I feel we did a full circle today. Yes, on the bicycles, there was that. In the afternoon. But I'm thinking more in terms of the great outdoors. The steaminess has receded, the storms have moved away, the mosquitoes are moderating, but the deer flies are back. I mean, really? Do we need your vicious bite right now?
I leave behind the paddle bug zapper and begin my garden work.
And then I regret being without it. Back it is, in my hand as I wave it furiously and probably very ineffectively. Ed tells me later that I tore into at least a half dozen deer flies. (He needs to change the zapper battery.. I've been using it that much.) A half dozen may seem like not a whole lot, but honestly, once you zap the ones bugging you, you do get a few minutes of peace. And that's what you want in July, isn't it? Peace, to admire your lilies. (And everything else that fills the spaces of a flower bed.)
(lilies don't need to be staked... except when they do...)
(many lilies, one frog)
(hey, how about a photo of me, the proud rooster?)
It's Sunday and I'm trying to be very productive. I mow the paths that meander across the farmette lands. The kids will be coming back tomorrow. Maybe we'll manage a nature walk? Maybe.
All this takes time. Breakfast is... after noon.
(what? a guest for breakfast? hi, Tuxedo! we're social distancing, you know,,.)
I wasn't quite sure we'd be having dinner here today. The young family is back from their retreat by the lake, but in the cocoon that we all inhabit, one person was taken ill. The usual anxieties followed. The necessary testing. The wait. The results came today. All clear. Just one of those things you probably pick up from who knows where. So dinner is on!
But there is still time for some movement in the afternoon. Ed and I bike out to Lake Waubesa.
It's a nice little trip and we look out for a while on the little beach where kids are splashing and a parent is yelling every few seconds -- keep six feet away from the others, keep six feet away! They try, but it's a small swimming area and so they fail and the parent keeps yelling -- six feet away, please, give them some space! And I'm thinking -- is this what school will look like in places where it opens this fall? Voices through the megaphone -- keep six feet away, six feet away, six feet away!!
On the way there and back, we're passed by a car that looks to me like a flattened silver version of a Batmobile. It's a McLaren, Ed tells me. Figure a quarter of a million dollars for it.
Is our world crazy, or what?
Evening. The young family is here at last. It seems like a decade has passed since they were last here. So many emotions, so many trips, for them, for me.
You need time to exhale. Dinner is such a time. We eat it on the porch, but I swear, you could eat it on your lap on the couch and it would still feel to me like the perfect way to let out all that pent up steam, all frustrations and ridiculousnesses. Take a bite, savor it, Exhale.
Chocolate ice cream.
And an end to one part of summer. Onward, toward the next!
I leave behind the paddle bug zapper and begin my garden work.
And then I regret being without it. Back it is, in my hand as I wave it furiously and probably very ineffectively. Ed tells me later that I tore into at least a half dozen deer flies. (He needs to change the zapper battery.. I've been using it that much.) A half dozen may seem like not a whole lot, but honestly, once you zap the ones bugging you, you do get a few minutes of peace. And that's what you want in July, isn't it? Peace, to admire your lilies. (And everything else that fills the spaces of a flower bed.)
(lilies don't need to be staked... except when they do...)
(many lilies, one frog)
(hey, how about a photo of me, the proud rooster?)
It's Sunday and I'm trying to be very productive. I mow the paths that meander across the farmette lands. The kids will be coming back tomorrow. Maybe we'll manage a nature walk? Maybe.
All this takes time. Breakfast is... after noon.
(what? a guest for breakfast? hi, Tuxedo! we're social distancing, you know,,.)
I wasn't quite sure we'd be having dinner here today. The young family is back from their retreat by the lake, but in the cocoon that we all inhabit, one person was taken ill. The usual anxieties followed. The necessary testing. The wait. The results came today. All clear. Just one of those things you probably pick up from who knows where. So dinner is on!
But there is still time for some movement in the afternoon. Ed and I bike out to Lake Waubesa.
It's a nice little trip and we look out for a while on the little beach where kids are splashing and a parent is yelling every few seconds -- keep six feet away from the others, keep six feet away! They try, but it's a small swimming area and so they fail and the parent keeps yelling -- six feet away, please, give them some space! And I'm thinking -- is this what school will look like in places where it opens this fall? Voices through the megaphone -- keep six feet away, six feet away, six feet away!!
On the way there and back, we're passed by a car that looks to me like a flattened silver version of a Batmobile. It's a McLaren, Ed tells me. Figure a quarter of a million dollars for it.
Is our world crazy, or what?
Evening. The young family is here at last. It seems like a decade has passed since they were last here. So many emotions, so many trips, for them, for me.
You need time to exhale. Dinner is such a time. We eat it on the porch, but I swear, you could eat it on your lap on the couch and it would still feel to me like the perfect way to let out all that pent up steam, all frustrations and ridiculousnesses. Take a bite, savor it, Exhale.
Chocolate ice cream.
And an end to one part of summer. Onward, toward the next!
