We are a greedy bunch. There is that rudimentary wish we always seem to have for something just a tad (or maybe not even just a tad) bigger, better than what we have now.
Perhaps this is what drives discovery. It's behind the entrepreneurial spirit, no? Didn't we find that without the prospects of promotion or a bootstrap to lift you up from wherever you're stuck in life, your incentive to work long and hard wavers?
Ed, of course, is the anomaly. He works for the love of the job. He wants no improvements in his daily life. He would be happy even if he never acquired another object or took another trip trip to some distant place. He looks for the cheapest computer, the oldest car. His motorcycle is more than thirty rusty years old.
I'm more complicated. Buying a pretty dress (or book or toy) for Snowdrop tickles me no end. I love my long trips and am thrilled when I am handed an upgrade on an airplane. I can never have too many flowers to plant. I don't want to buy new stuff just for the sake of having new stuff, but when my now ten year old car came with heated seats, I was so pleased! And when my eight year old Apple laptop bites the dust and even Ed can't fix it anymore, I'll probably save up to get another Apple.
But the worst sign of my lust for the slight improvement over what is before me is, I think, my attitude toward weather.
I do not think it's warm enough for April 4th. I know that last year at this time, we were already planning excursions to the greenhouse to fill my pots with annuals (which provide the ongoing color by the farmhouse even as perennials bloom and fade). Today I called my favorite annuals greenhouse (Kopke's) to find out when they'd be open for the season and the friendly person there told me -- well, you can come for a special preview next week, but I wouldn't rush to plant anything beyond pansies because it's too cold.
Well said: it's too cold!
(You can tell by the crocus plants that they're not happy with the absence of warming sunshine...)
Yet what I have to admit is that it's not that bad! Indeed, two weeks ago, a day like this one would have been a godsend! True, not a lot of sunlight, but pretty in its own way!
(This, across the road from the farmette...)
The morning rain meant that Snowdrop was in her raincoat and boots, which is a good thing as the school kids spent some time playing in the puddles and the mud. The rains have abetted for now and so I pull the stroller out of the car and she and I set out for an adventure.
She is hungry. A snack stop seems appropriate.
("What is this??" -- she asks, as we pass the pointing finger.
"It's showing us where the entrance is to the coffee shop" -- I explain.)
(From the point of view of a two year old, there is a lot of waiting in life. Snowdrop is quite good at waiting.)
(Later, at the farmette, the rains have moved on, to the delight of the cheepers, who never fail to greet us as we get out of the car.)
(What're you doing ahah?
Cutting something with a sharp knife.
It's a pencil?
No, it's a knife...)
(Can I play my guitar?
Yes, Snowdrop, you can strum "your" guitar...)
(Yeah!)
(Can ahah play the guitar?
I don't think so.
Can ahah draw with us?
Sure.)
This is an ongoing favorite: the three of us gather around my desk and draw on post-its.
Nap time, Snowdrop.
I need to read one more book!
Okay, just one more.
Toward evening, we see a flicker of sunlight. That's all fine and well, but tomorrow will be even colder (40sF) and the rain is to be with us again. I know I am spoiled, but come on, April! Do give us some of those days of lovely sunshine. For the sake of the poor crocuses. For the sake of the nearly blooming daffodils. For the sake of all creatures great and small. I shall be satisfied then, you'll see!
Snowdrop pulls me outside. One small flicker of sunlight. It's enough.
Perhaps this is what drives discovery. It's behind the entrepreneurial spirit, no? Didn't we find that without the prospects of promotion or a bootstrap to lift you up from wherever you're stuck in life, your incentive to work long and hard wavers?
Ed, of course, is the anomaly. He works for the love of the job. He wants no improvements in his daily life. He would be happy even if he never acquired another object or took another trip trip to some distant place. He looks for the cheapest computer, the oldest car. His motorcycle is more than thirty rusty years old.
I'm more complicated. Buying a pretty dress (or book or toy) for Snowdrop tickles me no end. I love my long trips and am thrilled when I am handed an upgrade on an airplane. I can never have too many flowers to plant. I don't want to buy new stuff just for the sake of having new stuff, but when my now ten year old car came with heated seats, I was so pleased! And when my eight year old Apple laptop bites the dust and even Ed can't fix it anymore, I'll probably save up to get another Apple.
But the worst sign of my lust for the slight improvement over what is before me is, I think, my attitude toward weather.
I do not think it's warm enough for April 4th. I know that last year at this time, we were already planning excursions to the greenhouse to fill my pots with annuals (which provide the ongoing color by the farmhouse even as perennials bloom and fade). Today I called my favorite annuals greenhouse (Kopke's) to find out when they'd be open for the season and the friendly person there told me -- well, you can come for a special preview next week, but I wouldn't rush to plant anything beyond pansies because it's too cold.
Well said: it's too cold!
(You can tell by the crocus plants that they're not happy with the absence of warming sunshine...)
Yet what I have to admit is that it's not that bad! Indeed, two weeks ago, a day like this one would have been a godsend! True, not a lot of sunlight, but pretty in its own way!
(This, across the road from the farmette...)
The morning rain meant that Snowdrop was in her raincoat and boots, which is a good thing as the school kids spent some time playing in the puddles and the mud. The rains have abetted for now and so I pull the stroller out of the car and she and I set out for an adventure.
She is hungry. A snack stop seems appropriate.
("What is this??" -- she asks, as we pass the pointing finger.
"It's showing us where the entrance is to the coffee shop" -- I explain.)
(From the point of view of a two year old, there is a lot of waiting in life. Snowdrop is quite good at waiting.)
(Later, at the farmette, the rains have moved on, to the delight of the cheepers, who never fail to greet us as we get out of the car.)
(What're you doing ahah?
Cutting something with a sharp knife.
It's a pencil?
No, it's a knife...)
(Can I play my guitar?
Yes, Snowdrop, you can strum "your" guitar...)
(Yeah!)
(Can ahah play the guitar?
I don't think so.
Can ahah draw with us?
Sure.)
This is an ongoing favorite: the three of us gather around my desk and draw on post-its.
Nap time, Snowdrop.
I need to read one more book!
Okay, just one more.
Toward evening, we see a flicker of sunlight. That's all fine and well, but tomorrow will be even colder (40sF) and the rain is to be with us again. I know I am spoiled, but come on, April! Do give us some of those days of lovely sunshine. For the sake of the poor crocuses. For the sake of the nearly blooming daffodils. For the sake of all creatures great and small. I shall be satisfied then, you'll see!
Snowdrop pulls me outside. One small flicker of sunlight. It's enough.
