Monday, July 23, 2018


Glorious sunshine, a gently blue sky, a sweet warm breeze. This is our weather today and from what I can tell, it'll be our weather tomorrow and the next day and the day after.

The tall day lilies are starting to bloom, telling me that we're entering the second half of summer.

(If ever something recalls the words "lift up your hearts!" -- seeing their upturned faces surely would be it...)

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(Oh, you, I love you as much, only differently!)

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(And you too!)

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(Our beloved flowers by our beloved porch...)

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(Funky front bed, made funkier this year by being selectively chomped up by deer)

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And now come the errands. Which only lead to more errands.

If you love car stories, then you'd probably be interested in the details of our morning, but I will assume most people are like me and find car stories terribly uninteresting. I know you wont care that the new tires for my car came in to our local big box store and that we hurried to have them put on, but as we pulled up, the auto center decided to close for the day. And you probably find it only mildly curious that on our next stop, Ed found that the brake lights on his car would not shut off. At all, ever.

Ah, but here are the good moments: one errand happened to be where Sparrow lives and so I had a chance to tickle his tummy and give him a hug...

(the skeptical half-grin)

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And Ed had a chance to show that his shirt matched Sparrow's outfit. A coincidence.

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There were several more errand stops and at each one Ed would have me stand outside and tell him if, after some manipulation on his part, the brake lights would go off and the answer would always be "no."

Once Ed is dealt a car problem, he invariably tries to solve the mystery behind it and so a good part of his day is now devoted to this task. (Needless to say, he finds the broken piece and conjures up some imaginative and effective fix.)

Me, I go and pick up Snowdrop. We have determined that my car's tires are hopelessly awful, but the drive to her school is short and the little one doesn't actually have to ride in the car at all because this is just such a perfect day for swimming. The plan is for her dad to pick her up at the end of the afternoon in the vicinity of the pool.

Pleased with my clever advanced planning and equipped with any and all swim paraphernalia, I ask her -- we're going to the pool, right?
No, I don't want to go to the pool.
No swimming today? Surely the girl's playing games with me.
I want to go to the park beach. I can swim there!

Well why not...

She insists on her (new) swim wings. As if she would ever plunge into the depths of the lake!

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The swim doesn't last long. A family of ducks and a handful of rambunctious teens bring out Snowdrop's shyer side. I myself am fine with the rambunctious teens, but less happy that she is sharing swim water (ostensibly cleaned and purified swim water) with ducks.

We play in the playground, then retreat to the coffee shop that is right by the park.

We munch (I just love this coffee shop and I just love sweet treats!), we sip refreshing beverages, and as there's still some time left, I suggest we poke around and see what's what. We go to the adjoining room that serves as a bar in the evenings, often with local musicians taking to the mike. When the young family lived in this neighborhood, they often came over for an evening of music and Snowdrop would dance the night away. It's empty now, but the little one is full of happy memories and so, tentatively at first, she takes to the "dance floor."

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As I watch her stand there, skirt in hand, I am reminded of something too -- of a picture taken when I was in first grade in Poland. As I recall, there was a school party. The girls were to dress as fairies, or maybe princesses. At any rate, lace was to be part of our dress code for that day. Even under communism, girls and lace were deemed to be a good pairing.

I didn't know it then, but my parents were already in the thick of planning for our imminent departure to New York where my dad was to work for the United Nations. My mom was surely too busy to think up lacy fairy costumes. But it happened that I had a "good" dress that had a bit of lace at the neckline. "This will do," I can almost hear my mom's thoughts.

I remember the photo instantly as I watch Snowdrop hold the end of her skirts in her dance pose. (above). In my own photo, I'm the one in dark tights and school slippers. My own hold of the skirt is far less graceful than Snowdrop's.

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As Snowdrop twirls and dances, I have to smile.

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Here's another photo, this one taken by my dad when I was just a couple of years older than Snowdrop. It's the late 50s, we're in Lazienki, Warsaw's great park. My dad must have asked me to twirl my skirt. I tried. Looking at the picture now, I see my two bruised knees. Did I ever mention that I was a kid who loved to ride scooters, bikes and later skateboards?

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Since there is no music at the cafe bar today, I hum along and she dances and I keep on humming...

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... until her dad comes to pick her up.

And now I'm back to the farmette, helping Ed corral the cheepers. We're getting more garlic/peppermint/rosemary today. They need to be in the coop.

We manage to get four of the six girls. Pepper and Cupcake defy our efforts. Ah well, they hide in the barn -- good enough.

The evening is quiet. Mosquito free, I expect. We'll appreciate it tomorrow and the day after. For now, we sit back and eat leftovers and talk about all that inconsequential stuff that makes any evening in fact so very special.