"Grandmother, on a winter's day, milked the cows and fed them hay, slopped the hogs, saddled the mule, then got the children off to school, did a washing, mopped the floors, washed the windows, and did some chores: cooked a dish of home-dried fruit, pressed her husband's Sunday suit.
Swept the parlor, made the bed, baked a dozen loaves of bread,, split some firewood and then lugged in enough to fill the kitchen bin, cleaned the lamps and put in oil, stewed some apples she thought would spoil, churned the butter, baked a cake, then exclaimed.'for heaven's sake, the calves have got out of the pen'-went out and chased them in again.
gathered the eggs and locked the stable, back to the house and set the table, cooked a supper that was delicious and afterward washed up all the dishes, fed the cat and sprinkled the clothes, mended a basketful of hose, then oped the organ and began to play, 'when You Come to the End of a Perfect Day".
author unknown
I've always loved that poem, probably because it reminds me of my grandma, and also because its about finding joy in everyday things. I kind of felt like that grandma today. I walked to Wood's with Ron for coffee, then made us breakfast, made some granola, did eight loads of laundry, vacuumed the house, washed the kitchen floor, saved all my and Chris' documents to the external hard drive so we can send the computer off to get rid of the nasty virus we have, (grandma didn't do that one), changed all the sheets,made a loaf of bread (ok, with the bread machine), weeded the flowerbeds, de-pooped the back yard, filled the bird feeders, made a bean sausage soup for tomorrow, made meatballs for the freezer, and made a salmon dinner for tonight. Whew!
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