Friday

I am immensely happy that on most days, ever since my retirement, I do not have to rush. Leisure to me is not doing nothing. It means I can go about my tasks without time pressure. That, to me, is the grand benefit of retirement.

Fridays, however, have been a challenge. Even though I never babysit on a Friday morning, I push myself to fit every appointment, shopping trip, and errand into this set of hours. And no matter how hard I try to stay focused on keeping to a schedule, I am always and for everything, five minutes late. And I'm sure that if I had that extra five minutes in my pocket, I'd be five other minutes late. That, for me, is the definition of rushing.

Today conforms to this pattern. Yes, there is a farmhouse breakfast, but it is rushed. Ed, don't make sour faces for my camera, and please just leave that dish in the sink and no, don't start in on a good story now, save it for later later later....  





And I'm late everywhere and all morning long.

In the afternoon, I am with Snowdrop, though not fully so, because she decides to take a three hour nap and suddenly time stands still and all those five minute tardies seem so ridiculously of another era.

Funny how time arranges itself in ways that are unpredictable, testing one's resolve to stay mellow and calm despite it all. 

At least I did not begin the post with a scathing rebuke on the subject of the weather. The day deserved it, but I feel quite optimistic about May, even if I do admit that weather wise, the end of April is a bust. 

Snowdrop photos? you're kidding, right? Too little time! Ooh, here's that word again -- time. In fact, there's always time. So long as you're able to lift your feet and stomp them on the ground, there's time.

Enough even for a Snowdrop photo.







Or two.

What is it that you're doing, grandma? Ironing? What's that? My dress? Really? Weird!






P.S. You're asking, too, what's blooming at the farmette? Oh, we are beginning to get layers of stuff. Take a look. With Java in the background.