There are a lot of things to love in life-and more ways to find them than I ever imagined. I love Saturday mornings with its lack of obligations. I rise when I see fit and drink coffee for a long while. I “find my day” slowly and with great consideration of its content. My loyal dog, Cash and naughty kitten,Christopher Robin ,sleep by my morning table unaware of all my contemplating.  I read, write and watch the light change-and all is well. I treasure this uncomplicated time and need it like sunshine. What you do with your time is how you spend your life, after all.  There is always work to do at the rabbit patch and it awaits patiently. The barns are always complaining about something-loose tins and loose doors recently. The yard beckons with old leaves and winter debris and even “Sweet Home” whines like there’s no tomorrow, but my determination not to rush wins every time. I am not sure when rushing about became “normal”. When did clocks acquire such power over the human race? Maybe it distresses me because it wasn’t so in my youth. The farmers’ clock is a calendar-and I like that. The rabbit patch is part of the Farmlife community and the residents here, seem to  agree with me on this matter. The only time I see folks dashing madly is when a storm is coming. There are frantic attempts to batten down and if anyone is seen in a bind, help comes swiftly without invitations. Other than that-life is pretty deliberate here.    I wish I had a dollar for every time that I have come home and found some love on my doorstep from a Farmlife neighbor. Finding a bushel of sweet potatoes, not long ago made me remember something else to love. There they were without a note to define who sent them. Fanfare wasn’t necessary for this act of generosity.  This is a common practice around the rabbit patch and is as ordinary here as tractors and dogs.  On Saturday mornings, I plan the Sunday dinner.  I put great thought in this event as if my life depended on it, because in a way, it does. I have an” old-fashion”  heart .  I am well aware that things change-but sometimes they ought not to. Sunday dinner is one of the latter. The food ought to be cooked slowly and the table ought to be pretty. It’s a time to use china and whatever you can find for a pretty centerpiece. A good Sunday dinner is a small celebration of sorts. It is time well -spent. . . and another thing to love.  special note:   A dear friend, Janet sent me a card this week congratulating my attempt at blogging. It was full of sweet thoughts and good wishes for success. On the front was the picture you see of a rabbit patch! I continue to have trouble with paragraphs- and pictures? You may see them but are just as likely not to. Good friends come in handy in life and make all the difference…and friendships are something else I love.