Nights like these

I'm convinced that spring nights on this homestead just couldn't be any better. At least, I wouldn't want to spend them any other way.

As I listen to the crickets chirping and watch the bats start appearing in the skies for the night, I walk through the grass towards the barn in an old pair of flip-flops. The grass is dense and soft - an old pasture variety - with crowds of tiny blue and yellow flowers scattered in spots. I guess they are weeds, but they're so beautiful that I don't mind them at all. A few stray purple violets and white strawberry blossoms are peeking out here and there. Along the fencelines and driveway, tall feathery grasses are growing, and the whole place looks ancient and wild, and beautifully lived-in. (I've never really been a fan of a perfectly-manicured yard.)

As I approach the chickens' coop I can see the light inside streaming out into the yard, with sixteen chicken silhouettes in view. I'll stop and sit down inside the coop for a bit, watching the birds. Most days, they are already resting on their perches, but some days, there is an honest-to-goodness chicken party going on. I don't know what gets them so wired some nights, but I arrive at the coop to find a riot of scratching, pecking, flapping and chirping. All they're missing is the boom box, and it's a pretty funny sight. Sometimes, a hen or two decides to visit me and settle down on my shoulders - I'm not sure what to make of this yet, but as long as they don't think I'm a good place to do their business, I don't really mind.

After the chickens are put to bed, I stroll back across the lawn towards the dogs. Most nights, I get distracted on the way, and end up touring the yard before I make it back to the house and kennel. I observe the new growth in the gardens, the changes in the trees, any critters hanging out in the pond, and finally make it back around to the driveway. Willow and Bandit are practically exploding with full-body tail wags, joyful howls and yips, knowing their dinner is on their way. They sit politely at their door, and I go in with their food in hand. While they eat, I gather up armfuls of fresh straw and stuff it into their houses, then grab the hose to refill their water bucket for the night. After they're done eating, we all settle down on a bench in the kennel (and I really mean, all three of us are on the bench) and I bury my hands in their thick ruff of fur, pet them and tell them how much I love them. When they jump off the bench to wrestle and play, that's my cue to tell them goodnight.

When I finally make it back inside and fling off my flip-flops, I'm usually greeted by one of my housecats - and spend the rest of the night watching TV or on the computer with a warm, purring pile of fur and claws on my lap.

Evenings like these are my absolute favorite. Come summer, they'll be even nicer, since there's a fire pit with aged wood just waiting to be used in the backyard.