The morning chores are the same each day, but Friday mornings are different. They signal an end to the week, the beginning of the weekend. We are tired, in need of pulling back, quieting, being together, resting. A busy six months. These chores are very different in the past few weeks. Rocky’s death was very hard for us, but it also marked the passage of experience, from Florence’s farm to ours. And the farm has calmed, routines falling into place. Red goes and gets the sheep and watches them as they go to their feeder.  He does not move unless the sheep do. The donkeys go to their own feeder. Maria and I get water for the buckets, shovel the manure out of the barn, lets the chickens out and feeds them. We sweep the barn and clear out the hay leavings, mice droppings.

Suddenly, the sun comes up over the pasture.

Maria turns the heat on in her studio. I take photos for Instagram with my Iphone and then some with my big camera for the blog. We go in and make breakfast together, eat and talk about our day. Friday is different, the weekend is special to us, even though the chores will be the same. Every Friday means I am closer to a meaningful life, blessed with the opportunity to change and grow and create. Friday is special.