At the Catholic Worker

Life these last 2 weeks has been seemingly normal. All the while containing none of my usual activities, none of the usual people. Unusual food. Unusual work and chores. Unusual trips to Big Trees park and Yosemite.
I've been working at a Catholic Worker farm in Sheep Ranch California. We're 45min from any sort of town, but only 3 hours from a long list of great places to see in California.
My mornings start with a 9am meeting over "coppuccinnos" where we discuss the days work, the differences between mennonites, catholics, quakers and whatever category I fit into. We dig or back fill for various projects around the farm. Harvest veggies. Turn compost. Built a raised garden bed. Chuck rocks. Work on my tan. Sit and watch the chickens run free for 2hours a day. And then stop for lunch and dinner, using the garden's proceeds to try and come up with yet another creative connoction.
Our home doesn't lock, doesn't have much electricity at night, and won't promise you hot water. We have baby chicks, complete with the smell of baby chicks, in a corner of the house. And big black ants attack the toilet each night, swarming it. Only to be gone again come morning. We spend each night trying to find things to do to fill the night, trying to not go to bed at 9:30pm. I've finished the The Kite Runner and Spiritual Direction. My skin is often black, my nails too. I'm building calluses on my hands. I'm dealing with the critters and the snake in the garden.
But nothing feels out of the ordinary. This is just where I am. What I'm doing. Who I'm with. At least for the next 2 weeks.