Rapture
Feed horses. Haul dense bales of hay. Curse misplaced leather barn gloves. Grunt. Wonder—how the hell heavy can these get?
Fill round feeder while chasing enthusiastically hungry draft horse off. Scrub and refill water tank. Cajole under-the-weather quarter horse mare to finish icky powdered antibiotics concealed in sweet feed and applesauce. Stand beside her. Rub her neck until she eats it all.
Produce two cans of dog food from overall pockets, pop open to chorus of meows, spoon onto plate in a glob. Feed barn cat and four kittens. Sit cross-legged in straw. Do best to convince feral kittens you will not eat them for breakfast. Finally hold one. Eyes wide open. Tiny heart pulsates.
Remind greedy, grinning, begging Matilda-the-tenacious-heeler that she has already eaten.
Emancipate geese. Watch them march off. Toss scratch to relieved hens. Fill chicken founts. Discover dead Rhode Island Red. Think—poor thing. But a quiet end to a good long chicken life. Make funeral plan.
Drop a dollop of lard in pan. Listen to it hiss and sizzle. Cook biscuits and gravy. Feed eight-year-old son (wailing that he is starving), husband, and daughter who straggles in from barn. Give leftovers to Matilda dog. (Blue Heeler Second Breakfast.)
Wash cast iron skillets. Hands. Elbows. Tickly. Suds. Sneeze.
Hang laundry outside. Wet sheets billow like sails of ships at sea. Half expect ranch house, barn, husband, children, horses, to be rended from earth by the next gust of wind.
Watch white horse race up and down paddock fence, squealing. Kicking up clouds of dust like thunderheads grumbling in sky. Ask—will she jump?
Plant five new trees in canyon-like holes husband excavates with shiny new tractor.
Nostrils fill with scent of dirt, water, ozone. Hummingbirds dart. Dark unbraided hair tangles in wind. Whips around eyes. Can't see through tears.
Cottonwood leaves turn belly up. Roar. Rush. Rain begins. Ice water drops create craters in dust causing red ants to run for hills.
Right now—four pairs of hands, two large, two small, tamp down hot loamy earth around sycamore roots.
Flickr photos by: choosefate; foxglove; maefleur; antimethod
