Gloomy, misty, dark morning. The warrior for light is restless, a little gloomy back. Got up early this morning to feed the animals. Maria joined me, both of us in our night clothes and rubber boots and caps, looking strange, the animals all standing by the gate, waiting for us. Simon brays when he hears me come down the stairs and into the kitchen. We made some breakfast, got back into bed to read. My Hubbard Hall Writer’s Workshop is meeting this afternoon, a wonderful group of talented writers working on their blogs, their writing, their sketches and memories. Got to figure out what we will do this year and when I might do another workshop.

The farm is shrouded in fog and mist, mud and manure. I always feel for the animals, ice thawing, the ground soggy, little green to graze on. The gloom can pull me down, I need to take a photo, talk to Maria, take a walk, pull myself back up.