Don’t really care where I start this post…so I’ll just ramble.
Four weeks ago today, my father died. I still don’t even know if I believe that it is true. How can someone exist one day, and be gone the next, just like that? Some times I truly wish I had some kind of religious faith. That I could even remotely believe in some kind of deity. I envy people who are so sure of their god, and their heaven. It must give them so much comfort.
Bailey and I left the security and comfort of TicToc way back in the beginning of fall. The owner wanted to retire, and downsize the barn, so we didn’t have much choice. I needed another job, and Bailey needed a new barn. After a brief stint at another place, we ended up at the wonderful Ferme St. Rose, in Val-des-Monts, where I now work, and Bailey gets as much turnout as I want him to. There is very little drama, very little bitchiness, and it is incredibly peaceful. I actually love going to work, love working for my fabulous boss, and have so much less stress in my life now. It’s unbelievable how different it is, and how different it feels!
Last weekend, we adopted a wonderful, four month old Great Dane puppy, who we Emma and Meghan named Madison. She is an absolute sweetheart, comes to work with me everyday, and is the goofiest biggest puppy ever. I think we are all in love. Sasha, our wonder dog, had to be put down this fall. She is still saddly missed.
My garden was pretty much a disaster again this summer. For someone who studied horticulture, I always seem to come up with a horrible case of I-don’t-really-give-a-shit-itis every summer. Pretty pathetic on my part. Oh, well.
We went to Wonderland at some point this summer, my best friend Derek got married in Toronto, we did Easter and bunnies, Canada Day, trips to the Byward Market and Beaver Tails, summer vacation and summer camp, first day back at school, Thanksgiving and Hallowe’en, and everything else that fell in between.
And now here we are, the middle of December. Not sure how we got here, not sure that I want to be here, but really, I guess I have no choice. The girls are excited for Christmas. My mom and my m-i-l are coming. Will be a quieter, sadder, downplayed version. There is no one to accompany our carols on the guitar this year. And there it is. The punch in the gut that sneaks up on you and makes your insides ache.
