A magical portion of time

So this is where I spent the afternoon. In the courtyard, on a tarpaulin, sorting the sheep fleece out. Or some of it at any rate. But where to start? No info on the web that I could find in regards to exactly how one should do this task, but I wanted to start sorting it out. You know how some jobs can get left and left and left until it is totally forgotten about? Well I didn't want that to happen to the fleeces.

So I sat myself down, put a towel over my lap, and grabbed for the nearest bit of fleece. It was laden with poo, straw, and other bits of detritus. Not to worry. Push on. 

The minutes ticked on by. The sun came out. Jean Pierre (our roofer) was working on the wall of the Tall Barn. Here is how far he has got. The repair to the wounded wall is now almost done. Saved for future generations. 

Hubs was in the office, quietly working away. The dogs were snoozing in the sunshine. I sat in the middle of my tarpaulin and made a mess.

Left hand pile: unhandled not-to-bad fleece. Top left hand pile: unhandled-to-be-left-for-a-while yukky fleece. Top right hand pile: sorted pile of absolutely awfully yukky fleece. Big right hand pile: Whooppeee! A goodly pile of not-so-bad fleeces. The red bucket serves as my bin for the no-can-do-at-all bits. The green cup had coffee in it. The chair I sat in. The towel was over my lap to stop my trousers from getting any muckier than what they were already. 

And there came upon me a rare moment. A magical moment. One of total peace for all that there was around me, and all that there is my life. The whole courtyard, full as it is of untidiness: of builders stuff, of gardening stuff, of hardly any grass now, only bare earth mostly covered over with gravel from the cementing which is often going on, of a pile of tarpaulins beside me, not dead enough to destroy, but with a little life left in them so kept 'just in case', all of this was overlain with this sense of total peacefulness. 

Jean Pierre worked quietly on. Hubs worked quietly on. I worked quietly on.  And the peacefulness grew and grew. It was magic. And it went on for the rest of the afternoon, and into the evening, eventually becoming a rare and wonderful portion of hours, when everything is as it should be, and knowing with absolute sureness that everything would turn out all right somehow. 

I don't know what made this effect happen. I could put it down to inhaling the sweet smell of sheep fleece, which, despite the poo, was lovely. Perhaps it triggered off some sort of chemical effect in my head. Or perhaps it was the poo itself. Perhaps it has some sort of magical property which makes one feel calm. Or was it the lanolin in the wool itself. Perhaps my hands absorbed the oil and that triggered off the effect. Or perhaps because it was the work itself, that I was stepping into an ancient rythm by working with the wool.

Or perhaps it was the Universe saying 'Well done for keeping going on, for staying positive, for trying to do your best'.

And the Sheep Wool Project? I managed to sort out three bin bags of goodish wool, one bag of not-so-good wool, and took my first step in learning how to wash the wool, managing one bucket. 

  

Well I have made a start! 

Me being me, I know the sense of everything being in its right place will fade away, but at least by writing about it I can look back and remember that I did have this patch of calmness for a while. It was a treasured experience, and felt like I was wrapped in the most wonderful duvet of  peacefulness. And this I would like to pass on to you, especially Barry (An Explorer's View Of Life) who is battling with his health, and all of you who are battling on one way or another. Blessings to you all.