Tomorrow is Earth Day. You know that, right? April 22nd. The day before it (meaning today) happens to be my birthday. So, celebrate, right? But celebrate what? Surely not the headlines we read in the paper these days. Celebrate reaching 67. Celebrate life!
Life, with all its riches, hurdles and complexities. With its loves and tears and calamities. And flowers and seasons and families and friends. Beautiful, precious life.
It's sunny here, in Wisconsin. I'm not surprised. I was born in the northern hemisphere, and I continue to live "up north," where late April days often have blasts of sunshine. But today it's so sunny that a prudent person might dab on sunscreen if she decided to spend a lot of time outdoors. But that's not me today. I have too much to do and it is a tad too cold. A high of 48F (9C).
Even before breakfast (well, our breakfast), Primrose checks in from Chicago.
She is all sweetness and song and watching her romp and play and listening to her explain her world to me is totally grand.
Okay. Ed! Breakfast time! This morning, I jump into the photo frame. You make allowances for yourself on your birthday. (Crab apple branches from our big crab tree are blooming in the vase!)
The rest of my morning is with Snowdrop and Sparrow at their house.
Birthdays are exciting to kids even when they are not their own special days. They love to give!
And present opening -- this is thrilling to a five year old, if only for the delightful tearing up of paper and rescuing a pretty ribbon.
Oh, the sweet little ones in my life! Facing everything that's fragile bravely and with such enthusiasm!
My daughters always treat me royally on my birthday and I have to admit that this is stupendously wonderful, especially this year. In such a strange and tough time, you feel you do not have permission to be happy. It's not the emotion that rises to the surface easily when there is so much distress in the broader community. Nonetheless, I'm willing to open the door to a feeling of peace. Of appreciation for all that's so very good out there. I'm still trudging along, my beloved family is fine, my friends are looking for ways to stay close despite it all.
I drive up the farmette road just as Natalie (from Natalie's Greenhouses) is making a delivery of annuals for farmette planting (and baskets for the porch). Such beautiful colors!
I'll put them into their pots, but not today. The running refrain is the same ditty sung again and again, all day long -- too cold, too little time.
In the late afternoon, I visit with Primrose once more. It's her snack time and the little girl worries that I seem to not have had my own strawberries delivered yet, even as she enjoys hers.
(she asks for birthday candles so that we can "blow them out" together...)
The strawberries are coming, little one! Indeed, surprisingly, our weekly food delivery request, put in yesterday, brought up a drop off time today, so I'll be washing groceries soon -- a most unusual birthday activity, don't you think?
Somewhere in the middle of all this, Ed hands me a card. I truly have to smile at this. In past years, he would go to the store with me and agonize over which card to get -- one that was gushy enough to please me, yet succinct enough to represent his true non-emoting self. This year proved to be a challenge. No store trip. I eased it somewhat by giving him a stack of blank cards to choose from. He chose the sheep, wrote his sweet words inside -- done!
Evening. What food for a birthday meal? A lovely slab of salmon from our Alaska fishing crew, some perhaps slightly wilted asparagus, and Minnesotan wild rice. And wine and leftover cake and the one saved chocolate from the box Ed purchased for me, for us, back on Valentine's Day.
Such different times they were! But really, the essentials are the same: the love you feel from those who care about you, the beauty of this planet, that glorious sunshine, and added to it -- the spring flowers, the sweet voices of children singing happy birthday to you...
Celebrate life!
With so much love.
Life, with all its riches, hurdles and complexities. With its loves and tears and calamities. And flowers and seasons and families and friends. Beautiful, precious life.
It's sunny here, in Wisconsin. I'm not surprised. I was born in the northern hemisphere, and I continue to live "up north," where late April days often have blasts of sunshine. But today it's so sunny that a prudent person might dab on sunscreen if she decided to spend a lot of time outdoors. But that's not me today. I have too much to do and it is a tad too cold. A high of 48F (9C).
Even before breakfast (well, our breakfast), Primrose checks in from Chicago.
She is all sweetness and song and watching her romp and play and listening to her explain her world to me is totally grand.
Okay. Ed! Breakfast time! This morning, I jump into the photo frame. You make allowances for yourself on your birthday. (Crab apple branches from our big crab tree are blooming in the vase!)
The rest of my morning is with Snowdrop and Sparrow at their house.
Birthdays are exciting to kids even when they are not their own special days. They love to give!
And present opening -- this is thrilling to a five year old, if only for the delightful tearing up of paper and rescuing a pretty ribbon.
Oh, the sweet little ones in my life! Facing everything that's fragile bravely and with such enthusiasm!
My daughters always treat me royally on my birthday and I have to admit that this is stupendously wonderful, especially this year. In such a strange and tough time, you feel you do not have permission to be happy. It's not the emotion that rises to the surface easily when there is so much distress in the broader community. Nonetheless, I'm willing to open the door to a feeling of peace. Of appreciation for all that's so very good out there. I'm still trudging along, my beloved family is fine, my friends are looking for ways to stay close despite it all.
I drive up the farmette road just as Natalie (from Natalie's Greenhouses) is making a delivery of annuals for farmette planting (and baskets for the porch). Such beautiful colors!
I'll put them into their pots, but not today. The running refrain is the same ditty sung again and again, all day long -- too cold, too little time.
In the late afternoon, I visit with Primrose once more. It's her snack time and the little girl worries that I seem to not have had my own strawberries delivered yet, even as she enjoys hers.
(she asks for birthday candles so that we can "blow them out" together...)
The strawberries are coming, little one! Indeed, surprisingly, our weekly food delivery request, put in yesterday, brought up a drop off time today, so I'll be washing groceries soon -- a most unusual birthday activity, don't you think?
Somewhere in the middle of all this, Ed hands me a card. I truly have to smile at this. In past years, he would go to the store with me and agonize over which card to get -- one that was gushy enough to please me, yet succinct enough to represent his true non-emoting self. This year proved to be a challenge. No store trip. I eased it somewhat by giving him a stack of blank cards to choose from. He chose the sheep, wrote his sweet words inside -- done!
Evening. What food for a birthday meal? A lovely slab of salmon from our Alaska fishing crew, some perhaps slightly wilted asparagus, and Minnesotan wild rice. And wine and leftover cake and the one saved chocolate from the box Ed purchased for me, for us, back on Valentine's Day.
Such different times they were! But really, the essentials are the same: the love you feel from those who care about you, the beauty of this planet, that glorious sunshine, and added to it -- the spring flowers, the sweet voices of children singing happy birthday to you...
Celebrate life!
With so much love.
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