Saturday, May 08, 2010
May caps
All small talk around town would have to be about the weather today. And you’d think that I’d join in – because really, it seemed unfair that today’s highs would be somewhere between 39 and 41. With gusts of wind, and rain that occasionally awfully resembled snow.
But my day started early and without any mind to what the thermometer said. Ed had a morning flight to New York and I was the designated driver. In the middle of the night, he was notified that the flight was canceled (no reason was offered) and so we spent the hours between 3 and 5 finding alternate ways to get him to the city by noon. He was successful, but I have to say, if there is a word that best describes my state right now it would be – sleepy.
Ed’s second lawsuit goes to trial beginning Monday (even as the first one, the one from last October, still hasn’t a judge’s ruling) and I’ll join him there for that – indeed, for the entire week.
But this week-end, in true Mother’s Day fashion, belongs to my daughters. Well, one daughter really. The one who is temporarily in Chicago and therefore quite happy to take the bus up here for a quick visit. (The younger girl is still out east, though blissfully done with school, possibly forever.)
We spent the Saturday morning as we always do when she is in Madison during spring, summer or fall – at the market on the Square. (You can tell it’s cold when not only the children are in caps.)
It is a joyous ramble. The colors are good, the food is fresh and very honest (why would a child point to the chocolate cookie, when there are chevre croissants to be had?)...
... the vendors, some whom I have known for decades (Anne at Fantome, Bill at Snug Haven, David at the Flower Factory, Richard at Harmony Valley – they were all there when my daughters were so little that the trudge around the Square seemed very very long) – surely they’re used to this kind of May day. They’ve been around. And my God, this is my 31st spring in Wisconsin – I, too, know when to haul in the tomato pots for the night. And for the day. This day.
A perfect day for a midday snooze, no?
But my day started early and without any mind to what the thermometer said. Ed had a morning flight to New York and I was the designated driver. In the middle of the night, he was notified that the flight was canceled (no reason was offered) and so we spent the hours between 3 and 5 finding alternate ways to get him to the city by noon. He was successful, but I have to say, if there is a word that best describes my state right now it would be – sleepy.
Ed’s second lawsuit goes to trial beginning Monday (even as the first one, the one from last October, still hasn’t a judge’s ruling) and I’ll join him there for that – indeed, for the entire week.
But this week-end, in true Mother’s Day fashion, belongs to my daughters. Well, one daughter really. The one who is temporarily in Chicago and therefore quite happy to take the bus up here for a quick visit. (The younger girl is still out east, though blissfully done with school, possibly forever.)
We spent the Saturday morning as we always do when she is in Madison during spring, summer or fall – at the market on the Square. (You can tell it’s cold when not only the children are in caps.)
It is a joyous ramble. The colors are good, the food is fresh and very honest (why would a child point to the chocolate cookie, when there are chevre croissants to be had?)...
... the vendors, some whom I have known for decades (Anne at Fantome, Bill at Snug Haven, David at the Flower Factory, Richard at Harmony Valley – they were all there when my daughters were so little that the trudge around the Square seemed very very long) – surely they’re used to this kind of May day. They’ve been around. And my God, this is my 31st spring in Wisconsin – I, too, know when to haul in the tomato pots for the night. And for the day. This day.
A perfect day for a midday snooze, no?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Happy Mother's Day, my dear friend. XO
ReplyDeleteTulips with a snow hat-now that's Wisconsin! Have a great day, Nina.
ReplyDelete