From frets, fraughts and frailties to serene gentility and calm. Isn't that always the pattern -- one day you're stumbling around, the next -- you're gliding across a lake without a ripple on it.
More kittens are returning to food, fewer minutes are spent tidying spent flowers, a kind Air France soul called to apologize and make amends, and the sound of crickets (no, not frogs) fills the air here, at the farmette.
Morning garden photos:
Both Ed and I have loads of appointments all morning long and so breakfast is calm, but quick.
When it's time to pick up Snowdrop, dark, menacing clouds move in. My hair cut person is to trim Snowdrop's hair a bit. How to avoid a downpour? Buy a cookie and sit in the salon and eat it, waiting for the appointment. By the time we finally leave, the skies are nearly blue again.
(at the farmette...)
(silly girl...)
The little girl is determined to (nearly) finish building the Lego set and we make great progress! In a couple of hours, we work our way through three more packets of microscopic pieces! But, alas, we do not reach the end.
You want me to get it done in the next few days? I ask this, because I wont see the little girl until the weekend. (She has other family commitments.)
No! I want to work on it too!
And there you have it -- the girl is growing up very quickly.
Late in the evening...
Pretty light, sweet kitties, tranquil thoughts about the day gone by...
In the farmhouse, Ed and I flip through the channels of the TV. Typically, we watch the PBS channel or nothing at all, but today, we tune into a Western movie, one from 1966 (so, really terrible from any which way you look at it). To make matters worse, all the commercials target very old and infirm people. It feels like sitting around watching TV in a nursing home for those with greatly impaired mobility.
I tell Ed that we really should consider biting the bullet and spending the $10 per month for Netflix.
You really want to waste your time binge watching Netflix shows? -- he asks.
Better than tuning into a commercial infested bad Western from 1966 -- I retort, eyes nonetheless glued to the screen.
We go around this every once in a while. Ed is loathe to spend money on anything that isn't essential and believe me, his definition of essential is very rigorous. We like our time on the couch in the evening. A good show is an unnecessary bonus. A bad show? Something to groan about, until, like tonight, you can stand it no more and you flick the thing off and plunge the farmhouse into lovely silence.
More kittens are returning to food, fewer minutes are spent tidying spent flowers, a kind Air France soul called to apologize and make amends, and the sound of crickets (no, not frogs) fills the air here, at the farmette.
Morning garden photos:
Both Ed and I have loads of appointments all morning long and so breakfast is calm, but quick.
When it's time to pick up Snowdrop, dark, menacing clouds move in. My hair cut person is to trim Snowdrop's hair a bit. How to avoid a downpour? Buy a cookie and sit in the salon and eat it, waiting for the appointment. By the time we finally leave, the skies are nearly blue again.
(at the farmette...)
(silly girl...)
The little girl is determined to (nearly) finish building the Lego set and we make great progress! In a couple of hours, we work our way through three more packets of microscopic pieces! But, alas, we do not reach the end.
You want me to get it done in the next few days? I ask this, because I wont see the little girl until the weekend. (She has other family commitments.)
No! I want to work on it too!
And there you have it -- the girl is growing up very quickly.
Late in the evening...
Pretty light, sweet kitties, tranquil thoughts about the day gone by...
In the farmhouse, Ed and I flip through the channels of the TV. Typically, we watch the PBS channel or nothing at all, but today, we tune into a Western movie, one from 1966 (so, really terrible from any which way you look at it). To make matters worse, all the commercials target very old and infirm people. It feels like sitting around watching TV in a nursing home for those with greatly impaired mobility.
I tell Ed that we really should consider biting the bullet and spending the $10 per month for Netflix.
You really want to waste your time binge watching Netflix shows? -- he asks.
Better than tuning into a commercial infested bad Western from 1966 -- I retort, eyes nonetheless glued to the screen.
We go around this every once in a while. Ed is loathe to spend money on anything that isn't essential and believe me, his definition of essential is very rigorous. We like our time on the couch in the evening. A good show is an unnecessary bonus. A bad show? Something to groan about, until, like tonight, you can stand it no more and you flick the thing off and plunge the farmhouse into lovely silence.
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