I stretch out on our bed like an imperfect star. The farm has too many riches for just one person.
I sweep out the barn with the back of the rake, my whole body breathing in the outside air, the ever-changing light.
Hospital lighting is either depressingly dim or unnaturally bright. Jon has a window in his room that could be a monochrome David Hockney silkscreen. But I understand that the good people who work there must feel it’s their place. The same way I feel in my studio.
A single pigeon flies from the broken window in the barn. Is it Iris or Begonia?
She circles the barnyard, then lands on the peak of the slate roof, glistening in the early sun. I watch her until she flies again, this time going further and further till she becomes a speck in the sky then vanishes altogether.
I was saddened to read about Jon’s infected toe and subsequent nights in the hospital. You are both in my prayers as well as his healthcare team.
You’re taking very good care of the farm. Please be sure to take good care of yourself as well. I hope this emergency will pass
and Jon will be home healing soon.