, I'd rather have steady sunshine, and that we have in abundance this morning, thanks be to God. The air is crisp, the trees around us are waking up.
Our friend Karen in Tennessee sent this short poem last night, and I think it captures things pretty well. Enjoy your Friday.
Love in the CountryBy James Richardson, Fiat Lux
by William Stafford
from Stories That Could Be True
We live like this: no one but
some of the owls awake, and of them
only near ones really awake.
In the rain yesterday, puddles
on the walk to the barn sounded their
quick little drinks.
The edge of the haymow, all
soaked in moonlight,
dreams out there like silver music.
Are there farms like this where
no one likes to live?
And the sky going everywhere?
While the earth breaks the soft horizon
eastward, we study how to deserve
what has already been given us.