Daffodils and Lambs

After our morning zazen we do bows to the altar. This morning as we were preparing to do them I saw a large doe munching around the lawn. We both stopped and watched her as she worked her way across the grass and back into the woods. A pretty nice way to experience the night giving way to the day.

We made a trip into Cottage Grove, nearly fifty miles away, to Territorial Seed Company, a West Coast gardener's paradise. We bought a lot of things we need and then tooled around town. We happened upon a cafe and wanted coffee and something to munch on. We peered in and then entered. The young fellow at the counter asked "did we pass the peek test?" It did. The space was made up of three different businesses: the cafe, a used book store, and a club called "The Axe and Fiddle." The club has a very Celtic flavor, mainly Irish and hosted groups with names like "Strangled Darlings." They were pushing their March 17th  St Patrick's Day party. I'm sure it's going to be a great party. We were both very happy to have ended up there, especially as the coffee and eats were great.

Besides the cafe, club, and bookstore we came across "West Coast Machine Guns." Judging from the imposing grill over all their windows I'm inclined to say that their business was machine guns. We didn't go in to find out. Catherine tells me that Cottage Grove has a reputation as a tough place. Right now Main Street looks like it's getting what we euphemistically call revitalized.

Once home we agreed that it was a good trip and that we were happy to be back. The sun was shining and at the south end of the house a hard rain was falling and at the north end just the sun.

Daffodils are a big deal around here and every year Junction City (about 15 miles from us and not what anyone would call a city, hence it is known locally as Junction) has a daffodil festival. So off we went to see the daffodil festival at the Long Tom Grange (the Long Tom is a local river), driving along a road the sides of which were loaded with daffodils. It was cool and rainy, normal for this time of year, but that didn't seem to deter anyone from the festivities. Inside the grange was a wonderful display of quilts, cinnamon buns, and coffee and a fellow playing the accordion. And lots of folks. Outside were lots of crafts folks, people selling food, and a delightful tuba band. Llamas were also on hand. There are lots of them around here, kept to guard flocks of sheep.

Speaking of sheep this is lambing season. And that brings me to another part of our trip to the festival.

We stopped at a Feed and Seed, they're about as common around here as a 7-Eleven, to get more cat food. We walked around, checked out the chicks, this is the time of year people get new chicks, and got our cat food. The woman at the checkout mentioned a box in the back with a lamb. We went over and looked and then heard the story. Two days prior this lamb was born, but left by its mother. The woman's nine year old daughter found it and they tended to it and kept it alive. It has been staying in their home by the stove (most people here heat with wood stoves) being bottle fed. The woman has been up most of the nights with it, but is working to keep it alive and healthy (Catherine tells me it is a most unhealthy looking lamb). They have named her Miracle. I should add that the nine year old girl has been helping with the lambing at her place and her grandfather's. I didn't ask, but I guess that she's also been going to school.

Talking to Catherine over lunch (at a place we agreed we would never go back to) I realized how much having a farm with livestock get's you intimately involved with birth and death. And involved so personally that you go out of your way to save and nurture back to life what nature would have been ready to discard. Memories of "Charlotte's Web" come up. Simply responding with an open heart to a crisis and responding with total undivided activity.