We were up half the night, Ed and I. It happens. He says something and it sets me thinking. This time it was this -- I looked at the listing. It's not bad. He was referring to a house I saw listed for sale somewhere outside of Madison. I'd emailed him a link to it earlier that evening.
The thing is, we don't really want to move, even as the idea is gaining more traction.
* * *
It's a warm morning. There is a drizzle, but it doesn't last. Eventually the day will be full of sunshine. But in these early hours, groggy from too little sleep, we step outside and walk the farmette lands together. Ed is taking seriously my proclamation that I am overwhelmed by the weeds. Not flowerbed weeds, but all those other monster weeds that invade every uncultivated bit of land.
(and the new orchard, with its fledgling meadow...)
It is overwhelming, he acknowledges. Can you just ignore them? He asks this knowing that I cannot. You know how I have always noted our tremendous differences? Put down "ignoring weeds" on the long list where we can't easily reach agreement because we are entirely different in our approach to our surroundings.
Ed retreats inside to contemplate it all (and to run away from the post-rain reemerging bugs), I snip lilies and clean up the beds a bit.
* * *
We eat breakfast. A long long breakfast. We talk about possibilities. Move, weed, get help, ignore, have a master plan.
Right now we have no master plan. We have little planlets that we implement as the mood strikes us. Of course, there is no resolution. That wont happen immediately. But our minds are on it now! (And no, we didn't look at the "for sale" house we both sort of liked: it had already sold.)
* * *
After breakfast, I pick up Snowdrop. Just the little girl again. We're still working through various bugs and scheduling issues.
In the car, she once again explains to me that she really does like learning about how things work.. Her parents had been interviewing babysitters and she was adamant that the new hire should have a healthy love of science.
And as if to illustrate -- Did you know, gaga, that buggers and mucus are important to keeping you healthy? It has to do with keeping your good germs in your body. But what I really want to know is what happens to the food inside your body: some of it stays, some comes out. How does that work?
I use the rest of the car ride to explain (and make wild guesses about) the workings of the human digestive system.
* * *
She spends the day here, at the farmhouse.
It is a really good day: we read, do some work sheets, she engages in a bit of creative play and then we plunge into a very lively hour of making small gifts for each other out of post-its.
And by evening I take her home.
* * *
As I fix dinner, I get a call from this little one:
I imagine that Primrose must have thought I was a bit nutty. I did not want to let go of the phone call -- it's too precious! At the same time, the beans had been steaming for the requisite handful of minutes, the new potatoes were threatening to be overdone, and the cubes of fish -- well, you know what happens to fish when you cook it even ten seconds too long. So she watches, possibly horrified, as I scan my cooing with the phone camera for her, including segments where I sample a string bean and swiggle it around like a lasso. Okay, you had to be there. It was wild.
* * *
After supper, Ed and I settle in to our wonderful low key evening. You know, the one with popcorn. Now is not the time to think about weeds or bugs -- the outdoor ones and the ones that strike you down unexpectedly. Now is the time to exhale and feel good about all that is okay in your life. And feel grateful to those who have helped make it so.
With love.
The thing is, we don't really want to move, even as the idea is gaining more traction.
* * *
It's a warm morning. There is a drizzle, but it doesn't last. Eventually the day will be full of sunshine. But in these early hours, groggy from too little sleep, we step outside and walk the farmette lands together. Ed is taking seriously my proclamation that I am overwhelmed by the weeds. Not flowerbed weeds, but all those other monster weeds that invade every uncultivated bit of land.
(and the new orchard, with its fledgling meadow...)
It is overwhelming, he acknowledges. Can you just ignore them? He asks this knowing that I cannot. You know how I have always noted our tremendous differences? Put down "ignoring weeds" on the long list where we can't easily reach agreement because we are entirely different in our approach to our surroundings.
Ed retreats inside to contemplate it all (and to run away from the post-rain reemerging bugs), I snip lilies and clean up the beds a bit.
* * *
We eat breakfast. A long long breakfast. We talk about possibilities. Move, weed, get help, ignore, have a master plan.
Right now we have no master plan. We have little planlets that we implement as the mood strikes us. Of course, there is no resolution. That wont happen immediately. But our minds are on it now! (And no, we didn't look at the "for sale" house we both sort of liked: it had already sold.)
* * *
After breakfast, I pick up Snowdrop. Just the little girl again. We're still working through various bugs and scheduling issues.
In the car, she once again explains to me that she really does like learning about how things work.. Her parents had been interviewing babysitters and she was adamant that the new hire should have a healthy love of science.
And as if to illustrate -- Did you know, gaga, that buggers and mucus are important to keeping you healthy? It has to do with keeping your good germs in your body. But what I really want to know is what happens to the food inside your body: some of it stays, some comes out. How does that work?
I use the rest of the car ride to explain (and make wild guesses about) the workings of the human digestive system.
* * *
She spends the day here, at the farmhouse.
It is a really good day: we read, do some work sheets, she engages in a bit of creative play and then we plunge into a very lively hour of making small gifts for each other out of post-its.
And by evening I take her home.
* * *
As I fix dinner, I get a call from this little one:
I imagine that Primrose must have thought I was a bit nutty. I did not want to let go of the phone call -- it's too precious! At the same time, the beans had been steaming for the requisite handful of minutes, the new potatoes were threatening to be overdone, and the cubes of fish -- well, you know what happens to fish when you cook it even ten seconds too long. So she watches, possibly horrified, as I scan my cooing with the phone camera for her, including segments where I sample a string bean and swiggle it around like a lasso. Okay, you had to be there. It was wild.
* * *
After supper, Ed and I settle in to our wonderful low key evening. You know, the one with popcorn. Now is not the time to think about weeds or bugs -- the outdoor ones and the ones that strike you down unexpectedly. Now is the time to exhale and feel good about all that is okay in your life. And feel grateful to those who have helped make it so.
With love.
