We stayed in the little cabin in the hills for a couple of nights. Our stays are always too short. All we do is work. I keep hoping for some downtime to collect samples of all the plant species that live there, but alas. We go to check cows or move cows, repair fence or spray weeds. This time was no different . . . but there was that sunrise. Mark had dealt with leg cramps four times during the night so I let him sleep a bit longer while the dogs and I watched the sun come up.
We arrived at the cabin to discover the cliff swallows had invaded. Their odd, gourd-like nests were overhead in the porch eaves and piles of mud and droppings covered the decking. Shoot! I know from experience at home that swallows are a formidable opponent once they set up shop. There wasn’t much we could do, we could hear the little ones rustling in the nests, so we proceeded with our work.
At day’s end we sat outside, just off the porch, and noticed right away the lack of mosquitoes. Is this the work of the swallows? Mark is convinced it is. As usual I need more evidence, but he’s got a point. We’ve never been able to enjoy the evenings because of the nuisance bugs. Another reminder of the symbiosis of the natural world. Like the horses that stand head to tail in the summer to swish the flies away from each other, partnerships are all around us. And somewhere, somehow, a balance emerges.
The propane had leaked out of the large canister below the kitchen window so we had to make our meals on a campfire. There’s a ring of stones under the quakies out back and it turned out to be quite enjoyable. A wood fire is softer and more malleable than the hard propane flame on the stove. And everyone loves a campfire. I kept thinking about getting our grandkids up there when they get a little older.
Speaking of grandkids, we got our third in July, a boy. On the night he was born, Mark had to be gone for Idaho Cattle Association business, so I was all alone. I had put my “blessing candle,” the one Leah had distributed at Anna’s baby shower, in a safe place. It was to be lit when Anna went into labor, a kind of solidarity of womanhood to support her. It seemed as if the tender flame throughout the night represented the event that I was part way sleeping through. A new life was making its way into the world. Mom and Dad were singularly focused, an event was unfolding, and the flickering light stood in for that activity. When I got the text and photo at 4:21 am, I cried with relief and joy. What a feeling.
Lou is his name. He was just over 6 lbs so is a tiny guy. Lou sounds kind and thoughtful, a solid soul. Or he might grow up to be a beloved renegade, who knows. I just know he’s stolen this family’s heart which only swells with each new member.
