We begin our march toward summer. Or so it seems: we jump a lofty distance and wind up near 80f (26c) today!
I am still in Chicago. Primrose needs another day at home. A quick last book with mom...
... and then I take over.
So what shall we do today, little girl? How about art class? Your cousin loves art. Do you?
(good...)
(better...)
(best!)
Yes, I can see that we'll be coming back to art during our times together!
Somewhere in the morning hours, I have breakfast. The usual.
And sometime around noon, we take a walk... So warm, so sunny, so different from these past weeks!
Primrose has moved ahead in so many ways since we last walked together in the fall. She doesn't want to be left to her own devices, she wants to have a conversation. She may not have the words yet, but she surely knows how to communicate!
Giving her words is of course so important at this age. Perhaps predictably, I steer toward all that is beautiful and growing around us. Trees, with green leaves, creating lovely arches above...
Lilacs! Very purple, very fragrant.
Look, little one! A butterfly!
It hovers, showing off its enchanting dance over these full clusters of little flowers and eventually it moves on.
Sigh... we all do have to move on.
A final meal with Primrose, joined by her dad...
And then, later, I am on the bus again, returning home.
As always, I am so torn! In three directions -- two young families and Ed at home. For each, I know I could do so much more, but only if I left the remaining two for longer spells. If you add to it my travels, then I surely have filled my time, even as I want to extend my reach even further. I could have helped more in Chicago! Even as I'm rushing back, because, well, there's Ed, who never asks for more time, but has pretty much devoted these years to hanging out with me. And of course, Snowdrop and Sparrow, waiting, because we were right in the middle of games when I took off. And yet, when I ride the bus home, I think -- I could have done more. Everywhere, I could have done even more.
It's still light when I pull into the farmette. I catch Ed just before he goes off for his weekly bike ride.
(evening rituals: watering the baby tomatoes)
And then I sit on the picnic bench, shaking off wisps of angst, allowing myself to drink in the beauty of the gardens around me.
I am still in Chicago. Primrose needs another day at home. A quick last book with mom...
... and then I take over.
So what shall we do today, little girl? How about art class? Your cousin loves art. Do you?
(good...)
(better...)
(best!)
Yes, I can see that we'll be coming back to art during our times together!
Somewhere in the morning hours, I have breakfast. The usual.
And sometime around noon, we take a walk... So warm, so sunny, so different from these past weeks!
Primrose has moved ahead in so many ways since we last walked together in the fall. She doesn't want to be left to her own devices, she wants to have a conversation. She may not have the words yet, but she surely knows how to communicate!
Giving her words is of course so important at this age. Perhaps predictably, I steer toward all that is beautiful and growing around us. Trees, with green leaves, creating lovely arches above...
Lilacs! Very purple, very fragrant.
Look, little one! A butterfly!
It hovers, showing off its enchanting dance over these full clusters of little flowers and eventually it moves on.
Sigh... we all do have to move on.
A final meal with Primrose, joined by her dad...
And then, later, I am on the bus again, returning home.
As always, I am so torn! In three directions -- two young families and Ed at home. For each, I know I could do so much more, but only if I left the remaining two for longer spells. If you add to it my travels, then I surely have filled my time, even as I want to extend my reach even further. I could have helped more in Chicago! Even as I'm rushing back, because, well, there's Ed, who never asks for more time, but has pretty much devoted these years to hanging out with me. And of course, Snowdrop and Sparrow, waiting, because we were right in the middle of games when I took off. And yet, when I ride the bus home, I think -- I could have done more. Everywhere, I could have done even more.
It's still light when I pull into the farmette. I catch Ed just before he goes off for his weekly bike ride.
(evening rituals: watering the baby tomatoes)
And then I sit on the picnic bench, shaking off wisps of angst, allowing myself to drink in the beauty of the gardens around me.
