A friend asked me if in these gray gloomy cold days I sometimes look back to photos of flowers. If I recall and take photo strolls through the Luxembourg Gardens, for example. I thought about that a bit today and wondered why it's indeed rare for me to go back. Not "never," but rare. I'm much more forward looking. All these Ocean posts get their fair day in court, but for the most part, I then move on. Maybe when I am old and infirm and my "forward" holds no more walks in gardens of any sort, maybe then I'll scroll and stroll and recall. For now, I spend a lot of time thinking bout the spring before us, perhaps because I am sure that there will be flowers and color and sunshine in that season. Excitement comes from anticipation. And I am very excited that in 49 days, we will have spring.
In the meantime, what can I say -- gray and gloomy and cold.
Breakfast: colorful!
Yesterday, the second little kitty found her way home again. She was hungry and she looks thin and scrawny (she has been gone almost two weeks), but somehow or other she made it back.
So now we are back to nine cats, two of them unspayed. Ed and I are starting to talk about how to trap the two little ones without freaking out everyone else.
I have just a few short moments on mom stuff in the morning. Otherwise, I am still waiting for the transition to the Managed Care model to take root. A basically free morning pushes us outside, despite the cold and gloom.
We walk along the road that snakes along Lake Waubesa. There is rarely any traffic here and the surfaces are free of ice. It's a calm and pretty walk, with occasional views to the wetlands, the farmlands and of course, the lake. Here's a peek at the rural landscape:
(Oh! Who just crossed our path?)
In the afternoon, I am with Snowdrop and Sparrow.
In many ways, our play is a repetition of yesterday's play.
But of course, it's never a real repetition. (Well, except for the graham cracker!)
No words are ever the same, no story unfolds along the same lines. Kids like to see repetition, but they themselves never present carbon copies of a previous day's antics. They are clever disruptors and innovators.
The day ends quietly. Ed plays volley ball, I catch up on laptop work and fry an egg for supper. And I think about flowers. The ones resting their roots in a frozen soil. The ones that will burst forth with color this coming spring.
In the meantime, what can I say -- gray and gloomy and cold.
Breakfast: colorful!
Yesterday, the second little kitty found her way home again. She was hungry and she looks thin and scrawny (she has been gone almost two weeks), but somehow or other she made it back.
So now we are back to nine cats, two of them unspayed. Ed and I are starting to talk about how to trap the two little ones without freaking out everyone else.
I have just a few short moments on mom stuff in the morning. Otherwise, I am still waiting for the transition to the Managed Care model to take root. A basically free morning pushes us outside, despite the cold and gloom.
We walk along the road that snakes along Lake Waubesa. There is rarely any traffic here and the surfaces are free of ice. It's a calm and pretty walk, with occasional views to the wetlands, the farmlands and of course, the lake. Here's a peek at the rural landscape:
(Oh! Who just crossed our path?)
In the afternoon, I am with Snowdrop and Sparrow.
In many ways, our play is a repetition of yesterday's play.
But of course, it's never a real repetition. (Well, except for the graham cracker!)
No words are ever the same, no story unfolds along the same lines. Kids like to see repetition, but they themselves never present carbon copies of a previous day's antics. They are clever disruptors and innovators.
The day ends quietly. Ed plays volley ball, I catch up on laptop work and fry an egg for supper. And I think about flowers. The ones resting their roots in a frozen soil. The ones that will burst forth with color this coming spring.
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