The goats are chewing happily in the field. The geese in similar mood are preening themselves in the yard and the cat rubs herself against the kitchen table with a loud purr. All seems sublimely peaceful in the country until the situation changes with a scream from upstairs.
"Muuumm! There's a bird in my bedroom come and get it out!"
This little frightened bird clung to the curtain rail not knowing what to do as I entered the room. It had flown in through an open window and it succeeded in doing something that I find almost impossible so early in the morning -- getting a teenager out of bed without excuse.
I decided to open the bedroom door wide and usher the little thing towards it in the hope it would fly towards the great hole in the wall. Of course by then, the cat had become involved and was smacking her lips in anticipation of a tasty snack courtesy of a stray flappy thing that had ventured into her pad. Her eyes were like saucers, tail flipping side to side and intent upon having breakfast on the stairway.
Finally, after much shooing and arm waving, the little bird found its way outside and the cat sloped away in disappointment. My daughter returned to her room but not back to bed and I didn't hear the last of it until well after lunch.
Hubby was in the yard moving stuff about and not really making any progress in the building saga. Typical Saturday morning. The family all home - no work, no college. What were we doing up and about at 8.30 am? You'd expect a bit of a lie in at least.