It is almost quiet in the house now save for the felines who never seem to be clean enough to suit themselves. Four generations bridging more than 80 years reside here this evening. To my right I hear the soft snuffles of my son as he sleeps in the living room; we are saving on propane costs this winter by not heating the upstairs all the time. Not too far from his crib the click of the thermostat in the incubator can be heard keeping growing embryos at a snuggly 99.5 degrees. From my bedroom down the hall the snores of both DH and the dog compete for decibels. Upstairs, my mother and her mother rest after a 350 mile road trip north from the city. And outside, from the other side of the garage I can hear the rooster whose biological clock is completely backwards as he crows each of us goodnight.
I didn't get the laundry done or the floor swept, I didn't get emails or phone calls returned, I didn't get more web pages edited or the recipe promised to a friend sent out. I did however cook a great meal which was made up with ingredients, more than half of which came directly from this farm. I watched my mother, grandmother and DH play with my son; and, I kissed them all goodnight under my roof (albeit it borrowed from the next generation).
Tomorrow each of the above tasks will get tackled along with revisions to the materials list for the new rabbit palace and perhaps one or two of the myriad of farm chores which should be accomplished in the spring. But tomorrow is another day.
Tonight I am content.