Lazy busy-ness

Sewing.  Knitting.  Crocheting.  Painting something Tomato Red.  The table is piled high with projects.  Yesterday, I was lazy for awhile, draped over a lawn chair on the patio in the sun, with a cat in my lap, watching the grass grow, letting my coffee get cold.  The hens made such a big fuss over my being in the yard, bawking and flapping, hustling around after each other from one end of the yard to the other, worrying.  Looking for a snack.  I sat down and they tottered over, giving me a sideways look.  I said what they always say.  “Bup.  Bup.”  They tilted their heads at me, unruffled themselves, went back to pecking.  One jumped up on the arm of the chair, assessed things for a moment, then fluffed herself up and sat down.  The wind gently ruffled her.  She now and then made some quiet little chirp and I answered with, “Bupbup.”  I dozed there for a little bit, talking to a chicken, listening to the cat snore.  When a big cloud covered up the sun, I went in and cleaned the basement for a minute, did some laundry, worked on a sweater while bingeing on Netflix.  Walked the dog.  Ate wasabi peas for dinner.  Busy-lazy.  Getting stuff done, then doing nothing.  The best kind of day.