Tonight, we are expecting another big storm, another nor’easter, and I think we are ready. There is gas for the generator; Ron cleaned the chicken coop since the poor chickens will likely be confined to the coop all day; and I made enough homemade pizza to last three days.

I am not really ready mentally though. I feel especially worn of winter this year, and I worry about the poor chickens. It’s been a back and forth spring for sure with quite a few storms. The chickens get some freedom, and then they lose it. They get some freedom, and then they lose it. I noticed during the last nor’easter that tempers were flaring. In their older age, Bertha and Cora are pretty grumpy.

But I wanted to tell a quick story about Luna.

I have been making sure I touch her every night during peas because I don’t want her to forget about me. When Anna Sophia was in the house for a couple of months, we were best good friends, and a few weeks after she moved back with her people, it was like she forgot all about me. The only thing I notice is that she is almost always the last one in the duck house after playing the duck game after peas, but that’s all I get. She went back to her wild and free self. I don’t want that to happen to Luna–at least not all the way.

Luna is certainly living it up as her wild and free self. Ducks love mud season more than life itself it seems, and Luna, who was so clean and neat in the house is wild and dirty every day. She’s the dirtiest one.

Tonight, I got a sad surprise because, when she was eating her duck peas, she wouldn’t let me touch her! I tried twice, and she moved away from me. I stood above the ducks while they ate and watched the wind blow through the trees, signaling what is to come tonight.

I was thinking to myself, “This is how it goes. You love things and then you have to let them go.”

But, then, when we were playing the duck game, I noticed it was Luna who was the last one to go into the duck house instead of Anna Sophia, so I decided to see if I could pick her up. She let me. She looked a little concerned at first, so I said, in my sweetest sing-song voice, “Luna baby,” And the look in her eyes changed. I could see she remembered me still.

I leaned my head in and she leaned her head in, and we just stood there, leaning in for a minute. She rubbed her head on my cheek just like she used to do, and I was so grateful.

I sat her down in the duck house and told her I loved her. She went back with her people.