With all this unallocated time, you’d think I’d be out,
running, biking, boating, flying. Exuberantly.
Well now, consider this day: a fool’s last day of May. The
thermometer never passed 50. The furnace has long retired into seasonal hibernation, my
woolies are folded, washed. What is this – northern Europe? (I remember many
such weather surprises in the course of a Polish summer... In fact, didn’t I
buy woolen caps for my daughters the first time they traveled to Poland in July?)
a chilly afternoon market
So I mostly stay indoors. Ed tells me – get under the quilt!
No no. I have a mental separation as to what is daytime
furniture and what is nighttime stuff. Beds and quilts belong to the latter.
In the afternoon, I go to Paul’s. Perfect biking weather, you
might say. Really? You can bike in this kind of chill when you’re at the tail
end of winter. On the cusp of June, you expect better.
At least at Paul’s the heater’s running.
There’s much to be done in the time and space just before us. In
five days we leave and I’m one of those weary persons who likes to tie all the
knots before moving on to the next stage. An annoying trait, I know. Ed says –
it must be hard being you!
In the evening we begin the task of clearing all foods out.
Eating leftover this, leftover that. Asparagus from last week, brats from last week,
locally grown and pickled sauerkraut, leftover wine, leftover days of May that
flaunt their unusual cold demeanor in my face, maybe to get back at me for once
complaining that May was too picture perfect.
cooking with leftovers
eating in a chilly farmhouse
No need to water the plants. It rained all night. Perfect
time though to use the grass cutting shears we picked up last Sunday at Farm
& Fleet.
Let me tell you, standing on a warm sunny evening with hose
extended is much more fun than hacking away in the cold at waist high grass
that has invaded everything.
June, please do better.
the sour cherries in the old orchard are ripening!
