Deadlines

The seeds have arrived, nestled snuggly in their box on the pile of mail, and are waiting patiently for me to go through them and add them to the garden plan for the spring.  A purple flag blinks at me each time I open my inbox warning me that the download of my tax software still has not taken place.  A maturing rooster calls forth from the chicken coop each day, his song now fully formed and while not robust, at least finally sounds like a rooster and not a teenager whose cracking voice resembled a dying bird instead of the beginning of a new day.   He reminds me that the brooder for the spring pullets remains only doodles on paper and hasn’t yet progressed to lumber in the garage.  Patches and Dylan eye me with disdain as the scanning project still occupies their favorite kitchen chair, not that they are hindered from lounging in the sun on top of the wealth of gardening, cooking and farming information stored within those pages.

The evidence of looming or missed deadlines becomes none more obvious than the RAT in the garage this week indicating that we didn’t get everything picked up or cleaned out this fall and the critter controls usually instituted when the weather starts to turn cool were missed completely.  I have forgotten my lists and been flying by the seat of my sizeable pants.  My organization plan has fallen by the wayside with a trip to CT, a planned trip to Maine that was hampered by weather, chickens with some sort of foot infection, looking for a tool which turned into a three day shop cleaning expedition, a not-so-well-thought-out decision to start college classes again, and lots more overtime at work.

I am determined, after a brief trip out of town tomorrow morning, I am going to take my days off this week and get re-organized, see what I can add to my to-do list, and make some marked progress on those looming deadlines.  I was also thinking it might be time to fashion a plow for my Taurus.