In Geardagum

 Starting with a cute thing from work.  Our pigs are quite friendly and love to have belly rubs - Jennifer had her hands full this morning.

Had some fun random conversations while making diets.  At what point does one realized that the plural of octopus is octopuses and not octopii?  I've been using the latter my whole life and it's hard to change.  And when was it decided (and by whom) that you don't have to put two spaces after a period when you're typing (doesn't matter - my thumb is automatically going to do that double hit.)  Finally, someone yelled out "how about the Oxford comma?"  Me - I'm on Team Oxford Comma."  Jennifer stated "I will die on that hill."   Just some silly stuff, but I really miss that sort of thing and sometimes feel my brain will turn to goo without it.

Now that the barn project is done (for now  - I'll still be piddling around for awhile) I tackled some more underbrush.  We use to have a little grove of trees on one side of the house, but Hurricane Michael took them out (except for one magnolia).  There are some new ones coming up, but they were choked out by underbrush and cat briar.  It was a two-day job to clean that out.

So yesterday I finally turned to the chicken coop.  After the last raccoon attack in November - when I thought I had finally secured the run and everything had been fine for a month - I just felt sort of broken.  I moved my last chicken Rock to the back deck, and she's been there since then.  But I miss having chickens, and I want to get some more, and the back deck is far from ideal (no place for the birds to scratch, and even one chicken is amazingly messy).  I found a rotted board where the run meets the coop.  With a little pushing, it could be moved a couple of inches.  That doesn't sound like much, but it's amazing that a full-grown raccoon can push through a three-inch hole.  I pulled it down, and mentally added "go to Lowe's for a 2x4" to my things to do list.  But about then my scrap-metal guy came back for his final load, and asked me if I needed any wood; he had pulled down an old house and salvaged then wood.  He was nice enough to drop off a couple of 2x4s for me.  I was working today (and besides, it's raining) and will be tomorrow but Thursday I can work on that.

When I finish, Suzie has offered to come inspect - I'm going to take her up on that.

I was walking around after I finished, and thinking how still and quiet everything was.  A word came to me; that morning I had been having a FB exchange with an English friend about Old English (yes, I like odd topics of conversation).  I had said that one of my favorite words was "ymbsittendra."  It means your friends - literally "around sitters", the people you sit around with.   As I was walking, another word came to me: geardagum.  It means "year days" - days in years gone by.  Or, in story telling, once upon a time.

So as I walked, quiet and alone, I was thinking about geardagum.  In geardagum, Bob would have been there.  We would have had peacocks strolling around, the sheep and goats let out to graze, the crazy emu running about.  Chickens clucking in the scratch yard.  Cats following us around.

Now it's just me, drifting like a forgotten ghost that everyone left behind.  Time took the sheep and goats and emu and Bob.  Bobcats got the peacocks, and raccoons got the chickens.  After Wilhelm disappeared (I think something got him) and Hamish got bobcat fever, I realized that the cats have to be kept indoors to keep them safe.  It's better, but I miss having yard cats.

But it's all so beautiful here.  Spring is springing.  One small plum tree, that I thought was dead and was actually somewhat in the way in an awkward spot, is covered with little white blossoms, so it will be spared the chain saw.  The azaleas are budded out but not yet blooming.  After they bloom, the ones in front on the house need some severe pruning, but for now I can just enjoy them.   Soon I'll get some baby chicks.  The cycle continues.