150 days of isolation.
150 days ago, I went one last time to the store, picked up the kids at school, chatted to the teachers, packed up winter jackets, mittens and boots from their cubbies and drove them to the farmhouse. Schools weren't closing yet, but Ed and I had decided to retreat into isolation. It seemed so much the right choice given the obvious community spread of the virus. (Two days later all schools closed in Madison and the young family joined us in isolation.)
No one knew 150 days would pass and we would be where we are right now. My own prediction? It will be another 150 before Ed and I step out into the real world. If we are lucky.
Well, I believe in luck. Onward to the next 150. With courage and as much joy as we can work into each day!
It's a steamy hot morning. We'd kept the windows open at night and the upstairs is like a bathroom after someone took an exceptionally long, hot shower.
I do a brief garden clean up. Here's what's still blooming:
Breakfast with Ed and five cats, on the porch. Not sure why so many felines joined us there today. Perhaps it's one of the cooler spots on the farmette.
(with sweet melon slices from our CSA box...)
The kids arrive. One is bouncy and happy, the other in tears. Something about having to leave behind a Sesame Street doll. Our time outside is brief.
(Gaga, I will let you take a photo of me and Sparrow in front of any flower you want if we can go in right away afterwards!)
The sad little guy cheers up quickly. A child's smile may be fast to disappear, but it's also speedy fast on the return.
We read, then they work on their various set ups...
.. and then we're back in the art room. Today, Snowdrop manages to remain reasonably satisfied with three new pages of a future Super Pig book. Progress!
(Sparrow finds a bib. Sparrow does not like bibs. Sparrow does not like carrots. But he puts on this bib just to make me laugh.)
The storms revisit Wisconsin today. I just manage to get the kids home before the rumble and the rains set in. We need the rain. We also need this sauna bath to move on!
Evening. In addition to the usual Monday leftovers, I sautee five large zucchinis. They are accumulating in my veggie bin. The farmer who grows the produce in our CSA box claims they have a huge crop this year. Each week, we get a generous supply. Ed crinkles his nose at zucchini - something I don't quite get. What's there not to like? I'm determined to open his eyes to their deliciousness. He tastes one stalk, nicely flavored with oregano and just a dash of salt, nothing more needed!
Verdict? Nose still crinkled.
I eat a lot of zucchini tonight.
The night is cool. How fantastic is that! Windows wide open, we settle in to watch a final gripping episode of our current crime drama series (Unforgotten). With popcorn.
150 days ago, I went one last time to the store, picked up the kids at school, chatted to the teachers, packed up winter jackets, mittens and boots from their cubbies and drove them to the farmhouse. Schools weren't closing yet, but Ed and I had decided to retreat into isolation. It seemed so much the right choice given the obvious community spread of the virus. (Two days later all schools closed in Madison and the young family joined us in isolation.)
No one knew 150 days would pass and we would be where we are right now. My own prediction? It will be another 150 before Ed and I step out into the real world. If we are lucky.
Well, I believe in luck. Onward to the next 150. With courage and as much joy as we can work into each day!
It's a steamy hot morning. We'd kept the windows open at night and the upstairs is like a bathroom after someone took an exceptionally long, hot shower.
I do a brief garden clean up. Here's what's still blooming:
Breakfast with Ed and five cats, on the porch. Not sure why so many felines joined us there today. Perhaps it's one of the cooler spots on the farmette.
(with sweet melon slices from our CSA box...)
The kids arrive. One is bouncy and happy, the other in tears. Something about having to leave behind a Sesame Street doll. Our time outside is brief.
(Gaga, I will let you take a photo of me and Sparrow in front of any flower you want if we can go in right away afterwards!)
The sad little guy cheers up quickly. A child's smile may be fast to disappear, but it's also speedy fast on the return.
We read, then they work on their various set ups...
.. and then we're back in the art room. Today, Snowdrop manages to remain reasonably satisfied with three new pages of a future Super Pig book. Progress!
(Sparrow finds a bib. Sparrow does not like bibs. Sparrow does not like carrots. But he puts on this bib just to make me laugh.)
The storms revisit Wisconsin today. I just manage to get the kids home before the rumble and the rains set in. We need the rain. We also need this sauna bath to move on!
Evening. In addition to the usual Monday leftovers, I sautee five large zucchinis. They are accumulating in my veggie bin. The farmer who grows the produce in our CSA box claims they have a huge crop this year. Each week, we get a generous supply. Ed crinkles his nose at zucchini - something I don't quite get. What's there not to like? I'm determined to open his eyes to their deliciousness. He tastes one stalk, nicely flavored with oregano and just a dash of salt, nothing more needed!
Verdict? Nose still crinkled.
I eat a lot of zucchini tonight.
The night is cool. How fantastic is that! Windows wide open, we settle in to watch a final gripping episode of our current crime drama series (Unforgotten). With popcorn.
