watery Sunday

A wet wet day. The rain comes down, steadily (though not with much force). We stay indoors.

Breakfast is in the sunless front room.






I step outside only briefly...






Especially since we have much to do inside -- of the cerebral reckoning sort. In reading the NYTimes, I come across an article on well water contamination in Wisconsin. It's pervasive. We, of course, live on a former farm and we do have a well. It had been tested and it passed, mostly with flying colors, though with some small presence of nitrates. We put thoughts of well water aside.

Every now and then I would say -- we really need to have it retested. Last fall, I even went so far as to order the testing kit from the state lab. But, it's a complicated thing and I let it go. I mean, it's not as if cattle have roamed here in recent decades. (Which is a sorry excuse for inertia, but it worked for me. Nitrates remain my main concern.)

(To my credit, I buy bottled water for all kids who come to the farmhouse and for all pregnant moms who eat here. The only person who consumes lots of well water, daily, is me -- in my very numerous teas and coffees. The current wisdom is that adults are not affected by elevated nitrate levels, but of course, that's an ever changing piece of science. On the upside, the super duper hardness of our water is so healthy that one sip and you are on your way to a centennial birthday!)

Today, we decide to get with it. We prepare the tubes for testing. We fill out forms. Tomorrow morning we'll send the samples to the lab. It could be that we will have to install complicated filtration systems. Or maybe do nothing at all. We'll let the scientists decide.

(The farmhouse, fronted by the giant maples...)







In the evening, three out of four young family members come for dinner. (One has work commitments.)

Snowdrop is in love with predinner snacks. I'm kind of low on the usuals. Cheese and crackers? Sure. And that's about it. Gaga, do you have beets? Gulp... How about olives? Well...

She makes do.






In the meantime, Sparrow just laughs and laughs.






Dinner is special. The holiday season brings to our store (frozen) lobster tails. True, they are small (4 oz). But if you make pasta with tomatoes and asparagus, you can throw in a chopped up (4 oz)  lobster tail and have yourself a feast!






Baby Sparrow is wistful. One more month, little guy! Maybe not for crustaceans, but for some form of mush.





It's dark outside, of course. It was dark when they came, very dark when they left. You'll guess that it wasn't dark at all here at the farmhouse. Not at any time this week. Not at all.