For three weeks:
We rested, following the sun's rhythms pretty closely, not bothered at all by the yapping of coyotes, which is so much more melodious as it rolls down hills and creeks, echoing off oaks than is the barking and snarling of the wild dogs that run the concrete labyrinth of this city.
We were fed. Homecooked meals, none prepared by yours truly. As much as I like to cook, it was good to take a break...and have someone else do the dishes and putting away! Color me spoiled.
We worked, doing chores (feeding the animals and gathering eggs for Sprout; housework for moi) and helping out with heftier jobs (putting siding on the roof of a game room my guardian added on to the house. Have I mentioned he is 85[!] and would have put the siding up himself if J wasn't there to help him?), and generally put our feelers out for how future farm life will be for us.
We walked, up the road to gather the mail, along the creek to find frogs and crawdads, up hills to check out the views. And at night we walked to see glow worms (larviform female fireflies) and even saw mysterious will-o'-the-wisps-like lights. Another night an armadillo* crossed paths with us.
We visited with friends and family who made the drive to see us.
We celebrated birthdays.
And for that special birthday occasion, someone got to taste solids for the first time: fresh-caught bass.
* Has anyone else been in proximity to an armadillo? There was one funky smell in its wake, and we don't know if it was the creature itself or something it had come in contact with. It smelled like skunk and wild garlic/onions.