Night Chores

I know some people farm with a rigid schedule of early to rise and early to bed and all that. That works good for some folk, but, we’re just not 5 am morning people here. When we are up at 5 am, it’s because we haven’t gone to bed yet.

Nope for us, it’s the crack of 9 for the most part. And that means we’re often finishing up chores a bit later in the afternoon…er… evening.

Sometimes, even in the dark.

And I love it.  The farm is so delightful in the twilight hours.  It’s usually cool, especially wonderful on a hot, musty day.  The animals are full of grazing and eager for a good scratching and can be led easily to their barns.  The chickens are already in their roost, all softly cooing and occasionally moving a wee bit.  There are night bugs dancing around lights and crickets serenading their pals.  It’s a very special time.

All the barns feel different, they glow from the little lightbulbs inside, casting these warm, welcoming streams of light into the dark twilight.  Those without light are usually lit by the moon’s glow.  You don’t miss the dust and dirt, the manure and disheveled day to day look.  You just see golden straw with a sparkle of moonlight, and hear the soft breath of contented livestock.

I like walking through the back pastures and seeing the stars fill the whole, wide sky with a show that is better than any planetarium.  I like to sit on a wire spool table and just lay back and watch it all from the best seat in the place.  I like to just lay there and wish on shooting stars and wonder if they will come true.

It’s so quiet and almost spooky, yet familiar and comforting.  Cody goes quietly into his barn and turns around so he can get in a last minute goodnight nibble with his soft velvetly lips.  I think he likes me.  His pony kisses are worth a pot of gold to me.  I give him a good scratching behind his ears and under his chin and he blows a soft contented sigh of pleasure at my face before he turns around and goes to find a soft bed in the hay and straw for the night.  I love to watch him circle around in the dim light, like a big dog and then grunt a little breath and lay down.  It’s a ritual that just feels ageless and it’s only been a few weeks.

The dogs runs back and forth in their yard, trotting all over and giving any passing haunt a good stiff bark to let them know, they are on duty.  Moths dance around the screen porch light and to hear the door slam, it means we’re all done and it’s time to call it another fantastic day in our little homestead paradise.

I love night chores.

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About Mobymom

the banjo player for Deepwater Bluegrass, and the editor of as well as the main graphic designer of the Westvon Publishing empire. She is a renaissance woman of many talents and has two lovely daughters and a rehab mobile home homestead to raise.

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