Have you ever seen a pig wave her little trotter, smiling weakly? The image wants me to add a white glove and a tearful well made-up eye; a sobbing Daisy and desolate Queenie, standing looking all forlorn. At the very least a heart broken dog. A peacock turned away so as to hide his quivering beak. But no.
They have all waved gaily, with a certain flick that led me to believe that maybe I was standing in their light, then peered around my drooping retreating form to see who was bringing in the feed.
I have closed the bags, checked the passport and terminal number. Turned my back on the litter that grew on the kitchen bench in the night. The waters and feed barrels are up to date. Notes and lists are written. This morning we will drive to a town 45 minutes away, where I will board a bus that will take me to O’Hare Airport then a plane to LA then another plane to Fresno. To see Third Son, his wife and family. I will arrive about 12 hours after leaving. They will have the bubbly on ice.
On my American Thursday I will fly from Fresno back to LA and then board a plane taking me to Auckland, arriving on a NZ Saturday, then another plane to Wellington. And two more sons and their lovely ladies and a new baby. But more on that later.
First California and a lovely big kitchen. While I catch my breath and get some sleep, we are going to cook. Time I showed you two more Mama recipes.
Bye Bye Now, Farmy. Take care while we are away.