landscape

When Ed was still trying to coax me into spending more time at the farmette, the hot spots here were differently configured. The farmhouse was (for a while at least) inhabited by a former friend. It was rundown and in need of work. The porch was poorly built and not usable. The color of the building itself was the color of uncooked pinto beans. Ed lived in the sheep shed. When he offered to build a writer's shed for me, I thought it should blend into the farmette green palate. Pale gray siding seemed so perfect! I didn't realize that for a big chunk of the year, the farmette land was not green at all. It was winter brown and charcoal gray.

The barn that leans on the red shed used to be red, but it has long shed its bright tones. It's mostly brown. The farmhouse is of course now yellow. I cannot stress enough how much I appreciate these two colors as I live here now year-round. They are my compass points: the southern yellow of the house, the ever bright and cheerful red of the shed. I wish the writer's shed had been painted a luminous yellow and teal -- anything to introduce another color boost to this winter landscape.


(Looking toward the barn and the eye popping red shed after a night of ice and more ice)






We did not give the cats a second feeding yesterday. Ed thinks we should be judicious in dishing out food for them (especially if they dont finish all that we give them; it invites predators to come eat the rest). Besides, there was an ice storm raging. No one wanted to go out once it hit. And so this morning, the three cats are hungrier than usual. That desire to get to the day's offerings leads the little kittens to overcome some of their "Nina-and-her-camera" fear.





But here, too, I want to be careful. We are not training them to be house cats. We're not even sure if we want three cats living permanently in the garage. So far, none of the farmette cats have been birders. Stop Sign has shown no interest in hunting things that fly. And she keeps a healthy distance from the cheepers.  Will her kittens coexist equally well with all that lives here on farmette lands?

We feed the cats. We watch them. We talk about our duty to neuter them and wish there was an easy way of doing it. And of course, in the long winter months, we are entertained by them!





During winter, you take one day at a time.


Breakfast.






Does it seem to you that winter brings with it a good deal of focus on feeding? And slightly less opportunity for movement? Oh, I chase kids and shovel snow. But these are add-ons. You know you're in trouble when there isn't a core activity that you return to all winter long. Cross country skiing used to be our thing. You know how that turned out: there hasn't been the snow for it. Consequently, we're not moving enough.

So today I resume yoga. I used to be heavily invested in going to a local yoga class. But, the grandkids came, time was short, I stopped. Now, in resuming the practice (using a youtube for it -- it's so much more efficient!) -- I do understand that in the four years I've been without it, I may have grown rusty. Stiffened up here and there. And of course, there's the silly knee, the crinkled back... Perhaps I shouldn't quite try to outcompete those half my age.  Perhaps I should look for a slower paced session.

I find a youtube under the title of "yoga for seniors or returning yogi."

At the end of it, I am gloating: too tame! I'm nimble still! I can do more! Next time, at the very least, I'm going for "yoga for the slightly aged and still competitive with the younger set."

That kind of bravado usually does not end well. And sure enough, as I leave to pick up Snowdrop at school, I calculate that I have just enough time to stop by the post office to mail a package. But to be on time,  I have to rush. I move quickly. Into my car. Zip, zoom. Out of my car. RUN up the ramp to the post office entrance. And there I trip on some broken piece of ramp (can you sue the federal government for inadequate facilities? No you cannot. I remember that from my teaching days) and fall hard on both my knees.

Nice work, senior yoga super star! (I'm hoping for swelling but no major damage; that would be the good outcome.)


And here's someone who has no trouble being nimble and sprite. She does it effortlessly.






Also effortless: her hunt for my stockpile of ginger snaps!






Today she resumes storybook ballet.






As always, her very favorite moment is when they put on the costumes and act out a story.











Or is it? Perhaps her very favorite moment is when she finishes class and comes out to find her mommy waiting for her...






I hobble outside and drive home. The ice storm is dumping every possible bit of slickness on our roads, our driveways. I know to be careful on those. I sometimes wish I knew to be careful in less obviously tricky situations. I mean, isn't it predictable? I survive rooftop scrambles and icy roads, but I trip and fall on my way in to the post office. I always said -- don't worry about the obvious. It's the stupid that will, in the end, drag you down.