Sunday, perfect Sunday

What makes for a perfect April Sunday? What are its essential elements? What would I look for?

Well, since I write somewhat obsessively about the weather, groaning at cold and wet days, rhapsodizing when skies turn blue and tulips open their faces to the sunshine, you'd look out today and say -- she must have hated this one! It's twenty degrees below average. It's wet. It's windy. You can't say many kind things about today's weather.

The thing is, it completely doesn't matter! Oh, I suppose it would have been like a sprinkle of gold dust had we a bit of sunshine on my brief stroll to pick asparagus, or to greet my family, or to walk them back to their cars, but honestly, I was too full of warm feelings to notice something so insignificant as The Weather.

Rain? Wind? Clouds? Ha! You did nothing to spoil things for me! It was, in fact, the perfect Sunday.

Once more, you'll have a page of family photos. They are my treasure trove: they speak to my delight and joy and ardent belief that in these vignettes you can find bliss.

Call this an early pre-breakfast:






And now it's time to prepare brunch. I have company!

Snowdrop, let's go pick asparagus for the noon meal! She grabs a ride, because it's such a long distance! (Less than a minute's walk, even for tiny legs.)






Back inside, she wants to step out on the porch and watch Ed unload wood chips. No way, Snowdrop. Close that door!






Her aunt and uncle are now at the farmhouse and she is all smiles and giggles for them. Here, Snowdrop has entrusted her baby to my daughter, who now has to help me cook with said baby slung on her hip.






That's right, Snowdrop: get someone to baby sit while you go off and engage in fun construction projects!






Back and forth she goes, between aunt and uncle, loving them both and, like her gaga, wanting to hold on to them and keep them here!






... with a kiss.






Getting the men to play ball with her...






And so it continues, back and forth, kitchen, play room, living room, then kitchen again.






Everyone is finally here and we sit down to brunch (centered around a Mexican mushroom frittata from the Egg Shop Cookbook.)






...with some pastries for dessert. Snowdrop knows that this weekend is to celebrate my birthday, this time with my younger daughter and her husband. She asks -- where are the candles? Okay! I have some! More candles, gaga! No, Snowdrop -- two is quite enough!






Happy girl...





Happy me!

Some presents to open from this duo...






And then we settle in for a bit of downtime. You know, to digest it all.

Snowdrop makes a boat out of one of the present boxes and Ed, who has always used the example of discarded cardboard as the perfect alternative to the unnecessary purchase of toys ("so much more room for imaginative play!") has a smug grin. I roll my eyes, but with a smile.

Her aunt and uncle push her back and forth across the choppy seas of the living room floor.







And now everyone must move on and return home and this should be my final photo, but in fact, the day still has at least a few elements of family, and it has the pleasure of one more meal, this time around the dinner table. (A smile and an exchange with mommy...)






After, a look at a PBS documentary on puffins...






... and the day draws to a close.

Yes, a most perfect set of hours.  A Sunday that will long shine for me: an example of the best of the best. Despite the miserable weather outside.