A stunning day. Really beautiful! All the animals are out and about. Inside the farmhouse, the chicks too are on the move!
Breakfast still in the play room, while it's neat and tidy (no kids here yet). Too, we like being close to the sunshine (the play room is south facing, the kitchen is north and west)!
In the late morning, I sheepishly drive the Blue Moon over to the dealer, where the car is to receive its super environmental protection coating. You know, the dealer's money maker that I just could not pass up, because I have been so tortured by rust on my cars (the previous one was so bad that I swear there was more rust than car left by the time I was done with it).
And here's a discovery: the more I drive Blue Moon, the more I like its utter newness!
True, it all comes at a price (and not only a price to my pocketbook). I tell Ed that maybe we should wear "driving slippers," because the farmette lands are just too muddy in early spring. It's impossible to keep that mud out of the car. In my previous vehicles, it didn't matter. Snowdrop used to kick the back seat with her boots. That didn't matter either. The early flow of spring juices in the big willow that dangles over all the cars releases sap. Onto the cars. Didn't matter before, does matter now. I want to cover and protect Blue Moon -- a ridiculous idea if you think about it, but still, it's tempting.
When I pick up the ready car, I swing by my daughter's home (avoiding any puddle along the way!) to do a swap of books and produce. A chance to see the kids, or at least one non-napping kid and her mom.
And then Ed and I head out into that glorious sunny world for a walk in the Arboretum.
On the drive home, as I again skirt around the puddles, Ed gives me a gentle reprimand -- gorgeous, you have to stop doing that. It's okay to drive through puddles, it's okay if Snowdrop's feet muddy the seats, and if you get nicks and scratches on the body. It's just a car.
He's right of course. But today, as I drive it in its polished pristine state and the skies are blue and the birds sing a song of spring (we heard the first sandhill cranes this week!), and soft piano music pours out of its sound system, well, it is a very fun moment, in a year of many moments that could not rightly be classified as fun.
Oh, and we encountered some of the wild turkeys. Sort of like the chicks, only bigger.
Hello turkey!
Home again. A Zoom visit with friends, a frittata for supper, with an eye on Dance who flits between playing with the flowers on the table and watching carefully for a golden moment when she can "visit" with the young chicks.
Beautiful early spring day. Really, simply exquisite.
