The country life

Nothing could be more mundane, and that's why I like it. The chickens are securely put to bed (or to roost) for the night, with fresh water, food, and a rock in front of the coop door. I'm enjoying a bowl of rice and beans with a rum and OJ, beginning chapter 8 of The Spy Who Came In From the Cold. Gven Golly is in town teaching her Tuesday night yoga class, and I have the house-sitting to myself for a while. So I take a walk around the yard in the crusty snow, work out a little on the broad front porch of our friends' log house, listen to the Mothers, the Who, and the Clash on their excellent stereo. It's remarkably comfortable here, more evenly heated than our brick antique in town, with doors and windows that are snug and tight. The weather has gotten warmer after last week's snow and ice storms and this week's subzero nights. When the wind blows, it knocks the melting ice off the roof and trees, and the strange house makes lots of odd noises.

Gven and I talked about doing something like this ourselves in ten years or so, moving further away from the city and getting a couple of animals. Something about being here opened up a kind of conversation we haven't had in a long time. Sitting across Lulu's table facing each other in this big country kitchen with my wife of 26 years and friend of 28 - more than half my life - we talked about where we were back in '76, '77, '78. Part of that time was spent house-sitting in a friend's log cabin in the snowy hills of upstate New York, using their kitchen, woodstove, and bed (but no plumbing, no chickens, and no Clash). A lot has happened since then, and now our older child is almost Gven's age back then.

We had a great week. It didn't go exactly as planned, of course, but what adventure does? I didn't have the time away from work to spend leisurely days out at the ranch. My ancient nordic skis stayed in the car all week, with no time or opportunity to strap them to my feet and take off across a field. Our offspring didn't want to shelve their own plans to trek out route 3 and visit us and the chickens - not even for a couple of hours! But Gven Golly and I did celebrate our anniversary in a manner befitting our life - with a bottle of red wine and a take-and-bake pizza from Mama Mimi's - after putting the lovely chickens to roost for the night.