What a glorious day to work on a farm. Well, work is a bit of a misnomer. I spent about seven hours walking sprinkler lines and checking to see how many of the sprinkler heads were knocked off during harvest. Twenty-three lines at about nine hundred feet each in length. Slow steady work, pausing regularly to note broken heads or stakes on the clipboard. It is hard to believe that a fellow gets paid to do this. The day only got up to about six degrees Celsius, but with a steady gait I kept warm. Next week when it is pouring down rain I'll be out there fixing them. I suppose I'll be singing a different song then.
Last night we had a service of remembrance at our church which is sponsored annually by the Ridge Meadows Hospice Society. I so enjoy this evening as a time to gather in community with folks who have suffered the loss of a loved one during the year past or who set aside this one night to take the few minutes during the service to draw near to those who are no longer here. Granted, one doesn't need a service to do this, but the sharing of the quiet, of the candle lighting and of the peaceful setting is a wonderful tonic.
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