Remember “Nothing to do”?

I took the day off of work yesterday to get some things done around the house because I have roughly 346 things that I ignore on a daily basis and hope they just get done on their own.  You know, laundry, dusting, sweeping?  All that stupid stuff.  We made the decision recently to stop our housekeeping service since Tom is semi-retired and it was summer.

That was a dumb decision.

Anyway, I got some things done yesterday, but somehow ended up with  more to do than I started with…which I can never figure out, but always seems to happen.  You’ll be happy to know that I actually planted seeds in the garden last night and didn’t get eaten by a wolf-spider.  I brought Opal with me though and let her free-range a bit with the hope that if suddenly I was sucked into a spider hole, she’d do something about it…like eat the spider.   Unfortunately, she was too interested in the yard full of crickets to even notice that I was there.  So, I bravely faced the spiders and hoed up some soil, threw in some seeds, decided it was too humid, gave up and herded Opal back to the coop where Cluck and Vinnie were standing with their beaks pressed up against the fence awaiting her return.

My humidity hair kind of looks like this.

My humidity hair kind of looks like this.

This morning, I stumbled out to let out the Beaked Freaks in my coffee cup pj’s and my giant humidity hair.  As I approached the coop, I heard a weird, guttural howl.  Sasquatch?  I timidly opened the door and there stood Vinnie…on a log…the weird sound I heard was his crow.  Good grief.  Now I’m going to have Big Foot hunters in the backyard drawn by that howl.  Tom will be in his glory since that’s about all he watches on TV in addition to shows about aliens.

I let the chickens out and stood and watched them for a while, drinking in the cooler morning air.  I was reminded again of summers at my aunt and uncle’s farm.  My cousin and I would get up in the morning, eat something terrible for us like chocolate cake or cookies that my aunt always had on the counter.  We’d get dressed and fuss with our hair, because that’s what teenage girls do.  My aunt would have work for us, like pitting cherries from the orchard and we always managed to get out of the house before she could arm us with hair pins and a big cake pan of cherries to pit.  We weren’t very much help.

Photo of a field bridge, much like the one we laid on so many years ago.  Photo by Dave King.

Photo of a field bridge, much like the one we laid on so many years ago. Photo by Dave King.

Every day, we spent lamenting that we had nothing to do.  One day I remember getting on bikes and riding down a long dusty tractor path between the fields to a wooden bridge that spanned a small creek.  The wooden bridge was not for local traffic, but was one of those bridges installed by farmers so that they can easily cross from field to field with their farm implements.  We threw our bikes in the long grass next to the road and sprawled out in the sun on the bridge.  I can still remember how the morning sun felt deliciously warm.  I laid on my stomach and watched the water flow by through one of the spaces between the weathered wooden planks of the bridge.  The air was full of the sounds of crickets and dragonflies played along the creek.  Water bugs skittered along the surface of the water, their feet making tiny dents in the water surface as they skated along.  The sky was a huge dome of blue.  The smell of pollinating corn was intoxicating.  We plotted and planned and tried to figure out SOMETHING we could do, wallowing in our teenage angst.  Just immersing myself in those thoughts brings back the memories of the breeze playing through long grasses that had gone to seed, the rustle of the corn leaves and the feeling of the sun-warmed, weathered wood on my skin.

Oh what I wouldn’t give to have “nothing to do” today.

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