Today, I awoke feeling somewhat gloomy having had an odd sleep full of heavy thoughts leaning towards the existential. Our apartment has a darkness to it, even in the sunniest hours of the day and the thing that brough me up was visiting the patio to greet the day. The bird feed, manly consisting of black oil sunflower seeds, has to be cleaned up regularly as it becomes quite a mess regularly. I am so delighted however to have our bird friends, especially the Titmouse which now has become my favorite character of all with its pointed little feathers at the top of its head and its black bead like eyes. After being outside for a while we all went out to a historic farm in Fremont, only 30 or so minutes away. We were able to get a free tour of the Victorian farmhouse there which was once owned by the Peterson family since the mid 1800's. I of course asked Sam to let me know if she could see any spirits, knowing that my wife has a knack for such a thing, and I was ready with my camera for any photo opportunities. Our tour guide was an elderly woman dressed in the garb of late 1800's era who appeared to get more winded as the tour progressed throughout the house. Many of the rooms contained smells of the past, of old scents that still resonanted from a time before, and the smell of clothes and objects in slow decay. Most of all the kitchen still contained a smoky odor that probably still clung deep into the walls and the bowels of the stove and furnace. I was surprised to find that in the late 1800's the recipe for a cake might call for the oven to be set for 5 seconds, which referred to how long one could keep their hand in the oven to check the temperature as there was no other way of knowing how hot it was. If one could have their hand in the oven longer then the oven wasn't hot enough, whereas less seconds meant that the oven was too hot. Anyway, I was amazed at how different life must have been like at that time. I took pictures of things that I found fasinating, one of which of a little grumpy girl who maybe didn't want her picture to be taken, of old toys that were bought for the museum house, and of various rooms. Oh and I almost forgot, there were music boxes all over the house. Elaborate but delicate works of art but in fine working order, some full of loud orchestral sounds, another haunting and indistinct like music being played backwards. When we went outside, we visited the chickens, goats, sheep and cows. I picked up a chicken for Isabella to hold and she became addicted to grabbing them up herself.