Countryside

I've been to my grandfather's for two days. Half way from the minibus to my grandpa's house, a heavy spring rain marinated me to the skin. It seemed the rain and the strong wind blowing from the opposite direction didn't want me to go that way. Thy tried to stop me and I refused. I shouldn't have. It was very cold and grim. Also I managed to acquire enough flea bites to be paranoiac about every itch for a month.
My arms hurt from the help I gave in seeding the onion, but it was pleasant enough to watch the show given by the forest birds. They are so funny in the spring...They seem more expressive now than the rest of the year. You can almost understand their messages. I think they feel the need to express themselves through noise and gestures as to prove that they're alive after the long numbing winter.
 I enjoyed hearing the noises made by the petite hen when disturbed by noises around its eggs-full nest and all the other ones which fill the air of a peaceful village (cock singing, turkey choir, bees buzzing, Gypsy sellers calling).
So my stay there wasn't that unsatisfying after all, if I think better.
Returning home, I met with some relatives who came to town for a funeral and it was nice to be with them and their stories. I got to find out about my cousin's experience of one year of work in Italy, and his non-existing plans for the future...about a their vision about the dead people hooking up in the chapel after everybody else has gone home...and others. This reminded me how close I am to my family and how much we feed on each other for comfort and safety in this troubling world.