I realized this only ten minutes ago, as I was walking away from evening chores. Chores: festivity of chaos. Especially today, feeding the sheep and goats grain, which they love more than crackheads love crack. Try and find a graceful way of feeding 75+ sheep and goats grain. I dare you. Like I said, festivity of chaos.
But, in the soft dusk light, walking home from checking on the cows, I stepped into the pole barn where my sheep/goat friends reside, and I was met suddenly with sounds of peace. In the dim glow, with the setting sun peering in from the south facing side, I heard the faint munching of happy animals. Nearly everything was quiet as the end of day approached, with the exception of the sound of hay being nibbled. In those sounds, I felt the breathe and release that comes with evening, the calm that settles like thick blankets. The goats and sheep were huddling together in the hay, bellies full, sleep overcoming. Safe, warm, quiet. Even in winter, even when things aren't really safe and the world is anything but quiet, one can't overestimate the value of a moment like this. Like being a kid going to bed after the fulfillment of Christmas day, spent and happily succumbing to sleep and forgetfulness... until the next day comes, and the damn cows get out again, and forty kids arrive in buses, and the sink is full of dirty dishes.
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