I had decided that one day of the week has to be a grab-bag-of-stuff day. A little of this, a little of that. Throw it in, pile it on. Otherwise, tasks accumulate, the car gas tank empties out, dust gathers. And, importantly, visits with grandkids (over Zoom) are tougher to coordinate. So I set aside Wednesdays for everything that has piled up and also as the day when I can touch base (over Zoom) with Snowdrop.
Initially, I had thought that I would use this time to give her a chance to vent, complain, act out, do whatever it is that she wants to do to let off steam. But, it surely appeared to me that her steam levels are okay! No need to act out. The smile is there, our visit is sweet.
All this came later. In the morning, there was breakfast...
Followed by a lengthy writing session in a coffee shop atmosphere. Meaning there is a low buzz of noise in the background as Ed and I keep an eye on Congressional hearings shown live on our TV screen. It's funny how in general, I cannot write when there are noises and movements in the farmhouse. Ed taps a couch and I look up, train of thought interrupted. The phone rings for him? I lose my concentration. But Congressional hearings? Coffee shop noise. No problem.
After my hour-long chat with Snowdrop, I do the rest of Wednesday chores. Including picking up spinach from our CSA delivery site.
(lovely views on the drive there: snow on fields of corn, geese, and a disappearing sun.)
I wanted to use this outing to put myself on city streets once again. Perhaps take a walk along the lesser lake, which is quite close to my spinach pickup. It isn't a great day for a walk. We are just above freezing and there is an occasional drizzle. Yuk. Moreover, I am spoiled by the emptiness of park trails. There are too many people on city streets and way too many of them are without masks.
Instead of my city saunter, I pause the car just before reaching home. How about at least a thousand or two steps in the far reaches of the undeveloped-as-yet new development? It's pretty now, at the time of sunset. And quiet.
Later still I bake a frittata. Spinach, mushrooms, potato, cheese. A wonderful dish for a winter day that seems otherwise to be a little too damp, too gray, too dark too early.
Twinkling porch lights, a soft, ever so light fragrance of pine from my candle, a warmth that feels so good on a yukky weather day.
