don't cry over spilt milk

Really, it started with the milk.

I had done well in the morning. It's a rainy day and so I didn't think I'd make much progress with garden work today, but lo, I was able to sneak around the greatest rains and I did my snipping. 640 spent lilies, with wet shoes and damp clothing, but a small burst of pride at having accomplished this task, weather notwithstanding.






(You may well guess why this is called a spider daylily)






(The trumpets call, the angels sing...)






(Morning greeting)






(The quirky, delightfully dainty front bed)






(Anything else for us?)






Breakfast, on the porch.






(Rain outside)






Grocery shopping comes next on any Friday morning. I am feeling quite like the queen of leisure. My visit with Sparrow is postponed as the little guy has other plans. So I have time. (Or so I think.)

An hour before I am to pick up Snowdrop, I get an email from Air France, concerning a future reservation. I think the airline has gone bananas with its online services. And I say this even as they are my loyalty airline and I hate the idea of turning disloyal. Nonetheless, I think things are slightly amiss there (please don't remind me that they're near bankruptcy due to their labor disputes -- I'm aware of it). Today they notify me of a flight change. And not just a flight change, but a change of day of travel change. Now hold on there, can you even do that?

I must investigate. I place a call to the airline. At the same moment, I am still enjoying the leisure of knowing that I have 59 minutes before I must pick up Snowdrop. This is when I reach for the milk to make myself a cup of coffee, but since the fridge is full (shopping day!), I bump into some food or other and the big carton of milk spills.

Did you ever spill a big carton of milk from an upper shelf of your fridge down into the lower levels, after filling said fridge with foods for the week?

Everything has to come out.

All this time I am on hold with Delta who, on this side of the ocean, speaks for Air France.

After, it's one huge comedy of errors. Chickens screech, Stop Sign comes calling, the clock is ticking, the Delta/AF agent is perplexed and milk keeps trickling into every single bin of the mighty fridge.

I pick up Snowdrop with phone glued to ear, still waiting for the agent to figure out what's going on (we're only 80 minutes into the call).

Snowdrop asks -- can we go to the park or pool? 

It's verging on rain/storms again. But all I can think of is the fact that if we go to the park, I will buy myself at least fifteen minutes of "hanging on the phone waiting for solutions" time. So I tell her: park it is, only it may rain, so be prepared to run!

(Look Gaga! A little bird!)

 
 

Oh, Snowdrop, you are as thrilled with summer sights and sounds as I am!


Eventually, the airline agent comes back with what he thinks it's a solution. Only when I return to my computer do I realize that he accomplished nothing and I have to start all over again, but right now, Snowdrop and I are on the swings, feeling mighty good about life.

But the rain is about to hit us hard again. We do a hasty retreat.

(At the farmette: but if I walk barefoot, my feet will get dirty and I'll have to take a bath! Or, you could just come in and play.)






(Play, airline calls, cherries, books, against a backdrop of so many Snowdrop stories!)


 



True, things are a bit rushed again.

But it's all so trivial, really. If such small glitches as airline snafus and tricky schedules get to you, then you really are ill prepared for life. And yet, I had been so sure of an easy pace today! One spilled milk, one email and I'm back on the treadmill.

Still, the rains are receding. The flowers are happy as can be. As are the kids, chickens and all the other animals that make their way to the farmette.

Happy summer, indeed!