family Monday

I remember last year's Memorial Day. So different from this year! There was a heaviness in the air -- one that would not even begin to lift for such a long time. So many people burdened with sadness and fear, so much anxiety!

Though Ed and I were in a pod with the young family here, we were still trying to figure out what was safe with the younger family in Chicago. I would see them several times during the pandemic, but only through July. Once Primrose returned to school (so that her parents could actually get their work done), we would put off further contact until the vaccinations would come. 

And they came. And thanks to their distribution, we were given this day, this Memorial Day 2021. The kids are still waiting for their shots, so we limit our meeting to the great outdoors, but the weather is splendid for it! And we have so much to celebrate, to be grateful for, to humbly enjoy. A year later, we're here and together. Wow.

And so we have this most beautiful day -- indescribably beautiful! With the arrival of Sandpiper (and there was so much drama for him as well in the early stages of pregnancy!), we really have every reason to exhale now. Together. On this most special day, with each other.

*     *     *

I am up very early. I'm charged with throwing something together for today's brunch at my daughter's deck and I want it to include a rhubarb cake. So I bake.

And feed the animals. Good morning, world!

Here's a little memory from the weekend: a rock painted by my younger daughter (the kids had been marking up rocks, some with greater detail than others). It has a home now here, by the porch...

... that same porch where Ed and I have breakfast today. Still a cool morning, but nothing that would keep us indoors.

And then I am off! One must drive carefully out here in the country: in the evenings you watch for deer. In the morning? A promenade by our local sandhills. And their bird friend.

First on the agenda: to coordinate a meetup between my mom and my younger girl's family. What with my mom's stroke, then the pandemic, it's been well over a year since they've had face to face contact.

I leave them outside and go on to my older girl's home to whip up some pancakes and breakfast meats and lots of fruits. And of course, the rhubarb cake.

Have you ever seen such a small watermelon??

*     *     *

And now comes that long meal, hours of being together with kids coming in and out of our stories, with one food out, another one finished, all the while admiring this newborn boy, while his cousin and siblings cavort around us. Photos of a holiday together. Like yours perhaps? Were you lucky too? Oh, I hope so...

(the meal)

(waiting for that watermelon)

(he likes his pancake with honey)

(treasured aunt and uncle)

(how about this way for a change?)

 

(Snowdrop, are you coming?)

(Sparrows joins...)

(the three go fishing. for rocks.)

(so good to have them all here!)

(meanwhile, Sandpiper rests...)

(deep breath in, exhale...)

(like a boat ride going forward. well, maybe more like a roller coaster!)

*     *     *

And eventually the young family packs into their car to drive back to Chicago and I pack up my pots and utensils and drive back to the farmette all the while thinking how good this day has been and how long it was before we could live lives together again rather than apart and most of all how grateful we are to those who have brought us this moment of peace, of health, of well being.

(at peace)

 

 

 Evening. Time to throw some seeds down.

With love.