Ring around the Moon

What does it mean when there's a big, wide, misty ring around the moon? Snow? Harbinger of death? Good luck? Fertility? Hmm.

D and I went for a walk last night with Neko. I love moonlit walks, especially when the air is frosty and there's snow on the ground. Everything seems illuminated from within.

Things look different in the moonlight; more ethereal, less serious. I like how the trees are sharply outlined, how D's face is half-hidden, how Neko's eyes glint when she turns to stare at us from down the road.

I can't wait to walk in the moonlight through the fields at Someday. Someday...

Living with Boys

D and I have been shacked up with his brother since September, pending renovations on Someday Farm. We finally found a contractor, only to have him call us on the starting date to tell us his 17 year old son jumped out of the back of a moving truck and was in a coma. Geezalou. The poor man - the poor kid. So...Someday is still unoccupied and cold and lonely. But life could be a lot worse, as evidenced by our contractor.

So I represent a minority of estrogen here in the bungalow in Blair's Grove. (Neko doesn't count) I grew up in a household of women; my Dad left when I was in grade 9, and so my mom and sister and I developed our own feminine style of living, free of all male interference. Needless to say, things got real freaky once a month.

I've lived with lots of boys before; in fact, they were my preferred choice of roommate throughout university. I lived with a couple of girls 2nd year - Trish and Buffy - and they were fun, but really, boys are best. They don't hold grudges, or throw tantrums, or try to borrow your stuff. They don't sweat the small stuff. Apart from raunchy hockey equipment, occasional flatulence and a penchant for cleaning out all food-related items from the cupboards, they make excellent living companions.

Having gained two brothers through my marriage to D has been cool. Albeit, they're YOUNGER brothers, but I like it for a change from two sisters. They tease me incessantly, which I enjoy because I can dish it back. C has taken to buying me small treats when he goes to town, taking a hint from the times I'd bring him caramel corn or fudge from the city on my weekly work journeys. Last week it was a mini chocolate cream pie. The week before I coaxed him to bring me a fussy latte from the town's ONE and only decent coffee shop. This week, he brought me a Christmas tree. Yes! Finally! He didn't even complain when it dropped about a trillion needles all over the carpet.

I'm not sure what Christmas will be like this year, celebrating in close quarters with C and D. I'm just thankful to have someone to share the season with up here.

Joy in the cornfield

I saw eight deer in the West field the other night at D's parents' farm. D walked me to my car on his way to do chores.

"Watch out for ---," he called as he walked towards the milk house, but I couldn't hear him over the wind.

"Watch out for what?" I yelled back.

He put his fingers above his head like antlers and started prancing around. Quite a sight, a six-foot tall guy in coveralls pretending to be a deer. I felt a surge of affection go through me, waved and drove off.

And sure enough, as the Kia crawled down the bumpy lane through the darkness, I spied a flash of white off to my right - the flick of a tail as a doe lept through the cornfield. And then there were 3 more, then another 4, flickering across my headlights, bounding high and wide across the road.

I was fascinated; they were a stone's throw away from me, so I slowed the car to a halt. They watched me; I watched them. Then, as though someone had pressed a button, they turned in unison and danced their way through the field to the forest. Deer move with an otherworldly grace, leaping and flying over cornstalks, dodging each other in a pattern that seems planned. My heart lept with the deer, just like Clarice Starling's did in Hannibal.