Yesterday was all wind and cold. Carter and I, in town for errands, run from vehicle to post office, vehicle to bank, vehicle to cafe, our coats pulled tight against the weather. We stop for a slushie at the Sub Shop, waiting for the phone call that will tell me the baby chicks are ready to be picked up.
This morning my house is chilly and I turn up the kitchen thermostat. Carter sits on the electric heat register, bouncing up and down when it gets a little too warm on his scrawny bottom, hardly able to open his eyes while he waits for the porridge to finish its work on the stove.
And this the last bit of April in Saskatchewan. Cold. Wind. And the possibility of snow on the weekend. And I know that when my husband walks through the door at the end of the day, he’ll be worn right out from the battle.
He heads out to do chores. I’ve been
wondering okay, worrying about the babies in the chicken house. They seemed fine last night, nestled under the red glow of the heat lamp. I ask Lyndon to text me from the barn so I will know right away that they survived the night. And he does, good man that he is. He sends a video to my phone and the babies, chirping and scrambling over each other, are fine.
I watch through the window as he opens the barn door, and the goats charge out into the field, ready to stretch and romp and the wind and the cold seem to bother them not a bit. Even runty little Fudge is happy to be out and in the fresh. They’re goats, I say out loud. They like being outside.
I turn to check the tomatoes and the peppers and the chives. They seem to be taking forever to show themselves, and then, just when I’ve almost given up I see them, tiny and new. Babies breaking free from their blankets, reaching up for sun and warmth and life.
In my kitchen, the air warms slowly as the heat seeps into the room. I stand at the windows. The old panes shiver a bit in their frames and the tree branches in the yard whip noisy in the wind. The old tire swings listlessly.
Yes its windy and cold and my heart struggles against the dreariness, but all the babies are fine. In my little world, everyone is keeping warm, and the mother in me is good with that. Today, keeping warm is enough.