I labored to get out of bed. I groped my way out of the down comforter. My body inched forward to a sitting position. I pushed my hair out of my face and blinked. I am not old. Not THAT old anyway. But I was gripped with osteoarthritis. Yesterday I walked, carefully. Today, if I could not find a stable hand-hold and stand up, I would crawl.
My electric coffee maker refused to operate its heating element although the light indicator was bright. I filled my stove top percolator with enough water and coffee grounds for two cups. Soon the kitchen smelled of fragrant, hot coffee.
I fished around for the doggie treats and called the dogs. Only Moses showed up. Probably Nadia slipped under the fence to get in the sheep pasture. She and Moses were fighting again, I supposed, and she wanted to be alone. Sometimes she can be a melancholy dog, dreaming of her sisters and the sheep farm in Oklahoma where she was born and learned to yap at the coyotes at night. No coyotes here. Just a few cougars and a bad-tempered she-bear that shreds my electric fence. Nadia would come for her treat and food later, after Moses had eaten, when he would no longer stand in the doorway brow-beating her.
I filled the sheep feeder. First Athena dashed into the shelter. Then a few more rushed in. I called the others. It wasn't like they trickled in. So long as I braced myself and held on to a post, I was safe from the air stream. I went back into the house, pulling myself along and leaning against the redwood tree by the kitchen.
The bottom leaves of the moth orchid have suddenly yellowed and fallen off. I spent hours trying to find out what might be the problem. After reading through all the information in the garden blog, I decided they are not getting enough light.
I sipped my coffee and mused. Light, humidity level, temperature. They should be at levels where you and the plant are both comfortable. They could go into acute dormancy.
I was in no position to quibble. I feel like I could use a full-spectrum light. I could benefit from someone fussing over my well-being and adjusting the thermostat, the sprinkler system and the humidity level gauge of the whole planet.
I'd really rather skip winter but somebody already scheduled it. Hopefully tomorrow will be another day of peace at Treecroft Farm.