It was slated to be a rainy day and for the most part, it delivered. What would you do on a wet Saturday? Fine, read a book! The ubiquitous answer to everything. But besides that?
Here's my Saturday. Yes, it does have a book in it, but there's more.
Breakfast, no surprise, in the kitchen. Ed is barely awake. Rainy days bring out the sleepiness in him.
Then I celebrate the arrival of my tea pot. Stimulus check (well, part of it) put to good use! I've waited a long time to buy one and I am tickled that it is finally part of my kitchen pack of essentials. (I don't go overboard: I don't, for instance, give it a name. Though I am tempted!)
And the tea pot leads me to spend not a small amount of time thinking about where I will travel when I finally do resume traveling. I know it will feel weirder than weird. And that I will have some trepidation about going off on a solo adventure, because I've had so much time without the company of others this last year! In the past, I never minded sitting over a dinner in a restaurant alone. So much to observe and take in! But somehow these days I think I'd mind just a tiny bit.
So I thought about all this. Where would I go? Hill climbing in a familiar place? Try something altogether new? I don't have a clear idea about any of it!
As is our new Saturday habit, in the late morning, my daughter comes with the two kids for a visit.
A few snapshots tell the story of how kids take in a rainy day:
And in the afternoon, the steady sound of rain patter ceases, and Ed and I look at each other, and he notes that weeds are easy to pull out of wet soil, and I mumble that there sure are plenty of them out there after the rain, and so yes, we do go out, right into the mud.
Dedicated gardeners, aren't we? Pulling mustard garlic out of wet, muddy soil, roots and all, every last one of them. And then the next rainy day will come, and new weeds will sprout and we'll have to go at it all over again.
Evening quiet. All is still. Except for the chicks, who cat nap (forgive the pun) all day long, then chirp and peck their way late into the night hours.
