Conor woke to the gentle voice of his wife. He'd already been half awake, but he'd just been lying there enjoying listening to his wife's even breathing. This had been the way it had been since they had wed and Connor had moved from the loft that housed the farm hands over the barn to the main house where the family lived. Conor had always been up an hour or so before dawn. Yet he never really left his bed until dawn. Therefore he'd usually lay in bed with his eyes closed on his back listening to the sound of his family. Basking in the glory of having them in his life. He never got tired of the quiet simple life they had and never wanted more. He was a man in love and desired nothing more then to open his eyes to his wife every morning and give her a gentle smile. Like he did every morning. She woke him up and he turned around in bed to smile at her. "Good morning my beautiful love," he said, as he did every morning. Placing a gentle kiss on her cheek before she left the bed. Sighing he rose as well. Let the day begin.<br/><br/>Conor dressed quickly in overalls and a plain black t-shirt with a plaid overshirt tossed on, but left unbutton. He left the room before his wife had finished dressing and walked down to the barn. Making sure the farm hands were already up and about doing the work that needed to get done before breakfast. He headed out down through the barn checking that the stalls were all empty of the animals that were housed in the barn at night. Satisfied that the farm hands had emptied the barn of both themselves and the animals to begin morning preparation of feeding and watering the animals Conor grabbed the shovel and wheelbarrow.<br/><br/>In the few hours it took for the house to be ready and breakfast to be cooked Conor would clean the stalls and set out fresh hay. It had been his morning routine since long before he was married and he'd simply never stopped. He enjoyed the work and felt a genuine sense of peace. Unlike any of the others he wasn't very good with conversations or intelectual things. He was a working horse as he used to joke with David. He was made to work. That was simply who and what he was. The rhythmn of shovling shit from the floor of the barn into the wheelbarrow and scrapping the walls with a hard bristle brush to remove the mudd and other detritus from the dark red painted surface was something Conor could do even in the zombied pre coffee hours of morning. Once he was done all the stalls he dumbed the wheelbarrow in the manuer pile out back of the barn and headed back inside to start tossing down haybails. He paused on the roof looking down at his small son running out of the house with his chiken. A smile curved his lips.<br/><br/>He was so proud of Thomas, in Conor's eyes Thomas was the perfect child. His perfect son. Even though Conor could be tough on his son when the boy was misbehaving there was no doubt that Conor adored his son and would do anything for him. His son was his whole world. Leaning against the open doorway he watched his child gathering eggs and couldn't help the pride glowing from him. Thomas was proving to be quite a good farmer. Something that made Conor very proud. When Thomas headed back towards the house no doubt to ask for omelets Conor returned to his work. Tossing down hay bails from the upper loft into the floor of the barn and then dragging them into the stalls. One bail per stall.<br/><br/>Finally done and satisfied that the barn was clean and set for the evening. He left the main doors open so that fresh air would flow through it he headed up towards the house. Leaving his boots on the front porch where they always stayed he made his way to the busy kitchen. Mostly so he could help the woman by removing the children, yes Conor still thought of Alistair as a child, from the kitchen to leave the woman work. There was a woodstove to light and wood to bring in something Thomas and Alistair could help with. Intent on gathering the children he paused just outside the kitchen doorway to watch the play of life on the farm inside the busy room.