|Image from www.telegraph.co.uk|
Below, if I had to list them, are my top three complaints today. I am excluding the "big picture" irritants, and you will see no mention here of the obviously unacceptable global phenomena (child sex trafficking, war, animal abuse, the Tea Party). I'm keeping this simple.
1) The freezing weather, which requires bucketing water to my livestock. And yet—they live a mere 30 yards from my door and drink a mere 20 gallons per day. Compared to a rancher or a boarding barn proprietor, for instance, I have light work.
2) The mysterious disappearance of my "good" winter jacket, which means I must wear my hayish one to work. And yet—my coworkers forgive me! After all, I have six photos of my mule pinned to the communal bulletin board. Hay is just part of the package.
3) The shortage of funds since Mr. Jones ran short on carpentry work this month. This is probably the biggest hassle, and yet still slight in the grand scheme: we have each other. We have our home. We have our health, and while we may end up with a homemade Christmas we certainly will not end up on the street. We even have money trickling in, in the meantime, from my entrepreneurial endeavors: a $10 poem here, a $15 book there. It's food on the table.
And what I'm thankful for? More than there's room to write. Indoor plumbing. Hay. My health. My children. My husband. Love. This house, this farm, this mule, these bunnies. My work, my friends, my parents, my in-laws. These goats, these chickens, this dog, these cats. My hat, my boots, my saddle, my harness. My sleigh bells, my trails, my hopes, my goals. My dreams awaiting, and those already come true.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours. May your hassles pale before your gratitude.