You must never feel 100% certain about anything. With the exception of love: if you feel love for someone, then you're good: you can trust your emotions. Otherwise -- proceed cautiously and listen to the evidence.
It's a pretty day today. Any day with this much sunshine feels like a gift. But again, I have to take pleasure at watching the sunshine stream into the farmhouse. I am too busy to spend time outdoors. (Too, it's cold. And icy and slippery. I'll leave the trails and paths in parks and preserves for the surefooted, or at least for those with spikes in their shoes.)
I seem to have permanently moved grocery shopping to Thursdays. Between our breakfasts, and the refrigerator raids of my fruit loving granddaughter, I have a fruitless fridge once again. (The girl has developed a great love for mangoes. Add that to her love of all cherries, all berries, oranges, apples and baby tomatoes!) Time to stock up.
But before I set out, I, of course, visit the shed. I see that the little kittens, just back from the vet last night, have been exploring. (In their sniffing expedition, they seem to have missed the litter box we put out for them!) That's a good sign. Nonetheless, they are hiding when I come in. Ed's sheep shed is filled with papers, tools, machines. It's tough as hell to find two kitties among all the workshop junk (he would not call it junk). And even when I do locate them, they stay put, out of reach. Cowering in fear. I leave them alone.
There is, of course, breakfast. But my afternoon coffee break makes for a prettier photo. I have added a fresh bunch of daffodils and freesias! (Here you have it -- a tribute to that pause at the kitchen table, be it morning or early afternoon.)
Later in the day, the clinic sends the documents with info about yesterday's kitty visit. I was positive that the little Calico is a girl and the bigger kitty is a boy. I was so wrong: they are both girls. Snowdrop's name for the bigger one ("Cutie") seems more fitting!
In the afternoon, the kids are at the farmhouse.
It's a day of intertwined play.
Sparrow has figured out that his family loves hugs. You may be in the middle of baking a souffle or making strategic decisions about where to invest your life's savings and out of nowhere, you'll hear a plaintive "Huh! Huh!" and you'll know it's Sparrow, looking for a hug.
(In an attempt to participate in Snowdrop's story with babies, he finds his own (Lego) baby and takes her for a long, circular ride around the farmhouse.)
(All's well that ends well around the dinner table!)
Thursday is also Storybook Ballet day. Today's tale is Aladdin.
In the evening, Ed and I try to coax the kitties out of hiding in the shed. It's slow going. As we walk back to the farmhouse by the light of the beautiful (nearly) full moon, I wonder if they'll ever warm up to this new setting, and the shed cats that live there.
Maybe... Ed responds, in the safe way that you can respond when you simply do not know.
It's a pretty day today. Any day with this much sunshine feels like a gift. But again, I have to take pleasure at watching the sunshine stream into the farmhouse. I am too busy to spend time outdoors. (Too, it's cold. And icy and slippery. I'll leave the trails and paths in parks and preserves for the surefooted, or at least for those with spikes in their shoes.)
I seem to have permanently moved grocery shopping to Thursdays. Between our breakfasts, and the refrigerator raids of my fruit loving granddaughter, I have a fruitless fridge once again. (The girl has developed a great love for mangoes. Add that to her love of all cherries, all berries, oranges, apples and baby tomatoes!) Time to stock up.
But before I set out, I, of course, visit the shed. I see that the little kittens, just back from the vet last night, have been exploring. (In their sniffing expedition, they seem to have missed the litter box we put out for them!) That's a good sign. Nonetheless, they are hiding when I come in. Ed's sheep shed is filled with papers, tools, machines. It's tough as hell to find two kitties among all the workshop junk (he would not call it junk). And even when I do locate them, they stay put, out of reach. Cowering in fear. I leave them alone.
There is, of course, breakfast. But my afternoon coffee break makes for a prettier photo. I have added a fresh bunch of daffodils and freesias! (Here you have it -- a tribute to that pause at the kitchen table, be it morning or early afternoon.)
Later in the day, the clinic sends the documents with info about yesterday's kitty visit. I was positive that the little Calico is a girl and the bigger kitty is a boy. I was so wrong: they are both girls. Snowdrop's name for the bigger one ("Cutie") seems more fitting!
In the afternoon, the kids are at the farmhouse.
It's a day of intertwined play.
Sparrow has figured out that his family loves hugs. You may be in the middle of baking a souffle or making strategic decisions about where to invest your life's savings and out of nowhere, you'll hear a plaintive "Huh! Huh!" and you'll know it's Sparrow, looking for a hug.
(In an attempt to participate in Snowdrop's story with babies, he finds his own (Lego) baby and takes her for a long, circular ride around the farmhouse.)
(All's well that ends well around the dinner table!)
Thursday is also Storybook Ballet day. Today's tale is Aladdin.
In the evening, Ed and I try to coax the kitties out of hiding in the shed. It's slow going. As we walk back to the farmhouse by the light of the beautiful (nearly) full moon, I wonder if they'll ever warm up to this new setting, and the shed cats that live there.
Maybe... Ed responds, in the safe way that you can respond when you simply do not know.
