You know how a day proceeds: each hour is a new card and it may reveal a pleasant outcome, or something you wouldn't necessarily like or call a winning hand.
I do think that, as of this writing (there are a few hours left to the day!), all the cards showed lovely outcomes for me today.
The day dawned beautifully to clear blue skies and yes, warm temps in the upper 80sF (over 30C), but with a breeze and with a significantly lower humidity.
An early garden walk, past the fallen clematis, which I refuse to raise because it climbs right under a bird's nest and becomes their outhouse all summer long...
Breakfast.
You said you weren't photographing me.
I wasn't totally truthful.
And then yes, a dentist appointment, which surely does not constitute a lucky card draw! But I was so certain I would get a poor verdict, that I could not believe my luck when my good old dentist said -- oh I can fix this quickly on the spot. Splish splash, rubber this, seal that and I'm out of there! What luck!
To celebrate, I stop at the nearby La Baguette bakery to buy their delicious quiches for supper.
A few tedious bookkeeping chores at home (I did not say that every minute was 100% sublime) and then it's time to pick up Snowdrop.
We go to the playground and she does many lovely rounds of play on the climbing structure... (She has invented a game that goes with it and she repeats it every time and it just makes me smile and smile...)
Then up on the life guard chair...
Followed by a bite of scone at the coffee shop...
And then I have this idea and I'm even equipped to execute it, but I'm just not sure... So I ask: Snowdrop, do you want to go to the swimming pool? It's just a few blocks from here...
Snowdrop has once had swim lessons there (at the Goodman pool) and she certainly loves splashing in her farmette wading pool, but last week's splash pad experience has me wondering if it's worth moving ahead with a pool idea just now.
The Goodman pool is Madison's one and only community pool (all the other pools are private and require insanely expensive memberships). Here, the season's pass for Madison residents is reasonable, and the daily pass -- a trivial sum as well. And so on days like this, it can get very, very crowded.
But Snowdrop hears the word pool and gives a resounding "yes!"
We get there just a couple of minutes before it opens to the public (at 1 every day).
The lines are crazy. I mean, really crazy. It's hot. The sun is strong. Is this worth it? I turn to her: you want to wait for tickets and go to the pool? Again a big "yes!" (Not every minute of every hour is sublime...)
We wait. People are nice. The lines grow so long that I can't see their end. This is when I decide that I better just cough up the cash for a season's pass for us: not only does it make economic sense, but, too, I never ever want to stand in a line this long again!) I look at her -- she better enjoy this!
Then there's the confusion about payment: machines aren't working, computers are jamming, we hold up the now beyond insanely long line just in trying to pay our fair share... But finally, we're in!
And it's crowded. And there are kids, oh so many kids, everywhere. And it's so sunny that your eyes squint wherever you turn. And so I really feel compelled to glob on the sunscreen.
But as we go into the water, the girl is transformed!
She just loves it!
All of it!
A few minutes of splashing in the shallow end and then she ventures out toward the deeper parts. It strikes me that Snowdrop does not understand that she does not know how to swim. I hover. She pushes me away. No, Gaga, I can do this!
She was so enthralled at being at the pool that I did not think I would ever be able to coax her out of it. I finally gathered her up and told her that her babies were waiting and reluctantly, she allowed herself to be showered and then directed to the car.
At the farmhouse. She should be sleeping now.
Snowdrop, it's time for a nap.
I think I need to buy groceries first...
A book and a nap, little one!
It was a beautiful afternoon. Snowdrop's joy was so profound that she could not contain her squeals and giggles. I smile just at the recollection.
In the evening, Ed and I scoot over to our local Thursday farmers market. We want some of those delicious new berries. and cheese curds, and whatever else might be showing up just now. (photo by Ed)
And then we are home, our old but ever so cool home, with views towards flower fields on all sides. Not quite in bloom yet, but summer lovely nonetheless.
Post Scriptum:
Well, even the late hours did not disappoint today. Ed had been working for a while now on getting Rosie the moped up and running for me again. She'd been unreliable at times and since there aren't many old motorbikes out there that Ed can't fix, he set himself up tonight to diagnose her issues. As the sun did its final dip below the line separating day from night, I went outside to keep him company.
I chased Java off her perch in the garage, pulled a few weeds in random places, and then asked for an update.
Maybe I should take her out for a spin?
Good idea. It's a gorgeous night.
Oh, is it ever!
When you're out on familiar rural roads, scooting about in your shorts, with bare shoulders and sandled feet, you feel the essence of summer.
At dusk, the scents are as profound as those in any flower market. The first night prowlers are beginning to emerge...
Suddenly, you feel that arrogance of youth, even if, like me, you're 64 years old. You don't remember, don't care, don't acknowledge all that has rattled you and your physical capabilities in the last decade or two. It's as if your adolescence came back, tapping on your shoulder, asking you -- hey, have you forgotten? You are as you were then...
Yeah, I remember. And tonight, out there between field and forest, I am as I was then...
I do think that, as of this writing (there are a few hours left to the day!), all the cards showed lovely outcomes for me today.
The day dawned beautifully to clear blue skies and yes, warm temps in the upper 80sF (over 30C), but with a breeze and with a significantly lower humidity.
An early garden walk, past the fallen clematis, which I refuse to raise because it climbs right under a bird's nest and becomes their outhouse all summer long...
Breakfast.
You said you weren't photographing me.
I wasn't totally truthful.
And then yes, a dentist appointment, which surely does not constitute a lucky card draw! But I was so certain I would get a poor verdict, that I could not believe my luck when my good old dentist said -- oh I can fix this quickly on the spot. Splish splash, rubber this, seal that and I'm out of there! What luck!
To celebrate, I stop at the nearby La Baguette bakery to buy their delicious quiches for supper.
A few tedious bookkeeping chores at home (I did not say that every minute was 100% sublime) and then it's time to pick up Snowdrop.
We go to the playground and she does many lovely rounds of play on the climbing structure... (She has invented a game that goes with it and she repeats it every time and it just makes me smile and smile...)
Then up on the life guard chair...
Followed by a bite of scone at the coffee shop...
And then I have this idea and I'm even equipped to execute it, but I'm just not sure... So I ask: Snowdrop, do you want to go to the swimming pool? It's just a few blocks from here...
Snowdrop has once had swim lessons there (at the Goodman pool) and she certainly loves splashing in her farmette wading pool, but last week's splash pad experience has me wondering if it's worth moving ahead with a pool idea just now.
The Goodman pool is Madison's one and only community pool (all the other pools are private and require insanely expensive memberships). Here, the season's pass for Madison residents is reasonable, and the daily pass -- a trivial sum as well. And so on days like this, it can get very, very crowded.
But Snowdrop hears the word pool and gives a resounding "yes!"
We get there just a couple of minutes before it opens to the public (at 1 every day).
The lines are crazy. I mean, really crazy. It's hot. The sun is strong. Is this worth it? I turn to her: you want to wait for tickets and go to the pool? Again a big "yes!" (Not every minute of every hour is sublime...)
We wait. People are nice. The lines grow so long that I can't see their end. This is when I decide that I better just cough up the cash for a season's pass for us: not only does it make economic sense, but, too, I never ever want to stand in a line this long again!) I look at her -- she better enjoy this!
Then there's the confusion about payment: machines aren't working, computers are jamming, we hold up the now beyond insanely long line just in trying to pay our fair share... But finally, we're in!
And it's crowded. And there are kids, oh so many kids, everywhere. And it's so sunny that your eyes squint wherever you turn. And so I really feel compelled to glob on the sunscreen.
But as we go into the water, the girl is transformed!
She just loves it!
All of it!
A few minutes of splashing in the shallow end and then she ventures out toward the deeper parts. It strikes me that Snowdrop does not understand that she does not know how to swim. I hover. She pushes me away. No, Gaga, I can do this!
She was so enthralled at being at the pool that I did not think I would ever be able to coax her out of it. I finally gathered her up and told her that her babies were waiting and reluctantly, she allowed herself to be showered and then directed to the car.
At the farmhouse. She should be sleeping now.
Snowdrop, it's time for a nap.
I think I need to buy groceries first...
A book and a nap, little one!
It was a beautiful afternoon. Snowdrop's joy was so profound that she could not contain her squeals and giggles. I smile just at the recollection.
In the evening, Ed and I scoot over to our local Thursday farmers market. We want some of those delicious new berries. and cheese curds, and whatever else might be showing up just now. (photo by Ed)
And then we are home, our old but ever so cool home, with views towards flower fields on all sides. Not quite in bloom yet, but summer lovely nonetheless.
Post Scriptum:
Well, even the late hours did not disappoint today. Ed had been working for a while now on getting Rosie the moped up and running for me again. She'd been unreliable at times and since there aren't many old motorbikes out there that Ed can't fix, he set himself up tonight to diagnose her issues. As the sun did its final dip below the line separating day from night, I went outside to keep him company.
I chased Java off her perch in the garage, pulled a few weeds in random places, and then asked for an update.
Maybe I should take her out for a spin?
Good idea. It's a gorgeous night.
Oh, is it ever!
When you're out on familiar rural roads, scooting about in your shorts, with bare shoulders and sandled feet, you feel the essence of summer.
At dusk, the scents are as profound as those in any flower market. The first night prowlers are beginning to emerge...
Suddenly, you feel that arrogance of youth, even if, like me, you're 64 years old. You don't remember, don't care, don't acknowledge all that has rattled you and your physical capabilities in the last decade or two. It's as if your adolescence came back, tapping on your shoulder, asking you -- hey, have you forgotten? You are as you were then...
Yeah, I remember. And tonight, out there between field and forest, I am as I was then...
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