Just five minutes, I thought. If I could just have five minutes of quiet, all to myself—to be still, to read, to think, to write. Just five minutes. I might feel sane again. I might be able to hear myself think for the five minutes thereafter. I might be able to function. But with two…
Five minutes. Just five minutes to tell you about the best piece of mail I’ve gotten? Oh wait, the best piece of mail I’ve gotten recently. Well then, you are saved from hearing about one of the mushy love letters pictured in the background of my blog. Or the birthday card I got in the…
It’s making plans. It’s writing lists. Ordering seeds, ordering supplies. (Ordering a tractor, too. After selling another one, mind you.) More to-do’s. More plans. Events. Promotions. Brochures. It’s January on the farm. And it’s enough to overwhelm anyone. I’m not ready for summer. I’m so not ready for summer. “But it’s only January,” my husband…
The End.
The End.