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April 17, 2012: My Readership

Today our old friends Mariann Stoffel and Marj Weathers dropped by for a visit. They braved the goo in the driveway and the muck in the pen in order to chat with Pete and me. And there was a lot to talk about since we had not seen one another since last fall.

Mariann and Marj are horse people. Mariann owns Kohlfaxi, an older Icelandic gelding, and Marj owns Delilah, a younger quarter horse Icelandic cross.

It was a long winter for all of us. Marj drove a school bus, day in and day out, and Mariann’s been dealing with a bum knee. She suspects that she’s going to need surgery—she now owns two sets of crutches and a walker. Today a ski pole doubled as a cane. We’re all glad to see spring, a time of rebirth, as is evidenced by Signy’s swaying belly.

It was an overcast day, so I was surprised that we all hung out for some time in the horse pen, I surmised that if it had been crapped out, that we would not have lingered as long as we did. We instead watched the horses move from hay pile to hay pile. We didn’t spend any time in the goat pen, so this evening I cleaned it out. At the very least the goats seemed happier.

After a while we ventured to the main cabin and over tea talked some more, mainly about horses, chickens, and dogs. Mariann’s little terrier Joey passed away last week, which caused her to observe that “all conversations seem to go back

Mariann Stoffel
Mariann Stoffel

Marj Weathers
Marj Weathers

in that direction.” (This seemed to me to be an astute observation that alludes to the flexibility of language).

Marj said that she’s been reading the local dispatches (Hi Marj!). This got me wondering, just how many readers do I have? I suspect three or four, which is not bad considering that I could easily have none.

I’m not overly concerned about the number of readers. I’m having a really good time doing what I’m doing, making connections using vignettes, poems, and photographs. I’m thinking that I’m going to be documenting Hrimfari’s first year, starting when he gets here. For now, the waiting game continues.

Barking at Air

Dog, there is nothing out there
worth barking at. I know this
because I again made the mistake of looking
when you told me otherwise. Perhaps you saw something
I did not. No, my sideways glance
down road seems to be reason enough
for you to pick back up where you started.
I begin barking. Together, I witless owner, and you, witless dog,
remain intent on killing quietude.

Next: 131. 4/18/12:Solfari