Most of you are acquainted with Flash, the stray donkey who showed up at our Barnhouse and never left. He's a real character, out there in the pasture, all alone and left to his own devices. The way he lives his solitary life provides us with endless entertainment: utterly friendly to anyone who shows interest, yet humbly aloof in his demeanor. We think he suffered betrayal in his previous life before us, and thus, holds his heart at a distance. Sometimes he just walks away, right in the middle of a butt scratch, for no apparent reason.
There's a wall there.
But none of that has anything to do with my story.
The other night, we experienced a freezing rain that lasted all day long and into the night. The trees and grasses glittered eerily, like a Narnian scene come to life. As the temperatures dropped and the icy rain continued to fall, the trees began to bow under the weight. The cedars around our house bent beneath the load of ice on their evergreen branches so that they nearly touched the ground.
My husband, a nature enthusiast, called me outside into the cold dark night. I sighed, but dutifully donned a jacket and shoes, left the cozy couch and laptop, and followed him out.
"You've GOT to see this!" he marveled. He is like a kid in a candy store when there is a weather event. I had to smile. I always get sucked into his excitement for the simple things.
He whipped out his high-powered flashlight and aimed the beam into the trees. The trees shimmered in the light, their glittery coat producing flashes and sparkles that were delightfully beautiful. The baubles of ice that clung to the cedars sounded like a thousand beaded dresses, swaying in the cold night breeze.
He was right. It was worth coming outside to experience it.
"And now," Tom said, "Behold!" And he moved the beam out into the pasture, where the winter grasses stood frozen in their white couture. Each blade, each plant, each stick was a picture of magical perfection, as if dusted with glimmering fairy dust against the black sky.
"Aaaaah," I breathed. It was an amazing scene. Tom slowly directed the shaft of light across the small field and toward the barn. The light tipped the grass and shrubs as it moved along.
And suddenly, in the beam, was a dark shaggy lump. Tom backed up the light and ran it across the gray mass again. Flash! Huddled in the freezing rain, not five feet from the shelter of the barn, the donkey raised his heavy head and looked at us questioningly. "Huh?" he seemed to say.
He started toward us, and as he neared, we could see that he, too, was covered in a thick coat of ice. Only on Flash, it wasn't nearly as glamorous. It was like cold, crusty, frozen dirt balls stuck in his hair.
"Flash, you IDIOT!" I scolded him. "What in the world are you doing, standing OUTSIDE the barn, when you could be INSIDE where it's nice and dry?"
Tom turned and looked at me, and said he was going to go give the poor guy some sweet feed.
"He'll just think you're rewarding him for his ignorance." I said, but to no avail. My man was already off to have mercy on the gentle beast who was too dumb to get out of the sleet. I shook my head.
Aww, Flash! You're awfully cute, but you really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer, are you?
Today's Small Thing is to work on things like knives and spatulas and pastry cutters. Take a few minutes to straighten your kitchen utensils up. Most of mine are in a drawer, but the jumble of odd shapes keeps them from staying consistently neat. When putting things away, I tend to jam them into the drawer without a whole lot of attention. And I paw through them to find the one glorious kitchen tool I'm looking for. Hence, my utensil drawer is rarely tidy.
POINTS: 30...this is SUPER easy, but will yield fabulous culinary results! Imagine the triumph you experience as you effortlessly pull a whisk from its proper place! Sheer delight.
