Monday - 52nd

I've said this before: it's reassuring to remind yourself how much has stayed the same. It is what it was before the pandemic. Your mind may be in a different place, your emotions may be reacting to a new frontier, but the fact is, most of us (not everyone, of course) have not become different people. We are who we were and we march to the beat of old and familiar habits.

For example, would you believe that even in these days of abject disruption and disquiet, I still cannot resist thinking and writing, here on Ocean, about the weather? I mean, who cares! The weather is the least of anyone's worries (unless you're a farmer).

Well, in fact, I care. The weather nearly always sets the day for us. It has an impact on where we eat, how we work, it influences our levels of energy (oh those couch potato cold spells!), it limits or enhances my play with the grandkids. I glance at weather pages much more often than I look at Facebook, to say nothing of Instagram or Twitter. I need to know how things will develop in the week before me. Weather is a big deal.


It's cooler today, a whole 15 degrees cooler than yesterday and my morning walk to feed the animals feels nippy. I need a thick sweater. The tulips appear all folded up once again.







We eat breakfast inside. The little cups and vases of cut and picked flowers are getting more numerous!






Snowdrop and Sparrow are at the farmhouse early (they are isolated, we are isolated, and so we are like one household for now).

(Running in...)






Snowdrop wants me to reread Tales from Decawoo Drive books. It's a quirky set of stories with quirky characters and the one that she likes best (Where are you Going Baby Lincoln?) has a haunting existential crisis tone to it, and even though I like it, I never understood why she, even a year ago, loved it to pieces.






I was not at all sure that Sparrow would sit through any of it. Sentences like "Detective Henrik Spigot was an extraordinary man, recognized by the department of police, the town of Winsome, and the whole of humanity as such" would have little meaning to a not quite two year old and the pictures of some of the characters troubled him greatly. A few pages into it, he left to play with Duplos, reminding me that what he would way prefer a reading of an Olivia story.






We rewarded him for his patience  by playing afterwards with a set of his favorite rubber puzzles for a very long time.












After lunch, Snowdrop wanted to join Ed outside, even though it is a little nippy. Like 50F (10C) and none of us have jackets handy.  And still, the kids love this hour-long romp in the courtyard...




















... and then in the sandbox. It's the first time I open it up for Sparrow this year (last year, when he was just barely one, he was quite unimpressed with it). I have very few sand toys there, but it doesn't matter.





Each child has their own way of playing in it, though both watch each other to get clues on what else can be done with this very fine golden sand.

Watching them play, I don't even mind (too much) that it is, well, on the cold side of things.






And the rest of the day? I promised that I would plant the seeds for the salad greens in our new veggie patch today and so Ed and I spent a productive hour laying down good soil (on top of the not so good clay) and putting in the seeds for a future outstanding salad! (One can hope.)






And in between, at some hour that seems entirely irrelevant, or similar, or indifferent, Ed baked his next batch of cookies.






Evening. Leftovers! I love many things about Sunday family dinners, and surely up there on that list is the fact of leftovers for Monday supper. The beginning of a week always seems daunting for some reason. You might as well give yourself a pause in the cooking department.

And here's a treat: I'm finishing my dinner just as Primrose is finishing her dinner in Chicago. Let's join forces!






I'm back to lighting a candle, sometimes during the day, sometimes come nightfall. I received two heavenly ones from my daughters this past birthday and somehow the act of putting a match to a wick is soothing and beautiful and significant, all at the same time.


Finally -- thank you, to all of you who keep on working so hard all these days, good weather, bad weather, no weather. Your work keeps us alive and well.

With love.