When I woke up this morning, a cold, gray morning, on this holiday, on this day of rest for the working people of America, I did not realize that it would be a packed day. A supremely busy day. Out of nowhere! It just sort of happened.
Everything began with an early text exchange with my daughter. Before I had even finished my morning walk through the farmette gardens...
... I found myself offering to read to the kids over Zoom and to bake a rhubarb cake for a distanced, outdoor meeting that my daughter had scheduled for the afternoon. We still have a lot of rhubarb in the garden. Let me whip up something yummy for her.
Ed and I eat breakfast while the cake is in the oven.
Done.
A quick trip to the young family's home to deliver the cake, with a sweet peek from one member of the clan as I put the cake down...
... and then a greeting from some of the others...
And now I am back at the farmhouse for our scheduled Zoom reading session, where I do what I often do when both Snowdrop and Sparrow are my audience -- first pick a book he'll like, then switch over to one that she'll want.
Unfortunately, I have to cut off a mystery story before reaching the denouement, because I have, for this early afternoon, a Zoom call with my Polish friends. This group:
We've been getting together like this every two or three weeks since March -- the month I canceled my scheduled trip to Poland. Amazing how life moves forward despite this world health crisis. In this period of zoom calls, we've celebrated a birth of a grandchild, mourned a death of an aging parent, laughed over stories from another child's wedding. Kids have stopped their schooling, then, in Poland, England and Italy where all their offspring reside, schools have resumed in class instruction. Infection rates are low. Cautiously, life moves forward.
My grandkids are not yet in school and given the new spike in infection rates, I doubt that they will step inside a real classroom anytime soon. And still, we tell grandparent stories of first days of the school year from the past, because you know, a grandparent has lived through these milestones before. If this year is strange, we have plenty in our storehouse of memories that is so much more normal.
The call ends and I switch back to Zooming with my grandkids here. We're in the middle of a book! We finish it. We add another. And two more. I'm thinking -- I sure have used my vocal chords a lot today!
And now I'm baking again. Ed had looked with longing at the rhubarb cake I made for the young family.
I didn't think you'd want one.
I'd want one.
Here it is -- second for the day, only this one starts out with fruit on the bottom (the first had fruit sprinkled on top). One has to innovate to stay engaged.
Not done yet! I have to do a photo shoot of the kitties in the writer's shed. We want to do a posting of their availability for adoption. We had a good pic of Calico. We need one of Cutie. Maybe this one?
Or, the two sisters, rubbing against our ankles?
Dinnertime. Normally, Monday is a day for leftovers. But why be normal on this unusual Labor Day? Why not bounce out of the ordinary and go with the atypical? How about a mushroom and corn and onion and potato and spinach frittata?
More baking. Finished product:
Phew! Day is done. Gone the sun. Feet up, big exhale, but with a smile.
Everything began with an early text exchange with my daughter. Before I had even finished my morning walk through the farmette gardens...
... I found myself offering to read to the kids over Zoom and to bake a rhubarb cake for a distanced, outdoor meeting that my daughter had scheduled for the afternoon. We still have a lot of rhubarb in the garden. Let me whip up something yummy for her.
Ed and I eat breakfast while the cake is in the oven.
Done.
A quick trip to the young family's home to deliver the cake, with a sweet peek from one member of the clan as I put the cake down...
... and then a greeting from some of the others...
And now I am back at the farmhouse for our scheduled Zoom reading session, where I do what I often do when both Snowdrop and Sparrow are my audience -- first pick a book he'll like, then switch over to one that she'll want.
Unfortunately, I have to cut off a mystery story before reaching the denouement, because I have, for this early afternoon, a Zoom call with my Polish friends. This group:
We've been getting together like this every two or three weeks since March -- the month I canceled my scheduled trip to Poland. Amazing how life moves forward despite this world health crisis. In this period of zoom calls, we've celebrated a birth of a grandchild, mourned a death of an aging parent, laughed over stories from another child's wedding. Kids have stopped their schooling, then, in Poland, England and Italy where all their offspring reside, schools have resumed in class instruction. Infection rates are low. Cautiously, life moves forward.
My grandkids are not yet in school and given the new spike in infection rates, I doubt that they will step inside a real classroom anytime soon. And still, we tell grandparent stories of first days of the school year from the past, because you know, a grandparent has lived through these milestones before. If this year is strange, we have plenty in our storehouse of memories that is so much more normal.
The call ends and I switch back to Zooming with my grandkids here. We're in the middle of a book! We finish it. We add another. And two more. I'm thinking -- I sure have used my vocal chords a lot today!
And now I'm baking again. Ed had looked with longing at the rhubarb cake I made for the young family.
I didn't think you'd want one.
I'd want one.
Here it is -- second for the day, only this one starts out with fruit on the bottom (the first had fruit sprinkled on top). One has to innovate to stay engaged.
Not done yet! I have to do a photo shoot of the kitties in the writer's shed. We want to do a posting of their availability for adoption. We had a good pic of Calico. We need one of Cutie. Maybe this one?
Or, the two sisters, rubbing against our ankles?
Dinnertime. Normally, Monday is a day for leftovers. But why be normal on this unusual Labor Day? Why not bounce out of the ordinary and go with the atypical? How about a mushroom and corn and onion and potato and spinach frittata?
More baking. Finished product:
Phew! Day is done. Gone the sun. Feet up, big exhale, but with a smile.
