As Ed remains lost in his endless sheep shed based Zoom calls that begin before dawn and continue until nearly the dusk hours, I do stuff that I rarely do when he is in the farmhouse: play music. And think about what's next.
We have learned that the pandemic is unpredictable, that the virus may come and go, that vaccinations are working now, that kids will be safer soon. It took so long to get to this point that it's hard to adjust your behavior to any new reality. Maybe it's time to hatch plans, despite the fact that we haven't guarantees of their success.
So, after my morning farmette walk...
And after another solo breakfast, I put on the music and, with the help of all kinds of informational resources, I think about winter, about spring. About travel. About kids, writing, visits, projects.
You can help yourself with thought processes by walking and I do that too. (I also plant a few bulbs, which doesn't help with anything except in the growing of my blisters on my hand from excessive digging.)
Forest walks. Today I head back to the Arboretum.
Here's a weird combination: we are just about at peak maple leaf season and at the same time, some of the lilacs are reblooming. Is it the fault of the excessively warm October?
Beautiful colors.
Peace.
As I get ready to get back in the car for the short ride home, my phone rings. It's Ed. He's done with his calls. He's itching for a walk. What's a gorgeous to do but to oblige. We go to our local park. Yet another forest. We need all the forest walks we can get, don't you think? (No photos. I wont say that all forests look alike -- our local one is a little wild and indeed, it's open for hunting, so we wear our blaze orange garb -- but still, I gave you enough to look at in the Arboretum.)
Evening. Call with friends, frittata for dinner. Don't you think there's beauty in predictability?
