There is an ongoing dance between clouds and sunshine this week and thus far, the clouds are winning. But, at least there is a dance. And even if the clouds seem all powerful, you and I know that their time will come and go. Sunny days are inevitable. You just have to be patient.
In the morning hours, after breakfast...
... I listen to broadcasts and interviews, read updates on New York, then put aside news reading in favor of FaceTime with Primrose in Chicago. We chase snakes and talk about favorite animals. I hear all about a favorite book and I show her farmhouse kitties and of course, the ever handsome Happy, who poses nicely for her. (Happy is always a little confused by my presence. He knows I bring food, but otherwise he hasn't quite placed me in his limited world of hens and predators. Still, we like him quite a bit. He is handsome, nonthreatening, and his crow is constant and magnificent!)
I join her (remotely) for lunch, grateful to the core for the piece of technology that allows me to do this.
In the afternoon, Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse...
... for a bit of quiet time while her brother naps at home. I suggest we play Memory. You know: the goal is to find matching pairs of cards.
It is clear as anything that I am terrible at this game. If allowed no breaks, Snowdrop would probably tie with Ed for the winners' circle. But, since it is her first game, we cut her some slack (her worst vice: to reveal to others what she knows to be a match). She is thrilled.
And in the evening, I cook up a big pot of chili. This should be our staple right now. We have a lot of tomatoes and onions and I have finally been able to up the supply of kidney beans. To all the grocery store workers and food suppliers -- thank you. You're doing a tremendous job.
With love.
In the morning hours, after breakfast...
... I listen to broadcasts and interviews, read updates on New York, then put aside news reading in favor of FaceTime with Primrose in Chicago. We chase snakes and talk about favorite animals. I hear all about a favorite book and I show her farmhouse kitties and of course, the ever handsome Happy, who poses nicely for her. (Happy is always a little confused by my presence. He knows I bring food, but otherwise he hasn't quite placed me in his limited world of hens and predators. Still, we like him quite a bit. He is handsome, nonthreatening, and his crow is constant and magnificent!)
I join her (remotely) for lunch, grateful to the core for the piece of technology that allows me to do this.
In the afternoon, Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse...
... for a bit of quiet time while her brother naps at home. I suggest we play Memory. You know: the goal is to find matching pairs of cards.
It is clear as anything that I am terrible at this game. If allowed no breaks, Snowdrop would probably tie with Ed for the winners' circle. But, since it is her first game, we cut her some slack (her worst vice: to reveal to others what she knows to be a match). She is thrilled.
And in the evening, I cook up a big pot of chili. This should be our staple right now. We have a lot of tomatoes and onions and I have finally been able to up the supply of kidney beans. To all the grocery store workers and food suppliers -- thank you. You're doing a tremendous job.
With love.
