Sunday, beautiful Sunday

Autumn is almost always lovely here. (I'm going to push out of my mind that one September when we had zero days of sunshine. People took light therapy flights, to put themselves above the cloud layer for just a few minutes.) But this year, perhaps because there are so many challenging moments to work through, we are completely bedazzled by the weather. It's surely giving us some top of the line Wisconsin fall moments.

Today we are back to late summer temperatures. Same garden views, but in a warmer frame of mind!

 

 

We wake up energetic and ready to do some work.

After breakfast.

 

I'm still a little overwhelmed by the weed invasion into the flower beds. Not sure why there should be so many, given that we had a rather dry season. It could be that the addition of three more flower beds made the job that much more arduous. Whatever the reason, the weeds are there and I am digging them out, enjoying the sunshine, but honestly, disliking the fact that there is just so much work before me. I can't even see the end. Never mind. As my sidebar has told you -- I'll be taking a break soon. For now, the weather is grand and the shovel goes in and out, in and out.

In the late afternoon, the young family drives up straight from Chicago. We have more time to talk, the kids have loads of time to play.

I fix dinner of course. Our Sunday routine is back on track.

Later, much later, after the dishes are done and the house is quiet, after Ed and I have had our moments on the couch, watching a show, munching pop corn, talking about this, about that, about Covid, travel, Angela Merkel (I am mindful of all her enumerated flaws, but I am also mindful of the fact that, being a postwar child from Poland, it wasn't until the time of her leadership that I could think normal thoughts about Germany again) -- after all that, I think about the article I had read yesterday about being a grandparent. I found the comments to it to be especially thoughtful (or the editors of the NYT picked out ones that were better than the usual range of opinions). It is true that most grandparents want to be remembered by their grandkids. It is also true that these kids are being born later in their lives. My mother had her last grandchild (of four) when she was 61. My grandmother had me (youngest of the two she got to know) when she was just 52. All my grandkids will have been born when I was older, my two youngest ones coming in when I am 68. Whatever memories they will have, they'll be of an older grandmother!

But unlike the writer and so many commenters, I'm less concerned about specific acts that may stay lodged in their little memories. Yes, we have traveled together. Yes, they've all spent many hours, days, weeks even with me at the farmhouse. We've done stuff inside, outside, up and down and all around. All good. But even if they remember none of it, or think about few of those details, they will take with them, whether they know it or not, a confidence born of being loved, without criticism, condition, anger, without ever me turning away from them (because I never will), without expectation that they should be anything else in life beyond remaining good natured to those who cross their paths, well read as they make decisions and choices in life, and, when all is said and done -- content and at peace with themselves.  If I want to model anything for them, it is that.

Oh, fine! A few pictures to remind them of the joyful moments we shared will be good too! My camera works hard to help build that story. But the smile toward others, a few good books on your nightstand, and of course, the love -- they're far more important.

So goodnight, with a genuine grin and with love.