31. I Love ... Sheep Grazing

The real thing,

but also pictures.

I recall a grazing sheep picture

in the hallway

on the way upstairs

in the house where I lived

when I was four years old.

It's the only picture

I remember.

It seemed back then

that most homes

had a grazing sheep picture.

Or some sheep picture.

The Good Shepherd thing I suppose.

Calming.
Pastoral.
Pastural.

That's what it is.

Whether it's a picture or real.

Even real ones are

almost stationary.

There's a place not far from us

that has a sign

'Do Not Honk At the Sheep'.

Really?

Who honks at sheep?

Who even THINKS about honking at sheep?

Enough people that it warrants a sign apparently.
Actually,
I have to confess.
The sign makes me WANT to
honk at the sheep.

Running sheep

are not calming.

Or all that common.
A sheep stampede ... rare.

Grazing.

That's what sheep love.
And I love
Sheep.

30. I Love ... a Blanket and a Cup of Tea

On a gray November day

or a

snowy January morning

or when

I'm deep into a good book

or when

friend sits across from me

or when

I'm chatting on the phone

or when

I've got an armful of grandbabes

or

I'm writing 

or 

pensive

or 

planning

or

 dreaming.

Actually,

I love 

a blanket and a cup of tea

pretty well

anytime.

29. I Love ... the Path Between

There are two ways

to get to my neighbour's next door

in Newfoundland.

Rather than go the smooth road

I always take the

crooked, uneven path

that joins our two homes

through the yard.

And every single time that I do,

I think of the days

on that island

when every visit between

friends and neighbours and families

was travelled

that way.

You choose where you step carefully -

there is not a foot of even ground.

It's sloping

and a little rocky

and some days a little boggy.

It winds along side the clothesline.

Not as worn as I'm sure it once was,

when the feet

of the dear souls that I have come to love

travelled it daily.

It's a sacred spot to me -

that path -

that island.

And to a farm girl

whose nearest neighbour is a bit of a walk,

it's such a great 

delight

to pop next door.

28. I Love ... My Tree

It's got a split.

Deep.

Long.

I worry about that.

I want Brian to wrap him with wire so he'll

stay together.

He tells me that won't

help.

The day that he is intent on splitting,

he's gone.

I don't want to see 

that day.

When the wind blows

too strong.

 I cringe.

I'm afraid to look when

lightning is close.

I say a quiet prayer.

That tree,

that big, beautiful, old,

incredible

tree

draws me.

It throws its shadow

like a blanket

over my cabin

and across the pond.

It is my shelter.

It is my comfort.

From over here and over there.

It is my symbol

for all 

I Love

in nature

and all

I Love

on our land.

27. I Love ... My Tent

It's not fancy - 

just basic.

It has no rooms

and awnings

and all that

stuff.

But it has a top

that can come off

completely.

I can see out

everywhere.

And I can breathe.

And

I can put it up 

myself.

There's lots of room

for a single bed,

a table,

a basket,

boxes

and even a chair

if it's

just me.

There's of room

for a couple kids

or a friend.

There's lots of room for the

possibility

of

Adventure.

26. I Love ... Walking

The ability to.

Many, many, many times,

 I have gotten out of my car

in a parking lot
and the thought comes to me:
"I am so blessed to be able to
walk."

I suppose it comes to me there
to supercede
any thoughts of whining
about how far away I had to park.

The fact that I can rise

when I want to,

and with ease proceed to

wherever I want to go,

is not something that

I take for granted.

There are times that I feel

like I could

walk and walk and walk

forever.

An evening walk is such a pleasant thing.

But way too often I make some excuse

that gets me off in another

direction

and I let go

of something

that could bring me such pleasure.

I need to walk.

More.

25. I Love ...Chairs

which would be a fairly safe observation

if one ever looked around the house.

Or the cabin.

Or the haymow.

Or our place in Newfoundland.

I may have more chairs than most.

I used to be particularly drawn to rocking chairs.

I still am of course.

It is a specific and separate love.

But I am also drawn

to any wooden kitchen chair that has

an interesting shape, a pleasing colour,

is worn ... or cheap.

I have a bit of a collection.

I have been asked 'how many?'

The answer is

Lots.

It might be thought

that we have as many little buildings as we do

so we have somewhere to put

the chairs.

Perhaps.

And why
would one love
chairs
so much?
Apparently
I likes to sit.