It was a rainy Sunday morning, and My Taller Half and I were up early getting ready for the 45-mile drive to our church in Beach Town. I looked out the window to see if the neighbor’s Manx kitty was out front. He didn’t appear to be there, and I told my Taller Half so.
But the girls are.
I craned my neck to see a black hen and a red hen standing on our welcome mat. I hoped they didn’t leave any presents. He just washed the front walk.
It was Valentine’s Day, and a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a balloon graced the top of our upright piano. It was a big day. We were planning a trip to Red Lobster for lunch!
As we walked out the door, the girls were still out front, but when they saw us get in the car and pull away, they headed back to their home. There were three cars at the four-way stop, all going in different directions. That’s a traffic jam in Pixley. Everyone waited and waved for the other to go first.
Someone was out early, loading their horse in a trailer at the vet’s office. I hope they keep him covered and out of this cold rain, said my Taller Half.
It was in the low 40s. I’m pretty sure that horses are fine outside. Horses live outside where it snows.
You know I have a tender heart.
He does, and that’s why the neighbor’s cat and the other neighbor’s hens like to visit. And the pup next door. And all the birds at the bird feeder. It’s like being married to St. Francis of Assisi … if he occasionally had the mouth of Samuel L. Jackson.
There is a state highway that goes from Pixley to Beach Town. It’s a two-lane road, but they are making it wider. The prospect of the increased traffic that will pass from Other State through Pixley to Beach Town has many business owners very happy. We are anxious about it. The good side is it has done wonders for our property values, even in this terrible economy. By the time Pixley gets too big, we might be able to move to Bugtussle — if any town like Bugtussle still exists in the near future.
We prefer to take the back roads to church. As we crossed the overpass for the Big Interstate Highway, MTH asks, How many cars do you see?
I looked to the west. Six, and another three in the distance.
I have two trucks and eight cars, he reported from the east.
Pretty busy for a rainy Sunday morning. It’s a thing we do, like guessing the Days Without An Accident at the lumbermill.
On the back road, we pass the woods of a state park, homes, and farms. We always point out the cows and horses. Never gets old.
After church, a wonderful lunch, and errands, we headed home. We counted the cars on the overpass. It was busier in the afternoon. The hens came back to welcome us. The Manx dropped by, too. Time for naps. We have a movie night planned. It was another lovely day in Pixley. Contentment. That’s what I feel here. Contentment. It’s the feeling you get when you know there are many other wondrous things out there, but you can’t think of any place else you’d rather be, or anyone else you’d rather be with.