We need the rain. We do. The crops need the rain; the rivers and creeks need the rain. My rain barrels need the rain. Do I sound convinced yet?
As happy as I am to see my rain barrels and creek being replenished, I'm tired of being cold and wet. As we prepare to move from our temporary cabin to our forever home, I stupidly packed away 99.9% of our winter clothes, leaving us each with one or two long-sleeve shirts and a lightweight jacket. In my defense, it was 95+ degrees when I did this. It's currently hovering around 40 degrees.
The weather has all building projects on hold. My goats huddle in their little shelters, looking at me like they expect me to turn the faucet off. I feel bad that one isn't in my control and I console myself with the knowledge that when I finish their big, solar-heated barn, it won't matter so much.
In the meantime, I try not to lose my mind over being in limbo for a few more weeks. I'm ready for a real house with a real kitchen. My admiration for the pioneers and the homeless has skyrocketed. My view of my own patience and faith has been humbled. A few more weeks...
Rolling hills that had been vibrant green just weeks ago were now muted in tone, as if they were taking a deep breath before bursting into the song of fall.