It is a beautiful, sunny day. Not too cold even. Yesterday's snow is clean and delicately placed over the icy fields of the last weeks' winter heaves.
I had stepped out before sunrise, to look at the moon and now I am stepping out again, before breakfast to admire the first wisps of sunlight. Though I see that deer have been here again, and the snow has given in to their deliberate paths...
I sweep the porch roof almost daily and I do so now, realizing that perhaps this really is the end of my clearings.
And I clean the farmhouse. To get it ready. For what? Well, for out return.
Breakfast in the sun room today.
...though it's a tough call. In the front room, the orchids are exploding with blooms. Ed tells me -- you're going to miss these days of flowers.
Well yes. And he will miss Isis and Isis will miss us and the opossum will miss my reliable compost additions...
...and I'll miss my daughters and this is the way it is. Trips take you away from people and places and things that you love.
And yet, they pull me like that compost pile pulls our furry farmette inhabitant.
So, I give a nod to my girls -- to my older one who is here with her husband for dinner, but without a photo -- they're tired, they're worn, I haven't the heart to take out the camera...
...and to my younger girl, whose true birthday it is today (stay happy, my little one!)...
(with fiance, from the Christmas archives)
...and to the cat and to all that is familiar and wonderful and I pack my bag and Ed packs his and come Monday morning, we'll wave to the cat sitter and slam the door behind us.
It's no longer a mystery as to where we're going. I told Ed just a few days ago. Of course, he hardly thinks we're adventurous and certainly there wont be enough challenges for him, but by now we've done enough travel together that he has come to recognize how utterly giddy with excitement I can be at the thought of waking up in a new and unfamiliar place.
And so we're off.
Be patient with Ocean postings. The travel part is complicated. A bus ride, three flights, a layover, another flight, two more buses -- all opportunities for missed connections and WiFi snafus. You can be sure I'll write as soon as I'm able to do so. From way over there. Where they drink apple tea by the gallons and where fishermen still bring lunch home for the family meal. Yeah, there.
I had stepped out before sunrise, to look at the moon and now I am stepping out again, before breakfast to admire the first wisps of sunlight. Though I see that deer have been here again, and the snow has given in to their deliberate paths...
I sweep the porch roof almost daily and I do so now, realizing that perhaps this really is the end of my clearings.
And I clean the farmhouse. To get it ready. For what? Well, for out return.
Breakfast in the sun room today.
...though it's a tough call. In the front room, the orchids are exploding with blooms. Ed tells me -- you're going to miss these days of flowers.
Well yes. And he will miss Isis and Isis will miss us and the opossum will miss my reliable compost additions...
...and I'll miss my daughters and this is the way it is. Trips take you away from people and places and things that you love.
And yet, they pull me like that compost pile pulls our furry farmette inhabitant.
So, I give a nod to my girls -- to my older one who is here with her husband for dinner, but without a photo -- they're tired, they're worn, I haven't the heart to take out the camera...
...and to my younger girl, whose true birthday it is today (stay happy, my little one!)...
(with fiance, from the Christmas archives)
...and to the cat and to all that is familiar and wonderful and I pack my bag and Ed packs his and come Monday morning, we'll wave to the cat sitter and slam the door behind us.
It's no longer a mystery as to where we're going. I told Ed just a few days ago. Of course, he hardly thinks we're adventurous and certainly there wont be enough challenges for him, but by now we've done enough travel together that he has come to recognize how utterly giddy with excitement I can be at the thought of waking up in a new and unfamiliar place.
And so we're off.
Be patient with Ocean postings. The travel part is complicated. A bus ride, three flights, a layover, another flight, two more buses -- all opportunities for missed connections and WiFi snafus. You can be sure I'll write as soon as I'm able to do so. From way over there. Where they drink apple tea by the gallons and where fishermen still bring lunch home for the family meal. Yeah, there.
