cat cow

If you have done yoga, you know this:  there is a cat pose, where you're on all fours, curving your spine, tucking your chin in and typically this is followed by cow pose, where you drop your belly, lift your head and, with chest soaring, gaze directed upwards and outwards. In the next breath you return to the cat pose. A classic sequence.

You could say that we had a cat cow day today.

The morning is delightful! An unexpected cloud dispersal, a touch of sunshine -- cold still, but who cares!





Breakfast (with the crazy haired inventor) is in the sun room...





...and I have to push my chair to the side. Too bright!





I know it wont last. By late afternoon, when I come back to the farmhouse, the flakes are coming down hard and fast. I'm almost charmed by the delicate nature of this snow shower, were it not for the fact that I know damn well it's March 12 -- a time when inconsequential snow showers are no longer welcome.





Still, you could say that it is a classic sequence. Because later, closer to sunset, I witness this beautiful clearing of the skies:





Dinner? You could say that Isis set the menu. Here's why:

Every morning I am the first one showered and dressed. I go downstairs, I straighten up, I put away dried dishes from the previous day. No matter how deeply asleep Isis is, when I'm in the kitchen, he instantly wakes and trotts down to look for me there. As I start to bring out breakfast foods, he positions himself on the floor and waits. I cut up fruits, pour oatmeal, get out the yogurt. He sits, quite still, except for his roving eyes that follow my movements. And inevitably I'll ask if he wants a morning snack and it'll appear to me that by his presence he is giving me a firm "yes" response. So I take out whatever meaty leftover there may be (perhaps from many days back) and give a piece of it. Satisfied, he returns upstairs and joins Ed in bed while I continue with breakfast preparation. (If he wants a second breakfast of milk, he'll come down when Ed comes down.)

I realized this morning that he has devoured the last of the Sunday's chicken breast. And so I have to prepare dinner with him in mind. Well now, that's easy: nothing, nothing pleases him more than Trader Joe's smoked salmon (he'll take it from Whole Foods as well, but I'm not offering that), so I defrost the salmon and plan dinner around it (with a broccoli scrambled eggs concoction at the side and of course, the salad).






Meanwhile, outside, the clouds have returned and it's snowing. Cow. Or cat. Or both.