Sunday

This is the kind of day where you feel the weight of work -- housework. Or, more accurately -- farmette work.

I am not referring to the usual farmhouse cleaning. That happens, yes, I do finish it and the place more or less shines. But there is that other work that must move forward. We cannot sit on our hands and rest on the weekend because if we don't labor now, then when?

Ed has the bulk of the "repair and construct" jobs before him and so I try to take over tasks that aren't mine but that I haven't the heart to load onto him right now.

I'm up with dawn...






... to release the cheepers, clean their cage, feed Isie boy, examine the flower fields...







And I do the cleaning inside the farmhouse and then, right after breakfast -- which interrupts his step building...






... in a good way...





... I tell him -- I'll mow the lawn.

Our visiting friends had made a great dent into this laborious task, but that was already weeks ago and there are areas that we should mow down that haven't been touched for the better part of the summer. But here's the thing: we have ditches and ruts and rolling bumps (surely are attributable to whatever wildlife burrows its nose in the ground). It's a devilish piece of land to mow.

I do a very thorough job. On half the property. And then I can't take it anymore -- the bounce, the twist, the turns -- it's like the worst ride at the amusement park, only without the height. I am not an amusement park ride fan. I don't even like swings on a children's playgrounds. 

It takes me a solid chunk of time to recover.

So we have a half finished mowing job, but hey, a half a loaf!


In the meantime, Ed continues to work on the quirky step project. I help him saw the ancient sheets of plywood he dug out of God knows what crevice of the farmette...






We make progress.

And it's the last day for it. Tomorrow, he works at Tormach and I look after Snowdrop and on Tuesday I'm off.

But let's take this Sunday in its full glory. It's family dinner night and though the air is sultry and uncertain, we have a fine meal out on the porch -- all five of us of course!  Even as it's hard to fit everyone into a photo. Here are the young parents, glancing down at their Snowdrop...






No, no, I can't leave her down there, in her chair. Snowdrop, come over and cook with me! (We're making risotto.)






Alright, dinner's on! We take the food out to the porch. Snowdrop sits on my lap and contemplates risotto and breaded chicken. She looks to the right and left... Ed, she's reaching out to you! Want to jiggle her on your knee?


 



Oh, she's bouncy tonight! I finally bring out her jumparoo and she gives it its full workout.






Such sweet, sweet minutes. They'll be with me in the weeks ahead, that's for sure.