There is much about farm chores that is good for the troubled heart. When the stresses of the working world amass together and threaten to overwhelm, there is reassurance in the routine of putting on muck boots, gloves, jacket, then hearing the back door bang behind me as I head outside. Following the path to the barns, I open wide the doors to hear the welcoming nickers of seven different equine voices. Just as in the house, I am anticipated–truly wanted and needed here.

The routine reassures. I loosen up the twine on the hay bales and open each stall door to put a meal in front of each hungry horse, maneuver the wheelbarrow to fork up accumulated poop, fill the water bucket, pat a neck and go on to the next one. By the time I’m done, I am gratefully calmer, listening to the rhythmic chewing from seven sets of molars. It is a welcome symphony of satisfaction for musicians and audience.

The horses are not in the least perturbed that I may have had a challenging day. Like the dog and the cats, they show appreciation that I have come to do what I promised to do–I care for them, I protect them and moreover, I will always return.

Outside the barn, the wind blows gently through the tree branches, although at times with a fierce bite to remind me who is not in control. I should drop the pretense. The stars are covered most nights by cloud cover, but when they show themselves, glowing alongside the moon in a galactic sweep across the sky, they exude the tranquility of ever-presence over my bowed and humbled head. I am cared for and protected; they are always there.

The balance of ordinary and extraordinary within the routine of farm chores: it is equilibrium delivered, once and ever after, from a stable.