A day of this, a day of that. It's how I would describe our weather. Sunshine Saturday, rain Sunday. Clouds today, who knows what tomorrow. We're not sticking with anything extraordinary for long. No long stretches of good weather, but at the same time, no long stretches of misery either. It's like dealing with someone whose mood changes daily: you can't count on her cheerfulness, but nor can you be concerned about having a drumroll of negativity.
(By the way, I would be very surprised if any farmette outdoor photo did not contain either the crab apple or the lilac, or both this week. This is their moment! Revel in it!)
(I cannot give you the fragrance. Imagine it!)
(Is it pink? Is it white? You decide!)
The day moves quickly for me. From the get go. There is a steady trickle of tasks that need my attention. Mom issues, cat issues, other people's issues.
Breakfast is in the kitchen and rather hurried.
And because it's Monday, the grandkids arrive immediately after.
(Can you smell the lilac? The lily of the valley? Yes I can!)
(Art time: super pigs at work)
(Art time: she uses pink; must be good; he wants to use pink. Thank goodness there are two of everything,)
In this whole new era of isolation, distancing, and remote everything, I have seen the range of contacts that grandparents have with their kids and grandkids. Many live in one household. Some, like us, practice extreme isolation alongside, so that it is as if we were in one household. Others see the young ones, but they maintain physical distance. Still others would like to spend some version of contact/distance, but have no viable way of being in the same town/state/country as the kids. And now, with partial reopenings dotting the landscape, everything is even more complicated: several grandparents I know see these weeks as creating a window of opportunity: schools aren't yet open, infection rates are leveling off and so it's a now or never thing. Several of my friends are seeing their grandkids in these weeks -- for the first time since everything shut down in mid-March. But for how long and under what conditions? We have no great certainties or insights there.
This all comes up as I once again have a Zoom call with my Polish friends. The ten of us have been meeting in this way every couple of weeks. We're all grandparents. We have different situations, but many of the same questions and unease to grapple with going forward.
It's a good meeting. People may be happy to throw away Zoom parties as soon as the risk of personal contact recedes/disappears, but me, I've gained more time with overseas friends. Before, I needed to travel for a long time to get one evening of fun with them. Now, at the click of the screen, I have a fairly regular face to face. Everyone's evenings are free. And so we Zoom.
And before long it's their night and my evening. Still cloudy, but still beautiful. Remember, it's the week of the Great Farmette Natural Beauty.
Evening. Easy supper (leftovers!), easy couch time, easy shopping (week's list done, delivery for tomorrow secured), easy thoughts. Almost too easy, given the difficulties all around us. I am so lucky that social isolation is all that has been asked of us. My heart goes out to those, who have had to do so much more.
With love.
(By the way, I would be very surprised if any farmette outdoor photo did not contain either the crab apple or the lilac, or both this week. This is their moment! Revel in it!)
(I cannot give you the fragrance. Imagine it!)
(Is it pink? Is it white? You decide!)
The day moves quickly for me. From the get go. There is a steady trickle of tasks that need my attention. Mom issues, cat issues, other people's issues.
Breakfast is in the kitchen and rather hurried.
And because it's Monday, the grandkids arrive immediately after.
(Can you smell the lilac? The lily of the valley? Yes I can!)
(Art time: super pigs at work)
(Art time: she uses pink; must be good; he wants to use pink. Thank goodness there are two of everything,)
In this whole new era of isolation, distancing, and remote everything, I have seen the range of contacts that grandparents have with their kids and grandkids. Many live in one household. Some, like us, practice extreme isolation alongside, so that it is as if we were in one household. Others see the young ones, but they maintain physical distance. Still others would like to spend some version of contact/distance, but have no viable way of being in the same town/state/country as the kids. And now, with partial reopenings dotting the landscape, everything is even more complicated: several grandparents I know see these weeks as creating a window of opportunity: schools aren't yet open, infection rates are leveling off and so it's a now or never thing. Several of my friends are seeing their grandkids in these weeks -- for the first time since everything shut down in mid-March. But for how long and under what conditions? We have no great certainties or insights there.
This all comes up as I once again have a Zoom call with my Polish friends. The ten of us have been meeting in this way every couple of weeks. We're all grandparents. We have different situations, but many of the same questions and unease to grapple with going forward.
It's a good meeting. People may be happy to throw away Zoom parties as soon as the risk of personal contact recedes/disappears, but me, I've gained more time with overseas friends. Before, I needed to travel for a long time to get one evening of fun with them. Now, at the click of the screen, I have a fairly regular face to face. Everyone's evenings are free. And so we Zoom.
And before long it's their night and my evening. Still cloudy, but still beautiful. Remember, it's the week of the Great Farmette Natural Beauty.
Evening. Easy supper (leftovers!), easy couch time, easy shopping (week's list done, delivery for tomorrow secured), easy thoughts. Almost too easy, given the difficulties all around us. I am so lucky that social isolation is all that has been asked of us. My heart goes out to those, who have had to do so much more.
With love.
