I love hearing the coyotes at night, even staying up for it sometimes. It really does beat the trains and cars of the city, their spooky songs of freedom… They sounded close tonight, and I think if being a kid, all those nights of calling back to them…
This morning, while we were eating breakfast, grandma noticed a coyote coming up the hill. A coyote had stolen a chicken yesterday, and we weren’t about to let it happen twice. Bruce says he’s a good shot, and after missing once from the kitchen window we’d sent him outside with grandma’s rifle just after breakfast when we thought the coyote had come back around (the puppy was barking). This is a record of what was said from the kitchen window in the following moments…:
Alice: “I think he’s too late, look how sacred that chicken looks! ” (we look out the window to see a chicken with her head in the air, looking all around wildly and half-walking half-running toward the house).
Grandma: “one of her friends was probably already raptured”. (peels of laughter)
After looking around the room for a dramatic pause…grandma again: “secret raptured”.
I love my family.
So, this week while I was painting the barn, my mom brought the dogs down, and decided to help trim the bottom parts. While we were busy working, we heard the dogs happily splashing and playing innocently in a small puddle in the valley. Little did we know the horses were lurking…They don’t like the dogs, and one of them had gone down there to do some puppy stomping. running like a gazelle down the hill, I intervened just in time to drive off the enemy and save my dog, when I realized that the big horse hadn’t had his fun, and thought he would gain ground while I was distracted. Whoever said horses weren’t smart had never angrily told a horse exactly where you wanted them to be. Notice, he listened and went right to where I was pointing. This was my chance to call the puppy out of harms way, and as I was herding the dogs back up the hill I realized my mother found this whole situation very humorous. Some people… :-)
Yesterday, one of my neighbors came down the road while I was painting a barn. He’s an older gentleman, and a chain smoker. Likes to talk a lot, ‘cause he hasn’t been working in quite awhile. I know many people avoid conversations with him, or try to end them as quickly as possible and move on with their lives. I once heard another neighbor say that he could finish this guys sentences for him because he’d heard his stories so many times. Instead of cutting the conversation short, I decided to talk to him. I even asked him questions and kept the conversation going. We probably talked for three hours, but when he left, he had a great big smile on his face, and hopefully even a few more new things to talk about. Sometimes all people need is someone to talk to who will listen.
Have you taken the time to listen to someone this week?