You have to try things out to see if they work for you. Maybe they will, maybe they wont. You have to give it a go.
I think of this when Ed tells me this morning that the water heater sprouted a new leak. It's slow, but it's telling: no, you cannot fix me. I am ready to give it up. I've done my duty, I've given you all that hot water. Twenty-two years is ancient. Go find a replacement.
Well, he tried. So now comes the protracted period where Ed meditates on the next move. He is in that phase with both the front farmhouse entrance and the water heater. I tell him that it surely would be better to replace it now than, say, during an Arctic blast in December. He agrees and retreats to his contemplative space, letting thoughts pass through his head until something sticks: rebuild the whole system? switch to on-demand heating? Stone steps? Wood trim?
All this after breakfast.
Morning interlude in the garden:
(no children, but plenty of cheepers!)
(I've always liked this path by the pines... No one really shared my affection for this space, but someday I know the kids will feel equally dazzled by the smell of pines here and the sight of all that goldenrod!)
(call this "the path well traveled:" so many walks, alone, with the kids, with Ed, alone, with anyone and everyone, to the barn and back to the farmhouse)
(the colors of early fall...)
Here's another thing to try: a meetup with the young family outside, with social distancing in place. Typically, Snowdrop and Sparrow will have full days of school and baby sitters (how are the new sitters? according to Snowdrop, "fun and kind"). But just this afternoon, while school hasn't yet officially opened, there is a window of opportunity. Their mom has a free hour. We arrange for a meetup in the Arboretum.
I've been apprehensive about a get-together of this nature. The kids climb all over me when they're at the farmhouse. Hugs and snuggles, holding hands -- it's all so routine that breaking with those norms has to be weird. Can we even pull it off?
I arrive with picnic blankets, a book, some favorite snacks. The weather map tells us that there will be rain. How unfair is that! All these weeks with no rain and now the skies are threatening to release all that pent up anger!
But no. We are lucky. The clouds come, but they send down no rain.
And how was the socially distanced encounter?
At first, Snowdrop was apprehensive. She would be twenty feet away and anxiously remind me not to come closer. Sparrow? Well, we were outside and his expectations were unformed. I suggested a picture by the fields of goldenrod. Hey, that's familiar! Gogs always take photos by flowers!
It's easy to find empty grassy stretches of parkland here.
We put out blankets. I read, they eat.
And then we play tag.
This is not so easy. The purpose of tag is to actually tag someone. We chased each other into safe zones instead.
The thing is, I have plenty of oomph left in me, but Snowdrop is fast! There were times when she forgot the distance requirement. Indeed, there were times when I -- the most vigilant person on the planet with this COVID stuff -- forgot about the distance requirement. Oh, Sparrow, you bumped your head? Let me take a look...
In the end though, it was a very safe trial run. And I had my hand sanitizer to help me correct the mistakes. Well, mostly my mistakes.
I was thinking that the goal here is not to have me relax, in the way that I do at home when they come over. The goal now is for them to relax. To feel some continuity as they begin this very strange new school year. How often will we fit in an outdoors, socially distanced meet up? There's no schedule really. This week is less tight because there isn't school yet. Going forward -- we'll see. However the winds blow, wherever the tide carries us.
I think of this when Ed tells me this morning that the water heater sprouted a new leak. It's slow, but it's telling: no, you cannot fix me. I am ready to give it up. I've done my duty, I've given you all that hot water. Twenty-two years is ancient. Go find a replacement.
Well, he tried. So now comes the protracted period where Ed meditates on the next move. He is in that phase with both the front farmhouse entrance and the water heater. I tell him that it surely would be better to replace it now than, say, during an Arctic blast in December. He agrees and retreats to his contemplative space, letting thoughts pass through his head until something sticks: rebuild the whole system? switch to on-demand heating? Stone steps? Wood trim?
All this after breakfast.
Morning interlude in the garden:
(no children, but plenty of cheepers!)
(I've always liked this path by the pines... No one really shared my affection for this space, but someday I know the kids will feel equally dazzled by the smell of pines here and the sight of all that goldenrod!)
(call this "the path well traveled:" so many walks, alone, with the kids, with Ed, alone, with anyone and everyone, to the barn and back to the farmhouse)
(the colors of early fall...)
Here's another thing to try: a meetup with the young family outside, with social distancing in place. Typically, Snowdrop and Sparrow will have full days of school and baby sitters (how are the new sitters? according to Snowdrop, "fun and kind"). But just this afternoon, while school hasn't yet officially opened, there is a window of opportunity. Their mom has a free hour. We arrange for a meetup in the Arboretum.
I've been apprehensive about a get-together of this nature. The kids climb all over me when they're at the farmhouse. Hugs and snuggles, holding hands -- it's all so routine that breaking with those norms has to be weird. Can we even pull it off?
I arrive with picnic blankets, a book, some favorite snacks. The weather map tells us that there will be rain. How unfair is that! All these weeks with no rain and now the skies are threatening to release all that pent up anger!
But no. We are lucky. The clouds come, but they send down no rain.
And how was the socially distanced encounter?
At first, Snowdrop was apprehensive. She would be twenty feet away and anxiously remind me not to come closer. Sparrow? Well, we were outside and his expectations were unformed. I suggested a picture by the fields of goldenrod. Hey, that's familiar! Gogs always take photos by flowers!
It's easy to find empty grassy stretches of parkland here.
We put out blankets. I read, they eat.
And then we play tag.
This is not so easy. The purpose of tag is to actually tag someone. We chased each other into safe zones instead.
The thing is, I have plenty of oomph left in me, but Snowdrop is fast! There were times when she forgot the distance requirement. Indeed, there were times when I -- the most vigilant person on the planet with this COVID stuff -- forgot about the distance requirement. Oh, Sparrow, you bumped your head? Let me take a look...
In the end though, it was a very safe trial run. And I had my hand sanitizer to help me correct the mistakes. Well, mostly my mistakes.
I was thinking that the goal here is not to have me relax, in the way that I do at home when they come over. The goal now is for them to relax. To feel some continuity as they begin this very strange new school year. How often will we fit in an outdoors, socially distanced meet up? There's no schedule really. This week is less tight because there isn't school yet. Going forward -- we'll see. However the winds blow, wherever the tide carries us.
