Much cheaper than a psychiatrist

There is something incredibly therapeutic about volunteering at Saints. Today, as Copper and I made our way to the lower meadow, we watched a Great Blue Heron take off gracefully and silently from our little pond - nature is such good medicine.

And then Ed and I went to the schoolground, and blind little Ed checked out every inch of fence and every tree, bumping his little skull against them and returning again to make darn sure there really was something there. Then we lay on the grass and cuddled and snuffled - I cuddled, he snuffled ......laughter is such good medicine.

And lastly, I went into the barn to clean the stalls. I love the barn - I love the structure of it - solid, heavy, permanent, comforting. I love the darkness, with the slivers of light shining through the doors and windows, and the silence when the donkeys stop banging on the doors and all you can hear is the shuffling of hooves on the gravel outside and the warm moist barnyard breath of the llama as he peers through the opening. I love the smell of it - a pungent mix of hay and woodchips and barnyard smells. And I love the physical labour of raking and shovelling and lifting and sweeping. Work is such good medicine.