Especially this time of year, with tax season in full swing, my life is busy, too. So I plan. (You know where this is headed, don't you?) Saturday was no exception. I worked until mid-afternoon, ate a quick lunch with my husband, then sent him off on a gig - baby always needs a new pair of shoes. My late afternoon and evening would involve a bit of potato and onion planting, followed by a blessed bout of undisturbed writing. Bliss, no?
Before the evening's festivities began, I headed out to check on one of the cows, #98. She'd had a calf a couple of days ago and was bellowing at the house. The rest of the herd had wandered off. Her calf wasn't in sight. Not unusual. Cows often 'hide' their very young calves to keep them safe so the momma can graze. While cows are very good at what they do, namely eating and having calves, they're not the brightest creatures on our beautiful planet. It's entirely feasible that #98 'told' her calf to go hide, then forgot where she hid him and was (pardon the expression) having a cow. I thought I might be able to scare him up and she'd go join the rest of the herd and we'd get a peaceful night's sleep.
I grabbed the shop keys and stepped out of the house, pulling the door closed behind me. You know the feeling, don't you? That visceral shot of panic when you know with absolute certainty that you are outside, your house keys are inside, and all the doors and windows are locked between you.
I yanked on the door all the same.
Guess what? My phone was safely inside, too.
At that moment, I knew what my carefully planned evening would look like: a bit of chasing around, looking for the calf; then yanking on the locked doors; feeding #98 an extra ration; then yanking on the locked doors; searching for the spare key we don't keep outside; then yanking on the locked doors; and finally giving in and taking the utility vehicle to our nearest neighbors, praying they're home, and borrowing a phone to call my mom. They were home, she was home, my husband came and got me after he got home, and I finally got to go back home.
|#98 and her calf|
Here we are Sunday morning, and all is well. #98 and her calf are reunited. I'm writing blog posts. My husband is practicing for a gig we're headed to in a few minutes. We'll have a nice lunch out, and then I'll come home and do some writing.
Here I go again, making plans. I wonder if God's gearing up for another laugh...
photo credit: The World According To Marty via photopin cc
photo credit: Viewminder via photopin cc