As Promised

It was my doing, setting the girls up with their own blog. Mostly because I’m a selfish person who wants to know what her family is doing, leaving me behind and going on vacation to warmness. It was during my selfish moment that Becca helped me remember my own password and in so doing made me “swear” to keep them in the informed of my social life, everyday life, spiritual life, love life, and barn life…the list could go on I suppose. I have done a very poor job of keeping anyone up-to-date and I’m afraid I may not do a very good job of it now; we shall see.
One thing I have learned since the departure is that I live in a very large house. I very large, quiet house. One that if I sit perfectly still on the coach and close my eyes I can hardly imagine that I remember screaming voices of smaller brothers. At this moment Bagatelles (10) For Piano Op. 34 by Sibelius is all I can really hear, as well as the plunk, plunk of the corn stove as the kernels drop into the flames. It is a nice quiet, for now.
I visited the barn with Natalia today. I visit it very often just to reassure you Klara, sometimes I visit it more then I would like. Such as this evening when Natalia and I went out for a second time when I noticed I had left the loft light on, and then a third time when I remembered I needed to check the tire pressure in my car, and then a fourth time, when I had to get a new air pressure gage. Natalia was a trooper, however, and only complained three times.
It is in the times of visiting the barn that I discover things about myself that I never knew, or if I once knew I have shut them out of the everyday part of my brain that I choose to remember. It is also where I discover that being five foot eight is not the right height for a five foot ceiling. Bernadean (Ruth, how on earth do you spell her name?) followed me to the hay rack this morning snorting forcefully all the way, demanding that I feed her right then. Being the nice person I try to be I turned abruptly to reassure her that she was not forgotten. I reassured the ceiling beam instead. As I stood there holding onto the hay rack wondering what had hit me, Bernadean looked at me with her beady eyes and honked. Honking is what I’ve come to call her oinks, because they aren’t really oinks anymore…that’s the term I’d use for a piglet…these are mature oinks. Anyway, her faithful honking stayed with me once again when tonight I walked into another beam. One of these days I’m going to lay myself out flat and she’ll probably bury me by the time I come to. She’s thoughtful like that.
This evening over spaghetti with no sauce, Natalia and I had a discussion on Aristotle. It is very interesting watching the turning of an eight-year-olds mind. The discussion began when I told her that I was going to the cellar to get something from the freezer. She decided that she should come to. This happened quite a few times during the night with me finally asking her what she thought would happen to her if I went down stairs and she stayed upstairs. She didn’t really know but then came up with, “I just get so bored with being by myself, and sometimes I frighten myself.” I saw her point. It was then that I told her that according to Aristotle there is nothing you cannot do (realistically) if you train yourself to do it. I gave her the example of being good and how we are not born good but we work at. And so I thought that if she worked on not being afraid all the time, she would eventually become less frightened. She wasn’t so sure and then added that she was already very good. I wasn’t convinced. Upon asking her for an explanation of her goodness, she told me that she is not bad anymore, only naughty. And she was never naughty unless she was with her sisters and they provoked her. I thought about this for awhile but decided not to comment. Perhaps being bad and naughty are two different things, I just don’t know it.
I just glanced at the clock and noticed that I was supposed to be done with some homework by now. It is sitting next to me if that counts. Perhaps another free moment will lend itself to me...they seem to be precious few these days.