I can divide the day into halves: the first, with a good start at breakfast...
... quickly turns challenging when I decide to brave the awful and work on some of the flower beds.
You'll not know how tough it was to merely clean up this lily at the side of the driveway.
I know it's going to be a terrible hour but sometimes you just have to push forward, terrible hours notwithstanding.
Sometimes in life you just have to push forward, no matter how irritating the circumstances. I push forward.
At the end of the day, I have two plants transplanted, three flower fields trimmed and manicured, the newest front bed watered. All in the cacophony of buzzing insects, with an accompaniment of my slaps and curses.
I do many indoor chores then and they're boring -- I'm sure you did some variant of the same and so let's move straight to the evening, when Snowdrop, her young parents and their visiting friend show up for dinner. Snowdrop is super happy to be here and she is super happy to see that grandpa is, for the next few minutes, watching the Rio Olympics.
The women are diving into the swimming pool, little one.
She is mesmerized.
The young people talk and reflect and do as young people are wont to do.
We eat dinner outside and it is a beautiful evening for it!
(I liked it, gaga!)
Can I help with the dishes?
The visiting friend knows our family quite well and he has a special interest in the history of the generations that migrated back and forth across the ocean as wars and economic crises reshaped the landscape in places where they resided. I have photo albums that my mom put together that date back to the beginning of the last century. I smile to myself as they look through these. Isn't it the case that someday, their young lives will be a source of interest to generations who follow after Snowdrop?
The little girl does stuff that perhaps isn't out of the ordinary today, but in eighty or ninety years, wont it seem quaint and somewhat old fashioned?
Time is a funny thing: it can smooth out wrinkles and add new layers of interpretation. We really cannot tell what future generations will think of all this. Except, I really believe that the image of a child at play will never be stale or insignificant. So I'll leave you with that. A child at play, pure and simple.
... quickly turns challenging when I decide to brave the awful and work on some of the flower beds.
You'll not know how tough it was to merely clean up this lily at the side of the driveway.
I know it's going to be a terrible hour but sometimes you just have to push forward, terrible hours notwithstanding.
Sometimes in life you just have to push forward, no matter how irritating the circumstances. I push forward.
At the end of the day, I have two plants transplanted, three flower fields trimmed and manicured, the newest front bed watered. All in the cacophony of buzzing insects, with an accompaniment of my slaps and curses.
I do many indoor chores then and they're boring -- I'm sure you did some variant of the same and so let's move straight to the evening, when Snowdrop, her young parents and their visiting friend show up for dinner. Snowdrop is super happy to be here and she is super happy to see that grandpa is, for the next few minutes, watching the Rio Olympics.
The women are diving into the swimming pool, little one.
She is mesmerized.
The young people talk and reflect and do as young people are wont to do.
We eat dinner outside and it is a beautiful evening for it!
(I liked it, gaga!)
Can I help with the dishes?
The visiting friend knows our family quite well and he has a special interest in the history of the generations that migrated back and forth across the ocean as wars and economic crises reshaped the landscape in places where they resided. I have photo albums that my mom put together that date back to the beginning of the last century. I smile to myself as they look through these. Isn't it the case that someday, their young lives will be a source of interest to generations who follow after Snowdrop?
The little girl does stuff that perhaps isn't out of the ordinary today, but in eighty or ninety years, wont it seem quaint and somewhat old fashioned?
Time is a funny thing: it can smooth out wrinkles and add new layers of interpretation. We really cannot tell what future generations will think of all this. Except, I really believe that the image of a child at play will never be stale or insignificant. So I'll leave you with that. A child at play, pure and simple.
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