And so it begins: I wake up and my second thoughts run to the car: is it doing okay in this cold weather?!
(My first thoughts run to Isie boy, who is either not feeling well or traumatized by the occasional visits of Snowdrop. He has developed habits that are enough of a pain that even Ed agreed he needs to be seen by a vet to rule out medical problems. And if not medical, then what do we do -- take him to a cat shrink?)
I dash out to brush (gently!) a light dusting of snow off of Lili's windows.
Oh, you're wondering why "Lili?" It's just the kind of name that pops into my head. My moped, after all, is Rosie. Then, too, I had a lovely great aunt by the name of Lillian. And I have a cherished blog reader, someone whom I've never met, but who has been with me from the get go and she's Lili. And, when I was a young girl, I would love the bunches of lilies of the valley sold by older women on street corners of Warsaw. And you know my love of day lilies at the farmette. Should I go on?
Of course, I'm fussy about Lili's care. I lay the floor mats just so, I read up on her traits and disposition. It's true, she is no spring chicken. Her rust spots mimic my achy joints. Ah, but she can deliver a mighty smooth ride and I actually look forward to heading out in her warm interior today.
But not right away. Routines are what they are. Pleasant...
...and predictable.
It is a brilliant day...
And my visit today with Snowdrop is brilliant as well. She does a magnificent job of strengthening her neck muscles and identifying her fist as something that is hers.
... down to the very last finger.
The day does not end with my visit with little Snowdrop. I have my evening meeting with students at the Law School. I'm thinking -- it's likely that this is will be the last time I'll speak before a group of them. I'm on such a different path now!
I drive home at night, sinking into in Lili's comfy seat. I think how all my life I have been very indifferent to cars. New, old -- it hardly mattered. It irked me that in this great land of so much choice, I did not have the choice of rail or good outlier public transportation. I was stuck with relying on a car. Then along comes Lili and I am floored by her charm. You can't hold onto a grudge all your life.
It is a cold cold night. We glide smoothly past fields and forests and pull into the driveway of the farmette. There is a half moon, half hidden behind a cloud. Good night, Lili. Good night half moon.
(My first thoughts run to Isie boy, who is either not feeling well or traumatized by the occasional visits of Snowdrop. He has developed habits that are enough of a pain that even Ed agreed he needs to be seen by a vet to rule out medical problems. And if not medical, then what do we do -- take him to a cat shrink?)
I dash out to brush (gently!) a light dusting of snow off of Lili's windows.
Oh, you're wondering why "Lili?" It's just the kind of name that pops into my head. My moped, after all, is Rosie. Then, too, I had a lovely great aunt by the name of Lillian. And I have a cherished blog reader, someone whom I've never met, but who has been with me from the get go and she's Lili. And, when I was a young girl, I would love the bunches of lilies of the valley sold by older women on street corners of Warsaw. And you know my love of day lilies at the farmette. Should I go on?
Of course, I'm fussy about Lili's care. I lay the floor mats just so, I read up on her traits and disposition. It's true, she is no spring chicken. Her rust spots mimic my achy joints. Ah, but she can deliver a mighty smooth ride and I actually look forward to heading out in her warm interior today.
But not right away. Routines are what they are. Pleasant...
...and predictable.
It is a brilliant day...
And my visit today with Snowdrop is brilliant as well. She does a magnificent job of strengthening her neck muscles and identifying her fist as something that is hers.
... down to the very last finger.
The day does not end with my visit with little Snowdrop. I have my evening meeting with students at the Law School. I'm thinking -- it's likely that this is will be the last time I'll speak before a group of them. I'm on such a different path now!
I drive home at night, sinking into in Lili's comfy seat. I think how all my life I have been very indifferent to cars. New, old -- it hardly mattered. It irked me that in this great land of so much choice, I did not have the choice of rail or good outlier public transportation. I was stuck with relying on a car. Then along comes Lili and I am floored by her charm. You can't hold onto a grudge all your life.
It is a cold cold night. We glide smoothly past fields and forests and pull into the driveway of the farmette. There is a half moon, half hidden behind a cloud. Good night, Lili. Good night half moon.
