Thursday, November 14, 2019

farmette life 16

The storm hath passed;
I hear the birds rejoice; the hen,
Returned into the road again,
Her cheerful notes repeats. The sky serene
Is, in the west, upon the mountain seen:
The country smiles; bright runs the silver stream.
If, by some monstrous growth, miraculous,
Pleasure at times is born of pain,
It is a precious gain!
(Giacomo Leopardi)

This morning, I lifted the brick that kept the coop door shut for the past three days. By 8 a.m., the cheepers were out. True, they merely moved from the coop to a corner of the barn that stays a tad warmer than, say, the open field, but still, I felt that they should benefit even this tiny bit, given my clearing head and my calmer soul. I have it in me to chase them down and lock them up again before the kids come.

It's still not quite November weather out there, but we're moving closer. By tomorrow, we'll be back in positive (above freezing) territory. That's reason enough to be happy!

As I sit down to a very late breakfast...

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...I think about the small ways in which being alone here has not been so hard. For a little while, you get to be selfish again.

You want the living room neat and tidy all the time? You can do it! (The farmhouse living room has been the epitome of neatness and tidiness for the past 16 days.) Tired of menu planning every night? Steam up some veggies, bake a potato, but some cheese on it, add a nice slice of smoked salmon and a salad and call it dinner. Oh, I would have occasionally done something similar for us when Ed is here, but this has been my dinner for three days in a row now! With a cup of soup straight out of a container ("super greens creamy soup"). With Ed, I always cook soups from scratch.

And the candle burns and the music plays.

These are small pleasures of course and they do not diminish my longing for Ed to be back again, because this place lacks a heart when he is away, but still, one has to acknowledge that there are, in fact, joys and pleasures for him out there on the boat, and, too, a small trickle of joys and pleasures at the farmhiuse as well.

I can muse about that again because, knock on wood, this morning, for the first time, I wake up fever free.The tumult of this week -- the sickness, the cat drama, the utter cold -- it's moving elsewhere. Here, at the farmette, it's time to imagine pleasure again. Can I interest you in a cup of Blueberry Hibiscus tea, with a splash of elderberry juice, a squeeze of honey and some lemon juice? [A thank you to Snowdrop's teacher who pointed me to the elderberry juice. It's expensive! -- I protested. Well, my grandmother had elderberries growing right in her back yard. Hmmm. Maybe Ed and I should pant elderberry bushes and then the grandkids will some day say -- oh, we picked those in Gaga's yard!]

*   *   *

It's one of those school pickups where neither kid is ready to stop what they're doing: Sparrow is solidly asleep and Snowdrop begs for more time to finish her book project!

It takes us half an hour to leave the school building.

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At the farmhouse, Sparrow always notices Stop Sign. Always.

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Snowdrop, overjoyed that there is indeed a Little Gray stuffie waiting for her...

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Evening visitors...

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The kids and I watch the deer, because we happen to be outside at the same time. I'm taking them to Snowdrop's dance class. It's a project, but today, their parents are helping me tremendously by meeting me at class -- to manage Sparrow while I makes sure Snowdrop is ready for class.

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Evening. Remarkable in the fact that it is quite unremarkable!